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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year ago

Text

Pity Party.

Synopsis - Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands.

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Roommate Reader

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention. carmys filthy mouth.

Age Rating - 18+

Author's Note - hello hello hello!! i am back!! i had a wonderful vacation soaking up the sun, and i am feeling refreshed and ready to go. i have had so many ideas over the past few weeks, so i'm excited to get some of them written asap!! this was a fic that came to me randomly, as i was thinking about roommate!carmen and how much of a menace he'd be if you ever talked about other guys. this was written as a part of my carmen roommates collection. it doesn't follow on from Finders, Keepers or Sweet Dreams, but it does exist in the same universe - so you can decide if this takes place before or after!! as always, feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts or burning desires you have. so much love <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.

"You're back early."

Carmy had swung the door open, expecting to come home to an empty apartment. Instead, he's met with the sight of you, sitting on the couch, undoing the straps of your shoes.

"Fuckin' disaster," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

He breathes out a chuckle at the stormy look on your face. Carmy thinks you're cutest when you're angry. He aches to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb.

"That bad?" he asks, taking a seat next you and kicking off his sneakers.

"You wouldn't even believe."

He rises and makes his way to the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove top. Grabbing two mugs, he casts a glance over his shoulder at you, frowning at your body language. You look defeated.

Carmy steeps two cups of tea, placing one of them carefully into your waiting hands. He resumes his seat on the sofa, pressing his thigh against yours and turning to face you.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You think for a moment before replying.

"You're gonna laugh at me."

His face instantly crumples, confusion written all over it.

"I'll never laugh at you. I'll laugh with you, sure. But never at you."

He nudges your shoulder with his, urging you to go on.

"Okay, fine. The actual date was pretty good. He took me to that Italian place downtown-"

"Dolce Vita? Did you get the truffle pasta I told you about?" Carmy interrupts you before you can continue.

"Yes, oh my God. It was incredible. Do you think you can recreate it sometime?"

"Fuck yeah. They're pretty secretive with their recipes, but I think I can figure it out. You can help me if you want - I'm gonna need a sous chef."

He pulls a reluctant laugh from you, the sound echoing off the ceramic of your mugs. You both know that being the sous chef involves you sitting on the counter drinking wine while Carmy does all the work.

"Of course. I'll always be your sous chef."

"I'll hold you to that."

You smile at him gently, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.

"Anyway. The dinner went great. He seemed super interested in me, asked me questions, told me about his job, his hobbies, his dog. He was hot, and good to talk to. I thought I'd hit the jackpot."

"And then?"

"And then we went back to his apartment. And it all went to shit."

He chuckles, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Tell me more."

"You really want to hear about all of this?"

It's not like you and Carmy aren't close. You absolutely are. It's just that there's always been this unspoken connection between the two of you. A bubbling, fiery attraction that you both shut down repeatedly, screwing the lid on tight whenever it rears its head. So, you tend to avoid talking to Carmy about dating. You're scared you'll accidentally blurt out the truth - you compare every single date to him.

"Of course I do."

His answer is so genuine it makes you ache. You continue, hesitantly.

"Well... things got a little... heavy. He wasn't a bad kisser, I guess... he just wasn't... a good one? He kept biting my lip super hard and it kinda hurt. Then he pulled my clothes off like a high schooler, and he's on top of me, and I'm waiting for him to sort of... do... anything? And then he's finished. Like, completely done. And then he has the nerve to ask me if I finished."

Carmy's mouth has fallen open, shock etched across his face. After a long, heavy pause, he speaks.

"What the fuck?"

You look at him for moment, before bursting into contagious laughter. He joins you, both of you with your heads thrown back, giggles reverberating around the lowlit room.

"I mean, seriously," he pants, still laughing. "What the fuck?"

"I didn't even answer him. I just put my clothes on, grabbed my bag and left without saying a word."

Every time you try to stifle your laughter, a giggle escapes. The situation wasn't funny at the time, but looking back, it's hilarious.

All of a sudden, you both go silent. You're deep in thought, reflecting on the seemingly never ending stream of bad dates that you've endured. Carmy is watching you intently, ocean blue eyes glued to your face.

"Fuck," you breathe. "This is kinda pathetic."

Carmy inhales deeply, and turns his body so it's facing yours on the couch.

"The way I see it," he begins, "you have two options."

You quirk a brow in confusion and stay quiet, waiting for him to explain.

"You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or, you can let me fuck you the way you deserve."

Your mouth falls open in shock at the exact same moment your brain seems to shut down. You can't think. You can't process his words. All you can focus on is the way he's staring at you. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

"Wh-... what?" you choke out.

"You heard me, honey. You can wallow in your little pity party, or you can let me show you what it's like to be with someone who can actually make you come. Your choice."

His voice has dropped an octave lower than usual, the tone warm and honeyed. He's still staring at you, blue gaze unrelenting.

"Is this gonna fuck everything up between us?" you whisper hesitantly.

Carmy reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking careful circles into your skin.

"I don't think anything can fuck up what we have," he murmurs. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."

His confession seems to sober you up, the honesty in his words snapping you back to your senses.

"Okay."

He almost does a double take at the sureness in your voice.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Put your money where your mouth is, Carmen."

"There she is," he chuckles. "You scared me when you went quiet for a second there."

"Well, if what you say is true, you're not gonna be able to shut me up for the night."

He laughs darkly, and slides closer to you slightly.

"Oh, honey. You're gonna wish you hadn't said that."

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the journey of your neck with his fingertips. He rests his hand lightly at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it making you pant.

"If there's any point where you don't like something, or you want me to slow down, just say so. Okay?"

You nod your head, entranced by the sudden dominance he's displaying. You've never seen this side of him before. You can't believe he's been hiding it this whole time.

"Words, pretty. Need to hear you say it."

"Yes. I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."

He doesn't say anything in reply, just smirks. He lets you sit in the silence for a moment too long, the anticipation slowly killing you.

"Please, Carmen," you breathe. "Please."

"Fuck," he groans, shuffling closer to you. "You sound so pretty when you beg."

Carmy leans in and kisses your cheek gently, testing the waters. He presses a kiss to your other cheek, and pulls back to watch for your reaction. When he's happy, he tilts forward and leaves a careful kiss on your chin, then your forehead, then both of your closed eyes, before kissing you on the side of your mouth. His closeness makes you whine, desperate for him to give you what you want.

Finally, he connects his lips to yours, starting off slow and tender. When you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and try to pull him even closer, his resolve snaps. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You clamber over him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing yourself into his body.

Carmy can't decide where to put his hands. He's grabbing at your waist, running his fingers up your back, pulling you into him by your ass. You're both groaning into each others mouths, enraptured by the other person and the all consuming way they kiss.

"Can I take this off?" he asks lowly, pulling at the hem of your dress.

Instead of answering, you pull it over your head, throwing it onto the floor in front of you.

"Fuck," he murmurs. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

His hands are roaming all of your exposed skin, as if he can't get enough. He's terrified he won't ever get to see you like this again, so he's not going to waste a second.

You grind your hips down into his, eliciting a groan from the both of you. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, as he leans up to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. Your fingers fly to the hem of his t shirt, pulling it off swiftly. You manage to shove his jeans down and off, before attempting to pull off his underwear. Carmy stops you in your tracks.

"Nuh uh," he tuts. "This is about you. Not me."

He pulls you off his lap gently and shuffles so his back is resting against the couch cushions. He spreads his legs wide, and gestures for you to sit between them. When you don't move, he looks at you carefully.

"Give me a color, pretty girl."

You take a deep breath, and smile at him softly.

"Green, Carmen. Promise."

You manoeuvre sideways, so you can place yourself with your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you for a moment and holds you tightly, as if he's scared you'll disappear any second. You relax into his embrace, all the tension leaving your body. You have nothing to worry about. It's just you and Carmen, in the place you call home.

You drop your head back into Carmy's shoulder, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He's begun tracing patterns down your arms, your sides, your stomach, until he reaches your underwear. He plays with the band, dipping his finger underneath in a feather light touch. Goose bumps rise across your body and you shiver, practically vibrating with need.

"Carmen," you whisper. "Don't tease."

"But that's half the fun," he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You can picture it perfectly, too. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his mouth curves, the way he bites his lip to stifle it. The image in your mind makes you melt into him further. You want to be as close to him as you physically can be. You'd completely disappear into him if you could.

He brings you back to reality by cupping you over your underwear, groaning when he feels the saturated material.

"Oh, pretty girl. Is this all for me? Fuck."

Suddenly, his game of teasing has lost all its fun. Carmy twists his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off in one swift movement, throwing them in the general direction of your dress on the floor. He places a hand on each of your thighs and spreads them apart, hooking them over his legs.

Carmy starts off slow, careful. He caresses over your skin, gentle and almost apprehensive. When he gets to your core, he swipes a finger through, testing the waters. When you buck your hips into his hand, he knows you're both on the same page.

"Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good."

His deep, smooth, whiskey like voice is doing nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. You only whine in response, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going.

Carmy throws one arm around your stomach, keeping you plastered to his body. You can feel him hot and hard against your back, and you so desperately want to feel him that your mouth is watering. You grind back into him, and he reads your mind.

"Not yet," he whispers. "This is about you, remember? Need to show you what you've been missing."

With that, he circles your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely. He revels in the noises you elicit. They're making him dizzy, disorientated. He never thought he'd be the one to pull a sound like that from you. He's quite convinced he's dreaming.

