#sorry for disappearing for two weeks straight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoondolls · 9 days ago

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SPIDER BOY. 이희승

pairing: lee heeseung x f!reader

notices and warnings: spiderman au, fluff, angst, cleaning up wounds, arguing, heeseung wears glasses, heeseung doesn’t have parents, university au, established relationship, cursing, no word count because the counter was acting up 🤨

Y/n tapped her foot nervously, glancing down at her phone for the fiftieth time. The clock on the café wall read 7:56 PM. Heeseung was supposed to meet her at 6. Two hours had passed, and the optimistic flicker of hope she’d clung to was long extinguished. She sighed, pushing her half-empty iced coffee aside. “Maybe he’s cheating on me…” she muttered under her breath. The thought made her stomach twist. It wasn’t the first time he’d stood her up, but every time she confronted him, the excuses seemed… juvenile.

“I had to visit my mom,” he’d said last week.

“You don’t have a mom,” she’d pointed out, crossing her arms. Heeseung had flushed, mumbling something incoherent before dodging her further questions.

This wasn’t sustainable, y/n thought bitterly. They barely saw each other as it was—different majors, different campuses, and now this? Heeseung was practically making her an expert in self-doubt. Did he even care? . She left the café and walked aimlessly through the city streets, her heart heavy. She kept her eyes on the skyline, searching for something. Or someone. It had become a habit lately. Whenever Heeseung disappeared or canceled, she’d look up, half-hoping to see the flash of a red-and-blue figure swinging between skyscrapers. It was ridiculous, really, but it gave her something to focus on seeing the red and blue swing from building to building, people cheering him on for doing the polices jobs for them, last week he’d caught some serial killer the same day Heeseung bluffed about visiting his dead for a decade mom.

“There he is,” she thought dryly as a familiar streak darted between buildings. “That stupid spider boy is back at it.”

The moment she tore her gaze from the skyline, a blaring car horn jolted her from her thoughts. A car screeched to a stop inches from her, and she froze in place. “Watch where you’re walking!” the driver yelled angrily, waving his arm out the window, she scoffed “so rude .” She thought to herself quickly stepping onto the curb. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she hurried away. As she neared her apartment, she didn’t notice the thin trail of spiderweb hanging from her open window. y/ns a criminal behaviour major no way in hell would she keep her window open in her empty house but she didn’t notice it.

She walked into her apartment, already exhausted from the day’s emotional rollercoaster. The last thing she expected to see was Heeseung sitting on her couch, shirtless, with messy hair and struggling to bandage a nasty cut on his torso. His head snapped up the moment she entered, his wide eyes meeting hers in surprise.

“Y/n? You’re back already,” he said, standing up abruptly—and then immediately regretting it as he winced, clutching his side.

Her gaze narrowed as she crossed her arms, looking him up and down. “So, let me get this straight. You have the time to come here, sit on my couch, and act all home sweet home,” she gestured at his bare chest and the half-wrapped bandage, “but you don’t have the time to remember that we had a date tonight? That you stood me up. Again. For two hours, and then have the audacity to be sitting in my house.” Her voice cracked, frustration and hurt laced in every word. Heeseung winced again—this time not from the pain in his torso. “Listen, baby,” he said, chuckling awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood as he stepped closer to her. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot about tonight. I promise, I’ll make it up to you, okay?” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

But she didn’t hug him back.

Instead, she noticed how poorly the bandage on his side was secured, the faint streaks of blood still visible. Her irritation melted into concern, though the sting of his absence still lingered. Without a word, she gently pushed him to sit back down and went to grab the first aid kit from under the sink. Heeseung sat obediently, watching her every move. She sat beside him, opening the kit. “What happened to you, anyway?” she asked draping the white fabric around his torso carefully , her tone soft but still skeptical. “Did you get jumped or something?” He let out a laugh—a little too loud, a little too forced. “No, no, that’s silly. I, uh…” He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I fell. In the dorm. Jongseong and I were, uh, mounting a TV in his room, and I slipped, fell on a few screws.”

Y/n froze for a second, staring at him. She snorted. “Mounting a TV? Seriously?” Heeseung blinked. “What? You don’t believe me ?” She laughed—actually laughed at the sheer stupidity of his excuse. Then her smile dropped as she looked at him, her voice serious now. “Do you think I’m stupid?” Heeseung’s shoulders stiffened. “…..No?” he said, though his voice wavered, and his eyes darted away.

She sighed, shaking her head, and stood up. “You’re unbelievable.” Walking toward his bag, which he’d carelessly dropped by the couch, she bent down to unzip it, searching for a shirt. Heeseung always carried an extra pair of clothing for some reason. She muttered under her breath, “You’re such a weirdo.” His head shot up noticing her fiddling with his bag. “Y/n!” he exclaimed, panic flashing in his eyes. “Um, I’m fine like this, you know. It’s kinda hot in here.” He let out a nervous laugh but was betrayed by his chattering of teeth and shivers and the icy weather outside

She froze and turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you high, Heeseung?” she asked incredulously starring into his eyes to check if it was normal bloodshot or I’m high out my mind bloodshot. Ignoring his protests, she opened the bag and started pulling out its contents. What she expected was a crumpled hoodie and some joggers or some random books—not this. Her fingers froze when she pulled out a red and blue mask. She held it up, turning to him slowly scoffing.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of his fanboys too,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re carrying a Spider-Man mask around like some kind of nerd.” She turned back to the bag, but this time her hand caught on something heavy. She pulled it out, only for her jaw to drop. It was the full Spider-Man suit, not some Halloween costume but a real one complete with intricate stitching and what looked like actual machinery embedded in the wrists. Her grip faltered, and the suit dropped to the floor with a soft thud.

She stared at it. Then she stared at him.

Heeseung looked like a deer in headlights. His lips parted as if to say something, but no sound came out. He just sat there, wide-eyed and completely, utterly caught.“No—no way,” she muttered, her voice shaky as her mind raced. She looked back at the suit, then at him again. “You’re not… You can’t be…”

Heeseung swallowed hard, his voice small. “y/n…”

“You’re Spider-Man,” she said, cutting him off. It wasn’t a question. Her eyes were wide as the realization sank in. All the excuses, all the disappearances, all the lies—it all made sense now. “You’re fucking Spider-Man.” “Okay, technically, I prefer just ‘Spider-Man’ I’m not fucking myself that’s kinda weird ” he tried to joke, but her glare shut him up immediately. She stood there, her hands on her hips, processing everything. The missed dates. The random bruises. The lies that had seemed so ridiculous at the time. She looked at him, and her expression was a mix of disbelief, anger, and maybe even a little awe. She threw the bag at him and he instantly caught him .

“You lied to me,” she finally said, her voice quieter now but no less firm. “All this time, you lied to me.”“I didn’t want to,” Heeseung said quickly, standing up, though he winced as he did. “I swear, y/n, it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. I was trying to protect you and I wasn’t allowed to either .“Protect me?” she scoffed. “From what? From knowing the truth? Do you have any idea how much I’ve doubted myself these past two years because of you? How many times I’ve thought you didn’t care, that you were cheating, or—or just stringing me along?” Heeseung flinched at her words, guilt written all over his face. “I know. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“You didn’t know how to tell me?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. “Heeseung, you’ve had plenty of chances to tell me! Instead, you let me sit in a café for two hours tonight, thinking I wasn’t good enough for you!” He stepped closer, his eyes pleading. “You’re more than good enough, y/n. You’re the best thing in my life. I just… I didn’t want you to get hurt.” She sighed, her anger giving way to exhaustion. “Heeseung, I don’t care that you’re Spider-Man. I care that you lied to me. That you didn’t think I could handle the truth. That you’ve been treating me like an afterthought, I’m dating you not some guy in a tight suit” He hesitated, then reached out to gently take her hand. “I was scared,” he admitted softly. “Scared that you’d leave. That this would be too much for you.”

Her gaze softened, though she still looked frustrated. “I’m not leaving,” she said quietly. “But you need to stop shutting me out. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me enough to be honest.” He nodded earnestly, squeezing her hand. “I’ll do better. I promise. No more lies. No more standing you up. I’ll try to be more honest as well .”

“You’d better,” she said, her voice firm but with the faintest hint of a smile. “you made the stupidest of excuses ‘ I have to visit my mom.’ ‘Jay fell from a building’ ‘The Turkish diner down the road was in trouble .’ How did you think those sounded , how was I not meant to think you were stoned out of your mind .” She says gasping slighting feeling out of breath Heeseung shifted on his feet, looking more awkward than she’d ever seen him. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his pants, his head tilting slightly as he avoided her eyes. “How do you want me to make it up to you?” he asked, his voice soft and tentative, as if he was bracing himself for the worst.

Y/n let out a long sigh, dropping her weight onto the couch with a small bounce. She leaned back, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him. “Ice cream,” she said simply.

He blinked. “Ice cream?”

She nodded, her expression dead serious. “I want ice cream.”

Heeseung’s lips twitched, and a small, sheepish smile broke across his face. “That’s it? Just ice cream?” She turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t act like you’re getting off easy. This is just step one, Spider-Boy.” She said, leaning forward to grab the first aid kit she’d left on the table. “Now sit your ass back down so I can finish patching you up before we go.”

Heeseung obeyed, settling onto the couch beside her, though he still looked hesitant. “Wait, we? You mean… you still want to go out? With me? After… all this?” He gestured vaguely to his bloodied torso, the Spider-Man suit still laying in a crumpled heap on the floor, and the invisible storm of emotions hanging between them.

Y/n glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, grabbing a fresh bandage. “Yeah, we’re going. But don’t think this means I’m letting you off completely,” she said, pressing the bandage gently to his side. “You’ve still got a lot of explaining to do and ice cream is the bare minimum.”

He winced slightly as she applied pressure, but his lips quirked into a small smile anyway. “Fair enough. I’ll get you all the ice cream you want.”

“You’re damn right you will,” she said, sitting back to admire her work once she was done. “And you’re paying. For everything.”

“Deal,” he said quickly, nodding as if his life depended on it. He glanced at her, his voice softening. “Thanks for… not throwing me out. Or, you know, hitting me with the Spider-Man suit.”

Y/n snorted. “Oh, don’t think I wasn’t tempted. But lucky for you, I was too busy being shocked at how heavy that thing is. Seriously, is it made of bricks?”

Heeseung chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, not quite, but there’s some tech in there. You know, web shooters and all that.” She rolled her eyes, standing up and brushing off her hands. “Yeah, yeah, save the nerd talk for later. Right now, I’m thinking chocolate. Maybe some sprinkles. Ooh, and a waffle cone.” Heeseung grinned, grabbing the shirt she handed him from his bag and slipping it on. “Anything you want, baby. I owe you.”

“right, you do,” she said, grabbing her keys and opening the door. She paused, looking back at him . “Oh, and if you ever stand me up again, Spider-Boy? Ice cream won’t save you.”

Heeseung followed her out, laughing nervously. “Noted.” But then he frowned “spider boy?”

#hoondolls #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen drabbles #enhypen oneshots #enhypen smau #enhypen headcanons #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung fluff #enhypen x reader #heeseung imagines #enha angst #enha fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen soft hours

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madebycloud · 28 days ago

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pt 2 | Not Even at All

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬⠀𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: vi is off limits until her sister gets a date that doesn't end within the first ten minutes. eager to date vi, a certain girl approaches you with a proposal. date jinx. win her over. and for your efforts, she's willing to be generous. (10 Things I Hate About You AU) warnings/themes: fluff and slight angst, kinda enemies to what, one sided fake dating, highschool, modern au, parties, drinking & vomiting (jinx), kat!jinx, patrick!reader words: 4.8k notes: R wears combats boots for the plot... — ✩ part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

Mrs. Kiramman escorts you out of her office, clicking her tongue. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn't show your face here for at least a week.”

“Guess I just couldn't stay away from you, Mrs. K.”

Jinx stands outside the guidance office, waiting for her turn. When the door opens, her gaze lifts, landing on you. One arm folded over her chest, a lollipop sticks out of her mouth, which she's quietly sucking on.

Mrs. Kiramman glances between you and Jinx, her eyes narrowing under her glasses. “You two know each other?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Mrs. K shakes her head before grabbing Jinx's elbow and shoving her into the guidance office, spinning around to point a finger at you. “For the love of God, stay away from her. If you two ever decide to have children, we'll have an evil incarnate walking around school.”

With a sigh, Mrs. Kiramman closes the office door, the sound of the latch shutting ringing through the hallway, leaving you alone. You glance through the glass window, catching Jinx giving you the middle finger.

You chuckle and blow her a kiss, not missing the way her jaw clenches.

—

You knock three times on the door, looking behind your shoulder as you wait. Footsteps approach, and you’re about to be greeted—

And a pink-haired girl opens the door.

“Who are you?” Vi asks, looking you up and down. You open your mouth to introduce yourself, but Vi cuts you off before you can get a word out. “Hold up, I think I recognize you.” She snaps her fingers, pointing straight at you. “You're one of Caitlyn's friends, aren't ya?”

You nod. “Yes,” you reply, with a gulp.

“So, what are you doin' here?”

You give a shrug. “I'm here for Jinx.”

Vi snorts. “Hah, figures.” She looks up, calling out behind her shoulder. “Jinx!” she yells. “Someone's here for you!”

You hear some shuffling above, and then the sound of footsteps stomping down the stairs.

Vi turns back to you, raising an eyebrow. “Sooo, are you and…”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jinx interrupts, appearing behind Vi's shoulder. Vi just snorts again at her sister.

“Nine-thirty right? I'm early.” You grin, but it is wiped out by Jinx's groan.

“You're going to Caitlyn's?” Vi asks, turning to look at her younger sister.

Jinx shakes her head hastily. “No-”

“Aw, come on. Your friend came all the way here for you.”

Jinx grits her teeth. “She's not even my-”

“Please?” Vi grins, looping an arm around her sister's shoulder. “Besides, I'll go to the party anyway.”

Jinx crosses her arms. “Seriously?”

“Pleeeeease,” Vi pleads. “You know how boring I get when I have to go somewhere alone.”

Jinx looks at you before dropping her arms to her sides. “Fine. You owe me.”

Vi smirks, ruffling her sister's hair and earning a glare in return. “See? she said yes.”

“I said fine.” She scowls and turns away. “Let me get ready first,” she grumbles, disappearing upstairs.

“Don't take too long!” Vi calls after her.

Jinx's only response is a door slamming shut from upstairs.

Vi rolls her eyes before turning to regard you. “Sorry 'bout that. She's a bit of a handful.” She scratches the back of her head awkwardly. “She'll come around. She's always hated Cait for some reason, but she'll come around.”

Upstairs, you can hear muffled curses and sounds of thudding and banging coming from Jinx’s room. From the sound of it, her room is now a total disaster… not that it wasn't before.

“It's fine. It's not like it's your fault.”

“Still, she could be a little more… pleasant,” Vi mutters, leaning against the doorframe. “She wouldn't want anything to do with Caitlyn,” she continues. “Whenever Cait visited, she would hide in her room until she left.” Vi sighs, rubbing her face. “Even when Cait was just mentioned, she would roll her eyes and throw stuff at me.”

“Do you know what she has against Cait?” you ask.

“Not a damn clue,” Vi grumbles. “Caitlyn's never done anything to Jinx, as far as I'm aware. The hostility comes from Jinx's end.”

Jinx's door slams open upstairs, and stomping footsteps can be heard heading back down the stairs.

She's no longer dressed casually in sweatpants and a band shirt, instead wearing a black pleated skirt with a studded belt snaking around her waist, ripped fishnet tights covering her legs, and ending at her combat boots with the laces loosely tied. Her cropped tank top shows off her stomach, a leather jacket hung over her shoulders, and multiple leather bracelets and necklaces. Her eyes have smudged eyeliner, and her lips are painted with dark lipstick.

This is far different than the normal Jinx you’re used to seeing at school all the time. Seeing her dressed up and looking like that was…

Damn. Damn.

You realize you've said something.

Then you realize you've said something out loud.

“Damn…” Vi repeats, taking a glance at her younger sister. “You look good!”

Jinx grunts, snatching her car keys and heading for the door. “Whatever. I'm driving.”

—

The Kirammans' house is like a beehive of activity. A full-blown party for all of Caitlyn's friends from her college. If Mrs. K found out about this, she'll be pissed as hell. Thankfully she's out of the house—otherwise you'll be kicked out before the party even properly begins.

Inside the house, there's a crowd of college students, probably twenty of them, maybe more. The only people from high school were you and Jinx.

Vi turns towards you, leaning in to speak in your ear over the loud music. “I'll go find Cait.”

You nod back, watching as she disappears into the crowd.

Jinx heads up the stairs towards the balcony, pushing her way past the numerous students.

There are about seven college couples making out on the steps and the walls of the hallway leading to the balcony. What the hell were they putting in the drinks here?

You try to follow behind, but it's difficult to keep up with her in the crowded staircase.

A very, very drunk woman rushes up to you out of nowhere, her cheeks flushed red and her eyes glassy. She throws her arms around you with a sloppy grin on her face. “Kiss me!” she exclaims, stumbling and bumping into you.

“Nah, not tonight,” you laugh awkwardly, pushing her into the lap of some lonely guy sitting in a chair who blushes at her. “Kiss him,” you instruct, making a shooing motion with your hands.

She giggles, turns to him, and then begins smothering him with sloppy kisses, her drunk hands clumsily pawing at his clothes.

“T-thanks,” the guy stutters, grinning at you over the drunk girl's shoulder as she begins showering the side of his neck with sloppy kisses.

You grimace, turning away to look at where Jinx was standing a few seconds ago.

Oh, crap.

She's gone.

—

“Jinx!” Caitlyn grins, approaching her as she walks past. Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes glassy.

Jinx groans.

Caitlyn's eyes flash, taking in Jinx’s outfit. “Looking good!” she says, clearly trying to be nice. She looks around, searching for any sign of her sister. “Where's Vi?” she asks, her eyes scanning the dancing students.

Jinx smirks. “Hell if I know. Off trying to hook up with someone, probably,” she jokes, snickering to herself.

Caitlyn's smile drops instantly. Her eyes narrow, and her shoulders tense. “What's wrong with you?” she mutters, bumping her shoulder roughly against Jinx on her way out.

Jinx stumbles, nearly losing her balance. She quickly turns, watching as Caitlyn storms off. “What the hell crawled up her ass and died?” she says to herself, frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. She brushes off the shoulder that took the hit, then heads back into the living room.

—

The party is loud, cramped, and way too hot. People kept running into you. Spilling drinks that reeked of alcohol all over your clothes. Not to mention the fact that a lot of them kept getting too flirty for your taste.

Finally, you manage to spot her in the living room, chugging down a glass of amber-colored liquid into her mouth.

“Right on, sister!” says the guy who gave her the glass, giving Jinx a high-five and then disappearing into the sea of people.

Before she can take another sip, you snatch the half-empty glass from her fingers before she can finish it. “What's this?” you ask. “I've been looking for you everywhere.”

“I'm getting trashed, maaaaan,” she mocks, smiling lazily at you. “Isn't that what you're supposed to do at a party?”

“I dunno. I say do what you wanna do.”

“Funny, you're the only one,” she replies with a scoff, pushing her way through the crowd of loud strangers. “Later.”

She's gone before you can even respond. You swear you can still hear the sound of her muttering and grumbling to herself, but it's completely drowned out by the loud music and drunken yelling.

It's honestly annoying how many people there are, most of whom are completely drunk and high out of their minds, bumping into you like a bunch of toddlers and spilling their disgusting alcohol all over you as you try to squeeze through them.

This party sucks.

—

You pass by the same drunk girl and the guy from earlier, who are still feverishly sucking face. The guy grabs your clothes, stopping you from walking away. “Really,” he says between sloppy kisses. “Really! Thank you!”

You roll your eyes and give him a pat on the shoulder before wrenching yourself free from his grip, continuing your way through the horde of drunk students.

You made your way down the stairs, hoping to find Jinx to be less drunk and more coherent, and you wouldn't have to deal with the crowd of idiots and drunk frat boys upstairs.

Of course, your hopes were quickly dashed when you saw Jinx swaying back and forth on her feet, her hand gripping a fresh shot of god-knows-what.

“Hey, why don't you let me have this one, huh?” You grab the glass to try and pry it out of her tight grip.

“No! This one's mine.” Jinx clenches her grip on the glass and scowls at you, refusing to let it go. “Find your own.”

You manage to take the glass from her, and she lets out a sigh before stomping off. You try to follow after Jinx when suddenly, a strong hand grabs you by the shoulder.

“Where's Caitlyn?!” Vi yells over the blaring music.

“I don't know!” you yell back, just as loud.

The crowd in the next room suddenly goes wild when someone turns on the radio and blasts it at an eardrum-rupturing volume.

You and Vi glance at each other before turning to look at Jinx dancing on a table in the next room. Her leather jacket has fallen away, exposing her stomach and arms, leaving her in just a cropped tank top.

Her braids slap against her back, sticking to her skin from all the sweat. She swings her hips back and forth and twirls her arms in random movements. The crowd cheers, and a group forms a circle around her table, clapping and laughing wildly.

“Jesus,” Vi mutters, her eyes wide. “I didn't think Jinx could dance like that.”

Jinx is completely drunk, absolutely drunk. She has her eyes closed, oblivious to the attention and the amount of alcohol running through her system.

You push a few people out of the way as you get closer.

Her body moves on its own, to the music, to the beat. Her hands travel up her body and into her hair, her skin slick with sweat.

She spins her head around, and BANG.

She headbutts a chandelier hanging on the ceiling.