"Let me hear you. Don't hold back on me, okay?"

You nod your head frantically, willing to give him whatever he asks if you get what you want.

Carmy slips a finger into you slowly, moaning under his breath at your warmth. When he thinks you're ready, he adds a second finger, and sets a steady rhythm, trying to figure out what you like.

After he's set his pace, he starts to curl his fingers on the up stroke, grinning to himself when he finds the spot.

"Yeah? Right there? That's it, isn't it?"

You're nodding and shaking and pawing at his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality in any way you can. You think you might be floating, on cloud 9, in some sort of euphoric trance. You can't believe no one's ever made you feel like this before. You're convinced no one ever will again.

Carmy quickens his pace and basks in the glory of your moans. He thinks this might be the most beautiful you've ever looked, spread out completely for him. Every inch of your skin is touching his, and it makes his heart skip a beat for a second.

He presses a kiss into your hair and keeps his mouth there, murmuring honeyed praises into your ear.

"Doin' so good for me."

"You got it, honey, that's it."

"Atta girl. Keep going. Almost there."

"You look so fuckin' pretty like this. Fuck. Gonna be thinking about this forever."

"I'll ruin you, baby. Nothing's ever gonna compare to this, to what we have."

All you can do is moan in response, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You're almost there, but something is stopping you. You whine in frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Carmy feels the tension suddenly grasp your muscles, and leans down to mutter to you softly.

"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need? Just tell me. Anything, and I'll give it to you."

You're not sure how much you trust your voice right now, so you decide to show him instead. You take the hand that he's using to hold you to him and move it up your body until it's resting against your throat. You tighten your fingers around his, and moan in response to the pressure.

"Oh, baby," he coos. "Filthy fuckin' girl. Here I thought you were so innocent, and this whole time you wanted to be choked like a whore?"

The way he degrades you so lovingly makes you mewl. You'd never ever trust anyone else to speak to you this way in such an intimate moment - but with Carmen, there's no hesitation. You know he's just telling you what you need to hear in the heat of the moment. And you love him for it.

"Fuck, Carmen," you manage to choke out. "Keep going. Don't stop, please."

"I'll do anything you want if you keep saying my name like that," he whispers.

"Carmen," you moan in response. "Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy."

You're chanting his name like a prayer. He's rutting into your back, hips grinding and circling in time with his fingers that are maintaining their steady rhythm. His fingers tighten around your throat as he crooks his digits just right, and the result is a devastating moan from you that Carmy wishes to have on repeat for the rest of his life.

"So close," you whisper hoarsely. "Harder."

Carmy uses his thumb to circle your clit with one hand, other hand pulling you by your neck back into him tightly. He grinds his hips dirtily into you, and the feeling of him so silky and warm against you is what sends you over the edge. The corners of your vision go white as you arch into him, head thrown backwards into his chest. The sounds you're making are so melodic, so borderline angelic that Carmy almost cries. Heaven, he thinks. This is salvation.

Carmy finishes with you, climaxing onto the soft skin of your back. You both relax simultaneously, chests heaving and panting. He removes his fingers gently and wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him tightly despite the mess. He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and the gesture is so tender it makes your lip quiver.

"Thank you," you whisper after what feels like hours of comfortable silence.

"Sorry I called you a whore," he murmurs back.

You let out a surprised laugh, vibrating with amusement in his arms.

"I know you didn't mean it."

"I mean I did give you the best orgasm of your life, so... call it even?"

"You're forgiven," you chuckle. "Completely forgiven."

You trace gentle patterns over his forearms with your fingertips, following the black ink of his tattoos. He sighs in contentment and places a kiss into your hair, relaxing further into the couch.

You sit together like that for a while, neither of you too concerned with the time. It's not often you see Carmy so relaxed, so serene. You're enjoying it for as long as you can.

"We should clean up," he says quietly, eventually. "Sorry about the mess."

"It's okay. Worth it," you tease, pinching his thigh. He pinches your side in retaliation, which makes you jump.

"Come on, trouble."

He stands from the couch, never letting go of the grip he has on you. You have no choice but to stand with him, yelping as he half carries you through the apartment towards the shower.

The sounds of both of your laughter bounce off of the abandoned mugs of tea still sat on the coffee table, melodic and joyous. The moonlight seeps through the windows, illuminating the beginning of something special in the living room of your shared apartment.

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impeakcharacterdesign · 1 year ago

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Just the Tip

— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —

MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.

But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.

Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.

No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe

Enjoy!!!

The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.

Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.

These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.

Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.

You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.

You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.

You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.

So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.

“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.

And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.

Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.

You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.

Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.

God, you wished it was you that was touching him.

Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.

The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”

You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”

You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.

You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.

It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.

God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.

The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.

“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —

And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.

“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.

"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat

His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.

But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him

“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”

Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.

You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.

When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.

This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.

He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.

Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.

Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.

His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.

This moment in time was just for the two of you.

“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”

Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 7 months ago

Note

hello 🩷recently found and loved your account so i’m here to ask from you!!

criminal minds SSA aaron hotchner x reader

i’d love any explicit smut 😋

ideal trope(s) would be jealousy, established but secret relationship due to workplace like the whole thing stems from AH being jealous af that you’re getting hit on or smth and he can’t do shy about it in public but oh when ur home.. 👀👀👀

hahaha sorry the brain rot is real

thank you if you do this!!

and i hope u never stop writing i’ve been reading ur other posts too i love them sm

༉‧₊˚. 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

— pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size!reader

— summary: your new relationship brings out a side of aaron that he had never seen before.

— warnings: established relationship, jealousy (obvi), unprotected sex, rough sex, teasing, couch sex, aaron lowkey bends you like a pretzel, heavy praise, he taps you on the cheek (lovingly ofc), implied creampie, consent king aaron!!, slightly insecure aaron, implied age gap but not specified, body massages and an implied size kink!

— wc: 2018

⋆ a/n: WOW a long smut fic, who would have thought? anywho, i'm trying to break free from posting headcanons because i just know they'll overtake this account. thank you for this request!

masterlist | AO3

Aaron felt his eye twitch.

His eye never twitches.

The culprit? The maintenance man that won’t stop talking to you.

He had so much paperwork he needed to complete, the stack of it had begun to tower, but Aaron couldn’t manage to get himself to focus on anything else but you.

Your relationship was fairly new, so you both had just agreed to keep it low-key for now. It wasn’t like you guys were lying, how could you when you were constantly surrounded by nosy profilers?

With new relationships came new feelings, and one of them he hadn’t felt since he was a young man somehow managed to resurface right under his nose: jealousy.

Yes, he had his moments of jealousy when he had first gotten with Hailey, but this? This was different. The age gap between the two of you wasn’t that large, but it was considerable enough that when he saw men closer to your age creeping around you, it always put him in a foul mood.

Like right now he just wants to storm down there and kiss you right in front of that stupid kid. The urge was primal and unfamiliar, and quite frankly it drove him insane.

Aaron was sure you hadn’t meant to come off as flirtatious, and who were your colleagues to step in if you looked genuinely interested in the guy? For all they knew you were single.

Oh, yeah, this was going to drive him over the edge, and it was all your fault.

It was safe to say you were excited when Aaron had decided to call it an early night, you just hadn’t expected him to jump on you as soon as you breached the threshold of your home.

He didn’t give you time to think or even put your things down, his briefcase followed along by your purse collapsed to the floor with a surprisingly loud thud!

Your lungs burned and your face was hot, heated between the two furnaces that were Aaron’s large and work-worn hands. You desperately clung onto the sleeves of his suit jacket, the material twisting between your fingers to keep yourself sturdy as he walked backwards.

“A- Aaron wha - what’s going on?” You pleaded breathlessly. You had to slightly shove the man away even though you were met with his uncharacteristic resistance. He just stood there and stared at you like a wild man, pupils dilated and chest rising and falling with every hastened breath he took.

He shook his head and blinked, like his thoughts were escaping him. Aaron couldn’t think when you looked at him like that; your lips kiss swollen with a light sheen of spit, your blouse covered breasts grazing his firm chest.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Was all he could say before reconnecting your lips.

He continues to walk backwards before the back of his calves meet the couch. He allows himself to drop down with a slight oomf, his needy hands tugging on yours encouragingly until you clambered onto his lap.

He didn’t give you time to show him any hesitancy, his palms gripping your hips firmly and all but holding you down against him. You gasped at the feeling, your fingers scratching at the shaved hairs on the back of his neck.

“Aaron! What has gotten into you?” The question was a flustered giggle. Aaron’s eyes casted to the side in a rare show of nervousness.

“It’s ridiculous.” He mutters. “I can bet you a million dollars that whatever you’re going to say isn’t as silly as you think it is.”

“It was that guy. The one that wouldn’t stop talking to you.” It took you a moment to think back on it before you finally understood what he meant. “The maintenance man? What about him?”

“He was flirting with you, and - I don’t know, it made me feel things I haven’t in a long time.”

Saying the actual word jealousy seemed so juvenile to Aaron; he was a grown ass man with a grown ass man job, so what right did he have to be acting like this?

“Oh.” It was long and drawn out. You felt a smirk begin to form on your face and you gently coaxed his eyes to meet yours. Aaron’s gaze was unsure.

“You know I’m yours, right? I don’t want anyone else that isn’t you, no matter how young, rich or tall.” Your hips begin to grind down on his and Aaron chokes back a groan. His grip on your flesh gets stronger and it draws a whimper out of you.

“Yeah?” He asks sensually, his voice a low purr. He aids in your grinding and your head grows fuzzy. “Yeah.”

He’s quick to reposition the both of you, your back now resting on the couch cushions. He kisses down your neck, nipping lightly at the skin there. It sends a shiver down your spine and your lower half canting up, desperately searching for friction.

Your hot cunt meets his knee. “Ah! Aaron.” You whined, fingers digging into his shoulders. Your boyfriend has one foot on the ground and the other wedged between your legs.

Aaron rises from your chest for a moment, shoving off his suit jacket and working the buttons on his shirt. You take it upon yourself to take your blouse off, arms reaching behind you to unclasp your bra with learned precision.

His eyes fall on your breasts and you could have sworn his movements gained a bit of franticness.

“Like what you see?” You couldn’t help but tease, your hands now working to shimmy your pencil skirt down your thighs. “Very much.” Aaron agrees with a lazy half smile. “Here, let me help.” You lift your hips up and he takes both your panties and skirt off at the same time.

The casual show of strength made your stomach clench, and you all but snatched Aaron by the back of his neck back down to your level. A noise of surprise escapes him and you take it as a chance to slip your tongue in his mouth.

Your body begins to heat up, his taking grabs and grips driving you insane.

“Fuck me.” You heave. Aaron pulls away from you, “Are you sure? You aren’t prepared well yet, and I don’t want to hurt you.” You smile softly. “As much as I appreciate your concern about me, I’ll let you know if there’s any discomfort, okay?”

Aaron thinks on your words for a moment, mulling them about in his brain before relenting at the feeling of your sweet, tempting hands stroking his bare chest.

“You always have to keep me on my toes, don’t you?”

“That was in the agreement.” You bite playfully. He snorts and rolls his eyes, but sits up once more to unbutton his pants.

With what feels like forever, he’s finally bare for your hungry eyes and clambering on top of you.

Resuming his old position, he wraps your legs around his waist, the tip of his cock poking at your slit. The two of you shiver at the feeling.

“Are you sure about this, sweetheart? You know I don’t mind eating you out; I’m in no rush.” Your cheeks turn warm at his crudeness. “I’m sure, baby. I need you. Now.” With one final search of your face, he begins to push forward.

Your breath catches in your throat and you hold on to his muscular biceps. Your eyes flutter shut at the full feeling of him, your legs trembling and stomach tightening.

The first initial stretch hurts of course, but with a minute of laying there adjusting to Aaron’s size as he delivers very stimulating circles on your clit to distract you from the discomfort, you find yourself loosening up.

“Move.” You grunted quietly.

Aaron’s jaw is set tight, the vein in his forehead slightly bulging when he proceeds to thrust experimentally. Your lips roll in between your teeth to hold back the whorish moan that threatens to practically barrel out of you.

He does it again, and again, and again, until all of his self control is thrown out the window and the only thing he can think of is you; of how tight you are around him.

“It feels so good, baby. So, so good…” You babble, your hands reaching up to grip the armrest of the couch for more leverage. “I know honey, I know. ‘M gonna get deeper, okay?” Aaron groans. You nod wildly, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of your face.

He steadies himself on the knee placed on the couch, lifting your legs up so either one sits on his big, broad shoulders.

The change in position caused your back to arch, your mouth dropping open into an ‘o’ shape as you struggled to keep your head on straight.“Mphm! You’re so - you’re so deep.” You cried out, tears brimming on your eyelashes. “I know I am, baby. But you can take it right?”

“Mhm! I can! I know I can!”

“You can take it because you’re mine right? Because you’re my good girl?”

His praise pushes you dangerously close to the edge, and you’re honestly convinced that the crescent shape of your nails will leave an imprint on the material forever. The couch cushions stick to your skin like glue, the so of skin hitting skin resounded throughout the room lewdly.

A hand lightly slapped your face, your cheeks squeezed between his fingers, puckering slightly.

“I asked you a question, didn't I sweetheart?”

“You did, you did! ‘M sorry. ‘M your good girl, please.”

What you were begging for, you didn’t know; was it mercy? Was it a desperate call for your sanity? Whatever it was could wait, because you were going to cum.

“Gah! God, Aaron, ‘m gonna cum! Help me cum, please.” You begged again. “I got you honey.”

Aaron’s hand slithered down your body before landing on your clit, a calloused thumb drawing it around in firm circles. Your body moved and convulsed violently, your moans growing in volume – you’re sure you’re going to receive a noise complaint in the mail later.

That coil in your stomach threatened to snap, and all you could think to say was, “Cum with me?”

To be frank, Aaron was ready to cum a few thrusts before, but he was always one to prolong his pleasure if that meant satisfying you.

“Of - of course.” He stuttered, his dominance slowly slipping away from him.

Aaron bent forward just a little more to test how far he could push you, and though you were sure your muscles were going to ache when everything died down, but God, this was so, so worth it.

“F- fuck!” You swore as you came.

Everything disappeared for a moment besides the sound of Aaron’s guttural groan that sounded more like a loud, long-drawn-out whimper than anything when he came too.

You were slowly brought back to reality by Aaron massaging your sore muscles, gently twisting them and rubbing out any potential knots that threatened to form. You knew he'd disappear in a minute to grab something to wipe you down with, but you couldn’t seem to find it within your post orgasmic bliss to care.

“Mm, that’s nice.” You rasped, your eyelids fluttering open to face your disheveled boyfriend. His hair was all out of place in the best way possible, his bare body shining in a clear sheen of sweat. If you weren’t so tired, you think you’d jump straight to a round two.

“I’m sure,” Aaron’s voice was just as hoarse as yours. “I think I pushed your body a bit too far.”

“Don’t get started, Aaron.” You chided lightly. “It was perfect, okay? You were perfect. Now get up here.”

You dragged him from where he was and laid his body on top of yours.

“Down.” You demanded playfully. “I’m heavy, honey.”

“Don’t care.” You exaggerated the ‘don’t’ and pulled the rest of him down.

“I want to lay like this for a minute.”

“Alright,” Aaron nodded to himself. “I can do a minute.”

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pseudowho · 11 months ago

Text

Debellatio

You ask Nanami Kento to help you and Higuruma Hiromi on a mission, after the events of In Flagrante Delicto (link here); you find yourself at the mercy of both men after they are struck by the aphrodisiac Curse.

An introduction to Greynami from my Post-Shibuya!AU Nanami; see Grey and Post-Shibuya AU!Nanami Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, another sex pollen fic because I'm utterly depraved and godless, threesome, I don't like to ruin surprises

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

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"Kento. We're friends...right?"

Nanami Kento's one good eye narrowed at you, you, sat so surreptitiously on the arm of the sofa in the coffee shop you had asked to meet him at. Kento briefly considered lowering his newspaper, but decided he'd wait to see what you wanted, first. No longer working for Jujutsu High after the Shibuya incident, he did, however, stay in contact with you, one of his favourite colleagues.

"Friends?" he teased, "I don't have friends." You pouted, slapping his arm lightly, and he continued, "Alright...what is it you want?"

You scooted next to him on the sofa, emboldened by his invitation; "It's Hiromi," you said, already desperate, almost begging.

Already on first name terms, Kento thought, a light jealousy twisting in his gut, having thought he and you always had potential together. "Higuruma?" he pressed, scarred face neutral. You nodded.

"I released him to the wild," you stated, filling Kento in, "I don't think he was ready, but he was insistent, he's been out on his own for a while now...anyway, he seems to have been alright. Alone."

You did not tell Kento how Hiromi Higuruma had spent every night over the past week in your bed, spurred on initially by an aphrodisiac Curse he had failed to exorcise. You had not told anyone at Jujutsu High, in fact. How would you tell them that you and Hiromi were...what? Colleagues with benefits? On an uncertain path towards boyfriend and girlfriend? Pleasuring each other blind every day and night, lost in each others' minds and bodies? You almost blushed, aware your underwear was damp with the seed he had left inside you just that morning.

Kento raised one thin eyebrow at your pause, imploring you to continue. You took a deep breath.

"There's a mission tomorrow, and they want to send more than one First Grade, they think it's big, apparently. They chose Hiromi, and me. But I've worked with him, and he's...he's..." you trailed off, searching for the words. Kento helped.

"Difficult? Doesn't play well with others?" he offered lightly. You nodded, hands clasped in your lap.

"Can you come with us? Just as a buffer. We won't even need you I don't think, just..." you tailed off again, hoping Kento agreed.

That familiar jealousy burned in Kento's gut again. 'We'. 'Won't even need you'. Kento kicked himself mentally, wondering if he'd left it too late to ask you out to dinner, to make his move, wondering if Higuruma of all people had showed up and pipped him to the post. His jaw clenched as he put down his newspaper, giving you a gentle reassuring smile. Of course he agreed.

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"Why is he here?" Hiromi pressed you, rolling his gavel between his hands in irritation. Nanami Kento stood a few feet away from you and Hiromi, catching up with Ijichi while the veil was prepared around a derelict shopping centre, held together by ivy and abandoned "SALE!" banners.

"Just for back-up, Hiromi. Anyway, I haven't seen him in ages. You'll be friends in no time, I'm sure of it," you cooed.