You watch as her body sways and her eyes roll back in her head. Before she can fall, you manage to catch her just in time.

The drunken and rowdy crowd starts to cheer and clap, thinking that this is all part of her drunken show.

You set Jinx down on her feet, your hands grasping her arms tight to keep her steady. “Are you okay?”

She groans and opens her eyes, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes. “I'm fine.” She tries to pull away from you, trying to swat your hands from her arms, but as soon as she tries to walk on her own, she stumbles on her own feet. You grab her again, holding her steady.

“You're not fine. C'mon.” You sling her right arm over your shoulders, wrapping your arm around her waist as you guide her down the hall.

“I jussssta needa lie down somewhere,” she slurs, leaning heavily against your side.

“The minute you lie down, you'll be passed out,” you respond as you keep her moving.

“I know, just let me go to sleep. Sleep is good. Good, good, good.”

“Yeah, well, not if you have a concussion,” you retort, grabbing her tighter around the waist to make sure she doesn't just fall face-first onto the floor.

“Okay, I'll just… sit on the floor,” Jinx mumbles, trying to plop down onto the ground right in the middle of the hallway.

“Nooooo, we're not doing that.” You grab her by the arms, hauling her back up to her feet.

“But I'm tired. I'm sleepy. So sleepy.”

“I know.” You guide her to the garden, where you manage to find a bench. You help her sit down, keeping your arm around her side in case she accidentally tips over. “Come on,” you say, slowly lowering her down. “Lean back, lean back. There you go. Just... keep your head up. Hold your head up.”

Jinx reaches up and touches the spot where she hit her head earlier, wincing as her fingers touch the lump that's already starting to form.

You're just starting to kneel down in front of Jinx when suddenly, a hand grabs your arm. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Caitlyn standing behind you.

“We need to talk,” she says, sounding strangely urgent.

“Right now?” You look back at Jinx, who is still slumped against the bench, one hand on her head while the other is propped up on her knee. “I have my hands full at the moment.”

“Can you give me a second?” she insists, pulling you further away to the side. She lets go of your arm and runs a hand through her hair. “It's off. The deal is off.”

“What are you talking about?”

Caitlyn sighs. “Vi never wanted me, okay? she's... she's got eyes for someone else. I know it.”

You have neither the time nor the patience for this. You glance back to check on Jinx. She's starting to drift off to sleep, her chin dropping down towards her chest, before a sharp shake of her head brings her back to alertness.

“Cait,” you start, turning back to Caitlyn. “Do you like her or not?”

Caitlyn nods, looking down at her feet. “Yeah…”

“Then is she worth all this trouble?”

She hesitates. “Well, I thought she was, but...but I....”

You cut her off before she can finish. “She is or isn't. See, first of all, are you going to give up on her over a bit of competition? And secondly,” you poke her on the chest with your index finger. “Don't ever let anyone, ever, make you think you don't deserve what you want. If you want her, then go for it.” Then, you turn away from Caitlyn. “I gotta go.”

Jinx starts to fall off the bench, and you quickly catch her before she face-plants on the ground. “Okay, that's it,” you murmur to yourself as you hoist her up and begin walking away.

—

You march Jinx through the streets, her arm around your shoulder to keep her from falling over.

“Ughhhh.” She groans. “This is so patronizing.”

“Leave it to you to use big words when you're shitfaced.”

She shoves you, trying to walk on her own. “I don't think so.” Unsurprisingly, she falls to the ground.

You reach down and try to bring her back to her feet, pulling her up the small hill until you reach the playground outside of Caitlyn's house.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?” Jinx asks, leaning against you for support.

“I already told you.” You lift her arm a little higher up onto your shoulder. “You might have a concussion.”

Jinx breaks free of your grip and walks a few steps forward. You keep a close eye on her and continue to walk at her side, making sure to be within arm's reach in case she trips and falls.

“You don't care if I never wake up,” she mumbles, stumbling over her own feet.

You chuckle, catching her from falling. “Sure, I do.”

The two of you reach a pair of swings, surrounded on all sides by thick vines.

She stops in front of the swings, turning to face you. “Why?”

You take her hands in yours, keeping her straight and steady. “Because then I'd have to start dating girls who actually like me.”

“Yeah, like you could find one."

“See that, there?” You gesture with one hand to Jinx. “Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too.”

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “I just... I wanna sit down for a while.”

“Alright.” You lead her over to the swingset and sit her down in one of the swings, guiding her hands to hold onto the metal chains. “Don't fall off.”

She grins, her eyes locking onto yours.

And then, she suddenly falls backward, only to be caught, again.

“Jesus,” you mutter, propping her back upright.

Jinx chuckles but doesn't say anything.

You move to sit on the swing beside her, the two of you swinging back and forth. The chains of the swing creak awkwardly. “So…” you start. “Why do you hate her?”

“Who?”

“Caitlyn.”

Jinx's face wrinkles up, and she frowns, glaring straight ahead. “I hate her.”

You nod. “I know. You don't look like the type to chug shots of tequila. Must be serious.”

She turns to throw you a glare. “Hey, I can be 'cool.' I can be 'laid back' like everyone else.” She snickers, half to herself. “You don't think I've got it in me?”

“Thought you were too good for that.”

“Well, you know what they say…”

“Nope. What do they say?”

You turn, only to find Jinx fast asleep, her head resting against the swing's rusty chains.

“Shiiiiiit!” You spring out of the swing and rush towards her. “No, no, no, no! Jinx! C'mon, wake up!” You kneel down, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells!” you sing loudly, patting the side of her face.

Her eyelids flutter as she responds to the sound of your voice, slowly and groggily blinking her eyes open.

You exhale, feeling your shoulders relax. You stand up at your full height, releasing your hands from her shoulders. “Thank fuck.” You sigh, looking down at her.

Her gaze lingers on you, her mouth slightly agape. “Hey…” she murmurs. “Your eyes are pretty.”

...

What?

Jinx just... complimented you?

You're floating up into cloud nine—no, no. This has to be some kind of trick.

But... that smile on her face. An unfamiliar, genuine smile. You're floating higher and higher, about to touch the clouds...

Jinx is actually complimenting you. Jinx is-

HRRRRRK!

...and that's when the evil dragged you back to earth.

Your mouth turns down in a grimace, and you look down at your combat boots, which are now covered in a mixture of bile, alcohol, and... wait, is that bacon?

What. The. Hell.

“Oh for fuck's sake!” you exclaim, backing away to avoid the vomit. “Seriously? Seriously?” You shake your boots, splattering globs of puke onto the grass. “Did you have to urp puke on my boots?”

Jinx leans back against the swing, regaining her breath. “Sorry,” she mumbles, wiping her mouth with one hand. “I guess I should've said, 'Pretty. Pretty gross.'.”

You glare down at your boots—ruined, stained, and completely disgusting.

You shake your boots again, trying to get rid of as much of the gross liquid as you possibly can. “Damn it, Jinx!” you yell, kicking off your boots and standing barefoot in the grass. “These are my favorites!”

“Not anymore.”

“UGH!” you shout, throwing your hands up into the air. “I'M GOING TO CURSE YOU, CAIT!” You look up at the sky, yelling at the moon, the stars, and whatever god might be listening. “YOU HEAR ME, CAITLYN?! I'M GOING TO CURSE YOU FOR THIS!”

—

Caitlyn, the benevolent goddess from the heavens above, kindly let you borrow her shoes.

You, being the kind and humble person that you are, graciously accept her offer but insist that you would return the shoes back when you can. But she insisted back, saying that the shoes were your size after all, so you may keep them.

You thank Caitlyn once more before accepting your new pair of shoes, thanking the gods that you have such a generous friend.

Blessed be Caitlyn Kiramman.

You now stand outside Caitlyn's house as the students who attended the party begin to drive away or head home. Jinx is currently in the bathroom, washing herself up and preparing to leave.

Vi walks up beside you and speaks up. “Can you give Jinx a ride home?”

You look over at Vi, giving her a nod. “Yeah, sure thing.”

She gives you a tired smile, her lips red and swollen.

“Wait—you're not gonna come with us?”

She shakes her head, giving a vague gesture with her hand. “Nah, I'm gonna... hang out a bit more. I'll get a ride home later.”

You raise an eyebrow curiously but shrug. “Got it.”

“Well, I'll get going then.” Vi pats you on the shoulder before turning away and walking back towards the house. Then, just as suddenly, she stops and turns back to you with her finger pointed in your direction. “And don't you do something stupid to my sister.”

You laugh it off. “Don't worry,” you reassure her. “I would never do anything stupid to Jinx. I'll make sure nothing bad happens, I promise.”

Her expression softens. “Good.” She gives you a pat on the back. “I know you're not a bad person. But I still gotta look out for my little sister, y'know?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “I get it.”

You watch as Vi turns around and walks into the house without another word, leaving you standing alone outside. You stand by yourself, watching the remaining people from the party head home one by one.

Suddenly, Jinx's voice snaps you to attention. “Let's go. I'm driving.”

Spinning around, you find Jinx standing behind you, and you frown. “Hell no. You're drunk. I'll drive.”

Jinx waves a hand dismissively. “Pssh, I'm fine. I can drive. I'm not that drunk.”

“Bullshit.” You open the passenger door, gesturing for her to get inside. “Get over here.”

Jinx groans but obliges, walking over to the passenger door. She reluctantly gets into the passenger seat. You head around to the driver's side and slide in, taking the car keys she hands you.

Starting the car, you take one last glance at her face before putting the car into gear and pulling away.

—

Jinx fiddles with the radio dial, flipping through various stations until she finds a song that suits her taste. But you quickly change it before she can get too comfortable.

“Hey!”

“I'm driving, so I get to pick the song.”

She scowls, reaching back to change it back to her preferred station. “It's my car.”

You reach over and change it back again. “And I'm in control of it.”

“But it's Letters to Cleo!” she protests. “I know you like them! I saw you there.”

You swallow hard, and with a sigh, you let her listen to her song.

“So, tell me,” she says, turning to face you. “Where were you last year?”

“I was busy.”

She squints at you, her intoxicated brain trying to interpret your response. “Were you in jail?” she asks again.

“Maybe.”

“Pfft, no. You weren't.”

“Then why'd you ask?” you retort, shooting a side glare at her.

“Why'd you lie?”

You don't answer, instead grabbing the volume knob and cranking it up to keep her occupied. She starts to bob her head drunkenly, singing along to the lyrics like she's in a concert, headbanging wildly with a grin on her face.

Despite yourself, you find your fingers starting to tap against the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

“I should do this.”

“Do what?”

“This.” She points to the radio.

“Start a band?”

“No,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “Install car stereos.” She laughs, then sighs. “Of course, start a band, dumbass.”

“Why don't you, then?” you ask, keeping your eyes glued to the road.

“As if anyone would want to hear me play.”

“And why's that?”

“Everyone thinks I'm scary. No one would want to be in a band with the girl that makes all the other students crap their pants.”

You steal a sidelong glance in her direction. Right now, she is far from 'scary'. “I'm no picnic myself,” you reply, looking back at the road.

Jinx glances up at you, then laughs. “True. You're no walk in the park either.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, huh?”

She grins, leaning back in her seat. “Fair enough.”

You park the car in her driveway and shut off the engine. You can feel her gaze on the side of your face, and you look over at her. “What?”

“Nevermind,” she replies quickly, looking away. She bites her lower lip, trying to hide her smile. You catch her looking at you in the side-view mirror, but she quickly averts her gaze when you notice. There's a tint of pink in her cheeks... It wasn't there before.

You look away, focusing on the road.

Was that... a blush?

No way.

She's probably still feeling the effects of the alcohol. Don't overthink things, that's stupid, you tell yourself, ignoring how your own body starts to warm up.

“You know…” Her voice interrupts your thoughts, and you look over to see her fully facing you. You watch as she runs her tongue over her lower lip, the tip just barely touching the corner of her mouth. “...you're not as vile as I thought you were.”

Your eyebrows shot up at her words. Where is this coming from? “What changed your mind then?”

“Eh, you weren't bad company,” she says with a shrug. Her tongue darts out of the corner of her mouth again, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

You notice how... soft her mouth looks, even with her lips curled in a half-smirk.

Get it together.

You stare at her, your brain taking a second to process what she just said. Must be the alcohol talking.

She doesn't think you're good company for real, she's just saying random crap.

“Not bad, huh? and here I thought you hated my guts.”

“I did.” Her eyes dart down to your mouth for a second, almost too quick for you to notice. “Or at least I thought I did.”

It must be the alcohol.

It's definitely the alcohol.

Because there's no other reason for why she's leaning in, her eyes fluttering shut, lips parting slightly, moving closer and closer...

Wait, what.

She's...

There's no way she's actually leaning in right now...

She is.

She's leaning in.

You can feel her breath on your face, the smell of tequila mixing with the smell of her perfume. Your body is on fire. You're going to explode. You're going to combust.

Oh, hell no.

This is not happening. She's still tipsy.

This isn't right, this isn't right.

You forcibly tear your head away from hers, your stomach twisting. “Maybe we should do this another time.”

Her eyes snap open. She looks pissed. She looks like she's about to murder you, and honestly, right now, you'd let her. Her brow creases together, and she frowns, looking away. She mutters a few swear words before getting out of the car, shutting the door behind her with a bang that makes the whole car rattle.

She stomps up her driveway, disappearing through the front doorway as the door slams hard enough to nearly shake the glass window.

Your head is spinning.

What just happened? how did things go tits up so quickly?

This is not what you signed up for. Five minutes ago, things were fine, then the mood suddenly shifted, and she was all up in your personal space.

And then things got all weird and awkward.

She's drunk. She'll forget this even happened, and everything will be fine.

Yeah, no biggie.

She'll probably wake up tomorrow morning with a hangover, but nothing else. Right? Right.

“Fuuuuuckk.”

taglist: @axolotl-arsonist, @crvcified-kinx, @axoluxy, @dyslexic-dreamer, @urdeadpoet, @iluvshifting, @shootingc, @freementallyillkid, @tr3nzit444s, @powderbomb-jinxed, @chickennuggetsaresootasty

#arcane #jinx #arcane x reader #arcane jinx #jinx arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x you #jinx x reader #jinx x female reader #jinx x you #jinx x y/n #jinx imagine #10 things i hate about you #fluff #slight angst

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ourhees · 1 month ago

Text

THE SUNSHINE AFTER THE STORM ❨𝖲𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖭❩

𝒊𝗡𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗗 .. ❛ 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍

𝑜𝑓 · 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝓉𝖨𝖬𝖤 ⦂ bf! ot7 x gf! reader── && slight angst and fluff + argument and mention of not eating ❔ 𝖶𝖨𝖲𝖯 & 𝖪𝖨𝖲𝖲𝖤𝖲

◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞ ╱ 𝑠𝑎𝑣 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑠 : sav comeback did so well, had to spoil my dolls even more 💌 enjoy !

𝖫𝖤𝖤 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖲𝖤𝖴𝖭𝖦

heeseung walked in late again. ever since he picked up a new position at his office, he’s been coming home late nonstop. you knew he’d be more busy, but coming home at midnight for weeks straight, you grew a little fed up. tonight, you couldn’t hold back your frustration.

“you’re late again..” you said, your arms crossed along your chest. “how many times is this going to keep happening?”

“i’m trying alright? it’s just really busy.” heeseung sighed, rubbing his temples gently.

“but i’m here waiting for you! every night. i stay up extra late to spend time with you, but i cant, because you’re tired and you want to sleep.” you shot back, your hands trembling.

“i didn’t mean for it to be like this..” heeseung said quietly, stepping closer to wrap his arms around you. “im sorry princess, ill try to come home early so we can be together.”

you look up at him, frustration and sadness still lingering. “i just need you to be here..”

“and i will be.. okay?” heeseung kisses your forehead, his arms never latched off you. ( 𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖣 𝖬𝖮𝖱𝖤 𝖴𝖭𝖣𝖤𝖱 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖢𝖴𝖳 )

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖩𝖮𝖭𝖦𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖦

you and jay were enjoying a quiet evening at home, you sat on his lap as the two of you got caught up in eachother’s affection. what originally was a night of laughter and affection quickly disappeared when jay would constantly check his phone.

“jay?” you asked politely, frustration lingering on your voice. “can you put your phone down for a second? we’re supposed to be spending time together.”

jay looks up at you, his brows furrowed. “im just checking something real quick. why are you making a big deal out of it?” his tone came out rather harsh than expected.

“im not making a big deal, i just want your attention for five minutes!” you snapped. “you’ve been looking at your phone from time to time all night.”

“im not ignoring you, honey.” jay watched as you got off his lap, sitting a little farther away now to collect yourself. “well it feels like it.” you muttered to yourself, unaware that jay heard.

jay pulls you back on his lap, holding your chin so your gaze is on him. “i didn’t know you were feeling that way. i’m sorry honey, i’ll put it down.”

𝖲𝖨𝖬 𝖩𝖠𝖤𝖸𝖴𝖭

jake had been playing video games all day with heeseung and jungwon. you didn’t mind, considering he worked hard all week and barely got some time for his favorite things. it was one thing for him to barely speak to you throughout the day, but it was another when you felt like he was ignoring your presence.

“jake..” you called out from the doorway, coming to sit on the shared bed. “can you stop playing for a five minutes and talk to me.”

jake glanced over, however his attention quickly went back to the screen. “just one more round okay mamas?”

“seriously?” you couldnt hide your emotions, especially your frustration. “you’ve been playing for hours, you act like i don’t exist.”

jake paused his game, his attention quickly went to you. “im sorry okay? i just wanted a few hours on the game. i didn’t mean to ignore your presence.”

jake got up from his gaming chair and climbed onto the bed. he pulled you close to him, snuggling you tightly. “im sorry mamas.. do you forgive me? if not, i’ll make it better.”

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖲𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖧𝖮𝖮𝖭

recently, you felt as if your relationship with sunghoon was failing. some nights, you barely slept in the same bed. other times, you’d only have one worded answers to each other’s questions. sometimes when this happens, it causes you to barely eat. sunghoon silently picked up on it, he started to see how this was affecting you.

“you’re barely eating..” sunghoon speaks softly, his eyes soft but serious.

you avoid his gaze, silently surpised he picked up on your behavior. “im fine.”

“no you’re not.” sunghoon looked closer at you, his voice laced with concern. “we haven’t been doing well recently and now you’re not even taking care of yourself.”

you sighed, frustrated. “i cant eat when i’m upset, you know that..” you held your head, rushes of emotions hitting you at once. sunghoon could tell you’ve officially reached your breaking point.

sunghoon moved closer to you, his tone gentle. “i hate seeing you like this. we’ll fix things, but first you need to eat. you need to take care of yourself, and i’ll be here to help you,” sunghoon wrapped his arms around you tightly, as if he was afraid to loose you again.

𝖸𝖠𝖭𝖦 𝖩𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖶𝖮𝖭

jungwon has been going through a lot lately. either something hapoened with some friends, or his family, you couldnt point your finger on it. all you knew was your relationship was slowly declining because of it. jungwon felt more closed off, he wasn’t talking to you like he normally would.

“why are you so closed off?” you asked, your voice shaking. “you used to talk to me about everything.”

jungwon sighed, looking at you. “it’s not that i don’t want to talk .. i just don’t want to drag you into my problems.”

“well i’m here for you!” you snapped, your frustration boiling over. “you can’t just shut me out when you’re going through something.

“i don’t wanna burden you.” jungwon ran a hand through his hair, trying to process his thoughts.

“you’re not burdening me, jungwon. i want to be there for you.” you quickly responded, pulling him into your arms as you saw tears falling from his glass eyes. “im sorry.. for pushing you away. i really need you.” you heard his sobs, you tried to comfort him by rubbing his back.

𝖪𝖨𝖬 𝖲𝖴𝖭𝖮𝖮

sunoo wasn’t one to cancel plans with you, infact he always looked forward to the days he’d be able to see you. ever since you and sunoo began getting more busy at work as the days went out, it became difficult to see each other. even on days you both were exhausted, you didn’t want to cancel.

“you’ve been cancelling plans alot recently..” you sighed with frustration. “i feel i’m the last thing on your mind these days.”

sunoo looks at you, guiltier than ever. “i didn’t mean to make you feel like that.. work has just been draining me.”

“that’s all you’ll ever say.” you replied, your voice tightening. “i get that, but it’s not an excuse as to how you’ve been treating me lately.”

he sighs. “you’re right.. i’ve been distracted and im sorry.” sunoo runs his hands through his hair in frustration, yet understanding where you’re coming from.

sunoo pulls you into his arms, his tight embrace made you feel better. “i promise to treat you better, even when exhaustion creeps up on me.” you pull him flush closer to you, feeling bad you let your emotions out on him.

𝖭𝖨𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖬𝖴𝖱𝖠 𝖱𝖨𝖪𝖨

you didn’t know riki would have his friends over at his house today. you sat closely to riki, but no matter how close you say, he continued to ignore you. riki was too caught up in playing games with his friends, he forgot his own girlfriend was right beside him. you felt ignored, and most importantly you felt forgotten about. his friends left, which left you with some alone time.

“why did you do that?” you asked, standing up as if you’re ready to leave. “ignore me when your friends are here?”

“what do you talking about?” riki asks, putting the extra controllers away in a drawer.

“when you’re with them, you pretend im invisible” your eyes grew teary, you tried to look away to fix yourself before he saw you like this.

“oh baby.. i never meant to make you feel like that.” riki pulled you into his arms, you tried to push away wanting some space to yourself.

however, riki wasn’t taking that for an answer. he didn’t like seeing you push away when you’re upset, especially at him. “no baby.. no pushing away. i’m sorry for tonight and i’ll make it up to you.” riki kisses your lips gently, his thumb soothed your cheek.