Hiromi bristled. He had heard you speak fondly of this...this...sexy pirate, Nanami Kento, and in these early, brittle stages of your relationship together, Hiromi couldn't help but feel threatened by this imposing figure of a man. Allowing himself a moment of fragile masculinity, he shook it off, reminding himself that you weren't a competition.

But that if you were, you'd chosen Hiromi and he had won anyway.

Kento smiled fondly at Ijichi, gripping his hand in a friendly squeeze, before heading over to you and Hiromi, the veil descending below him in an oily drip down an invisible dome. Kento's face remained neutral as he approached, he and Hiromi reading each other, both shrewd, calculating. You swallowed at the palpable tension, before trying to bridge the gap with a reassuring smile to them both. Kento spoke first.

"The electricity's back on, so we're not operating in the dark. We should introduce ourselves. Nanami Kento," he said shortly, offering a brief bow, his gaze piercing into Hiromi even through an eye patch, it seemed.

"Higuruma Hiromi," he offered, "I've been told you're just here as..."

"...insurance," Kento finished coolly, "as you're rather...new to this." Hiromi felt another pang of irritation, smiling tightly at Kento.

Kento turned to you, giving you a smile so warm and sincere that it cracked through his icy demeanour. When you smiled back, Hiromi gritted his teeth, reminding himself again to behave. Eyes now on you, he threaded his fingers through yours, tapping your joined hands against his thigh in an act of affection and possession.

"Come on then, my love. We'll lead the way, shall we?" Hiromi pulled you ahead of Kento as a pair, and Kento glowered silently at your backs as he followed you into the building.

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"Have you read The Day of the Triffids?" you mused aloud to Hiromi and Kento, running your hand along the network of enormous vines, some as thick as your thigh, clinging along the inner walls of the building. A hazy mist had settled within the confines of the corridors, dewy and tropical in the summer humidity of central Tokyo. Exotic and otherworldly flora popped in bursts of colour from the ceiling and floor as the corridor curved away from you.

Hiromi and Kento both confirmed immediately, competitive, flashing each other furious glances. You were oblivious, examining the tendrils and flowers in glittery-eyed fascination. Hiromi and Kento stewed, both hovering close to you, irritated by the invasion of each others' space.

"We should go deeper into the building," Hiromi stated, confident, tapping his gavel against his adjacent palm, "the main Curse body is probably hiding centrally." Kento cleared his throat, imitating politeness as he disagreed.

"Many of these Curses linger on the edges, like spiders in webs. It would be more thorough to scout inwards from the edges, first."

"Well that sounds pretty inefficient seeing as we know--"

"--well we don't know, you're just assuming--"

"--based on experience, I think--"

"--oh yes, and what experience would that be?" Kento finished, curt, brittle. He turned to you, shoulders clenched in a taut line under the clipped corners of his suit. Hiromi spun to catch your eye, anger burning low at Kento's interference. Both beseeched you, seethingly, to agree with them.

You blushed under their stares, feeling their Cursed energy rising, competing, and gulped, feeling naked and exposed.

"I think," you started slowly, "that both options are as viable as the other," both Kento and Hiromi huffed air out of their noses, lips curled in annoyance, "and so you two should decide between you."

"Either way," you continued, the air thick with tension, "we have to go this way to get to the rest of the building anyway. It will give you two time to make a decision, and maybe learn to get along?" Both men bristled at your gentle chastisement, facing each other, chins out, teeth gritted.

You continued behind Hiromi and Kento along the corridor, watching with mute horror, as conversation escalated into debate, descended into argument, spiralled into insults--

"Well you're apparently so smart," spat Kento at Hiromi, "that I probably should let you decide, even if you find out the hard way, but you're not dragging her into danger too, so--"

"--sorry we can't all muscle our way through our problems, Nanami, she probably should stay with the brains of the group, so--"

"--she's coming with me!" Their voices rang through the corridor in tandem, and you shouted in warning, as they both tripped, distracted, their legs tangling in a flower-covered vine, like trip wire across the floor.

A puff of yellow pollen shot up from the flowers, clouding Kento and Hiromi in a clinging haze. They coughed, sneezing, staggering backwards out of the cloud. Kento cleared his eye with a swift wipe, looking down at himself, surveying the damage.

But, Hiromi spun to face you, barely disguised panic in his eyes; "Shit. Shit. Not again--"

Your jaw dropped, appalled; "Again? Hiromi? Was this-- is this--"

Hiromi groaned, and leaned heavily, shivering against the wall as the pollen seeped through his pores, the yellow fading as it sunk into Hiromi's bloodstream. Kento's back was to you, but dread crept into your belly, low and hot, as you saw his shoulders roll and shudder, his scarred hand clasped over his mouth as his chin dipped towards the floor.

As both Hiromi and Kento turned slowly to look at you, hunger glowing in their eyes, you began to take tentative steps backwards, your speed gradually increasing as you spun, quickly building into a full sprint back down the corridor.

Kento was burning from the inside out; every nerve was on fire with desperate arousal, his cock rapidly hardening in the confines of his slim suit trousers, and he knew in furious desperation that if he didn't pin you down and ram every inch of himself into you, that he would surely perish in these sordid flames, and--

As Kento's legs bent with intent to hunt you down the corridor, he felt slim fingers grip around the front of his throat, Hiromi stepping into his vision, clearly suffering just as he was, but determined and steely, hooded eyes smouldering with threat.

"Not my girl, Nanami," Hiromi spat, squeezing the sides of Kento's thick throat with surprising force. Kento chuckled, full of dark mirth as he gripped Hiromi by the wrist, twisting it away from him; Hiromi held fast, hand shaking with exertion.

"You were the back-up, Higuruma," Kento rumbled, smirking, judgement clouded by wild, throbbing need, "so back off. Daddy's home now." Kento swept Hiromi's legs from under him, elbowing him to the ground, before leaping over his scrabbling form and stalking down the corridor, with surprising grace for such a big man.

Hiromi was on Kento in seconds, spinning him into a resounding thud against the wall, and Kento roared in frustration, as the two continued to scrap along the corridor, concrete cracking under their feet and shoulders as they bodied each other into the walls, trying to gain the upper hand.

You had reached the end of the corridor, the stairs blocked with a bawdry tangle of prickles and vines. You scanned the corridor, spotting a lift to the right, and you ripped fine vines away from its entrance, pressing the lift's button in a frantic panic, hearing the roars and crashes of Kento and Hiromi moving down the corridor towards you.

You had a moment of dread, fearful that the lift was now inoperable, before a tinny little ping announced the lift's arrival. Clambering over vines and into the lift, you saw a puff and crumble of rubble down the corridor as Kento was thrown into a wall, the ceiling partly collapsing above him.

You pressed the button again, again, again, your heart thick in your throat. You saw Hiromi round the corridor, zigzagging across jigsaws of vines, eyes intently on you.

As the doors grinded closed, Kento and Hiromi descended upon them, still scrapping, bloody, fighting with mindless desperation and rage. The lift stayed still, halted by your own paralysis as you caught their eyes through the glass, both begging you to let them in.

You swallowed, your belly hot with anticipation, wanting to help but utterly incapable of accepting the only means by which you could help. You mouthed wordlessly at Hiromi and Kento. You pressed a shaking finger to the lift's 'down' button, and Hiromi swiftly countered by pressing the button outside the lift doors. The lift pinged, juddered, stopped, started, indecisive, torn.

You were at a stalemate. You ran your hands through your hair.

"I can't...I can't help both of you," you cried, turning to look at Nanami, eyes brimming with apology as he rested his forehead against his fist, breathing out in a shaking moan.

"Kento, I...Hiromi and I, we..." Kento thumped his fist against the outside of the lift, the lift trembling at his strength.

"You choose him?" Kento spat, feeling precum leak down his thigh in a constant damp stream. He coughed, arousal burning through his throat, and reached down to squeeze his cock, desperate for relief, moaning softly as he bit into his fist.

"You'll-- you'll help me, though?" Hiromi urged, hopeful and throbbing, palms and forehead pressed flat to the glass of the lift, eyelids heavy and breaths hot and urgent. You swallowed, considering your promise to always help Hiromi, and nodded slowly, swallowing, memories of how desperately he took you the first time sweeping through you, your clit aching and pussy clenching around nothing.

"Open the door. Please, please, open the door," Hiromi whispered in prayer. Kento accepted, sickly, that you had made your decision, still certain he may die without relief. The pollen pulsed through him, toxic and ruinous, and he felt his vision fade into animalistic shades of black, white and red.

"I can-- I-- just let me watch," Kento forced out, begging through clenched teeth. You hesitated, eyes flicking towards Hiromi in question. Hiromi scowled, lips curled in distaste.

"Watch, don't watch-- I don't give a fuck. But I'll have your head if you lay a finger on her."

Kento snarled, lips pulled taut against his teeth-- but nodded his agreement. Your hand lowered, hesitantly retracting from the button as Hiromi calmly pushed the 'open' button from the outside, eyes burning into you with unholy intent.

As the door opened, Hiromi stepped to you, trembling with restraint, fists clenching and unclenching as he urged you backwards, caging you in against the wall with outstretched arms. Not breaking eye contact, he reached down to grab one of your hands, pressing it hard against his straining erection with a low groan, eyes closed against the enormity of the tiny relief and the promise of more to come.

Keeping your hand pressed against him, rutting into your open palm, Hiromi dipped his mouth to your neck, taking your skin between his lips in a deep, bruising lovebite.

"You know how this works," he intoned, low and slow, licking your neck as he rubbed your hand on the outline of his rigid cock, "and I know you can take it." You hesitated as Kento moved slowly into the lift space, the doors closing behind him. His eye shot daggers through you, the burned side of his face twisted in agony, until his gaze flicked downwards, staring hungrily at where Hiromi rutted his cock into your open hand. Kento's tongue darted out to lick his lips, his hand sinking slowly to undo his own belt.

As Hiromi continued to devour your neck, moaning with abandon as he pressed closer to you, humping his weeping clothed cock against your body, you felt your own inhibition fade curiously away. Your trepidation was slowly being overtaken, being seeded and overgrown by a burning hunger. You took a gasping breath, high off your own desire, head swimming--

"Hiromi-- the pollen, it's-- it's on your clothes," you urged, your brain clouding, thrumming, succumbing as yellow mist soaked into your skin.

Kento watched with erotic fascination as you became pliable, supple as water under Hiromi's mouth, your eyes half-closed with aching arousal, a desperate keening noise rising from your throat.

"Oh god yes," groaned Kento, voice gravelly with lust as he released his throbbing erection, pumping his thick cock in his fist, biting the backs of his knuckles on his free hand, "keep going, don't stop-- don't--"

Hiromi drank up Kento's begging, seethingly determined to prove his ownership of you, and grasped your top between his hands, ripping it open like paper, snapping the front of your bra so the cups hung loosely over your pebbled nipples. Hiromi heard Kento release a shuddering whine behind him as he latched his tongue and lips over your nipple, still rutting into your hand, which was joined by the other now as you worked frantically at Hiromi's trousers to release him.

Kento and Hiromi both gasped as Hiromi's cock sprang upwards, and was instantly grasped between your fingers, your first squeeze releasing a thick dribble of precum down Hiromi's length as he shuddered, moaning into your breasts, pressing his fist into the wall as you began to masturbate him. You ached to your very core, reeling with need.

"Please fuck me," you begged Hiromi, voice whispering and pleading in his ear, "cum inside me, as much as you want, I need it, I--" Hiromi didn't need to be told twice and lifted your legs to straddle his hips, holding you up against the wall as he flipped your skirt up, ripped your tights and sticky wet underwear at the groin, and allowed you to line up his cock between your puffy, glistening folds.

Kento's hand worked harder and harder on his own cock now, stopping to circle his thumb around the sensitive head, spreading his precum, fighting the urge to throw Hiromi aside and thrust into you himself. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, he instead focused on where Hiromi's cock lined up with you.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Kento growled as Hiromi paused, panting into your neck, "get inside her or I will."

With one aggressive thrust, Hiromi's cock rammed into you to the hilt, slamming you back against the wall as you cried out, clawing at him desperately. Your hands clenched the front of his shirt, gripping and ripping, buttons scattering over the floor with faint skitters, so desperate were you to feel Hiromi's skin on yours.

Hiromi fucked you ruthlessly, eyes fixed on where his cock crashed into you, hips snapping back and forth with barely controlled fury. Spurred on by your mewls and whimpers, Hiromi panted, chasing his relief, agonised cries breaking from his mouth with every other thrust.

Kento's eye had drooped closed behind Hiromi, stroking himself now to the sounds of you and Hiromi alone, feeling with agonising certainty that cumming in his own hand would do little to relieve his deadly need, but needing to chase his orgasm regardless. He felt his pleasure building rapidly as he heard you cum, falling apart with trembling cries around Hiromi's cock.

Hiromi didn't last long, his first orgasm hitting him with a wave of relief so violent, his knees almost buckled, relying on you for a moment to hold yourself up against him. Hiromi felt blinded as rope after rope of his seed spurted into you, coating your cervix, soothing your aching belly with warmth. Kento came with a shuddering gasp, streams of thick cum splattering onto the floor and coating his hand, face contorted in pain when he felt little to no relief despite his orgasm plundering through his every muscle.

You and Hiromi clung onto each other, still joined, and Hiromi's cock felt no softer at all, still rigid and held with urgency against your cervix, sucked in by your velvety walls.

"I'm-- I'm sorry I-- I can't stand--" Hiromi stuttered, dropping to his knees with your legs still wrapped around him, still pressed core to core as you wrapped your arms around his neck, straddling him, riding him as he whimpered into your mouth. Lost in your own pleasure, your eyes had drifted shut as you rode Hiromi, slippery with cum, keeping his cock jealously inside you, unwilling to let him pull out by more than an inch.

You felt a strong hand wind into your hair, tipping your head backwards and sideways, and as you gasped, you felt a droplet of salty cum drip onto your tongue. Kento's other hand, sticky with his own seed, ghosted around your lips as he stared down at you, scarred face impassive, but his eye urgently begging, and he dipped a cum-covered thumb into your mouth, stroking across your tongue.

Hiromi flung a hand out sideways, clawing with fury at Kento's thick, corded thigh; "Nanami," he hissed in warning. Kento ignored him, still staring at you, pleading, impeaching--

You nodded slowly, opening your mouth, holding out your tongue. Kento groaned his appreciation, and leant down to dip his tongue against yours as you gripped his thick cock in your hand. Hiromi scowled, thrusting you harder onto him in possessive punishment, satisfied to hear you squeak against Kento's tongue. As Kento pulled away from you and your mouth started to close, he gripped your jaw, stopping you.

"Open," he barked and you acquiesced, jolting and groaning as you felt him spit into your mouth, mixing with the drips of cum his fingers left behind. Humming lowly in satisfaction, Kento stood tall, manoeuvring your head and thrusting his full length down your throat with little warning.

Despite himself, Hiromi was hypnotised as Kento gripped you by the hair, ramming into you; Hiromi kept pace with Kento, matching his timing by slamming your hips down onto his. His eyes fixed on your mouth as you coughed and spluttered, cheeks covered with cum and saliva as you choked down wet gags, Kento barking orders at you as he slammed his cock repeatedly over your tongue and into your throat.

"Harder, Nanami," Hiromi ordered, blinded by lust as he felt your cunt clench around him, fluttering weakly as Hiromi slipped his hand between your legs, finding your clit with practiced ease, rubbing rapid circles, lubricated by the slick of your cum.

You were overwhelmed, floppy and malleable as you embraced being used by Kento and Hiromi, covered in fluids, sticky and sweating, and you shivered weakly as Hiromi dragged you to another orgasm. You felt Hiromi ram you onto him once, twice and three more times until he came with a frantic shout, legs cramping underneath him as he felt his seed shoot through him like electricity, dripping out of you and soaking the patch of trimmed black hair at the base of his cock. Hiromi whined, his balls clenching painfully, watching as Kento finished in your mouth.

Kento pulled you to him, his knuckles deep in your hair as your nose hit his neat honey-coloured pubes, gulping as streams of his hot cum trickled down your throat, Kento growling his relief-- "good girl-- good girl-- swallow now"-- as you drank him down.

Kento let go of your hair and you pulled back, gasping and coughing, his cock still rigid, sat wetly on your cheek as Kento rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck from side to side, still tense. Hiromi was wrecked, burning with need, but crippled and paralysed with a bone-deep exhaustion as he straightened his legs under you, his cock still rigid and throbbing inside you as he came down from his orgasm.

"Not-- not enough--" Kento rumbled, still desperate, devastated by the lack of relief.

"Enough, Nanami," Hiromi gasped, "She needs a--"

"'She' can handle it," you interrupted, nose to nose with Hiromi as he looked into you, glassy-eyed and worried. He nodded slowly. Kento rumbled his approval, pressing you forwards by the back of the neck until Hiromi was laid on his back on the floor, cock still inside you, and you laid down belly first on him.

Without hesitating, Kento mounted you from behind, his mouth ghosting against your ear as he bit it, relishing your squeaks as you pressed your cheek into Hiromi's chest. Lining up his cock with where Hiromi was already seated deep inside you, Kento pressed his cock into you.

You saw stars as your pussy was stretched more than it ever had been, clawing wildly at Hiromi's chest as Kento bottomed-out; Hiromi shivered with delight at the impossible tightness and slickness of you, his groans cracking as Kento's cock slid against his with every thrust. Higuruma lay unmoving at first, colours popping in his eyes, before digging his fingers into the plushness of your hips, and thrusting into you in tandem with Kento.

You were ruined, completely prone on Hiromi as you felt Hiromi and Kento's lengths bully in and out of you, your thighs shaking with urgency as your clit was shunted against Hiromi's pubic bone every time Kento rammed into you. Hearing Kento's groans, broken and velvety behind you, had you tipping over the edge, your arousal spurting out around Kento and Hiromi, your cries and whimpers echoing weakly around the little chamber.

Kento felt fire burst through his hips, back and belly as he came for a final time, barely able to keep himself from collapsing on top of you as he felt himself weaken, Hiromi's cock twitching against his as Hiromi shuddered, sandy gasps leaving his throat as his seed mixed with Kento's inside you.

Hiromi reached around you, rolling you all sideways so Kento could collapse onto the floor. You lay together, stunned, sticky and panting. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and desire. Kento chuckled, low and shaking, as you nuzzled into Hiromi, planting tender kisses on his jaw.

"Alright," he rumbled, reluctant, "so she's your girl. But I still owe her dinner."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Hiromi and Kento at the end of this:

The reader:

This took me two large glasses of wine to write.