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quinzzelx · 9 months ago

Text

No need to decide

Azriel/Cassian/Rhysand x Fem! Reader

Summary: This is porn without plot. You drink with your friends and it turns into something heated.

Word Count: 6700

Warnings: Smut, 18+! Fouresome, DP, Oral fem and male receiving, Deep Throating, Slight Shadow Play, Overstimulation

A/N: Well- this was fun to write. I have a lot of other stuff coming up the next days. Several WIP's and Requests :) Hope you enjoy this filthy piece of my imagination. I haven't proofread it yet and this might be a little straight forward lol...

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand fixate their eyes on you with an intense fire, their stances exuding a raw, untamed power. "We've been looking for you! We were worried sick when you didn’t return," Azriel strides towards you and gently grips your face. "Don’t ever disappear like that again. I thought I lost you."

"I'm sorry, Az..." you sigh, meeting their concerned gazes. All of you are still bloodied from battle, dried blood clinging to your skin. "How about we let the evening be like the good old days? Just drinking and relaxing?" You pat Azriel on the shoulder and give Cassian and Rhys a soft smile. They all nod in agreement, the tension in their shoulders easing, although concern still lingers in their eyes.

"That sounds like a great idea. Let's go to the council room, we have some good wine stored there. I'll just quickly head up to my room and clean up. You all should too, you reek," you chuckle as you walk past them, heading up the stairs to your room. After a quick bath and changing into a silk pajama set, you return downstairs to find the three already sitting in the sitting area.

"I can see you already started without me," you tease, and their gazes immediately shoot up to you. Cassian whistles lowly, admiring your appearance. "Damn, you look good enough to eat."

"We didn't start without you, just got here a bit early," Rhysand explains with a grin, leaning back into the chaise. "Only you, Y/N. Only you," he chuckles.

You join them, grabbing a bottle of wine and taking a swig straight from it, earning surprised yet amused looks from your friends. "Like good old times, right?" you beam, and Cassian agrees, grabbing a bottle for himself. "See! I know why I like Cassy best!" you tease, earning a chuckle from Azriel.

As you all engage in casual chatter and laughter, you start to feel the buzz of the alcohol. "I'm bored," you announce, leaning back and watching them lounging around the sitting room. "Can we play something?"

Azriel raises an eyebrow at you, a smirk playing on his lips. Cassian grins and sits up, finishing his bottle before responding, "Bored, Y/N? Let's play something like... Truth or Drink, perhaps?"

"Remember when we played Truth or Drink back in Rhys' cabin in Windhaven?" you reminisce with a smile, earning a snort from Rhysand. "Yes, we got bat shit drunk, and my mother was so angry at us for weeks because Cassian broke not only one but two doors," he chuckles, recalling the memory fondly.

Azriel's laughter joins the mix, his deep voice resonating in the room as he watches the playful exchange between you and Cassian. "Those were the days," he comments, his gaze nostalgic. He finishes his drink and sets the bottle aside, leaning forward with interest. "We could definitely play that again. Who wants to start?"

Sitting up straighter, full of energy, you announce, "I think I'd like that! Who wants to start?" Cassian, ever the instigator, leans forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Placing his empty bottle on the table, he pokes you in the side, then leans back, chuckling. "I'll start. Truth or dare, Y/N?"

Though momentarily confused, you quickly join in the fun. "I thought we were playing Truth or Drink? But I'm fine with this too!" Your grin broadens, accepting the challenge. "Dare!" The three friends share a look, each a bit surprised at your bold choice. Cassian pauses, evidently not expecting you to choose Dare. "Remember, if we don't want to do something, we have to drink!" you remind them, shooting Cassian a daring look. "Come on, Lord of Bloodshed, give me your worst." Cassian's surprise gives way to a hearty laugh. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Alright, here's your dare: go outside and fly around the block. But here's the catch—you have to do it in your underwear."

Your eyes widen in mock horror. "I'm way too drunk to fly!" you exclaim, laughing and playfully swatting at his arm. "Give me something I can actually do!"

Cassian's laughter fills the room, his earlier mischief replaced with amusement at your reaction. "Alright, alright, let's keep it grounded. How about this then: you have to serenade us with the most embarrassing song you know, right here, right now."

Grinning broadly, you nod, accepting the modified challenge. "You asked for it," you warn, rising to your feet with a playful sway. As you clear your throat dramatically, Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian lean back, each one wearing an expression of delighted anticipation. You launch into an off-key, dramatically overacted rendition of a notoriously silly love ballad, complete with exaggerated gestures and melodramatic expressions.

Laughter and cheers fill the room, the earlier tension dissolving into an evening of joyful camaraderie. Azriel watches you with a soft smile, his eyes reflecting pride and affection, thoroughly enjoying the light-hearted side of you.

Now it was your turn to direct the game. You turned towards Rhys, who was already eyeing you with an amused, anticipatory smile. "Rhys, truth or dare?"

Rhys leaned back, his expression turning mischievously sly. "Dare."

You paused, a spark of mischief lighting up your own eyes. "Use your powers to show me one of your dirtiest dreams," you challenged, eager to see if he'd take on the dare or opt for a drink instead.

Rhys's eyes narrowed slightly, a grin unfurling across his face. He extended his hand to grasp yours, a ripple of power coursing through the contact. Suddenly, your vision blurred as he shared a vivid memory—his dream flooding your senses.

You gasped, your cheeks flushing as the explicit scene unfolded in your mind's eye. It was shockingly graphic, and you couldn't help but blush even deeper when Rhys's voice echoed in your thoughts.

Feeling his amusement, Rhys released your hand and leaned back, watching your flustered reaction with a chuckle. "Well, did I pass your dare or not?"

Your eyes were wide, your mouth agape. "I... I didn't expect that. I mean, it was definitely graphic," you managed to stammer out, still reeling from the intensity of the dream. You tried to lighten the mood with a tease. "If you're packing that much in reality and not just in your dreams, your mate is indeed fortunate."

Laughter erupted around the room, the tension breaking as Cassian and Azriel joined in the mirth. Rhys just smirked, pleased with your reaction.

"You're up, Rhys. Why don't you ask our dear Shadowsinger here?" you said, nudging the game along. Rhys turned to Azriel with a playful glint in his eye. "So, Az, truth or dare?"

Azriel's expression was unreadable for a moment before a smirk played at the corners of his mouth. "Dare," he responded confidently. Rhys's smile broadened. "I dare you to kiss the most attractive person in the room."

Azriel's eyebrows raised in mock surprise, then he turned to look directly at you. His smirk deepened. "Challenge accepted." He stood gracefully, crossed the room in a few strides, and sat down next to you. Leaning in close, he pressed a brief, soft kiss on your lips before pulling away with a light chuckle. You blushed furiously, caught off guard by the sudden contact. "Your lips are very soft, Az," you murmured quietly, meant only for him to hear. Azriel's grin widened as he leaned in, his voice a whisper against your ear. "I could say the same for yours."

The room filled with chuckles and light-hearted banter. Cassian whistled, and Rhys laughed, clearly enjoying the turn of events. Now, it was Azriel's turn to steer the game. He looked at you with a playful challenge in his eyes. "Y/N, truth or dare?"

Considering the electric atmosphere and his intoxicating closeness, you replied with a hesitant, "Dare?" Azriel's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I dare you to wrap your arms around me and pull me in for a kiss," he said, his voice low and enticing.

"What, again?" you asked, teasing him lightly. "Don't tell me you kissed me once and already can't get enough."

His chuckle was warm, filling the space between you. "Maybe I just enjoyed it?" Azriel's hands reached out, pulling you closer as he tilted his head, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

The kiss deepened, and you found yourself melting into him, the lines of friendship blurring into something more tender and profound. Cassian's playful voice broke through, adding a flirtatious edge to the night. "Truth or dare, Y/N?" he whispered, sitting close behind you now. You didn’t even hear him cross the room. As his hot breath Fans across the back of your neck, the rules of the game completely forgotton.

Caught between Azriel's lips and Cassian's whispered challenge, you managed a breathless, "Dare?"

Cassian's warm breath tickled your ear, his hands gently tracing circles on your waist. With a sly grin and a gaze full of mischief, he leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "I dare you to stand and strip off your shirt. Let's see what you're hiding under there."

Blushing deeply at his boldness and the intensity of the situation, you hesitated. "I...I'm not wearing anything underneath... this is just my sleepwear," you murmured, a mix of embarrassment and challenge in your voice. As you fumbled with the silk shirt, your wings awkwardly in the way and your movements clumsy from the alcohol, Azriel stepped in. Silently, he helped lift the fabric over your head with gentle ease.

As your shirt fell away, exposing your bare skin to the cool air, Cassian's gaze intensified, drinking in every detail of your newly revealed form. Rhys, no longer content to observe from a distance, rose from his seat and approached with a purposeful stride.

"Allow me," Rhys murmured, his voice a low caress as he reached out to steady you. His fingers brushed your chin, lifting your face as he leaned in to capture your lips in a tender yet insistent kiss. Meanwhile, Cassian wasted no time in exploring the skin now bared before him. His fingers grazed your stomach, slowly making their way up to tease your nipples, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

Caught in the sudden escalation, you gasped, your body responding despite your confusion. "What's happening?" you breathed out, your mind reeling as the game of truth or dare seemed to blur into something more intimate. "Weren't we playing a game?"

"Yes, but it seems we've all become quite..." Rhys paused, breaking the kiss, his voice thick with desire as he stepped back, allowing Azriel his turn. "distracted..." A devilish glint sparked in Rhys's eyes as he turned to Azriel, challenging him. "Truth or dare?" he asked, his tone laden with implications.

Azriel, his gaze fixed intensely on your exposed body, took a deep breath, his desire palpable. Without hesitation, he reached out, his hand cupping your breast, thumb teasing your nipple with deliberate strokes. "Dare," he breathed out, his voice rough.

Rhys smiled wickedly, stepping back to give Azriel space, his eyes alight with anticipation. The scent of arousal hung heavy in the air surrounding you. Rhys' eyes darkened as he observed the unfolding scene with predatory interest. "Azriel," he challenged with a smirk, "I dare you to make her climax."

At the daring proposition, your eyes—wide with desire—met Azriel's. His gaze, alight with raw lust, held yours as he leaned close, his breath searing against your ear. His fingers resumed their tantalizing dance across your nipples, pinching gently, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips. "Ah, Azriel," you moaned, your gaze hooded, body arching towards his touch.

Cassian's chuckle vibrated against your neck as he pressed himself closer, his lips grazing your skin. "You're breathtaking," he whispered, his hands exploring downward to grip your hips, his hardness pressing insistently against you.

"What's happening?" you gasped, caught between them, your mind a whirl of sensation and confusion.

"You're not dreaming," Rhys assured with a soft laugh, his hands gliding down between your breasts. His lips captured yours in a deep, exploring kiss, his tongue mirroring the actions of his hands.

Lost in the kiss, you barely registered Azriel's hand slipping down the front of your pants. But his withdrawal, fingers glistening with your arousal, snapped you back to the present. "You're so wet for us, love." He pressed his wet fingers to your lips, and you sucked them clean, your eyes locked on his, wide and filled with lust.

The three shared a look of pure desire. Cassian's grip tightened on your hips as he pulled you flush against him, grinding his hard cock against your ass. "I want you so badly," he growled, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss.

As the kiss deepened, Azriel's hands ventured lower, sliding your silk shorts down, leaving you bare before the trio of fully clothed Illyrians. His fingers resumed their work, now directly on your heated flesh, teasing your clit before plunging deep inside you. The sensation overwhelmed you, and your knees buckled. Cassian supported you, his strong arms wrapping around you as Azriel drove his fingers deeper, faster.

Rhys stepped closer, his hands caressing your breasts. "You're magnificent like this," he murmured. Overwhelmed by their touches, you managed to gasp out, "Need you," as waves of pleasure built within you, your gaze meeting Rhys violet eyes as you come on Azriels fingers with a scream. "Fuck, Azriel!" The Shadowsinger keeps his fingers working inside of you, bringing you close to another orgasm immediately. Shit, they were your undoing.

Cassian scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to the chaise lounge. He laid you down, his body hovering over yours as he began a tantalizing trail of kisses down your body. "So you want to fuck all of us, hm?" he mused, his breath hot against your exposed skin.

"Yes," you breathed out, desperation lacing your voice. "I want all of you." As Cassian's mouth found your core, his tongue expertly coaxing pleasure from every stroke.

Azriel's hot breath tickled your ear as Rhysand tended to your nipples, groping and kneading your breasts. "You're dripping wet, love," Azriel murmured, his words sending shivers down your spine. With each passing moment, the anticipation grew, the air thick with raw desire.

Belts click and shuffle, as they freed their massive cocks, your eyes widened with a mixture of anticipation and arousal. "Fuck, you're huge," you gasped, your hands instinctively reaching out to wrap around Azriel's cock while your other hand flew around Rhys's.

Azriel groaned at your touch, his hips bucking into your hand as Rhys's attentions intensified on your nipple. "You're going to let us fuck your pretty cunt, aren't you?" Azriel's question hung in the air, met with your eager nod and a firm grip on their cocks. "Yes," you panted, your need echoing in the room. Cassian's growl reverberated against your core as he continued to feast on you. "Good girl," he praised, the vibrations sending you spiraling closer to the edge. "We're going to Fuck you and fill you up until you're screaming our names."

Your body arched, senses overwhelmed as another orgasm approached. "Fucking hell, Cass," you moaned, your hands working Azriel and Rhys with fervor. Azriel's groan mingled with your moans as he guided your mouth towards him. "I want to fuck your mouth," he confessed, his cock eagerly welcomed by your hungry lips. With hunger akin to a starving woman, you eagerly took him in, moaning at the taste of him. Azriel's praise spurred you on as you hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head with abandon, focusing on driving him to the brink of ecstasy.

As Cassian continued his assault on your core, Rhys's attentions on your breasts intensified. "Fuck, I can't wait to be inside you," Cassian growled, his tongue working magic on your clit. Your moans reverberated around Azriel's cock, driving him closer to the edge.

With each thrust into your mouth, Azriel's groans grew louder, his hips moving faster. "You're going to make me cum if you keep doing that," he warned, the sensation of your mouth driving him wild.

Gasping for breath, you released Azriel's cock as Cassian withdrew from your core. “You take me so well.” Azriel's praise sent a shiver down your spine, his whispered words igniting a fire within you. The primal desire in their eyes mirrored your own, and in that moment, there was no turning back. Many years of friendship, growing up together, winning battles and wars. And here you were, drunk on wine and lust as your three best friends ravished your body.

Cassian's impatience is palpable as he declares his inability to wait any longer. With a firm grip on your thighs, he hoists you up, swiftly discarding his pants to reveal his thick length. Settling back onto the couch, he leans against the backrest, anticipation evident in his eyes.

Your breath catches as he pulls you down onto him, your back molding against his chest as his cock glides through your soaked folds. A sharp yelp escapes your lips at the suddenness of the sensation, Cassian's grip on your hips only adding to the intensity. He throws his head back in ecstasy, a low groan rumbling from his throat as he lazily rubs your clit, causing you to squirm beneath him. Your wings flex against Cassian's chest, adding to the intoxicating intimacy of the moment. Rhys's appreciative gaze sweeps over you, his eyes dilated with desire as he takes in every detail. He leans forward with a feline smirk, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

"What do you want, Darling?" Rhys's voice is low and daring, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief as they meet yours. He grunts at the sight of your flushed cheeks and swollen lips, evidence of how you had them wrapped around Azriel’s Cock just moments before. His admiration is evident as he takes in the streaks of tears and drool on your face.

"Gods, you look good like this," he murmurs before claiming your lips again, his tongue exploring your mouth with fervor, licking into it, teeth clashing against each other in the heated kiss. As Cassian grinds against you, his cock teasing your slick cunt with every movement, you're unable to hold back your moans, each drag through your folds eliciting a desperate response that escapes into Rhys's mouth.

Suddenly, you feel something cold slither up your legs, sending shivers down your spine as it trails along your back like gentle caresses. Shadowy tendrils dance around your form, exploring every inch of your body with an eerie yet tantalizing touch.

Amidst the heated atmosphere, Azriel's voice cuts through with a dark allure. "My shadows are eager to explore your body too," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear as he leans in closer. "They long to feel every curve, every inch of your skin, and indulge in the pleasure of the sounds you make." His words send a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. As Cassian's warm breath caresses your neck from behind, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, you feel a shiver run down your spine. "Tell me, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice dripping with desire, "have you ever been fucked in that pretty little ass of yours?"

A furious blush spreads across your cheeks at his bold question, rendering you momentarily speechless. Unable to form coherent sentences, you simply nod in response, feeling the weight of their intense gazes fixed upon you, each one watching your every move.

"We need words, angel," Azriel adds, his touch sending electric pulses through your body as he drags a scarred thumb over your bottom lip. Almost instinctively, your tongue slips out, drawing his thumb into your mouth and sucking on it eagerly, eliciting a low groan from Azriel's lips.

"Yes, I've been fucked in my ass before," you admit, your voice hoarse from the earlier throat-fucking. "Good," Cassian hums in response, his cock dragging through your wetness, coating himself in your slick as he positions himself at your asshole. With gentle pressure, he begins to push into you, urging you to relax. Your eyes roll back, your head falling back onto Cassian's shoulder as you feel the stretch.

"Oh, fuck," you groan, the mixture of pleasure and pain coursing through you as Cassian gradually sinks deeper inside you, until he's fully sheathed. "Do you like having my cock up your ass?" Cassian grunts, starting to thrust into you, his movements deliberate and controlled.

"Yes!" you mewl, your pussy twitching and clenching around nothing, craving the sensation of being filled. "Need one of you in my cunt," you whimper, your pussy dripping with anticipation, yearning for attention. Azriel and Rhys exchange a glance, wordlessly communicating their next move. Azriel then positions himself in front of you, propping one leg onto the edge of the chaise lounge, his knees bent and angled as he aligns himself with your cunt.

Azriel thrusts into your drenched hole, his groans mingling with your gasps as you feel yourself being filled so thoroughly. Sandwiched between the two Illyrians, you're overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body. "Fuck, you feel so good," Azriel moans, his movements becoming more urgent as he seeks out every inch of your warmth.

Cassian grunts into your ear, his voice husky with desire as he whispers sweet praises, his words sending shivers down your spine. "You're so tight, angel," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "Fuck, you take me so well."

His words fuel your arousal, igniting a fire within you as he continues to thrust into you with increasing fervor. "You're amazing," he groans, his grip on your hips tightening. "So fucking beautiful, taking both of us like a champ."

Rhys stands beside the chaise, his gaze fixated on the erotic tableau before him. With a hunger in his eyes, he positions himself next to you, his throbbing cock eagerly seeking entrance. "Open up for me, darling," he urges, his voice thick with desire as he guides his member between your parted lips. Your mouth, still slick from Azriel's earlier attentions, welcomes him eagerly, enveloping him in warmth. Rhys moans softly, his fingers tangling in your hair as he begins to thrust gently, setting a rhythm that matches the movements of Cassian and Azriel behind you.

His praise mingles with your moans. As Rhys plunges deeper into your mouth, his praises become a melodic chant, whispered between gasps of pleasure. "You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, his voice a seductive melody against the backdrop of your moans. "Taking us all so eagerly, so willingly." His words send shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you as you eagerly suck him deeper, your tongue swirling around his length in a dance of desire.

"Such a good girl," Rhys continues, his breath hitching with each thrust. "You were made for this, made to be worshipped by us, to be pleasured in every way imaginable." His words fuel you, driving you to take him deeper, to please him as he plunges into your mouth. As Azriel and Cassian pick up their pace, the intensity of their thrusts sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each powerful thrust fills you up completely, hitting the deepest spots inside you, driving you closer to the edge of bliss.

Your body is flushed with arousal, a rosy hue spreading across your skin as your heart races with anticipation. With every thrust, your breasts bounce in rhythm. Beads of sweat form on your skin, glistening under the dim light of the room as the heat of passion consumes you. You mewl and grunt, lost in a haze of ecstasy as every coherent thought is driven from your mind. You're fucked so well, so thoroughly, that all you can do is surrender to the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you. As Rhys thrusts into your mouth, you eagerly meet his movements, sucking and licking with abandon. His cock fills your mouth, stretching you as you take him deeper, eager to please him as much as the others.

"You're such a good little whore for us, aren't you?" Cassian growls into your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he pounds into you with primal urgency. Azriel's voice is low and husky as he murmurs, "That's it, take all of us. You were made for this, made to be filled up by us." Rhys's words are a seductive whisper against your skin as he thrusts into your mouth, "You're our perfect little plaything, made to satisfy our every desire."

Their words send shivers of pleasure down your spine, fueling the fire of ecstasy that burns within you. You moan around Rhys's cock, your body writhing with pleasure as you surrender to the overwhelming sensation of being taken by them all at once. As they continue to sweet-talk you, their words of adoration and desire fueling the intensity of your pleasure, they also begin to engage in conversation amongst themselves.

Cassian's voice is filled with lust and admiration as he murmurs, "Gods, she's so tight around me. Feels like heaven." Azriel grunts in agreement, his movements becoming more urgent as he drives deeper into you. "She's insatiable. I can feel her clenching around me." Rhys's voice is a low growl as he adds, "She loves it, doesn't she? Loves being taken by all of us at once." The three of them share a knowing glance, a silent communication passing between them as they continue their assault on your body.