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1980shorrorfilm · 2 months ago

Text

every road i know

click here. resources for palestine, congo, sudan, and other countries.

pairing…ellie williams x gn!reader

in which…ellie thought it was time to solidify your relationship. she might have been wrong.

before you read…inspired by the strangers, minus the killing n stuff. modern day fic. angst with comfort <3

the autumn night is silent, save for the occasional creak of the old miller’s cabin settling into its nighttime routine. you listen to the wind whistling outside, through the tall pines surrounding the small wooden home.

it’s a lonely town, the nearest house a few miles down the road, something vastly different from your shared apartment in the city.

ellie started bringing you here after joel had let it collect endless dust and cobwebs, the woman cleaning it all up for you. whenever life got too busy, chaotic, or hard, this way your getaway. peace. just you and her and the nature that surrounded you.

now, it feels as though it’s purgatory.

the fireplace flickers softly, its glow dancing on the wooden walls, but the warmth couldn’t seem to comfort you. not right now. ellie sits in front of the flames, her silhouette outlined by the orange gentle light.

she has yet to utter a single word to you. the car ride here was silent. even the radio on mute, because ellie couldn’t find the simple strength to turn it up.

the moment is replaying in her mind, over and over, the sad smile you had given her burned into her memory. the thing she’s had anxiety about for the past month. proposing, to you.

the dark velvet box holding the special ring, now lying on the coffee table beside her. a stark reminder of the event.

you’re sat on the couch, chewing your lip, a rose petal in your hand. it’s soft, you find yourself stroking the smooth flower. they cover, nearly, the whole cabin. ellie had thrown the petals around before you had arrived together, trying to make it appear as romantic as possible.

it’s not her strong suit, her appreciation toward you shown in much different ways than typical lovey-dovey things you see on television, but tonight it felt right. long candles garnish whatever surface she could put them on, yellow and smelling like vanilla. they’re not lit.

she assumed she’d spark them when you came back from the long day you had. one that started with your favorite breakfast, ellie waking up extra early to make it as perfect as she could. and she did, you made sure to compliment her repeatedly.

then she took you downtown, viewing places you rarely visited, spending more time admiring you than the other pretty views. what occupied most of your time, was going to a museum she took you to on your first date, reminiscing on how awkward you two were compared to now.

she swears that’s her favorite place, and not just because she’s a nerd, because she now associates it with you.

ellie had took you out to dinner, to your favorite restaurant, hardly eating and claiming she just wasn’t hungry. that was a lie, she just didn’t think she could keep food down. her nerves were washing over her, multiplying when you had finished, and you took a walk near the river, beneath the red trees that blew softly above you.

you had felt her pause in place, holding her warm hand, and you thought maybe the tie had come undone on her sneakers. she had washed them the day prior until her fingers pruned, you found it odd for ellie but didn’t say anything. but that wasn’t the problem. she stared at you like she saw a ghost, and it worried you.

you almost thought this was the end, she was about to tell you those four dreaded words. we need to break up. oh, the idea terrorizes you. that, however, also wasn’t it.

she had whispered inaudible words to herself, then mumbling ‘okay, okay, okay.’

you thought the woman was breaking before you, concern in your eyes, holding her hand tight. then she gulped, trying to get out the rehearsed words that seemed to vanish the longer she stood in your presence.

how much you mean to her. from the very moment you two got paired up for a project that she insisted she’d do all the work for, but you fought back, finding yourself in her bedroom the entire week, the girl studying you more than the work laid out before her.

she found herself by your side all the time afterward.

she needed to be by your side.

she doesn’t know how she lived before you, and if she could live without you— no, insisting she could not live with you. she simply wouldn’t have the will. waking up to a bed you didn’t occupy, not hearing your genuine laughter to her most idiotic jokes, not being able to hold you when you experienced the hardest day of your life.

she couldn’t have that. she needs this…you and her, to last forever. so, she asked those four words that you weren’t prepared for. will you marry me?

to which, you didn’t say yes.

you couldn’t. you love ellie, more than you could ever put into words, you swear on your life that you do, and it didn’t at all reflect your feelings for her. you were just…paralyzed. by fear, uncertainty, and the weight of expectations that you couldn’t hold up to for her. every single insecurity, hitting you at once, in the worst moment it possibly could.

you had said her name in a weak whisper, and ellie gulped, realizing what was happening. a tear slipped from your eye, that she quickly wiped away, reassuring you it was okay. that you’re okay. putting you before her, a habit of hers. bits of her broken heart being blown away in the cool wind that hits you, while she cradles yours.

you walked to the car together in silence, a suffocating fog. a silence that seemed to last forever.

the tension between you two is almost palpable, both of your minds are currently a whirlwind of heavy emotions. a gentle crackle of the fire and ellie shifting in place, makes you finally turn your attention to her. “ellie,” you say her name softly, voice strained as you finally break the unbearable quiet. “can we talk?”

her gaze remains on the fiery flames, her shoulders tense. “we don’t have to,” she replies quietly, “i get it.”

“i don’t think you do,” you lowly say, heart aching at the mere thought of all the negativity running through her precious head, doubts about herself and your relationship. that’s the last thing you could ever want.

ellie swallows thickly, “it doesn’t matter.”

you watch her get up, turning her back to you as she leaves the room. your eyes trail her to the kitchen before you follow her. she doesn’t glance at you as you lean against the nearby counter, watching her grab an expensive champagne bottle.

you assume she bought it just for tonight, she wouldn’t drink it any other time. she won’t even touch a glass of wine. she pops it open, pouring it into one of the two glasses beside it. “i don’t…” you begin to say as she hovers over the other glass, ellie nodding in response. you’re afraid if you drink it you’ll throw up all the nerves inside your system.

“i got your favorite ice cream…if you want that instead,” ellie mentions, tapping her finger on the glass, “went to like…3 different stores. couldn’t find the brand you like.”

she ends the sentence with an attempt at a laugh, finding it so silly now. all the effort, for what? humiliation? pity? she sips on the disgusting drink like it would make her feel better. the only other thing that helps her in trying times, is you; and that’s not exactly possible in this scenario.

“do you…” she pauses, staring at the liquid as she swirls it around, “do you want this…us?”

“of course i do,” you answer her without hesitation, taking a step closer to her, but still out of reach. “it’s not that, ellie,” you tell her, trying to figure out how to inform her it’s you and not her, without sounding like a poor cliche overused excuse.

“it’s just…we’re young…im scared you’re making a mistake,” your voice wavers near the end, ashamed to admit such a thing, that you are her mistake. ellie looks at you like you just spit in her face. she doesn’t know how to interpret the comment, she slightly feels insulted that you would think that she’s making a ‘mistake.’

this isn’t putting a shirt on inside out. this isn’t forgetting to turn the light off when you leave a room. it’s not tripping over your step. it’s her committing herself to you, after five beautiful years attached to you, something she wants hundreds more years of, if that were possible. nothing about that is a mistake.

you’re the love of her life. cementing that is not a fucking mistake.

“is that how you feel?” she flips the script, putting the spotlight on you, feeling like you’re burning beneath it at the accusation. “what?” you whisper, “n-no…no ellie.”

you can’t read her expression, she’s swallowing the rest of her drink, blankly staring ahead.

she ignores your response, “i’ll drive us home in the morning. you should get some sleep.”

she turns away, placing her glass carefully in the sink, resting there for a moment. your eyes are boring into the back of her head as if you could read the thoughts inside it. so many bad thoughts.

you push yourself forward, taking a few quiet steps to her. you plant your feet behind her, wrapping your arms around her body. her breathing is slow, her figure painfully stiff, hugging a tree and not your person. so solid despite the endless embraces where she would melt into you.

you murmur her name, holding her tighter.

ellie can’t resist you.

her hands reach for yours, resting against the center of her torso. her fingers brush against you softly, her breath hitching slightly, before letting out a sigh she’s held in for hours.

just for this moment, the tension settles beneath the old floorboards of the cabin, giving you air to breathe instead of holding in. your hug is so tender, ellie could be lured to sleep by it. and her body is so warm, you’d rather die than pull away.

you wish it could last forever, and the hours prior could be forgotten.

then her phone rings from her back pocket, vibrating against you, and she shifts. you let go, biting your lip, watching her fish the device out. joel. assumingly calling to congratulate her. ellie wishes she never told him, because fuck, this is going to be awkward.

“i uh…should take this,” she whispers, not sparing you a glance when she walks away. you hear the front door open, then shut. you can’t help but walk back into the living room, standing before the window and peeking at ellie, who sat on the porch steps.

you can’t see her face, her head down, a glow from a cigarette, and grey smoke surrounding her figure. it’s clearly not a happy conversation, there was no sugarcoating what had happened. it pains you.

you turn back around, following the rose petals that scattered the floor, all the way down the hall, and stopping at the bathroom. you open the door, turning the light on, eyes falling on the several small candles on the edges of the bathtub. red, grey, and purple, they decorated the space.

ellie really tried to make tonight special.

you stand idly, taking a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, staring at yourself with shame. a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, knowing it did something so drastic, that the only person they love, finds it hard to look at them.

you quickly turn away.

you run the bath and wait, tugging your top and pants off, kicking them to the side. you strip naked when it fills up completely, steam radiating from the water. you step in, adjusting to the high temperature, before sinking into it. it almost burns you, but not in a way that you mind. you just don’t care right now.

ellie is the only thing on your mind. you wonder if she’s talking about you, openly questioning where your relationship lies, if she thinks it’s even going to last after today.

before you know it, a single tear is falling down your face.

you hug your knees, turning your head and laying your cheek against them. you stare out the open bathroom door, to the wood paneled wall, a framed photo of a deer hung on it.

you forget to blink, spacing out, not noticing the creaking of the front door or the floor. not until ellie is within your view, pausing in the doorway, looking down at you. you’re crying to yourself.

her expression softens, not saying anything when she joins you, kneeling beside the bathtub and touching your face. her thumbs wipe the salty tears from beneath your eyes, but they don’t stop.