As you come around Azriel's cock, your body convulses with pleasure, and you release Rhys's cock with a wet pop, moaning loudly in ecstasy. "Fuck! Gods, yes. More," you whimper, your voice dripping with desire as tears gather at the brim of your eyes once again.

Sensing your need for a change of scenery, Cassian and Azriel pull out of you, their movements synchronized as they lift you up, their strong arms cradling you bridal-style. "Let's go somewhere more comfortable," Cassian suggests, carrying you with ease as you pant heavily, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasms.

Rhys leads the way into his bedroom, the air heavy with anticipation as Cassian gently sets you down on the bed. "On all fours now," he instructs, his voice commanding yet tender as he helps you assume the desired position. "Now tell me, pretty girl," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Whose cock do you want?" You pause for a moment, your mind fogged with desire and need, before you answer with absolute certainty, "All of yours."

Their chuckles ripple through the room, a symphony of desire and amusement. "Yes, but where?" Cassian repeats, his voice laced with anticipation. You bite your lip, considering the question amidst the haze of arousal. "Everywhere," you finally breathe out. Cassian and Azriel exchange a knowing glance, their desire evident in the hunger of their gazes as they settle onto the bed in front of you. "I want all of you to cum inside of me," you declare, your voice dripping with need as you gaze at them with pleading eyes.

A primal hunger ignites within them at your words, their cocks throbbing with anticipation as they watch you with ravenous desire. Without a word, Cassian moves closer, his hands trailing down your spine as he leans in to press his lips against the nape of your neck. "You heard her, boys," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Let's give her what she wants."

Rhys's gaze darkens with desire as he watches the scene unfold before him. With a predatory gleam in his eyes, he moves closer, his fingers trailing over your slick folds before he positions himself at your entrance, his cock twitching with anticipation. "Please," you whimper, your voice pleading as you arch your back, presenting yourself to them completely. "I need you." As Rhys positions himself behind you, his cock pressing eagerly against your dripping folds, you let out a whimper of anticipation, your body trembling with desire. His hands grip your ass with a bruising force, pulling you closer to him as he aligns himself with your slick entrance.

With a low growl, Rhys thrusts into you, his cock filling you to the hilt as you moan in ecstasy. The sensation of being stretched and filled by him sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, your back arching and your hips instinctively grinding back against him. Meanwhile, Azriel and Cassian settle on the bed in front of you, their cocks standing proud and ready for your attention. With a hunger that matches your own, you eagerly take them into your mouth, sucking and licking with fervor as you alternate between the two. Azriel groans appreciatively as you take him deep into your mouth, your tongue swirling around him as you eagerly work to drive him to the brink of ecstasy. Cassian's grip tightens on the sheets as you lavish attention on him, your mouth and tongue working wonders. When your mouth cannot please one of them, you work them with your hands.

Back with Rhys, his thrusts become more urgent, his hips slamming into yours with a relentless rhythm that leaves you breathless. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, building the heat within you to an unbearable intensity. You're surrounded by the heady scent of sex and sweat, the sounds of your moans and the slick sounds of flesh against flesh filling the air as you're taken by all three of them at once. As Rhys's thrusts become even harsher and more powerful, you feel yourself being pushed to the brink of ecstasy. Each withdrawal is agonizingly slow, teasing you with the promise of his impending return, before he slams back into you with a force that sends shivers down your spine.

His moans fill the room, mingling with the sounds of your own pleasure as he drives you towards the edge. With each thrust, he curses under his breath, his voice thick with desire and need.

"Gods, your pretty little cunt is milking my cock so well," he growls, his brows pinched in pleasure as he snaps his hips into yours with even more force. "I'm gonna fill you up now, okay, darling?" he murmurs, his voice laced with a mixture of desire and possessiveness.

You can only manage a breathless whimper of agreement as Rhys's powerful thrusts leave you gasping for air. His cock pistons into you with a relentless intensity, each movement driving you closer to the brink of ecstasy.

With a guttural groan, Rhys pulls out almost completely before slamming back into you, his movements becoming even more forceful and erratic. Your body responds instinctively, arching into his thrusts as you surrender to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. With one final, powerful thrust, Rhys buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he spills his seed into your waiting depths. The sensation of being filled by him pushes you over the edge, and you cry out in ecstasy as waves of pleasure wash over you, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm.

As the intensity of your climax fades, you collapse against the bed, panting heavily as you bask in the afterglow of your shared pleasure. Rhys remains buried deep inside you, his breathing ragged as he presses gentle kisses to the nape of your neck, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

"Would you mind if I go first?" Cassian's voice is husky with desire as he glances at Azriel, who returns his gaze with a heated intensity. "Go ahead," Azriel grunts in response, his own desire palpable in the air.

With a silent understanding passing between them, Cassian switches places with Rhys, who withdraws from you only to be replaced by Cassian's throbbing length. Unlike Rhys's powerful thrusts, Cassian's movements are more deliberate, more controlled. He grinds into you, his cock buried deep within your slick folds, maintaining a constant pressure that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. You can feel the tension in Cassian's body, the urgency in his breath as he nears his own climax. But despite his impending release, he keeps his movements steady, his focus solely on pleasuring you.

And oh, how you revel in it. You love being their plaything, their vessel for pleasure. Your gaze meets Azriel's, and in his hazel eyes, you see a reflection of your own desire, a mirror image of the passion burning within you. As Azriel strokes your hair with a tenderness that belies the raw desire between you, you feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you. With each grinding motion, Cassian's cock delves deeper into your quivering core, eliciting a symphony of moans and gasps from your lips. His breath becomes ragged, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, as he nears the edge of release. "Oh, fuck," Cassian groans, his voice thick with desire. "You feel so good, baby. So fucking tight." As his pace quickens, the tension in Cassian's body becomes almost unbearable. And then, with a guttural cry of ecstasy, Cassian finally succumbs to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him. Hot strings of seed spill from his throbbing cock, filling you to the brim as he empties himself inside you. "Fuck, yes," Cassian pants, his voice raw with passion. "Take it all, darling. Take every last drop."

As your body succumbs to exhaustion, collapsing onto the mattress, you feel utterly spent, your legs trembling with the remnants of pleasure. Rhys and Cassian share a knowing smirk and a low, rumbling laugh, their eyes alight with satisfaction.

"How about you run her a bath and get some food while I take care of her," Azriel suggests, his voice a soothing balm amidst the haze of pleasure that envelops you. With gentle hands, he helps you turn onto your back again, his touch as soft as a whisper against your skin.

You sink into the mattress, utterly relaxed under Azriel's tender ministrations, your body humming with satisfaction. The warmth of his touch soothes the ache in your muscles, easing away the tension that had coiled within you.

"Thank you," you murmur softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Despite the exhaustion that weighs heavily on your limbs, a sense of contentment washes over you, wrapping you in its comforting embrace. Azriel smiles down at you, his gaze filled with warmth and affection. "Anything for you" he whispers, his words a promise of devotion that sends a flutter of butterflies dancing in your stomach. As Azriel leans over you, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, his voice rasps with desire. "I still need to fuck your pretty little cunt one more time, angel," he murmurs, his tone husky with anticipation. With heavy-lidded eyes, you nod, your gaze glazed with the remnants of pleasure.

He moves in front of you, his eyes tracing the halo of your hair spread out like a soft cloud on the mattress, your wings unfurled, a testament to your ethereal beauty. "So fucking beautiful," he whispers, his voice laced with reverence as he gently folds your legs up to your chest, hovering over you with a predatory grace.

"I won't be gentle," he warns, his voice dripping with promise as he plunges into your sensitive pussy. A scream tears from your throat as Azriel's cock, long and thick, fills you completely. There's a certain correlation between the expanse of his wingspan and the size of other parts of his anatomy, and you feel every inch of him stretching you to your limits.

His pace is relentless, unforgiving, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside of you that sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. He moves fast, brutal in his assault on your senses, leaving you no choice but to surrender to the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you. You moan loudly, wildly, unable to control the spasms wracking your body as Azriel's relentless rhythm drives you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. He grins down at you, a feral gleam in his eyes as he growls under his breath, "Look at you, completely drunk on my cock." His words send a shiver of excitement down your spine, mingling with the waves of pleasure crashing over you. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do this," he confesses.

As Azriel's gaze wanders to your wings, his own unfurling behind him with a mesmerizing display of power, he traces a finger over the delicate membrane of your right wing. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and you immediately clench around him, your walls squeezing around his cock in a deliciously tight grip.

Azriel's satisfaction is evident in the grin that tugs at his lips, a mixture of pride and arousal evident in the way he huffs with each powerful thrust into you. "One more time. Give me one more," he coaxes, his voice a seductive whisper that belies the feral look in his eyes.

As he continues to pound into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless, he keeps softly brushing his fingertips over your wings, exploring the soft tissue and tracing the contours of the delicate bones. Each touch sends shivers down your spine, and you squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body.

Gasping for air, your toes curl as the overwhelming pleasure threatens to consume you entirely. In a tantalizing twist, a shadowy cool tendril finds its way to your clit, adding another layer of sensation to the already intense experience. As Azriel ruts harder, his movements becoming more unsteady and desperate, you feel the tension building within you, every snap of his hips sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. With each thrust, he drives deeper into you, hitting that perfect spot that makes you see stars.

And then, it happens. You come together, your bodies trembling in sync as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over you. Azriel's hips stutter, his movements growing erratic as he shoots his ropes of hot cum deep inside of you, filling you up with his essence.

When he pulls out, a mixture of their combined cum drips from your well-used pussy. Azriel's eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of your fucked-out cunt, leaking with their combined release.

"Fuck, so pretty with our cum all over your pussy, mhm?" he breathes heavily, his fingers gathering some of the spilled cum before pushing it back inside of your throbbing cunt. You moan at the overstimulating sensation, your body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure.

"We wouldn't want to waste anything now, would we?" he murmurs, leaning over to brush a soft kiss to your forehead before capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. Your body continues to shake as you try to come down from the intoxicating high.

Rhys returns with a tablet full of food, setting it down beside the bed as Azriel picks you up, cradling you in his arms, and carries you to the bathroom where Cassian had prepared a warm bath. The steam rises, enveloping you in its comforting embrace as Azriel gently sets you down into the tub. "You'll bathe," he murmurs softly, his voice laced with tenderness, "then we'll eat, rest for some time, and then..." He pauses, his gaze intense as he meets yours. "Then we'll fuck you until the sun comes up."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of anticipation and desire coursing through your veins. You nod eagerly, your body still humming with the lingering echoes of pleasure. The promise of more to come ignites a fire in the pit of your stomach as you soak in the warm water, letting it soothe your weary muscles.

As you lean back, closing your eyes and reveling in the sensation of warmth surrounding you, you can't help but smile at the thought of what lies ahead.

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 2 months ago

Text

MONSTER- SAM WINCHESTER

pairing: soulless! ghostface! bestfriend! sam x fem! reader

word count: 4.3k

summary: you had always had a massive crush on your best friend, sam. that crush never went away even when he had to leave- for some "family buisness". when halloween rolls around, you invite him to a halloween party- hoping theres a chance he could show up and you could finally get lucky- even with all the sudden disappearances happening around town...

warnings: HEAVY SMUT! like kinky smut. use of knife play, and mentions of ropes. sam being a massive dom, dumbification kink, p in v, heavy praise kink, booze and drugs consumed/ mentioned, mentions of killings- kidnapping, implied mask kink, dry humping, over-protetive sam, heavy size kink, swearing, flirtation etc... dark sam...

"uh-oh, there was a monster in my bed/ we french-kissed on a subway train/ he tore my clothes right off/ he ate my heart and then he ate my brain... uh-oh, uh-oh (i love that girl)/ (wanna talk to her, she's hot as hell)"- monster, lady gaga

note: this is my first supernatural fic, i really hope i did sam some justice:) i havent had the time to fully rewatch the show (its been a while, so im really sorry if this isnt entirely accurate)- this moreso focuses on just... sam being a kinky freak. cause cmon now. we know this is canon as fuck. enjoy reading!

You weren’t sure what to believe, in all honesty. Rumors spread through campus like wildfire, and you were caught just teetering on the lick of the flame.

Girls, disappearing from their homes.

Girls never making it to their dorms.

It had even gotten so extreme you heard of guys getting swept up like Thursday garbage day.

The whole ordeal made you uneasy. Vulnerable.

You constantly checked over your shoulder, even in the daylight.

No one was safe.

But in all honesty, you couldn’t help but scoff. It would never happen to you.

Nothing ever did.

You were pretty plain in that sense; nothing drastic had ever happened to you.

For the most part, your life was normal. You had normal friends, went to a normal university, and had normal parents. No boyfriend, but a normal crush on your friend Sam Winchester. Totally, completely normal.

Which is why, when you were invited to a totally normal Halloween party at one of the frats, you didn’t think anything of it. It was a Wednesday night, and you longed to slip into PJs and crawl into bed.

But here you were, attempting to “lock in” at the library (and had been failing miserably). You had a paper to write, but your mind was anywhere but on the laptop screen in front of you.

The cursor stared at you as it blinked, taunting you to write. You put your head in your hands, sighing. You also had totally normal stress about school.

Okay, it was extreme stress. But you were a straight-A, goodie two-shoes. You had an image to keep dusted and a reputation to uphold.

But the urge to push that to the side increased as your phone buzzed. You instinctively picked it up—your friend Megan texting you.

Megan: Hey baby. Halloween party at Jason’s on Saturday night. Bar hop and then we go in our bunny costumes?

You smirked. Now this, this was something you could get behind. All that could be heard was your thumbs flying across the keyboard in the dead quiet library.

Everyone had gone home early due to the unusual events that had been occurring. You weren’t bothered by it much.

You: Duh, bitch! Let’s party it up.

You stared at your messages longer than you should’ve, focusing on one name in particular. Sam.

You hadn’t heard from him in over a week. The two of you were best friends and had been since high school. You were pretty close with his older brother Dean too, although closer to Sam since he was your age.

That closeness almost increased when he had started to go to your university. The pair of you were inseparable until he had to leave.

You didn’t ask questions because you knew he wouldn’t be able to answer. Him and Dean were very selective about what parts of their lives they told. Family business wasn’t any of your business.

So you gave him a long hug and made him promise to keep in touch if he could.

That day felt like ages ago. It had been so long since you saw him.

Texting him wasn’t the same.

You: Any plans for Halloween, Sammy?

You put your phone down, not expecting an answer until a while later. The Winchesters took forever to respond, and you learned not to take it personally. Your phone buzzed, and your heart fluttered as you saw who it was from.

Sam: You know I don’t do Halloween. It’s stupid, and the costumes are lame. You: Well, I’m going as a sexy bunny.

You watched the text bubble appear, then disappear. Then reappear again.

Sam: Okay, that’s not lame. Send pictures, please. Asking for a friend.

You giggled, feeling your cheeks heat at his reply. Him and Dean were such flirts. You couldn’t help but like it, though, because of your crush on the younger Winchester.

You: Well, if you want, you can see it in person. If you’re in town this weekend, there’s a party on Saturday night ;) Sam: I’ll see what I can do, Bunny.

You sighed, shoving your phone back in your pocket. You needed to focus on work and get this paper done so you could enjoy yourself this weekend without the weight of school on your shoulders. You couldn’t enjoy yourself properly without it done.

So you pushed your head back into the books, fingers frantically flying across the keyboard to type anything your brain could come up with.

But the entire time, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched.

Not once, but twice.

--------------------------------------------------------- The shot burned as you tossed it back, licks of fire seeping into your belly as you grimaced. You were more of a vodka girl then a tequila, but you’d take what was given to you.

You set the little glass down with a thud on your vanity, taking a deep breath as you stared at yourself in the mirror, soft lights dimly lighting up your reflection.

You looked good.

You weren't one to be overly confident, but you had to admit to yourself, you’d grab attention. The sleek, black corset hugged and accentuated your curves, boobs popping and teasing as they strained against the fabric.

You placed the black bunny ears on your head, adjusting your hair so it curled around your shoulders just right. You very tipsly pursed your lips in the mirror, a hand on your hip as you winked at yourself.

If this doesn't get Sam's attention, you don't know what will.

The thought of him made you giddy, butterflies swarming in your chest at the mere idea there was a chance he and maybe even Dean would be there tonight. You very much doubted it, and did not blame them if they couldn't arrive.

They were busy. You doubted they would even be near town, let alone in it.

But a girl could hope and dream.

You made sure to do a signature, sexy makeup look you knew Sam liked (you caught him staring at your lips a little too long a few times), in case he arrived.

“You coming?” Megan yelled from her bedroom, and you scrambled to grab your phone and hike on your heeled boots.

“Yeah one second!”

You posed, snapping a quick mirror picture in case you needed photo evidence in your costume to send to him later.

You were nervous. Taking another deep breath, you shut your eyes, and begged those shots to give your lightweight ass some drunk corrage to get laid tonight.

It had been too long. Above and beyond your goal if it was one man in particular.

------------------------------------------- You were no longer nervous.

Instead, you had turned into Kat Stratford, shaking your hips and dancing like no one was watching on top of the kitchen table in some random frat house.

The red lights danced across the skin, and you tilted your head back, letting sweat trickle down your neck as you swayed to 2010s Lady Gaga thumping from the speakers loud enough to shake the picture frames on the walls. Your friends had all gathered around you, even some fellow straggler guys who wanted to get a quick peek as you had your drunken fun, red solo cup sloshing around.

A sudden voice broke you from your trance.

“Y/N what do you think you’re doing?” a sassy, low voice drawled from the ground, and your eyes widened. Sam's mischievous, teasing look made your heart flutter as he looked at you, barely having to look up- already being taller than the average human.

Much, much bigger than you- that was for sure.

“S-Sam?” you smiled, stumbling over to try and get off the table, tripping in the process. You let out a squeal as you fell right into his large arms, holding you as if you weighed nothing.

He chuckled as you stumbled to the ground, wasting no time as you wrapped your arms around him- clearly drunk.

“Imisseedyousomuch-” you slurred, giggling as you clung to his torso rocking back and forth with excitement.

“I can't believe you made it! How have you been? Oh my gosh, I have so much to tell you. And wait- woah are you wearing a costume?”

You rambled on, his bright eyes and soft smirk never leaving his lips as you tripped over your words. He pulled a mask from behind his back, as if he were revealing a magic trick to a toddler, waving the Ghostface mask in front of you.

”The one and only.” he winked.

“Who are you and what did you do with Sammy? I thought you didn't do Halloween?”

“Changed my mind this year, thought I’d make it special.” he smiled, subtly placing a hand on your waist, guiding you over to a quieter area so you could talk- his eyes never leaving yours.

He was entranced with you. The way you spoke, the way you moved, the way you looked.

God the way you looked.

And you were so dizzy from the booze, and from the excitement of seeing him you didn't even notice. You didn't notice the little shifts in his demeanour either, the way his smirk was as sly as a cheshire cats.

“It is special. You look hot.” you giggled, embarrassment thrown out the window. You didn't even care anymore.

What did you have to lose? You never saw him anyway- as sad as it was to say, it was reality.

He leaned against the wall, his large frame seeming to cast a shadow over you, shielding you from anyone else. He bit his lip, looking you up and down, gaze lingering on every curve.

“Hot indeed.”

You smiled, doing a little twirl, letting him admire you. “Whada think Sammy?” you asked innocently, knowing his thoughts were anything but. He whistled.

“Pretty lil bunny. You’re so gorgeous, ya know that?”

Your cheeks heated at his words. He was forward and blunt tonight- you thought. Not that you minded, it was just a little out of character for him. Flirty, yes, but this forward? It must have been the alcohol.

“You’re not too bad yourself. But seriously, were you actually in town? I didn't want you to make a separate trip for me.” you hit his shoulder lightly. You could feel the muscle from under the black baggy sweater he wore.

Jesus he had bulked since you saw him last. How long had it really been?

“What and missed seeing my bunny? Never in a million years. Dean and I were just poking around, and I wanted to say hello.”

“Deans here too?” Your eyes flickered around the room, vision slightly fuzzy as you whipped around slowly to look for him, Sam's hand slipping up to cup your chin, thumb gripping your skin so you stared into his eyes.

“Yeah, but you know him. Probably fucking some college chick- who knows. I'm sure you'll see him around tonight.” he smiled softly. You nodded dumbly as if you were under some hypnotic trance.

“Yeah, yeah you're right. Hey- did you wanna head outside so we can talk? It’s loudddd in here.” you giggled. You and Sam typically used to do this at parties, both of you finding them exhausting and boring after the first two hours or so.

You often talked about random shit, whether it be deep and personal (mainly to you) or something silly while smoking weed and sprawling across him. It was just what he wanted it seemed, eager beyond belief to get you outside, all alone.

You guided him through the swarm of people, many staring you down as if you were fresh meat. You felt Sam's grip tighten as you made your way to the back door, waving at Megan and group of girls you had met earlier tonight.

The chill breeze sent goosebumps rising up and down your bare arms, past your little cufflinks. You shivered under the moonlight, letting the wind blow your hair back, tickling Sam's chest as he shut the door tight behind him, as if he wanted to keep people out.

Or you out. You couldn't tell.

“S’colder than I thought.” you hiccuped, slowly making your way over to the wooden porch steps, out of sight from the windows as you knelt down slowly to keep yourself from falling flat on your ass with a smack.

“What, you didn't drink enough to wear your alcohol jacket?” he teased, taking two long strides over to you, plopping down beside you.

“S’so did. But I’m just hyper aware of it n all, like my tits are screaming at me for letting them out on tonight of all nights.”

You couldn't stop talking. God what was wrong with you. You smacked your forehead, making Sam chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“I can run back to the Impala and grab my jacket for you if you’d like.”

“What, your lumberman jacket? And mess up my outfit? You just want to look better than me, is that it Sammy? To woo the girls?”

His eyebrow perked. “You're the only girl I wanna woo.”

You nudged his side, insides practically screaming at you. Were you just really drunk, or was Sam Winchester- the man you had a crush on for years, legitimentluy flirting with you?

“Dont be silly.”

“I'm not being silly, I’m being truthful.”

You pursed your lips, turning your head to stre at him, instead of the acres of forest that stretched in the backyard. The wind caused the bare tree branches to rattle, hissing through the night. Not even the sound of animal stirred.

The night seemed dead and stale.

Sam was much prettier to look at instead.

“Needy. When the last time you got laid Winchester?”

He snorted, pinching your bare arm. “Ouch!” you shriked.

“Don't be mean.”

“I'm not being mean, I’m asking you truthfully. Cause I havent gotten some in forever, and it's getting old quick.” you sighed, resting an elbow on your knee, leaning your chin in your hand to support your weight.

You felt giddy and nervous as Sam slid his large hand over to carasse your thigh, fingers tickling the flesh as he allowed them to trail patterns on you.

“Yeah? Poor girl.” he cooed, pinching your skin again quickly. You wet your lips, batting your innocent, doe eyes at him as he let his hand inch towards your inner, inner thigh.

“Yeah its… rough out here.”

“No contenders? What a shame.” You giggled. “I only want one contender. Im not sure if he wants me back.” you drunkenly hicuped, his stare turning liquid, full of desire as he hungerly eyed you up and down,your eyes, your lips, your breasts.

“You think I havent noticed the way you look at me?”

You froze.

“You think I havent noticed you, for ages? Do you know how stupid it was of me, of him to let this go to waste?”

He chuckled lowly to himself. “Oh no, no no baby. It's adorable, your little crush.” he smirked, pinching your cheeks, as if you were his little doll. You felt your jaw go slack at his words.

“W-wait, so you want- I mean you like me? Too?” you asked meekly, chewing on on the inside of your cheek.

“Like you? Oh baby I’m obsessed with you. You precious little thing.”

You giggled, nudging his beefy shoulder with your own, leaning against him. “Really?” you stared up at him with stars in your eyes, feeling like a kid in a candy store.

Were you actually getting what you wanted? The thing you truly had wanted, for what seemed like eons now?

Two goals were getting checked tonight. Fuck. Yeah.

“Really.” he purred, sliding his hand down so it was practically cupping your aching and soaked heat. Your breath shuttered. “This okay?” he asked softly, and you nearly tore off your outfit right then and there.

You were about to see what Sam was like in the bedroom. Or- the outside. Wherever that may be.

You nodded, hiccuping and practically melting into him as he cupped you, making you purr like a kitten.

“G-gonna break that dry spell Winchester?” you smiled, head lolling against his fingers stroking your cunt through the flimsy fabric. “Ha. I still know a thing or too.” he purred.

“So responsive…” he murmured as you bucked your hips.

You weren't sure if it was the weed, or the shots, or the wind against your soaked cunt but you were flustered beyond belief. Before you could even process what had happened, you were flung over his shoulder, bouncing as he ran over to the security of the hidden, tucked away woods.

You squealed, clinging onto his shoulder for dear life as you watched the world become out of reach from a much higher view point. He smacked your ass and you jolted before setting you down in the woods, the crunch of leaves under your feet as you wobbled.

There was just enough moonlight you could see the boyish, michelvious glean in his eyes as he backed you against a tree, the rough bark making you shiver under his gaze as he caged you in.

“Now no one can hear you scream for me.” he smirked, cockily. You were so flustered you didn't even know where to begin. You moaned as he grabbed your ass, lifting you up to his height, lips crashing against yours with such hunger you thought he would eat you whole, a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Teeth and tongue clashed as you ran your fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands, your bunny ears long forgotten in the mess of the woods. You let your hands run across his body, feeling the hard muscle through the black fabric, before you felt something unusual.

Something sharp.

Your heart skipped a beat as his lips left swollen ones, lipgloss stained across his own, a line of spit still connecting them. He kissed your neck, biting and sucking at the exposed skin as you turned to putty.

A knife was pulled from behind his back and you shivered as he stared at you cooly, letting the blade glitter in the moonlight. You swallowed dryly.

“Is- is that real?” you asked softly. He nodded. You felt your panties dampen even more.

Fuck. So he was a freak.

He waited, as if he wanted to see how’d you react. If you’d spit in his face and call him sick and demented. But instead you wrapped your hand around his own, guiding the blade against your neck, letting it fall back- giving him further access.

His eyes widened in admiration, then amusement at your silent request.

“Oh you dirty, dirty girl. You like this shit, yeah? You like when I take control like this?”

He curved the blade, and you felt it trail down to the tops of your exposed breasts.

“I could carve something right here, y’know baby? And you're such a dumb dolly, so in love with me that you'd let me.”

You drunkenly nodded, attempting to buck and grind your hips against him. He stilled, titling the blade, as if he were to pierce it through your heart.

You felt the sting, the little drop of blood it caused.

“But I’d never hurt you baby. You’re too precious.” he hummed, eyes so dark they seemed to flicker black.

The knife dropped to the ground, his lips marking your breasts as you squirmed, grinding against him. You found his belt buckle, the cool metal deciduous against your throbbing cunt- hands struggling to unbuckle it.

“We’ll need the ropes for you next time. You're pathetic. You know that?” he gripped your chin, smooshing your cheeks. You felt tears start to well in your eyes from the pure need that was in your system, so desperate to escape you. It hurt.

“Please. Please Sammy, please-” you whimpered, making him laugh, planting a kiss to the top of your forehead.

You slid from his grip like liquid into a puddle as he unbuckled his jeans, and your mouth watered at the sight.

He was huge.

You knew he would be, but you underestimated just how huge.

All your fantasies could never compare with this. With him, and his body.

“See something you like?” he asked smugly, tugging the drapey dark fabric over his head, tossed in the brush somewhere.

Your eyes nearly fell out of their head at his V line, happy trail leading right to where you needed him most.

“Wanna suck your cock.” you mumbled bashfully, unapologetic of the free rein of your speech right now. You were past the point of shame, or embarrassment.

“What was that angel?” he smiled, hand grabbing your chin again as your knees threatened to wobble, and give out from underneath you.

Jesus he was intense. Whatever it was tonight, it was amplified.

“Wanna suck your cock please Sammy.” you begged. He cooed down at you, face pouting in faux pity.

“Awh silly baby. As much as I’d love to have you down on your knees, I have other plans for us tonight, yeah?”

You nodded dumbly as he took over, fingers sliding your bodysuit and thong to the side, running a finger through your soaked folds. He hummed, content.

“Such a soaked baby. You've been this wet for me all night?”

“Y-yeah Sammy was hoping you’d come tonight to fuck me.” you confessed.

“That so?”

“Mhmm” you nodded.

You moaned, feeling yourself buckle, hand reaching out to grip his forearm as he toyed with the bundle of nerves, making slow, steady circles at your clit.

“S-sam-”

“Hush baby. Up we go now, there we go.” He picked you back up again, freeing himself from his boxers as he angled himself right where you wanted him. Where you needed him.

“You’re gonna shut up and take my cock now, like a pretty lil slut?”

“Please-”

The feeling was euphoric. He wasted no time, sliding into you with ease, your juices coating him. The two of you moaned pornagraphically, as he inched his way further, stretching you.

He was so big you felt him in your tummy, filling you up. Swallowing you whole.

“Thereee we go, atta girl. You’re so fuckin tight bunny fuck-” he growled, forehead leaning against yours, breathing heavly. As if he was trying to control himself.

“Sam- Sam g-god-” was all you could sputter as your nails dug into his biceps as he bottomed out.

“I can- can’t” you moaned, fluttering your eyes closed. He slowly slid out, thrusting bak in deeply. You groaned.

“Hey, eyes on me.” he commanded, gripping your chin. “You can take it baby, you’re doing so good. Taking my cock like a good lil girl yeah? Arent you sweetheart?”

His dirty talk had your brain completely shut off, the wires crackling, then sputtering out. It was as if your programming had suddenly flatlined, and all you could think was Sam. Sam sam sam sam.

“So vocal. Wished I fucked you sooner baby, best pussy I’ve ever had. Y’know that? Youre all dumb for me, brain dead.” he chuckled, watching drool trickle from the side of your mouth as you screamed his name, panting.

He watched your tits bounce, with that little spot of dried up blood as he thrusted into you, harder and harder, faster and faster until you thought you were a ragdoll about to be torn in half.

“M’gonna cum-” you squealed, and he nodded, as if to grant you permission. You milked him dry, screaming so loud your voice went hoarse.

Sam continued to ride you through it, hips never faltering. “There we go baby, did that feel good? M’ all up in your tummy, and I'm gonna fill you up, kay?” he cooed, forcing your attention back on him, on his heavy gaze and despite eyes.

“K-kay Sammy please-”

He smiled, kissing you as you moaned into his mouth, hot, white liquid coating your insides as he finished inside you. You could barely catch your breath as he kissed your forehead, and each cheek tenderly.

“Fuck bunny. You were so good. So, so good.” he sighed, hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your cheek, plastered with sweat. You nodded softly, murmuring unintelligible words as he set you back down, holding your body as you tried to find your balance.

Your legs were shaking like a quivering newborn fawn as you gripped the side of the tree, letting your eyes drift close for no more than a second.

You could no longer feel a presence supporting your back. Sam was gone.

Out of sight, under the moonlight, as if he had disappeared into the trees without a trace.

Your head started to spin, and you felt the weight of the night slowly starting to crash down on you. “S-sam?”

“I’m so sorry it had to be this way angel.” was all you heard from behind you, before a force nicked your head so hard, the world went dark.

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

“She asleep?” a voice called, sounding like it was eons away.

Your eyes refused to open, and you felt something tied around your ankles and wrists, as you lay on your back. Two sets of eyes were on your dishevelled frame.

You didn't dare to open your eyes until they looked away, facing to the front of the vehicle. You felt two plastic masks placed where your feet lay.

Oh god. Oh fuck. You wanted to puke.

“Knocked right out. A sleeping beauty.” another called. Sam.

“Poor bunny.” a voice chuckled, whistling a tune as he turned down the volume dial, as if he was worried to wake you. Dean.

You quickly shut your eyes again, urging yourself to keep your breathing shallow and natural as Sam looked back at your resting frame, a sympathetic frown on his face.

“Night night bunny, sweet dreams.” he cooed, before you blacked out again, in the backseat of the Impala.

#sam winchester smut #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #soulless sam #jared padalecki #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #dark fic #ghostface #supernatural fandom #jared paladecki #supernatural smut #supernatural sam winchester

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sitepathos · 4 months ago

Text

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 4: The Deal (Warning: this chapter will feature violence. Read at your own risk)

A/N: had free time this week to produce this. Next week is chock full of tests and midterms, so this’ll probably be the last chapter for some time. Enjoy! Also, I’m sorry to those who asked to be added to the tag list and weren’t. I tried to add many of you, but Tumblr wasn’t able to find your blog for whatever reason.

When you open your eyes, darkness goes on forever in all directions, the only thing you can see is yourself. Where are you and how did you get here?

“Hello,” you call out, hoping someone is nearby to hear you, not caring who hears you just as long as someone comes to you. “Is there anyone here?”

Nothing, which you expected, but you had hoped against reality that someone was here… wherever here is. The cold air surges through your body and you shiver, your teeth chattering, echoing in the void.

“What happened,” you ask yourself. “How’d I get here?”

Just then, your memory kicks in and images and words assault your mind all at once: walking through the East End, the three thugs, the dirty shack in the middle of the woods you had been dragged to, and—

“Oh my god,” you say as the final memory flashes before your eyes. “They killed me.”

That’s right, the flash of the muzzle and the sound of the gunshot still rattling in your head. And if you think hard enough, you can vaguely remember falling to the floor after the bullet entered your head.

“Wait,” you say, realizing something very important. “If they shot me, then why am I here?”

Sure, you aren’t religious (all beliefs in a just and loving god died after you lost your Momma and was forced to live in an abusive and neglectful household for thirteen years), but this dark and neverending void is a far cry from the bright and golden imagery that’s always been associated with heaven. And this sure isn’t the fire and brimstone that comes to mind when you think of hell. So, is this purgatory? Or limbo? You never could keep the two straight.

Is this your fate? To spend the rest of your afterlife alone in this abyss? Why couldn’t you just cease altogether? Was it too much to ask that you just close your eyes and never wake from your eternal slumber?

You realize you’re crying and you’re amazed that after crying so much throughout your life, you still have plenty of tears to shed, even in the afterlife. But that’s been your lot in life since you lost Momma: to be the world’s punching bag.

“Such powerful emotions,” a familiar voice says.

You look up in shock and see your Momma, looking exactly the same as the day she was taken from you.

“Momma,” you exclaim, rushing to her and embracing her, squeezing her as hard as your arms will allow, afraid that if you let go, she’ll disappear.

“This form brings out such joy, sadness, and loss in you,” she says. “Feelings from someone alive are far more vibrant than from someone deceased.”

“What,” you asks, looking up at her in confusion, but when you do, it’s not your Momma you see looking down at you, but Bruce. You let go of the man as quick as you can and put a bit of distance between the two of you.

“What did you do to my Momma, you son of a bitch,” you shout in disgust.

“This form brings out such anger, pain, and hatred in you,” Bruce says, looking you up and down as if dissecting you like a damn lab experiment. “How interesting.”

“What the hell are you talking about? How’d you get here and what did you do to Momma?”

“And it’s not just this form.” You see movement all around you and in perfect unison, the other members of the Wayne Family appear from the void. “You hold these forms in equal amounts of hatred and contempt.”

“You deem this one a failure,” Bruce says.

“This one a hypocrite,” Dick says.

“This one a brute,” Jason says.

“This one a know-it-all,” Tim says.

“This one a stranger,” Barbara says.

“This one annoying,” Stephanie says, before turning to Cassandra. “And while you’ve never heard that one speak, you deem her a freak.”

“And you deem this one a monster,” Damian says. He gestures to Bruce. “You hate this form and that one in equal measure, far surpassing the others.”

You see another figure step out of the void and when you make out the face, it’s Alfred. You feel relief surge through your body, happy to see the butler; if there’s anyone who you can depend on, it’s him.

“While this one serves the others, you hold great respect for this form,” Alfred says. “Although, you hold a not insignificant amount of resentment towards him.”

Your heart skips a little at the accusation. No, you love the man, who took the place of a father when Bruce failed to fill the void left by your Momma’s death; sure, you’ve had the occasional thought that if the man was given a choice between you and them, he’d choose them over you since he’s always helping them, but he’s always been there for you since day one!

“No,” you say, pleading with the man. “Alfred, I don’t!”

“But you do,” the butler responds. “According to you, he is the true master of your prison, but instead of using his power to make them acknowledge your existence, he allows them to continue parading through Gotham, fighting criminals.”

“You also believe all these forms belong in Arkham,” Bruce adds. “And that you wish to be the one to subject them to electroshock therapy.”

You finally realize that something’s wrong here. All of them have never been in your presence long enough for you to say how you feel about them (not that they’d care, anyway) and you’ve never told Alfred how you often daydream of locking them away in Gotham, strapping them to metal chairs, and flipping the switch to send hundreds of volts through their skulls, hoping to shock them into being decent human beings. All this has been kept in your head for well over a decade.

So, how the hell did they know all this?

“You’re not them, are you?”

“No,” Not-Bruce answers. “We only took the forms of those you see before you.”

“Then who the fuck are you,” you growl. “And where the fuck am I?”

“We have no name,” Not-Alfred says.

“We are one, and yet we are many,” Not-Damian finishes.

“It is impossible to define a being such as us,” Not-Jason chimes in.

“Alright, that doesn’t answer my question,” you mutter to yourself, but say it loud enough for them to hear. “Then answer me this: where am I? The last thing I remember was being shot by three thugs.”

“Yes, we know of your attack,” Not-Stephanie says.

“As for your question, we are appearing to you in your mind,” Not-Bruce says.

“My mind,” you exclaim. “How?”

“When you appeared to us, we reached out and established a link with you,” Not-Tim explains. “It is from there that we were able to peer into your mind and see your memories.”

“My memories,” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Not-Damian responds. “Through your memories, we saw these forms and assumed them. We thought it would be more preferable for you to speak to us if we took the appearance of the people who have the most influence on your life.”

“If you looked through my memories, then you should know I want nothing to do with any of them,” you snap at them.

“We know now that we were in error,” Not-Bruce responds, a ghost of a smile gracing his face. “We owe you many thanks. Never before have we been put into a situation where have known the sensation of being incorrect. We will ponder this experience for years to come.”

“So, what do you really look like.”

All of them look at one another, unsure how to answer your question.

“We are not sure if you wish to see our true form,” Not-Alfred responds.

“While you are the first sentient being we’ve interacted with in our entire existence, we know that our true form is something many of your kind would consider… terrifying,” Not-Stephanie adds.

“I don’t care,” you snap. “I’m not talking to any of you while you look like this and I sure as hell don’t want you taking Momma’s form! And if we’re going to talk, we’re gonna do it face to face!”

“Very well,” Not-Bruce acquiesces.

And with that, everything fades to black and for a moment, you’re scared you’ll be left here in the dark by yourself again. Maybe you should’ve let them stay like that.

Just then, above you, you see an odd red glow. You look up and you feel your blood freeze, your heart stop, and the air catches in your lungs. Above you is a giant mass of red, bioluminescent flesh hanging from a cave ceiling, thick black tendrils extruding from it and digging deep into the surrounding rock, allowing it to remain suspended in the cavern. And if that didn’t freak you out enough, you can see the flesh obviously resembles the shape of a fetus in the fetal position. This thing looks like something out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel.

“Holy shit,” is all you can say.

“We told you you would not approve of our true form,” it says, its voice beaming directly into your mind.

“What are you,” you ask, still awestruck at the sight before you.

“We are have no name,” it responds. “But, with the knowledge we have accumulated over the centuries, we suppose you can call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete?”

“Yes, we are a supercolony of sentient fungus that has existed for over four-hundred years.”

“Four-hundred years? That’s as long as Gotham’s been around.”

“We have existed as the city above. When its founders first arrived, we were nothing more than a collection of small, independent and unaware colonies of mold. Not long after the first buildings were built, an earthquake shook the area and revealed something we now know as a ‘Lazarus Pit,’ a pool of green, luminescent liquid that possesses remarkable restorative properties, and the colonies that would become us were plunged into it.”

“And this pit made you the way that you are?”

“The pit made us aware, but it did not give us our intelligence. With our enhanced capabilities, we were able to spread out our roots beyond the mountain. Not long after, we discovered the corpses of the first of Gotham’s citizens, buried after they drew their last breath; when our roots came into contact with their bodies, we found we had the ability to archive the knowledge, memories, and even DNA of the deceased. We became obsessed with growing our archive, so as Gotham grew over the years, so did our roots; overtime, we archived hundreds of its deceased, increasing our intelligence and knowledge of the outside world. Now, our roots touch every part of this city, becoming one with it, not only archiving the remains of its living, but seeing and hearing everything that goes on within its boundaries.”

“So,” you say, your mouth becoming dry at your newfound knowledge. “You’re like some fungal god?”

“While we know many of your kind may consider a being such as us god, we hold no illusion of being a divine entity. We think of ourselves as an immortal observer.”

As you attempt to process this information, your mind brings something to your attention and you feel your heart stop when you realize it. You really don’t want to know the answer, but there’s that damn stubborn part of you that has… no, it needs to know.

“So,” you begin, trying to summon the courage to ask your question. “Earlier, you said all of this is going on in my head, right?”

“Yes, our roots were able to establish a link with you and allow us to convene with you in your mind.”

“So, if we’re in my head right now, where’s me? I mean, my body?”

Although the Megamycete doesn’t have eyes, nor does it turn anything that resembles a head, you can feel it shift its awareness to the side, as if looking at something. You feel yourself break into a cold sweat as you slowly turn your head to the left, wondering what exactly you’re going to find.

And when you do, your greeted by a sight that makes you feel as if the world around you had crumbled away and you’ve been left behind to float in the void left behind: you, lying in a mess of tendrils composed of mold, broken, battered, and bloody; your limbs lying in directions they’re definitely not supposed to be in, your eyes glazed over, and a gaping bullet hole in your left temple.

“Oh my god,” you shout, utterly horrified at the sight before you. “Oh my god!”

“We saw the torture those three criminals subjected you to. Their leader was quite thorough in inflicting damage.”

“So that’s it, huh?” While this is all just some projection in your head, you feel like you’re hyperventilating. “This is how it ends: being eaten by some sentient mushroom and becoming a part of it? Doomed to spend the rest of eternity tethered to this damn city? I survive in a place where you’re likely to be killed by some trigger-happy murder clown and his psycho-ass whore while getting your mail and some two-bit thug is what does me in?”

“If you look closer, you will find that you are still alive.”

You practically snap your head to look back at your body and sure enough, you can see your chest moving up and down. It may not be much, but it’s there.

“I’m alive,” you ask, shocked at the sight of you breathing.

“You still live,” it answers back. “Your life force is low, but still there.”

“But how? He shot me in the head and then threw me down here! People don’t live after something like that!”

“While a gunshot to the head is normally fatal, our archive shows us two revelations: that the bullet did not go through your brain, but graze it and that the bullet used was of a lower caliber. While the wound was grievous, you still had a chance of surviving it. As for the fall into our chamber, your body was caught onto our roots as it fell, slowing it down and allowing it to land with diminished force.”