“i’m scared, ellie,” you say just above a whisper, ellie only hears you because of how quiet the cabin is. besides the repetitive dripping from the sink. “i’m gonna fail you…” you continue, your voice now giving up on you, “scared’m gonna ruin this…ruin us…you’re so good, ellie— i just —i couldn’t say yes.”

you choke into a sob, her green eyes now glistening with unshed tears. “oh baby,” she says so softly, giving you the time to process your emotions, to let the tears fall while she holds you.

“i can’t…” she stops, gulping and sighing, “i can’t change what you think…but i can promise you that nothing could ever change my mind about you.”

her grip on you is firm, reaffirming, as she continues to speak, “we can wait…i’m willing to wait forever for you. i will show you no matter what happens, i will still love you— i will always love you. i just needed…need you to know that.”

very faintly, your lips twitch upwards slightly, ellie mirroring you the moment she notices. “you’re enough for me,” she says, “just you. that’s all i want.”

ellie is, unfortunately, right; it doesn’t change the tainted mindset you have. that, however, has nothing to do with her. you don’t doubt the things she tells you, you’ve never felt more love from someone in your whole life, and you know for a fact that you never will.

and that’s why it brings you relief, to listen to her, understanding her point of view rather than your own, and the cruel demon on your shoulder whispering harsh words into your ear.

ellie williams is the angel.

it’s not the first time she’s eased the anxiety taunting you, and it will not be the last. she will always be there, rain or shine, you pushing her away or letting her in. she truly means what she says. you’re enough for her. and soon, you will accept that for yourself.

“i really want to hug you right now.”

ellie chuckles, a lightness in the air as she gets up, grabbing a beige towel. you stand, letting her wrap it around you, shivering at the coolness in the air. not caring about the water droplets still coating your body, ellie’s arms are quickly around you, her palm on the back of your head, cradling it gently.

you instantly feel warm again, at peace.

after the moment of serenity ends, ellie is leading you to the bedroom. she grabs your pajamas from your still-packed bag, letting you put them on while she does the same. your eyes fall on her pale back, watching her throw a white tee on, looking away when she turns her head at you.

“was thinking about leaving at 8…wanna beat the traffic,” she says, hoping the statement doesn’t go back to making things awkward. just in case, she adds, “can stop at that pancake place you love.”

you can’t ignore the glum undertones of the suggestion, but you still give her a smile, barely modding your head.

you sit in bed, ellie exiting the room to turn off every light in the lonely cabin, leaving you with your thoughts. you hate it. thinking about how happy the two of you were coming here, compared to you leaving. you don’t even want to leave. you want to shut out the rest of the world, but more importantly, your mind.

how differently things would be right now, if you could just do that.

your eyes meet hers when she enters the room again, and you debate what you’re about to ask her. you can’t help it. “can i see it?”

“hm?” “the ring.”

ellie looks at you, freezing for a moment, stuttering, “y-yea…sure.”

again, she exits the room, grabbing the velvet small box on the table, the one she avoided even sparing a glance at just a minute ago. then she jogs back, scratching the back of her neck. she’s nervous as she approaches you, placing it in your open hands, like it’s a baby.

it’s the first time you’re getting a decent look at it, having been unable to observe it during the moment, and it’s beautiful. it’s simple, yet the green sapphire is so elegant, resembling the way ellie’s eyes look beneath the sun. you smile at it.

“i…can’t return it…if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“i’m not,” you tell her, “it’s gorgeous, ellie.”

you don’t want to give it back to her. it feels…so right, in your possession, that you can’t help but nervously slide it down your finger. there’s a bittersweet smile on your face at how perfect it is. how when you look at it, ellie is the first thing to come to your mind.

your lover, for eternity. your lover that swears to you, that your need for her is as mutual as her need for you, no matter the circumstances, it is permanent. that your worries are just that. worries— self-doubt, and bitter thoughts about yourself, that are only present in the moment. they won't last forever. not like you and her.

with hesitance, you take it off, avoiding her gaze when you give it back to her. “i’ll be ready,” you promise, your finger oddly feeling so lonely despite only wearing it for a minute. “i will…i will be,” you find yourself mumbling, ellie getting closer and grabbing your hands.

“hey, i meant what i said,” her thumbs stroke your skin, reminding you once more, “i can wait forever for you.”

and she means it.

#-🐈‍⬛#ellie williams x reader #also wanted to end this with a knock at the door for spooky szn but im a good person kind of #ellie williams fanfic #the last of us fanfic #ellie x reader #ellie x gn reader #tlou fanfic #wlw fanfic #why are you still reading this? do you want me??

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writingforstraykids · 4 months ago

Text

We'll be right here

Pairing: husband!Minchanlix x fem!reader

Word Count: 1652

Summary: Getting sick isn't as bad with your three loving husbands anymore. Each of them has their way to take care of you and try to make you feel better.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, sick!fic, husband!min, husband!lix, husband!channie, comfort, short mentions of fever, coughing, sore throat

A/N: I thought I'd write you a little something for you to enjoy until you're feeling better, wifey @slutforchanlix 🖤 As you love all three of them I decided to go for your beloved Chanlix along with Minho☺️🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

You woke up feeling an unusual heaviness in your limbs, a dull ache in your head, and a scratchy throat that seemed to have appeared overnight. The bed that once felt like a sanctuary now felt like a trap as you struggled to sit up, a wave of dizziness crashing over you.

“Ugh, I feel terrible,” you mumbled to yourself, barely recognizing your own voice. Your throat felt like sandpaper, and each word was a laborious effort. You reached for your phone, squinting at the bright screen to check the time. It was still early, but you knew you needed help.

“Hey guys, I think I’m sick,” you texted the group chat with your husbands. Your fingers felt clumsy, and even typing out that short message seemed to drain what little energy you had left.

It wasn’t long before you heard footsteps hurrying down the hall. The door to your room creaked open, and Minho’s concerned face appeared, quickly followed by Felix and Chan. Minho, always the observant one, was the first to approach your bed.

“Y/nnie, why didn’t you say something sooner?” Minho’s voice was gentle but laced with worry as he placed the back of his hand on your forehead. “You’re burning up.”

Felix knelt by the bed, his brows furrowed in concern. “You should’ve called us earlier. We’re here to take care of you, remember?”

Chan sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes filled with concern. “Don’t worry, we’ve got you. Let’s get you comfortable first.”

Minho disappeared into the kitchen, determined to make you some soup. You could hear the clattering of pots and pans, a reassuring sound that brought a small smile to your lips despite the discomfort.

Felix, always the sweet one, began massaging your aching limbs. His touch was gentle and soothing, working out the tension that had built up in your muscles. “This will help you feel better, I promise,” he said softly, a comforting warmth to his words.

You managed a weak smile, appreciating the effort they were putting into making you feel better. “Thanks, Felix. It already helps.”

Felix grinned, his freckles dancing on his cheeks as he did. “Good, because I’m not stopping until you’re back to your usual self. And I might throw in a few jokes to speed up the process.”

You chuckled weakly, the sound turning into a cough that made your throat burn. Felix’s hand stilled for a moment, but he quickly resumed, trying to soothe the discomfort.

Chan reached over and took your hand in his, his grip firm yet gentle. “I won’t let you go through this alone. We’re here for you, no matter what.”

A tear slipped down your cheek at his words, not from sadness but from the overwhelming gratitude you felt. “You guys are amazing. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Minho returned with a steaming bowl of soup, the aroma filling the room and making your stomach growl despite the nausea. “Alright, time for some of my special homemade soup. It’s guaranteed to make you feel better.”

He sat beside you, carefully blowing on a spoonful of soup before bringing it to your lips. “Open up, Y/nnie. Just a little at a time.”

You obediently opened your mouth, the warm broth sliding down your throat and instantly providing a bit of relief. Minho continued to feed you patiently, ensuring you ate slowly so as not to upset your stomach further.

“Thank you, Minho. This is really good,” you said between sips, feeling a bit of strength returning with each spoonful.

Minho smiled, his eyes soft with affection. “Anything for you. Just focus on getting better, okay?”

As the day went on, the three of them took turns tending to your needs. Felix continued his massages, cracking silly jokes that made you smile even when you didn’t think you had the energy to.

“What did the sick tomato say to the other tomato?” Felix asked with a grin.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What?”

“I’m feeling a bit under the weather,” Felix replied, wiggling his eyebrows comically.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound blending with a cough. “That’s terrible, Felix.”

He laughed along with you, the sound lightening the heavy atmosphere in the room. “I know, but if it makes you smile, it’s worth it.”

Chan was your constant source of comfort, his presence a soothing balm to your fevered state. Whenever you felt cold, he would wrap his arms around you, holding you close and sharing his warmth. “I’m not going anywhere,” he’d whisper, his breath tickling your ear. “I’ll be right here, I promise.”