“But I’m still going to die, right?”

“Yes,” it answers, seemingly sympathetic. “If you were in a proper hospital, you could recover, but right now, your body is slowly shutting down. By the time anyone found you, you would long be deceased.”

So, you survive attempted murder, but you’ll still die in the end.

“Fuck,” you mutter. “Wasn’t the end I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind for your death,” the Megamycete asks.

“Shouldn’t you know what i had in mind for my death?”

“We do, but our knowledge shows us talking to the dying brings a form of comfort to them. Plus, this is the first time we have had the chance to interact with a living mortal. We wish to prolong the experience as much as possible.”

You chuckle at that. “I thought I would spend my final days back home in Goodsprings, sitting in the big recliner Momma bought for me. I use to spend Saturday mornings in it, eating cereal and watching cartoons.” You smile at the memory of the chair. “It was a damn good chair.”

“We see it, a brown cushioned seat, perfect for watching television or reading books.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Would’ve been perfect to spend my last days in.”

“Perhaps you still can.”

You look up at the Megamycete. “What?”

“We offer you a deal: we will repair your body and give you the strength to leave this chamber and rejoin the outside world.”

“And you’ll get what?”

“You become our host.”

“What,” you balk. “Host?”

“Yes, we will entangle ourselves with your very being, becoming as one.”

“And why the hell would I agree to that,” you exclaim. “You fix my body just to take it over? No deal!”

“You misunderstand. We will not override your control over your body. We will be nothing more than a spectator in your life, seeing but being powerless to intervene. In addition to being restored to your former glory, you will gain access not only to our vast archive of knowledge, but gain abilities many of your kind would consider supernatural.”

That certainly cools your temper. “So, you fix me up and give me superpowers, but all you get in return is front row seats to my life. Sounds like I’m the only one benefitting from this deal.”

“On the contrary, we stand to gain just as much as you do. For over four-hundred years, we could see the outside world, but not join it. With each new corpse we archived, we began to desire a way to interact with the world firsthand and not by mere memories. You are our solution to this dilemma. Through you, we will know what it means to feel the sun on our face, or to taste the finest meals, or to hear a symphony.”

The Megamycete’s words shock you to your core. You guess if you were stuck in this cavern for four centuries and only knew of a world beyond it through memories, you’d do anything to experience it, too.

“Please, Y/N, we beg you to accept our deal. We promise everything we are, from our archive to our longevity, will be at your disposal. You will be stronger, smarter, and better than those who thought less of you. In comparison to you, they will be nothing more than mere ants.”

You’ve thought about showing the Waynes up for years, to be able to pay Jason back for that black eye, to make Tim feel like a complete idiot, and especially to make Damian feel inferior in every way possible.

“We can do that for you. With us at your side, you’ll attain a level of perfection they could never dream of. All we want is to be able to witness this firsthand.”

“Alright,” you relent. “If all you want is to go outside in exchange for making me better than them, you have a deal.”

“We thank you, Y/N,” it says, sounding incredibly happy. Relieved, even.

And with that, your world fades to black once again and when you open your eyes, you find that you’re back in your body, feelings of pain overwhelming your senses, making it hard to concentrate on the Megamycete pressing its tendrils into you. You watch in total awe as the giant, fetus-like mass that is the Megamycete begin to shrink and when you look down where the tendrils are embedded in your skin, you can see a black substance being injected into under your skin. The more of the substance being pumped into your body, the smaller the Megamycete gets.

That’s when you feel weird all over, like every cell in your body is transforming into something else. While not painful, per se, it’s an incredibly odd sensation.

(Your body is becoming one with our mold,) you hear the Megamycete explain in your head. (Not only will it repair the damage that was done to you, you will find that you are far more durable than any mere mortal and have the ability to change your form into any that is stored in our archive, both man or beast.)

“Wait, you’re saying I can shapeshift?”

(If that is what you wish to call our mimetic abilities, then yes, you may “shapeshift.”)

When the last of the mold was transferred to you, you find your body stitching itself up and the incredible pain you were in fading fast, like it was never there. You see a puddle of water lying nearby and when you look in it, you see that all your injuries are gone, even the scar on your left check that Damian gave you three years ago. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it never happened at all.

And not only do you look better, you feel better! You wouldn’t say you were the healthiest person ever, but you tried to stay somewhere in between active and sedentary; sure you weren’t going to be running any marathons, but you were able to climb the many stairwells at school when the elevator took too long. Now, however, you felt like you could run and win a marathon, or climb up a mountain without climbing gear, or swim the English Channel during a hurricane! And you didn’t feel better physically, but intellectually as well! Gotham, for all it many flaws, has attracted the best artists, architects, doctors, engineers, musicians, scientists, and more; you feel your mind being rushed with the knowledge and memories of countless people throughout the ages, ranging from the city’s early days to now. Hell, you even have access to the memories and knowledge of some of Bruce’s greatest employees, giving you knowledge on much on Wayne Enterprises’ tech and projects that he’s spared no expense in keeping under wraps. Maybe you can get a pretty penny from Lex Corp in exchange for this information since everyone knows Bruce and Lex are bitter rivals and are constantly trying to one-up each other, with Bruce, unfortunately, often being the winner in their battles to develop the next technological development.

“I feel like I could run circles around Einstein,” you laugh, completely blown away with your newfound intellect. Right now, you feel like you could write a symphony that would make Beethoven feel inadequate while at the same time painting a masterpiece that would eclipse the Mona Lisa and designing a fusion reactor capable of powering the entire country. You look around the cavern, looking and not seeing a way out. “Now how do I get out of here?”

(There is a passage directly above you.) You look up to see a big hole in the chamber’s ceiling. (That is how you ended up here when those three threw you in here. Our archives have absorbed many of Gotham’s birds. Any one of them should give you the power to fly out of the chamber.)

The mention of the three thugs remind you of your stolen pen and Game Boy, which then fills you with rage. You’ve never liked thieves and the thought of your Momma’s treasured pen and your gift from your thoughtful boss in the hands of such lowlifes gives you even more of a reason to hate them. By now, they could be anywhere, maybe even outside of the city for fear of your disappearance being reported (mostly by Alfred, the only person left in Gotham who would give a damn).

(Remember our roots span all of Gotham,) the Megamycete says. (Through them, we have seen and heard all that occurs in this city. As our host, you now have access to them. All you have to do is reach out and think of who you wish to find.)

Following its advice, you reach out and feel the roots that entangle Gotham like a spider web. As soon as you do, you’re overwhelmed with sights and sounds from every corner of the city.

(Focus on the three,) it advises you. (If you concentrate on who exactly you want, the roots will do the rest.)

It takes some doing, but you manage to push aside the multitude of people that are in your mind’s eye and focus on the three kidnappers. You’re taken across the city, rushing past the many buildings and stopping at some seedy building in Coventry. Your newfound knowledge of Gotham tells you this is the My Alibi bar, a place for Gotham’s criminals to get together to eat, trade gossip, and find work.

With your destination known, you search through the Megamycete’s archives and something to get you out of here and find something that should do the job: crows. Your body manifests into a murder of crows and takes off in perfect unison, keeping in formation. It’s extremely weird to be a bunch of birds; you know that what was once your body is now numerous birds, but while you’re multiple birds, you’re still one person. You can see through all their eyes all at once and change their flight path and they actually do it like it’s nothing. In a matter of seconds, you’re on the surface, flying above the forest and looking down at the twinkling lights of Gotham’s buildings.

“You know, from above, that cesspit actually looks kinda pretty.”

(We thank you, Y/N. We never thought we would be able to experience such a sight firsthand, but here we are. Now, shall we retrieve your stolen property?)

The crows fly through the city, zipping past the buildings and as you do, you realize that you’ve just fulfilled a dream you’ve had since you were ten-years-old: to fly like a bird. When you realized that the Waynes were awful and all you wanted was to go back to Goodsprings— to take flight like a bird and leave this city and the Waynes behind. Now, you can turn into a flock of birds, or even grow a pair of wings, and fly all the way to Nevada!

Eventually, you reach the My Alibi club, which looks even worse in person than through the Megamycete’s roots. You land on a nearby building’s rooftop and see the only security for the entire building is a single bouncer. You command the birds to land near the bouncer and when they do, they come together and reform your body, but instead of revealing you, you command hardened black mold to cover your body, not wanting your face to be seen by anyone.

What’s going to happen here needs to not get back to you.

“What,” the bouncer stutters. “What the hell?”

“Leave,” is all you say.

The bouncer says nothing before he runs away.

(Are you ready,) the Megamycete asks as you near the door. (We highly doubt your three would-be murderers will take your return likely. Nor will they likely be in a hurry to return your property. You may have to resort to violence.)

“Good,” is all you say as you enter.

The noise coming from patrons’ conversations, drinking, and arguing comes to an end when you walk inside. A quick look around and you can tell this place lives up to its reputation of being for Gotham’s criminal element; everyone here looks like they’ve done time and will probably spend their last days in prison.

And in the back corner sit your targets, looking at you with their table filled with glasses and plates of food. The sight fills you with rage; they shot you in the head and threw you in a ditch and here they are, eating and drinking like they just got off work and wanted something to take the edge off. And what really pisses you off is seeing the one called Butch holding your Game Boy like it was his right!

“I’m here for them,” you say, pointing to your quarry. “The rest of you are free to go.”

“Up yours, freak,” some shithead shouts back, pulling out a revolver and fires it three times. The bullets hit the hardened mold and fall to the floor, looking like crushed tin cans rather than deadly projectiles. “What the hell?”

He goes to fire it again, but you raise your hand and a tendril emerges from it, piercing the man’s heart; he drops his gun and lets out a disgusting gurgle, blood dripping from it and pooling on the floor, before falling silent, dead.

While most of your mind is disturbed at the sight; you’ve just killed a man, his blood literally on your hands, but you can’t deny there’s a part of you that’s not saddened by your actions. After all, he did try to kill you and if he was in a place like this, chances are he was a piece of shit and Gotham’s a slightly better place for his passing.

For a moment, everyone is paralyzed at what just happened. The place is so quiet, a pin could drop and it would deafen everyone. Then, everyone breaks out of their stupor, practically all of them pulling out their guns and begin shooting at you, but just like their friend here found out, their bullets are useless against you. Numerous tendrils emerge from all over your body and rush at them; some of them empaling them, others wrap around their throats and crush them, while the rest just whip them with enough force to break them in two. One by one, they fall until it’s just you and your prey.

“Look, man,” you killer whimpers as you draw closer to him. “I don’t know what you want, but you can take what we have. Tom, hand him the bag.”

The other one throws a bag, which lands at your feet; you look down to see it’s your book bag. You pick it up and open it to find everything still inside, from your binder and notebooks to your phone and the gift box Mr. Chen gave you. You’re relieved to know that you’re not missing any of your school stuff and don’t have to go looking for anything or replace it. You are, however, missing all the money from your wallet, but a look on the table shows where it went to. But, you’re still missing the most important thing: your Momma’s pen.

“Here, take this, too.” The leader takes the Game boy from Butch and holds it out to you, which you snatch from him, reveling in the fear in his eyes as you did, and carefully place it inside.

That just leaves one last order of business. You extend two tendrils and wrap them around the leaders throat and hold him up from the floor, his legs kicking around, trying and failing to get him back on the ground; his arms pathetically wrap around the tendrils, trying to crate some room for him to breath, and his mouth is gaping like a fish out of water, trying to get any sort of air. His cohorts go to say something, but a quick glare from you shuts them up. You bring the man close to you until you can see your reflection in his eyes, which are wide and full of terror, and open your mold mask, revealing your identity to them and based off their expressions, all three men could probably crush coal into diamonds with their sphincters.

“Holy shit,” Butch whispers, his face showing his complete disbelief.

“It’s that kid,” Tom adds, his face mirroring his partner. “But, we killed him, right?”

“My pen,” you say, looking at this piece of human filth with complete contempt. “Where is it?”

You loosen your grip to allow him to speak.

“My pocket,” he says. “It’s in my pocket. All the pawn shops were closed, so I wasn’t able to sell it.”

While you’re happy that your beloved pen is not is some sleazy pawn shop’s display window, you’re utterly disgusted at the thought of this man’s audacity to think he had the right to sell your most treasured possession like its some worthless trinket. A small tendril emerges form your shoulder and searches the man’s pocket and pulls out that beautiful gold ink pen. You have it deliver it to your left hand, which is empty as your right hand is being used to hold the man in front of you, and hold onto it with a vice-like grip.

(Not even death could separate you from your Mother’s memento,) the Megamycete states. (We are impressed at your dedication to it.)

“Look, we’re sorry for what we did to you,” the man pathetically whimpers. “Really, we are.”

“Did you know this was my Momma’s pen,” you ask as if the man had not just said something. “I lost her on my sixth birthday and was forced to leave my home in Goodsprings to live here. This pen is the only thing of hers I was able to bring with me. And you had felt like you had the right to take something I treasure more than anything else in the world and pawn it off for some petty cash.”

“We didn’t know, man,” Butch responds, now realizing the depth of his mistakes. “We’re sorry.”

“We promise we won’t tell anyone about this,” Tom adds. “Just let us go and you’ll never see or hear from us ever again.”

“You’re right, we won’t see each other again, but wouldn’t you like to know who I was forced to live with?” The three of them pathetically nod in unison and you have to fight the urge to laugh. A few hours ago, these men were looking down at you, sure they could do anything they wanted, but now, here you are, far above them in the food chain. “I was forced to live with my father, Bruce Wayne.”

“But he said—“ the leader starts to say, but you cut him off.

“That bastard has ignored me since I moved in with him,” you shout, shutting him up. “I was his first biological son, but he’s completely forgotten about me!” You take a deep breath. Just the mention of him brings out the worst in you. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t need him. Just like you don’t need your lives.”

And with that, you rip the man’s head clean off his shoulders, not even giving him the chance to realize his fate before killing him. You release the body and both it and his head crumple to the floor in a heap of lifeless meat and to further invoke fear in them, you stomp on the head while looking at them, the thing making a wet splat sound. The other two shout, but you cut them down with ease, tendrils emerging from your back and wrapping around their heads and crush them with ease, showering the floor in their blood and grey matter. Their bodies fall to the floor and flail around for a while before finally stopping.

(Well done,) the Megamycete praises. (You cut down these criminals and made Gotham safer faster than any police officer we have known. Perhaps the local police should seek out your services?)

“Not gonna happen,” you laugh as you walk out of the bar with your backpack in hand. “I have no intention of staying in this place. Once I graduate, I’m going back home.”

(Yes, Goodsprings. A small town located in Nevada. We look forward to experiencing your return to your point of origin.)

And with that, you manifest a pair of black wings on your back and take flight, flying far above the city’s skyscrapers, so hopefully you’re safe from detection. In just a few minutes, you’ve flown from Burnley Island to Bristol, something that should’ve taken almost an hour by car. Thanks to the Megamycete’s roots, you can see the Bats still out and about throughout Gotham, so you don’t have to worry about running into any of them while hurrying into your room.

You land down the street to avoid being picked up by the security cameras (Bruce’s picture is the definition of paranoid based on the amount of cameras in both the estate and in the house itself) and walk the rest of the way there. Normally, walking down the marathon-length driveway to the manor when coming home from work, but his time, you cross the distance like it’s nothing; in fact, you feel like you can do this another dozen times and still feel energized.

But, while you’re physically invigorated, you’re mentally drained and all you want to do is curl up and bed and pass out; you enter Wayne Manor and hurry to your room, never more thankful for being far from the rest of the household than you are now. While you’ve been flying under the radar of Gotham’s vigilantes for years now, you’ll afraid that even they won’t be able to ignore you when they found out about your newly gained powers. During your stay here, you’ve listened to their conversations when they thought you weren’t around and you know that while they distrust everyone (even each other based on the fact that no one seems to be allowed to have secrets), they distrust those with superpowers the most. Two years you listened in on a conversation between Bruce and Superman, who offered to help him during a time when many of Arkham’s most dangerous patients escaped all at once, and Bruce said in a tone that felt like sandpaper being dragged across your face: “Gotham’s off limits to metas. You step one foot in my city and you’ll regret it.”

Honestly, you’re confident that Bruce is only on this planet to be the biggest asshole who ever lived. He treats his first biological son like shit, he raises his “true children” to be as paranoid and pessimistic as him, and he threatens anyone who offers his sorry ass any kind of help. It seems to you that the only one who should’ve died that night in Crime Alley is Bruce.

You shove the man’s image in your head aside. Before tonight, he wasn’t important to you, but now, he’s irrelevant. You never needed him before, but now, you really don’t. With the Megamycete, you have everything you need.

Just then, your phone rings, bringing you out of your thoughts. You fish out your phone and look on the screen to see Alfred’s caller ID staring back at you.

“Hello,” you answer.

“Master Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it’s over an hour since you should’ve called me since getting off work.” You wince when you peek at your phone and see you’re overdue your nightly call with the butler. “So, I ask again: are you alright?” Based off his tone, he’s not going to accept “I’m fine” as an answer.

“Yeah, I am.” You quickly think of anything that could explain your tardiness and realize something: the best lie is an obvious truth. You just need to modify it a bit. “I just stayed behind to tell Mr. Chen goodbye. Today was the last day for the store because his daughter said Gotham was too dangerous for him to stay by himself, so she brought him to her home today.”

“Oh, Master Y/N, I’m sorry.” His tone says he’s bought it and you actually feel bad lying to the man you’ve come to see as a father figure. “I know how much you loved working there. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I will be. I’m gonna miss him.”

“Of course you will, he was a good man and you were the best employee he could ask for. Can I do anything for you? I’m halfway through with my vacation, perhaps I should—“

“No,” you cut the man off. “You don’t have to come back early, Alfred.” With everything that’s happened today, you need some time to prepare yourself before facing Alfred in person again. It would be a disaster for you to expose yourself as some form of metahuman in front of him. Plus, he deserves to have all his allotted vacation time. “I’ll be fine, really.”

“If you’re sure,” he says, obviously wanting to say more, but doesn’t press the issue. “I’ll let you go, I’m sure you’re tired and you need your rest. Please make sure you catch up on your sleep I’m sure you’ve missed this week during your spring break.”

“I will, Alfred, don’t worry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Very good, Master Y/N. Good night, my boy.”

“Good night.”

You hang up and let out a sigh of relief, glad he bought it.

(You say you trust the butler with your life, but keep the events of tonight a secret from him. Why?)

“Because Alfred’s highly protective and would most likely steal a boat and sail back to Gotham within an hour if I told him I was kidnapped. And if he knew about you, he’d probably drag me to a hospital and have every last trace of mold surgically removed.”

(We do not wish for that to happen.)

“Me neither, bud. You know, after tonight, I think we’re gonna do great things together.”

(We agree. Now, heed the words of your butler and rest. Tonight was very eventful for you. It would not do well for our host to shirk in his bodily needs.)

You chuckle and strip down to your boxers before climbing into bed. Not long after you get comfy, you feel yourself drift off to sleep. For the first time ever, you’re actually looking forward to waking up in Gotham.

Bruce hears Jason whistle at the sight, but says nothing in favor of studying the carnage inside the My Alibi bar. Bodies are scattered everywhere around the establishment, some are relatively intact while others look like they were ripped in half.

“Looks like someone had fun here,” Jim says as he approaches him, Jason, and Damian. “What do you think?”

“Looks like someone had a score to settle,” he responds to the police commissioner. He motions to the remains of three men crowded together in a corner of the bar with their heads missing; two of the heads are near the rest of their bodies while the third has been reduced to a fine red paste. “Especially these three. Based on how they were killed, I’d guess whoever did this was after them.”

“Doesn’t look like Joker’s handiwork,” Jim adds. “No one here’s smiling and the place is devoid of murderous gag toys.”

No, this is definitely not the clown’s MO. Neither does it match the MO of anyone currently missing from Arkham. The only one he could think of that could rip apart and crush some of the victims is Bane, but that doesn’t explain why the remaining victims are impaled; plus, the giant is still locked up in Arkham’s high-security ward. So, this can only mean one thing.

“This is definitely the work of someone new,” he says, bending down to study the squashed head. “And with this being the only scene we know of, this was their first time killing.”

Whoever did this is highly dangerous and needs to be stopped and fast before even more people get hurt. Looks like he and his family are going to have their hands full for the foreseeable future.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @lunaluz432 @orbitingtraveler @roseytheteacup @bundlofcigars @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months ago

Text

Injured (Alba's Version) IV

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: The aftermath

*TW: parental neglect, aftermath of suicide*

It takes Alexia nearly a week until she realises you're missing.

You're self-sufficient and independent. You've never needed much and it's not weird for Alexia to not see you for days on end.

You come home from whatever you spend your days doing and go straight to your room.

You make your own meals, she's pretty sure because she never has to make extra. Just enough for a family of three. Two when Olga is away from work.

It's a fleeting thing really, the only way that she realises you've disappeared.

She knocks on your door, intent on finally having that conversation about what you're planning on doing with your future.

There's no answer.

"Now's not the time to sulk, y/n," She calls through the door," If you don't come out then I'm coming in!"

Still silence.

"One! Two!"

Alexia doesn't wait for three, shoving open the door.

She expects to see you on your bed, sulking or whatever it is you do when she's not around.

You're not there though.

Your bed is made. Your clothes are packed away.

There's nothing out of place. Nothing to prove that this room was even really yours apart from a few neat stacks of paper on your desk.

Alexa glances over them, frowning as if they'd give her the answer to where you've gone.

She's been home since last night, the first one up and awake in the house. There's no way you could have snuck past her.

"Jaume!" She yells out," Where's your sister?"

"I don't know! Out with friends or something?"

That's odd.

Alexia can't remember the last time you mentioned a friend to her. To be honest, Alexia can't remember the last time the two of you actually had a conversation.

She shuffles through the papers on your desk.

Yes, she thinks, you must be with friends because there's three tickets to a ballet performance on Saturday.

You must be wanting to take them with you.

It's only when Alexia sits up that night, waiting for you to come home, that she gets the sinking feeling you're not coming back.

She waits for hours until the early hours of the next morning and the sun begins to rise before panic lances through her chest.

You've not come home.

She checks her phone, wondering if she missed a text saying you would stay at a friend's house but there's nothing.

She checks your room, just to see if you've climbed in through the windows but they're locked.

You are nowhere.

She pulls Jaume out of school for the day. She calls Olga to come home from Madrid.

She scours all of the places she thinks you hang out but you're nowhere to be seen.

It's almost like you've never existed in the first place.

The call comes in the evening.

It's Alba.

"I can't talk right now," Alexia says after two missed calls," I'm-"

"I'm sorry," Alba says instead.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." Alba chokes her words out like they're so physically painful she can barely say them. Like she's so numb that even talking is difficult. "I tried but..."

"Alba? What's happened? Listen, I really can't talk right now. I'm-"

"I really did try. They did too but it was already too late."

"Alba, what is going on?"

"We should go to the hospital," Alba says," I'll send you which one."

In the deepest pit of her chest, Alexia already knows what has happened. In some deep, dark part of her, she's known since Alba called. In the worst, most hidden piece of herself, Alexia has known since the beginning.

It's an awful thing for an aunt to see.

It's a terrible thing for a brother to see.

It's even worse for a mother to see.

A picture goes up at the ballet company.

(Alexia didn't even know you joined one).

It's of you smiling, the headhsot that they used on the website, displayed proudly in the main foyer.

'Rest In Peace' sits under it and a little plaque with your name and how long you lived. It states your interests with no hint about trains at all. It talks about your reserved disposition but mentions how you endeared yourself to everyone.

Flowers sit under it, bouquets upon bouquets from the dancers and the staff and audience members who have seen you perform.

(Alexia has never been to a performance once).

Support pours in from people Alexia hasn't spoken to in years. Old coaches. Old teammates. Old friends.

Everyone seems to have a fond memory of you but all Alexia can think about is the last words she said to you.

She can't remember them.

She can't remember what she said or how she felt or what she was doing.

There is a gap in her memory from that moment.

Everyone talks about you so fondly, with such clarity that Alexia can't replicate.

You have gone on a wisp of breeze and Alexia is left trying to catch the impossible.

Her mind circles around herself, trying to work out where this all went wrong.

She loved you. She loved you so much.

Her beautiful baby girl who was a little nervous and a little quiet but beautiful all the same.

The little girl who loved trains and ballet and doing all the super feminine stuff that Alexia had to learn when she was a bit older.

The people around her tell stories of you, like Ingrid talking about how you used to love having her braid your hair back but Alexia sits there numb.

She's been numb since she saw your body in the hospital morgue.

She's been numb since the funeral where you lay in your coffin, perfectly peaceful like you were taking a long sleep.

She's been numb since they all returned to Eli's house for food and drink to celebrate your life.

Alba is not talking to her, has not talked to her outside what is needed since she called.

Alexia hasn't even noticed, too preoccupied with the realisation that she's a mother that just had to bury her daughter.

It was not a disease that took you. It was not a heart attack. It was not a random attack on the street.

It was you.

You made this decision, decided that this world was not worth living in anymore. That you could no longer cope with everything happening around you.

Things that Alexia has no knowledge on and, now, will never have any knowledge on.

You thought that this path was better than returning home.

You thought that everything would be better, more peaceful if you took your life away.

People have been cautious around Alexia, seeing just how close she is to tears.

She didn't cry during the funeral when you were lowered down into the ground with nothing but a neat blouse and a skirt.

Nothing to take with you now that you're gone.

Olga had to pack your things away in your room because Alexia could not force herself to even step through the doorway.

Your things are gone.

You are gone.

And Alexia will never know why.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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azrielstaylorsversion · 2 months ago

Text

Just a friend

Azriel x reader

When two best friends are in love with each other and they finally get one last push, what will become of their relationship?

My laugh echoes through the room as Azriel tells me about his biggest and definitely most embarrassing mission scandal.

We have been talking for hours at this point. It was just past midnight. We did this at least a few times per week. Or at least we tried to, when we weren't working too hard.

The two of us were curled up on the couch in front of the crackling fireplace of the one of the many rooms of the House of Wind.

A blanket is pulled over my body with a hot cup of tea in my hands, trying not to spill the hot water as my body shakes with laughter.

Az is sitting next to me while I am laying down, using his lap to rest my legs on. One of his hands rests just above my knee. He always needed to touch me somehow.

"That didn't happen." I laugh again.

Azriel chuckles, "It did. And I'm not proud of it, but it makes a good story."

I watch his face lighten with happiness. Something I like about him in private; the way he laughs and smiles.

His shadows float through my hair. I don't even really notice it anymore, they are just there. A part of me, just like Az is a part of me. In a way.

Best friend.

Azriel's relaxed body stiffens slightly, his attention turning towards the door.

"Who is it?" I ask.

He turns his face back to me. "Late night talks are over." he gently pats my leg. "Cass needs me in three.. two..--"

He is cut off by the door swinging open. Cassian walks in, Nests following close behind. They both look irritated in their own way.

Their eyes fall on us. Nesta's eyes linger just a few seconds too long, curiosity shining in them.

"Sorry Y/N, gonna take Az from you." he hauls his brother from the couch and drags him along.

Azriel turns around one more time and smiles, mouthing help.

They disappear out of the room while Nesta lets herself fall down on the couch next to me.

"What did you do?" I ask her.

"More like what I didn't do." she says with a slight smirk on her face. I laugh, ready to ask her about the details. "Before you speak we are going to talk about something else."

"What is it?" I ask confused.

"When are you and Az just going to admit it." she sighs.

"What?" I ask stunned.

"Oh stop that. You know what I'm talking about. You're in love with him, he's in love with you." Nesta explains.

I open my mouth to say something, but I can't find the words.

"He's so in love with you. Why won't you see it." she groans.

"I don't know what you mean." I tell her, trying to keep my cheeks from turning red.

"Hm, let me see; the way he looks at you. He never looks at anyone that way. You make him light up, he actually jokes around you, the way you two are always cuddled up, how he almost always has a hand somewhere on your body. Oh, and when he talks about you when you're not in the room." Nesta says. "He's madly in love with you."

My cheeks turn more red. "That's what best friends do."

Nesta let's out a laugh. "Definitely not. Maybe some things, but not the touching thing. Oh, and how he always looks at you when you aren't paying attention."

I progress her words. Did I love him? No doubt. But with Nesta telling me this, I actually started to believe it could be mutual.

We've known each other for centuries, so if I even as much as ruined our friendship I would be heartbroken.

"Just talk and see where that gets you." Nesta smiles.

I toss and turn in my bed. The sheets and pillows are too warm, but when I get out of bed everything is too cold.

The moon shines through my windows, but I'm too lazy to do something about the bright light.

The thought of Azriel runs through my mind. It's all Azriel, Azriel, Azriel.

Nesta's words hang heavy in my head.

I sigh and push the sheets off my body. I make my way to the closet to throw a sweater over my nightgown and walk for the door.

I don't hesitate to open it and walk straight through.

Azriel's room isn't far away from mine. Where my room is at the very beginning of the hallway, his is at the very end.

I've been inside his room many times, but never have I actually been nervous to enter.

I move my hand to knock, but the door already opens, revealing a very much awake Az. A very much awake Az with a black eye and split lip.

The nervousness disappears and worry replaces it. "Are you okay?" I ask.

"You should see Cass."

I stare at him, unsure what to do now.

"What are you doing here?" he asks with that loving tone.

"I-.. I can't stop thinking." I decide to tell him.

"Do you want to come in?" he already steps aside.

I nod and walk inside as he closes the door. His familiar smell fills my nose. What was I doing...

Azriel sits down on his bed, patting the spot next to him.

I sit down and he immediately grabs my hand.

"Why do you do that?" I ask without thinking, remembering Nesta's words.

I look at Azriel's stunned face.

"Because.." he doesn't seem to progress his own words. "Because I want to be close to you."

There is actually tension between us and I hate it. This doesn't feel nice.

"Is that what best friends do?" I ask him.

He looks down at our intertwined hands. "Maybe some, but.."

"But what?"

He sighs, but not in a irritated way. "I like touching you. I like being near you. I like your presence and the way you talk. And I just overall love you."

I stare at him. "Like.. Like what? A friend?"

"No, I love you. Not in a friend way." he finally says.

Even though it was my plan to confess, he did it before I got the chance.

He notices the way my face falls. Worry takes over his features. "I'm sorry if I ruined--"

"I love you too. I love you so much." I remove my hands from his and place them against his face. "You have no idea how much I love you and how much I've loved you for years."

He laughs, his eyes slightly glistening with tears. "You have no idea how loved you make me feel. Even as a friend, you saved me."

He pulls my body closer to his, leaning in to kiss me. I gladly let him, pressing my lips against his.

He pulls me on his lap, and as we kiss, something snaps.

I pull my face away from him, looking at him. I didn't have to look twice to see if he really felt that too.

"Mate." I whisper.

"You're my mate." Azriel says softly.

#acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader

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starfinss · 1 year ago

Text

ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ — ʀᴏʀᴏɴᴏᴀ ᴢᴏʀᴏ

𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: One Piece

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Roronoa Zoro + Reader

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: NSFW

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 7,375

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: He’d gotten jealous when some random idiot hit on you, and you realized you didn’t mind that jealousy. The frenzied make out session in that tiny closet was just the result of that realization.

You hadn’t spoken a word about the situation since that day. That was two weeks ago.

And then it happened again.

Storms were the worst.

You used to love them, before you became a pirate. You found contentment in listening to them; the musical sound of rain against the window, thunder growling overhead, lulling you to sleep. Peaceful. That’s what you thought of them. There was a certain kind of incomparable coziness that came with laying tucked into bed while a storm raged outside. You were inside, warm and dry, in your own little bubble of warmth.

But that was then, and this was now.

You knew you were in trouble when the sky had been blood red that morning, indicating the coming storm. It was just like the old mariner’s rhyme said, though thanks to Nami, you now knew the science behind it. Something about how the red color came from high water content in the atmosphere. You couldn’t remember the exact words she’d said.

Science or no, storms spelled trouble for sailors of any kind, even the kind that engaged in certain illegal activities such as piracy. Life was easy when the water was calm and the weather cooperated. Storms were a complication, and this one was no exception.

The low visibility, torrential rain, and rough water forced the Merry to dock at a tiny island town you didn’t even catch the name of, with you and the other Straw Hats left to find a motel or some other form of lodgings, since the rocking of the ship was making it hard to even stand up straight, let alone fall asleep.

And that led you to now. Drenched and miserable, and standing in the shabby lobby of the town’s motel.

“A room for six, please.”

The clerk looked at your captain for a moment before speaking.

“For six, sir?”

Luffy whirled around, counting the group out on his fingers before facing the clerk again.

“Yep,” he said, and even unable to see his face, you knew he was grinning. “Six. One bed should do.”

Nami looked at Luffy in askance, clearing her throat.

“Sorry about him, he’s an idiot,” she said, “how about six individual rooms?”

“A waste of Berry,” Luffy countered, waving off the navigator, “just give us the biggest bed you have.”

Nami sighed, running her hand through her hair, which was plastered to her forehead with rainwater. Your own was no different.

“Luffy, there’s absolutely no way we can all fit in one bed,” Nami said, then turned to the clerk, “we’ll take six rooms, if you have them available.”

The clerk nodded, clearly pleased with Nami’s much more reasonable request, turning his back to the group to check a clipboard.

“We have five available, miss,” he said, “four with singles, one with a double.”

A hush fell over the crew as you took in the information. You chewed your lip. This was fine. You could just share with Nami. You were both women, so it made sense that way. Plus, you knew she didn’t snore, so you’d get a comfortable night’s sleep. You were just about to say something about this when Luffy beat you to it.

“Who wants to share with me?”

Nami didn’t even look at him. “Not happening.”

Luffy wilted. “Why not?”

“What do you mean ‘why not?’”

Luffy looked offended. “I’m great at sharing beds!”

You figured this was as good a time as any to bring your idea up. “Nami—”

“I’m not having this conversation,” Nami said, more to Luffy than you, “you guys figure it out. I need a shower.”

“Wait, Nami,” you tried again, but she was already turning away, disappearing down the hall after collecting a key from the clerk, leaving you dumbstruck.

Usopp gave you a look of sympathy. You appreciated that, even if it didn’t fix anything.

“Let her go,” he said, “she’s the one who navigated us through the storm to this island. She deserves her own bed.”

He was right, but that didn’t remove you from the awkward spot you were in. Your wet clothing was starting to get cold, and you were beginning to shiver, so it was suddenly less important who you may end up sharing with.

“I’m still okay with sharing,” Luffy said, oblivious to any awkwardness, “anyone?”

You chewed your lip. You didn’t want to share with Luffy, and no offense to Usopp, but you weren’t all that keen about sharing with him either. He was your friend and you cared for him, but being that close in proximity with him would just be awkward. Sanji was similar in that regard.

And that left Zoro.

Zoro was different.

You weren’t entirely sure how to define your relationship with the swordsman. It didn’t start off as smooth sailing, for lack of better terms. From the moment you met, you were constantly bickering. He was just as hard headed as you were, resulting in anything from petty spats to full blown arguments. The unstoppable force meets the immovable object, though it was hard to tell just who was what in that regard.

Then the ‘incident’ happened, and things got even more complicated.

You shook yourself from your thoughts. You were too tired to deal with stupid feelings and the way Zoro’s eyes were boring into the back of your head. He had to be thinking exactly the same thing as you, and the thought of that simultaneously pissed you off and made your stomach twist in confusing knots.

“I’ll take one for the team,” you said, breaking yourself from your thoughts, “one of you shares with me. It’s up to you which one it is. I’m going to take a shower.”

Without another word, you grabbed the key to the room with the double from the clerk, stalking off down the hall.

You jammed the key into the keyhole, stepping inside the room after you reached the door. It was a small room, a little shabby, but clean enough. The bed was on the left wall, centered beneath a painting of either a whale or some kind of indistinct mythical creature, you were unable to tell. The wooden floor was covered with a well worn striped carpet. The far wall was mostly taken up by a lumpy-looking red sofa, as well as two windows, both rather small and covered by threadbare curtains the color of watered down mud. Everything in the room had a sort of well-used air to it. As you entered, you got rid of your boots, leaving them by the door to dry out.

All you’d brought along was yourself and a small rucksack with a nightdress you’d grabbed from your things, as well as a fresh change of clothing for the morning. You were starting to smell like fish and brine, so you made your way to the incredibly cramped bathroom connected to the room, quickly peeling off your clothes.

Your skin was cold as you turned on the water in the standing shower, and you shuddered as you stepped under it. Thank God for the hot water. You half-expected it to be cold, which wasn’t uncommon in backwater motels like this one.

There was a half-full bottle of shampoo, seemingly left over from the last guest, and you hesitated to use it, but you also didn’t want to go to bed smelling like the worst parts of the ocean, so you squeezed some into your palm, lathering it into your hair.

You knew what you were doing. You knew exactly who would follow you into this room. You groaned inwardly, your forehead thudding against the tile wall of the shower. You blamed that stupid jammed door for all of this. You blamed the idiot at the bar who hit on you, and the alcohol, and everything that led up to you being trapped in a closet with Zoro while bounty hunters trashed the building looking for your crew.

Because that stupid series of events were what made you realize you had feelings for Zoro. And now things were weird.

Silence filled by bickering was left empty and awkward, and the way Zoro kept looking at you when he thought you couldn't see didn’t help at all. Neither did the way his hands would linger on your waist if he passed you, just a brush of his fingers, sending electric shocks up your spine. And neither did the way he’d rest a palm on your thigh when you sat beside him at the dinner table. Nami was the first to notice the shift, though it was Sanji who deduced that something had happened between the two of you when you were shut in that closet, not that you’d ever tell him what it was, despite all his prying.

And something had.

You remembered the buzz of alcohol fading as you bickered aimlessly, pressed closer than comfortable as Zoro struggled with the door. You remembered the way you snapped, something about how confusing he was being, and then he was gathering you into his arms, crushing his lips against yours, and how he’d crowded you against the wall behind you soon after. You remembered how his hands felt, drifting down your body to grab at your hips, how his tongue tasted like the whiskey he’d been drinking before, and how just his touch alone made you feel like you were losing your mind.

He’d gotten jealous when some random idiot hit on you, and you realized you didn’t mind that jealousy. The frenzied make out session in that tiny closet was just the result of that realization.

You hadn’t spoken a word about the situation since that day. That was two weeks ago.

And then it happened again.

That was one week ago. You’d been in the kitchen, fixing yourself a sandwich late at night when Zoro appeared with the same idea. It started with you trying to bring up the closet incident, and ended with you caged against the countertop by Zoro’s arms, his mouth hot against yours, your fingers in his hair.

And that wasn’t spoken of, either.

You wanted to talk to him about it. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. You’d tried to approach Zoro about it, only to either chicken out, or end up with even more questions. It was incredibly strange, not only because it was out of character for Zoro to beat around the bush, but also because he seemed just as awkward as you were about it all.

Maybe this would force his hand, you supposed. Or maybe he’d ignore you, though that was unlikely for obvious reasons, and you’d end up spending the night in the same bed as Luffy or something.

Through the thrum of the running water, you heard the door to the main room open, then close again. You couldn’t hear anything else, however, and whoever had just entered didn’t bother to announce their presence, but you were already pretty sure you knew who it was. You took a breath before turning off the shower, wringing out your hair before stepping out.

You toweled yourself dry before finger combing your hair, making sure to get rid of any knots before putting on your underwear and pulling your nightgown on over your head.

You opened the bathroom door, pausing briefly when you saw Zoro sitting on the bed, busy unlacing his boots. He turned to look at you when you entered, clearly intending to only spare a glance, but his gaze lingered, doing a full sweep of your body. You suddenly felt self-conscious, tugging the bottom of your nightgown down further.

You shook it off. This was fine. You had him alone now. He had no way of escaping the discussion that needed to happen.

With a breath, you circled the bed, sitting down with your back to him.

“We need to talk,” you said, “no more avoiding it.”

Zoro said nothing. You heard a soft thud as he tossed his boots away, followed by the rustle of fabric.

“Zoro,” you said, “I’m serious.”

“Can we do this another time?” He said, finally, and you sighed, annoyed.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t feel like it right now.”

You turned around to face him finally. He was standing now, and wearing less clothing than when he’d first entered the room. His shirt was gone, as was the haramaki he usually wore. The latter was laid out on the nightstand alongside his swords, the former clutched in one of his hands. You didn’t blame him for taking it off, it was surely soaked with rainwater, but him being shirtless really wasn’t helpful at the moment. Infuriatingly, you felt heat rising to your cheeks.

“I don’t care,” you said, “you haven't ‘felt like it’ in two fucking weeks. We made out, Zoro. Twice. Plus… everything else. That happened. We can’t pretend it didn’t.”

“We did,” Zoro said, crossing to the bathroom. He left the door open as he wrung his shirt out into the sink, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

“There,” he said, “we talked about it. Are we done?”

You rose to your feet, arms crossed. “No. I need to know why. I need to know what that meant.”

Zoro turned to face you, leaning back against the sink basin. “What do you think it means?”

You tossed your hands up in frustration. “I don’t know. You kissed me. Both times.”

He shrugged, infuriatingly nonchalant, his face as impassive as always, though something about him was unmistakably smug. “I did.”

Zoro folded the shirt over the edge of the sink, moving to lean in the doorway. You cleared your throat, taking a step forward as well.

“Is that a problem?” He continued, eyes lifting at the corners in taunting mirth, “it didn’t seem like it at the time.”

“If it’s this easy to acknowledge it, why didn’t you talk about it at all? You got jealous, Zoro.”

Another shrug. Then a scoff, a near laugh, as he pushed off the doorframe to cross over to you.

“I did,” he said, “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you. Don’t tell me you’d rather have been in that closet with that stupid drunk rather than me. Or that you’d rather be with someone else in that kitchen. Or, y’know. Everything else.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Of course not. Why would you even think that?”

A flash of mischief appeared in his dark eyes. “So you liked kissing me?”

You avoided his gaze, displeased with the way he’d taken control of the situation. “That isn’t the point. The point is—”

But you didn’t get to finish. Because before you could even finish being annoyed with him, Zoro was grabbing you by the shoulders, pressing his mouth to yours. It was a chaste, quick kiss, but it still left you speechless and reeling.

“And what about that one?”

You blinked, your thoughts a jumble of nonsense. “Still not the point,” you managed, “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you, Zoro, this isn’t—”

Another kiss, deeper this time. You gasped in surprise, fighting back the urge to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Stupid, infuriating man, doing stupid, confusing things to you. You pressed your hand against his chest, pushing him gently, just to get a word in before he pulled you back in.

“Zoro,” you said, “what do you want?”

“You,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Fuck it. Fuck this, fuck him. This stupid moss-headed moron was messing with you, he had to be, and you could tell from the way he was smiling at you, crooked and devious, like the cat that got the cream. He liked seeing your confusion and uncertainty. He’d just been waiting for this, for you to snap. You stared at him furiously and wild-eyed before it was your turn to pull him in, your mouth colliding with his.

Zoro’s hands rose to cup your cheeks, then shifted down to land on your waist, and you were moving, back colliding with the wall beside the bed. He tasted like whiskey again, which was puzzling since he hadn’t had any to drink that you knew of, though, knowing him, he probably had a flask stowed somewhere.

It was almost a relief to kiss him, like a salve being applied to a burn, and you had to stop yourself from crying out as his hands drifted down to your hips, squeezing, his knee pressing at the close of your thighs. Zoro had been like a cat before, playing with his prey. Now he was going in for the kill.

But two could play at that game.

You slid your hands down from where they’d been folded behind his neck, flattening against his strong chest. Your fingers trailed down the defined muscle, pressing into the dips and curves of his abdominals, finally catching on the waistband of his trousers. Your thumb dipped into the ridge of muscle at his waist, nail scraping gently against the warm skin, and you felt him shudder, breath catching.

His hand caught your wrist, with no particular strength, but enough to warn you of what you were getting yourself into. You responded by taking his lower lip between your teeth, tugging gently before linking your mouths together again. You knew what your were doing, and you knew what would happen if you riled him up more.

That did it. Zoro sighed against your mouth, a slow release of breath that seemed to display his rapidly fraying restraint, especially as you twisted your wrist free of his grip, fingers trailing up his sides, making him shiver. His grip on your hips tightened, the fabric of your nightgown bunching between his fingers, causing the garment to ride up, but you hardly cared, not when his knee was slotting itself between your thighs, pressing flush against your clothed cunt.

The slow, easy grind made you gasp into Zoro’s mouth, hips twitching, but he was holding you down, firm against the wall, still an utterly infuriating tease, even now. You retaliated by palming him through his trousers, slow and deliberate, and he broke the kiss to look at you, breath heavy, gaze heated.

“You sure you wanna do that?” He warned, “you’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe I like getting burned,” you shot back, defiant.

Amusement danced in his dark eyes, his lip catching between his teeth as he fought a smile, and it was then that you noticed his face was flecked with countless freckles, a constellation across his cheeks. Absently, you wanted to kiss each and every one of them.

But the thought was ejected from your mind as he was kissing you again, tongue pressing into your mouth, and your fingers found his hair as he pulled your leg up to rest against his hip. Then his hand was between your thighs, broad palm against your clothed center, fingers pressing against the rapidly dampening fabric, dragging so slowly that it made you crazy, but his opposite hand was still holding you in place, unwavering, even as you squirmed in his hold.

Zoro’s fingers slid to your clit, pressing through the fabric of your panties, making you gasp into his mouth, the sound devolving into a low moan as he pressed again, rubbing in slow, lazy circles. He kissed you deeper, slower still, making you arch into him as his hand tightened its grip on your hip, pushing the fabric of your nightgown up higher, then sliding beneath to touch your bare skin.

Fuck, the feel of his palm, rough and worn and calloused, against your flesh, it felt like perfection, and your body twisted as his fingers pressed against the bend of your waist, his touch like a simmering heat.

“Touch me,” you blurted, muffled by his mouth, and he pulled back to look at you, amused.

“Aren’t I already doing that, doll?”

Your defiance was draining away more and more as the seconds ticked by, especially at the sound of his voice. It was a low, rough sound, husky and heated, and it made suffocating arousal shoot down your spine. It was almost embarrassing just how quickly he’d gotten you like this, only with his hands and stupid, smart mouth.

“You know what I mean, jerk,” you shot back, but he simply chuckled, fingers sliding away from your clit to press at your entrance, pushing the fabric of your panties against your heated skin.

You squirmed, but he held you still, his grip like iron on your body. You felt his breath against your skin, making you shudder, one hand gripping at his wrist, the one between your legs. His mouth brushed against the curve of your shoulder, dragging up the column of your throat, teeth grazing the spot just beneath your jaw, and you almost felt lightheaded.

His fingers pressed against your panties again, aided well by the wetness that was soaking through the fabric, causing your body to jolt in his hold, back arching against the wall when his index finger circled your clit again.

“Zoro,” you gasped, fighting for control, “please.”

“Please?” He rumbled, “‘please’ what?”

Your head fell back against the wall, eyes squeezing closed as he pressed down against your clit. Fuck, how were you already so wet? His mouth skated down your throat to your collarbone, teeth grazing your skin before you felt his tongue dart out, dipping lower, towards the top of your already low-cut nightgown.

“Just take them off,” you blurted, head swimming, “do it properly.”

Instead of doing what you said, he simply pushed the fabric aside, but before you could counter, his fingers were dragging along your cunt, teasing, and you let out a low whine. His mouth attached itself to your throat, teeth sinking into the tender flesh and making you cry out. His tongue smoothed over the spot he’d bitten before repeating the action.

Slowly, his fingers sank inside of you, and your hands were grasping at his hair, making him groan against your skin, a sound that only riled you up further. He moved away from your throat to rest his forehead against yours, and when your eyes fluttered closed, he crooked his fingers inside of you, forcing a cry from your throat.

“Eyes on me,” he whispered, “don’t look away.”

A flush of arousal flooded your system at the request, and you realized how much of a struggle fulfilling it was as he began to move. His fingers were able to reach much deeper than your own were, not to mention that they were thicker. The slow, almost tortuous pace he’d adopted made the friction of his rough palm against your clit even sweeter.

Gasping, breathless, your hands curled around his forearms as you clambered for any kind of purchase, anything to keep you anchored. Your eyes were still locked with his, leaving you unable to hide the flush on your cheeks, the desperation in your gaze.

His eyes were growing wild. Famished and dark as midnight, his gaze slid down your body to what he was doing between your legs, and you watched in rapture as his lips parted, drawing a shuddering, stricken breath at the sight. You squeezed his arm, forcing him to look up at you.

“Don’t break your own rule,” you said, voice heated, and amusement flashed on his face.

“Minx,” he countered, palm grinding against your clit, and you let out a startled moan.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, “that’s what I wanna hear.”

You groaned, both in pleasure and in frustration. “Then go faster.”

He chuckled, full lips pulling into a roguish half smile.

“Oh no,” he said, fingers curling inside of you, making your back arch, “I intend on taking my time with you. You have no idea what you do to me, do you? What you make me feel? I wanna savor this.”

His thumb moved to your clit, rubbing in slow circles, and you bit your lip to muffle your gasp of pleasure. This was embarrassing. You were so defiant before, but some pretty words and his stupid, pretty hands were enough to make all of that crumble.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t bite back.

One of your hands slid down his chest again, fumbling with his belt before tugging it off. He was already hard, something evident through the fabric of his slacks, and when you pressed your palm against him, you got the pleasure of hearing him gasp.

You tugged at his button for a moment before it came unsnapped, then pulled down his zipper before reaching down past the fabric, palming him through his underwear. He shuddered under your touch, a muscle in his jaw tensing as you explored, breath coming out in a sharp burst when your thumb ran over his clothed tip. His eyes briefly flicked away from yours as you focused on that spot, rubbing in circles, making him grunt, and when you pressed down, ever so gently, he groaned.

“You’re making it hard to focus,” he said, and the way he was looking at you was almost predatory.

You looked at him through your lashes, causing his breath to hitch. “Good.”

Finally, you pushed his underwear down, tugging him free and catching him in your hand.

Fuck.

He was thick. Your fingers only barely met as you wrapped your hand around him, and his length was worth mentioning as well. Six and a half inches, you’d guess, maybe even seven. It was oddly pretty, too, with a pink flush. He was a good deal bigger than anything you’d been expecting, not that you thought about Zoro’s dick with any kind of frequency.

You took him into your hand, rubbing at his leaking tip, smearing precum with your thumb, an action that made him groan. You stroked him slowly, just as slow as he was touching you, and you watched as he fought to keep his eyes on you, lashes fluttering. His jaw clenched, hips shifting towards your hand as you thumbed his tip, sliding your fingers down to rub the underside of him.

Zoro’s breath left him in a burst, hips twitching forward, the hand on your waist tightening its grip to nearly bruising. His fingers curled inside of you, making your back arch, free hand flying to grab at the back of his head, tangling into his hair. Your eyes were still locked, and you wanted to kiss him so badly, but you wouldn’t be the one to break, not when he was still going so slowly it was driving you crazy.

So you sped up. You knew you’d catch hell for this, but you decided that whether or not you’d be able to walk tomorrow was a problem for then, when your thoughts weren’t blurry with arousal.

You touched him in quick, even strokes, squeezing at the tip each time, and you got to listen to him growl, his hand slipping from your waist to press against the wall beside your head, fingers fanning out. You could tell from the quickness of his breaths that he was trying to keep control, and then he was speeding up, making you falter.

The curl of his long fingers as he pumped them in and out of you, creating a sound that should’ve embarrassed you, but really only aroused you more. Your brows pitched up, pressing together, because fuck, it almost burned after how slow he’d been going before, making you squirm, and his hand was grabbing at your wrist, pinning the hand that had been touching him to the wall.

“Eyes on me, darling,” he hissed, voice heated, “you wanted faster? I’ll give you faster.”

You couldn’t help but moan as he pushed his fingers deeper, hitting all the right spots, mouth just grazing yours as you squirmed against the wall, bucking your hips against his hand. He was playing you like a damn instrument, thumb firm against your clit, and he rewarded you with deep thrusts of his fingers every time you cried out. You could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, and your fingers knotted in Zoro’s hair, eyes half lidded, pleading. He groaned, low and rough, just at the sight of your stricken expression.

His hand left your wrist to run up your body, stopping on your clothed chest, and he pushed the fabric down below your breasts, causing the straps to slip down your shoulders. His palm pressed against a breast, and your breath shuddered. Your hips jumped when he gently squeezed, rubbing a thumb over one of your nipples. He caught the nipple between his fingers, pulling, rolling it between them, and the sensation shot straight down between your legs.

You were close. It was almost maddening, how good it all felt, and you could hardly focus on anything but Zoro’s hand between your legs, and how you were grinding down into his touch, chasing your high. He let you do as you pleased, gaze downright famished as he watched your face twist in ecstasy. You let out a loud, desperate whine, a near sob as he pushed his fingers deeper, thumb on your clit, driving you into that desperate build that comes just before you tip over the edge.

“Zoro,” you managed, voice strained, “Zoro, please.”

He said nothing, only replying with a growl as he crushed his lips against yours, frenzied and hungry, and your nails dug into his scalp as he brought you to your end, sending you toppling over that edge and into oblivion.

You saw spots as you came, and he broke the kiss to watch your face, gaze dark as your head knocked back against the wall, hips bucking wildly against his hand, because it was all you could do not to scream, one of your hands slamming over your mouth, teeth sinking into your palm. You were squeezing around his fingers, spasms wracking your body, his name on your tongue like a broken prayer. Zoro pulled your hand away from your mouth, diving in to kiss you, deep and passionate, his tongue tangling with yours, and you moaned into his mouth as he worked you through your climax and into the realm of overstimulation.

You were halfway towards a second orgasm when he finally pulled away, and you slumped against the wall, boneless, breath uneven and heavy. Zoro’s mouth pressed against the side of your throat, trailing up to your ear.

“Think you can handle more?”

You smiled, still breathless, looking at him through your lashes. “Let me catch my breath.”

“Tired already?” He taunted.

You responded by pushing off the wall to drop your nightgown off your body, followed by your panties. Zoro’s eyes raked down your figure, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and then he was pulling you to him, mouth hot against yours. You could feel his bare cock pressed against your stomach, and his hands slid down your hips to your thighs, boosting you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

His mouth trailed down your throat, sucking hard enough to surely leave marks, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You pressed your hips forward, grinding against him, and he moaned into your skin, his grip on your body growing tighter. He was growing impatient, you could tell. But so were you.

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” he husked, and you whined, pressing your hips against him once again.

“Then do it,” you said.

That was all it took. You were suddenly moving, tossed onto the bed, and you watched as Zoro slid his trousers down his legs before he was taking his place above you. His mouth was hot against you, and you wrapped your legs around his hips, growing more impatient by the second, something that didn’t go unnoticed.

“So needy,” he chuckled, lips brushing against your jaw, and you arched your back, shifting your body against him, making him hiss between his teeth.

“So cocky for someone who was telling me how bad he wanted to fuck me,” you countered, “are you all talk, then, demon?”

His eyes flashed, thrilled and amused, and you knew you were in for it, but not one part of you cared. In fact, you welcomed it. Obviously just as impatient as you were, he was prying your thighs farther apart, his body slotting between them.

You felt his tip at your entrance, pressing forward, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch as he pushed inside, and fuck, even just that was a stretch. Your head fell back, breath uneven. You felt Zoro’s mouth against your neck, and he was pushing forwards just a bit more, making you whine.

“Fuck,” you gasped, “fuck, you’re too big.”

“Relax,” he urged, voice rough, “it’s too fuckin’ tight, you gotta relax.”

You took a breath through your nose, fingers knotting into the duvet beneath your body. You took another breath as he sunk deeper, the stretch bordering on painful, but you could take it, even if it felt new and strange.

Zoro’s face was flushed pleasantly pink, a sight that would be endearing in any other context, and you watched his teeth grit as he pushed forward again.

“You can take it,” he whispered, encouraging, “shit, relax, relax.”

You lifted your hips, allowing him to take hold of them, using them as leverage to push the rest of the way in, finally bottoming out.

“Fuck,” Zoro gasped, voice breathless and stricken, “fuck, that’s it, I knew you could take it— shit—”

His sentence was cut off by a loud groan, and you yanked him down into a kiss, appreciating how still he was being, despite his rapidly unraveling restraint, but you could hardly wait, even as your body protested at the unfamiliar feeling of being stuffed so full. You shifted your hips forward, your breath leaving your lungs in a sudden burst, and you heard Zoro groan in response.

“Move,” you gasped, “please.”

He gave a shallow little thrust, then another one, slightly deeper, and you felt his hands grip your waist as he pulled his hips back, only to thrust forward, filling you once more.

You gave a choked, helpless moan as he thrust again, and fuck, you didn’t think you’d ever felt so full in your life. The stretch was rapidly making your thoughts turn to nonsense, head emptied out, and not one part of you cared at all.

Zoro adopted a pace that had you rocking back against the bed, head falling into the pillows, and he was dipping his head down to meet your mouth in a heavy kiss. His hands found your legs, pushing them up to wind around his waist, shifting his hips back to an angle that made your head spin.

“Right there,” you slurred, “Zoro, Zoro, right there— so good.”

He gave a low, indulgent groan, his hands smoothing over your body, grabbing at your waist, tugging you flush against him before he was thrusting again, stuffing you full, forcing a sudden moan to fall from your lips.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin on skin, mixed with your breathy, bitten-off moans and his soft grunts, and fuck, you didn’t know it would feel this good. It definitely wouldn’t be the last time this happened, not when it was more than evident that what you felt for Zoro was far from one-sided, and certainly not when it made you feel like this.

Your nails dug into Zoro’s back as he fucked into you, and he gave a stronger thrust, breath shuddering. You watched a muscle in his jaw tense, twitching, eyes squeezing shut as you tightened around him. His head dipped to connect his mouth with the curve of your shoulder, dragging down to your chest, and his lips pressed against your nipple. His tongue passed over the sensitive flesh, making you arch into him, squirming, and his grip grew tighter.

“You don’t know how much I thought about this,” he breathed, hips rocking forward, “how many times I imagined fucking you in that closet. You’re so fucking gorgeous, with that smart-ass mouth. And you love this, don’t you? You’ve wanted this, too.”

You let out a shrill wine as he ground his hips against you, the base of his cock rubbing against your clit. Your hips lifted to meet his thrusts, making him groan, and he was holding you down, one hand on your lower stomach as he shifted back onto his knees, tugging your thighs around his hips.

“I wanted this,” you slurred, back arching as he ground his hips against yours just right, “thought about it, too.”

Zoro’s hands tightened on your thighs, and you sobbed in bliss as he ground himself against you, the friction combined with the way he made sure to hit your clit with the base of his cock with every roll of his hips making it hard to even see straight.

You tossed your head back, whimpering, and you weren’t going to last, not when he was doing everything he could to make you writhe. Each thrust left your head empty, breath heavy and rough.

“Harder,” you gasped, “c’mon, Zoro, give it to me.”

You felt his hands find the backs of your knees, lifting them to your sides to use as leverage as he pushed deeper with a heavy groan. His mouth met your throat, and then he was biting down, but the pain was nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure, the two mixing into an intoxicating feeling. Deep, hard thrusts sent you into incoherency, and when one of his hands left your leg to press a thumb to your clit, you let out a whine of his name.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Zoro groaned, “you’re gettin’ close, yeah?”

You could do no more than nod as he took your body with abandon, your climax so close it was driving you insane. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers in his hair, and he groaned in your ear as you bucked up against him. You were totally drunk on pleasure, overwhelmed. He was the center of your world at that moment as he thrust deep into you, the rough pad of his thumb working you into madness.

You bit down on Zoro’s shoulder, sobbing in bliss as your orgasm hit you, washing over you like a tidal wave. His name was the only word on your tongue as he worked you through it, repeating it like unholy scripture until you could do no more than whimper in ecstasy, nails digging into his back.

“Fuck— fuck!” You heard him cry, hips stuttering, “one more, do that again, I need to feel that again.”

And he was hiking one of your legs over his shoulder as his pace turned borderline punishing, leaving you helpless, unable to do anything other than lay there and take it, but you hardly had the wherewithal to even protest, not as he worked your over-sensitive body to its very limits.

His nails dug into your thigh, a growl tearing from his throat as his thrusts grew erratic. Your head was empty, completely fucked out, thoughts filled only with jumbled thoughts of the man above you as he fucked you, deep and hard. You felt tears beading at your lash line as Zoro worked you towards yet another climax, and you yanked him down into a sloppy kiss in crazed desperation for as much contact as possible.

“Gonna cum,” you choked, “Zoro, fuck—”

“Do it,” he snarled, “fuck, do it, cum on my cock— yeah!”

You felt yourself gush on his dick, muffling your scream in the crook of his neck, vision spotty, and you knew you’d get addicted to this, addicted to him, but you knew neither of you cared at all about that fact, not when he was chanting your name, chasing his release as you squeezed around him in a vice grip. His pace was relentless, entirely indulgent, and you could feel him twitching inside of you.

“Wanna fill you,” he gasped, desperate, completely undone, “let me, will you let me?”

Unable to form words, you only nodded, yanking him down into another kiss as he thrust all the way in, stuffing you completely full, moaning into your mouth as he pulsed inside of you, his hands bruising in their grip on your body. Heat bloomed inside of you, making you whimper against his mouth, and you slowly rocked your hips to help him through the euphoria of it all, something that made blunt nails dig into your flesh.

Together, you lay panting, breathless and undone, tangled together. Zoro broke the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing erratically, and it was a few tense moments before he was slowly pulling out, rolling off of you to lay beside you.

“That can’t be a one time thing,” you said, after you found your voice, and Zoro huffed what may have been a laugh.

“Fuck no.”

A few beats of silence passed before the bed creaked, and another few passed before you felt a towel between your thighs, wiping you clean. Then, the blankets were being pulled back, and you were being tucked under them. Zoro climbed in shortly after, tugging you to lay against his body.

Silence passed some more, and you almost thought Zoro had fallen asleep before he spoke.

“You make me feel things I’m not used to,” he said.

You stole closer, curling into him, resting your head on his chest.

“How long have I done that?”

He pressed his nose into your hair. “Since I met you.”

You snorted. “Bullshit. You didn’t like me when we met.”

“I did,” he said, “I’m being serious. You’re gorgeous and strong, and you know it. You don’t back down. You made me feel things I’ve never felt before for anyone. I didn’t know how to handle that, so I acted like an idiot.”

You smirked. “Hell of a time to tell me that, after you fucked my brains out. You had a crush, so you acted like a little kid on the playground, is that it?”

A snort. “Yeah, pretty much. Never said I was proud of it.”

You laughed, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours.

“I feel the same,” you said, “when you kissed me in that closet, I realized it. You could’ve just asked me to get a drink, though.”

Zoro smiled. “Sure, I could’ve. But this was way more fun.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Teasing me relentlessly?”

“Yep. Do you have a problem with that?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, several. But I’ll pay you back for that in due time.”

“Give it your best shot. I look forward to it.”

Idle chatter continued for a little while before you began to doze off. You felt Zoro tug you closer as you fell asleep, and for once since you started sailing with the Straw Hats, you were actually thankful for storms.

And, as you felt Zoro’s lips press against the crown of your head, you were excited for the future.

“You had fun last night.”

You turned to look at Nami from your spot at the front railings of the Merry, eyes slowly growing wide.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure,” she said, “play that game. But maybe try a little harder to cover up the hickies next time you and Zoro… spend the night together.”

Shit.

“Nami, I’m sorry,” you relented, “it sort of just happened.”

She snickered. “Usopp told me he basically forbade anyone from taking the room with you after you left the lobby.”

You put your face in your hands, thoroughly embarrassed. “Usopp knows?”

“He isn’t stupid, anyone could’ve figured out what might happen. The hickies are just confirmation.”

“Confirmation for what?”

You bristled at the sound of Zoro’s voice, stiffening when he crossed the deck to reach you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Nami said, and Zoro smirked, smugness radiating off of him in waves.

“Do I?”

She rolled her eyes. “Why else would she be walking funny?”

Zoro shrugged, nonchalant, still smug as ever. “I guess we’ll never know.”

And as he tugged you closer, nose pressing into your hair as Nami turned to walk away, you couldn't help but smile.

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