You leaned into his embrace, finding solace in his steady heartbeat and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. “I don’t want to get you sick,” you murmured, though your words were half-hearted. The comfort he provided was too precious to refuse.

“You won’t,” Chan assured you, his voice firm and unwavering. “Taking care of you is more important. We’ll worry about me later.”

Minho kept the soup coming, ensuring you stayed hydrated and nourished. He even prepared some herbal tea, its soothing properties helping to ease the soreness in your throat. Each sip felt like a small victory, a step closer to feeling normal again.

“Minho, you’re really good at this,” you said after finishing another bowl of soup. “Have you been practicing?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Just years of taking care of you all. Plus, it’s easy to put in the effort when it’s for someone as special as you, my beautiful wife,” he winked at you, making you blush softly.

The day stretched on, with Felix’s jokes becoming a steady background to the symphony of Minho’s cooking and Chan’s comforting presence. The combination of their care and the medicine they brought you gradually began to ease your symptoms.

As the sun set and the room grew dim, Minho suggested you try to get some rest. “Sleep is the best medicine, after all. We’ll be right here if you need anything.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the day’s exhaustion settling in. “Thank you, all of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Felix tucked the blankets around you, his touch gentle and reassuring. “You don’t have to worry about that because we’re not going anywhere.”

Chan kissed your forehead, his lips cool against your fevered skin. “Sweet dreams, Y/nnie. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

You drifted off to sleep, their presence a comforting anchor in the haze of your illness. The night passed in a blur of fevered dreams and intermittent wakefulness, but every time you opened your eyes, one of them was there, keeping watch and ensuring you were never alone.

The next morning, you woke to the sound of quiet chatter and the smell of fresh coffee. Blinking blearily, you saw Minho setting a tray with breakfast on your bedside table, Felix fluffing the pillows behind you, and Chan smiling warmly from the foot of the bed.

“How are you feeling today?” Minho asked, his voice gentle as he helped you sit up.

“A bit better,” you admitted, surprised at the improvement. “Still tired, but not as bad as yesterday.”

Felix grinned, his eyes sparkling with relief. “That’s what we like to hear. More soup?”

You nodded, grateful for their continued care. “Yes, please. I think it’s working.” Minho handed you a bowl, and you sipped the warm broth slowly, savoring the taste. “Thank you, Minho. This really is the best soup I’ve ever had.”

He smiled, a hint of pride in his eyes. “I’m glad you like it. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

As you ate, Chan took your hand in his, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin. “We’ll keep taking care of you until you’re back to full strength. No rush.”

Felix leaned in, his expression playful. “And I’ve got plenty more jokes to keep you entertained. Ready for another one?”

You laughed, the sound feeling more natural and less strained. “Always.”

“What do you call fake spaghetti?” Felix asked, his grin widening.

“I don’t know, what?” you replied, curious despite yourself.

“An impasta!” he exclaimed, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the silly joke lifting your spirits. “You’re ridiculous, Felix.”

“But you love me for it,” he shot back, his grin infectious.

Chan squeezed your hand gently. “And we all love you, Y/nnie. We’re here for you, no matter what.”

Tears of gratitude welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they were accompanied by a genuine smile. “I love you all too. Thank you for everything.”

The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion, with Minho ensuring you were well-fed, Felix keeping you entertained, and Chan providing constant comfort. They took turns sitting with you, their presence a constant reminder that you were loved and cared for.

By the time night fell again, you felt significantly better. The fever had subsided, and the aches in your body had lessened. You knew you still had a way to go, but with them by your side, you felt confident you could handle anything.

“Feeling ready for bed?” Chan asked as he helped you settle back under the blankets.

“Yeah, I think so,” you replied, exhaustion creeping in once more.

Felix kissed your forehead gently. “Sweet dreams, Y/nnie. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

Minho adjusted the covers one last time, his touch tender. “Rest well. Tomorrow will be even better.”

As you closed your eyes, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Surrounded by their love and care, you knew you were in the best possible hands. And with that comforting thought, you drifted off to sleep, your heart full of gratitude and affection for the three amazing men who had shown you just how much they cared.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

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yaut-jaknowit · 4 months ago

Note

All this talk of breeding and babies has me curious!!!! Maybe a fic where Vic, Uie, and reader DO decide to have a hybrid baby? How would they be as dads?

Daddies

Pairings: Uihoy (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader X Vic'tao (Male Yautja)

Warnings: slight description of birth

Word Count: 2205

Summary: Where we get to see how good Vic'tao and Uihoy are as dads.

Author Note: This was such a cute idea. I will say, they has been a lot of asks about babies happening lately. Is everyone ovulating or something? Ain't complaining, just worried and preparing for another round soon.

Masterlist

Ao3

When they first smelled the change of hormones in you, they buzzed with energy. As a human yourself, you couldn’t tell that early. Their change of attitude towards you concerned you. Not only were they more excited, but they treated a lot more carefully. Like you were glass and one wrong look could break you.

It wasn’t entirely due to the fact you were pregnant. You are a ooman. A pregnany ooman with their child. This was a whole different ballpark they’ve never even thought to step foot into.

One day, you grew to your boiling point.

Rage weaved into your very bones. For the last three months, they’ve acted different. It was like a one-eighty that flipped everything. Here you were, in the middle of the common rooms watching as the two kept their distance. It hurt. But it made you angry.

Hot tears burned your eyes. “What in the hell is wrong?!” you shouted at the top of your lungs. Your voice echoed back at you, bouncing off of the walls. “You won’t touch me. You won’t even look me in the eye anymore! Have I done something wrong?” Not only were anger but fearful you may have done something to mess up everything. You were the one to join their group. The last one to be initiated into the party.

Both of them stopped their retreats and glanced at each other. Confusion flashed upon their unique features. Like they had any reason to be puzzled. It was them causing all of this. Uihoy first broke the eye contact and what seemed to be timidly looked at you. You never thought Uihoy could do anything timid, scared-like in your life.

Your gaze narrowed down on the purple Yautja peering at you with a flickering gaze. “Look at me damnit! Tell me what the hell is wrong?” You couldn’t stop screaming, needing to get this rage out of your system. “Three months, three months without proper touches.” Tears streamed down your cheeks. “Are… are you disgusted by me now?”

Those words cracked not only your heart but theirs as well. Vic’tao made a pained whine and rushed towards you. His knees met the ground before your feet. He went to touch you but stopped shy, pupils narrowing. He didn’t want to touch you.

Pain not only shined in your eyes but expanded across your features. His yellow eyes met yours briefly before he softly rested a hand on your shoulder. The other cupped your chin. The touch was welcomed despite the issues arising currently. You whimpered and turned to nuzzle his hand, relief flooding your system. It has felt like a century since they’ve land their touches on you.

“Tell me, what is wrong? Why have you both drifted away from me?” you softly cried, shoulders jumping with each sob.

Vic’tao’s brows furrowed as if he confused himself of his own actions. That just made you want to bite him. Hard.

Uihoy came to join the two of you and knelt besides Vic’tao, gaze towards the ground. Even he wouldn’t met your eyes. You cried harder and wretched your head from Vic’tao’s touch. It hurt to do so but you didn’t want comfort if they were just going to keep hurting you.

The yellow Yautja chirped to his partner and nudged his shoulder with his own. Now, they weren’t going to speak in English so you could understand the situation.

When you were about to take a step back, the two of them faced you. “Do… do you not know?” Vic’tao questioned and tilted his massive head at you. You scoffed and crossed your arms.

“Clearly, I don’t fucking know when I don’t understand why you’ve put distance between us. I don’t even remember doing anything wrong. But do enlighten me.” You couldn’t help but be snarky in the moment. They deserved it.

They glanced at one another again for a fleeting moment. Usually, both of their eyes on you would make you nervous. But, you didn’t care this time.

Uihoy jerked his head up. A light bulb appeared over his head. “C’jit. Ooman.” It was like the two of them had a sudden life realization without bringing you up to speed. You kept glaring at the two of them. Then, the purple male scooted closer to you on his knees and softly embraced you.

Despite the anger in your veins powering you, you instantly wrapped your arms around him and squeezed tightly. “We-we so sorry, little hunter. Little hunter is ooman. Doesn’t smell. Doesn’t know. Doesn’t understand,” he cooed to you and ran a hand up and down your back in soothing strokes. You couldn’t help but feel offended by his words.

You pushed back to look him in the eye. “What does that mean?! Just because I’m human doesn’t mean I’m less!” His eyes jumped wide. His head shook wildly to disclaim what you’ve said.

Hands cupped your cheeks and turned your head to face Vic’tao. “No, treasure! That’s not what he’s saying!” Your features twisted with a mixture of confusion and hurt still. Again, you didn’t understand anything that was happening. “You’re pregnant.”

His mouth continued to move but you didn’t hear a word. If it wasn’t for either of their holds on you, you would’ve collapsed to the ground.

Pregnant? But… they’ve told you that was next to impossible. That made sense. Two different species. Both hundreds of thoughts of lightyears away from each other. They surely couldn’t reproduce with each other. It was scientifically impossible to reproduce! But… they just told you, you are pregnant. With their child. Shit, with which one. Fuck it, it doesn’t matter. You were pregnant by them.

Your blurry vision focused onto Vic’tao who was directly in your face. Both of your hands grasped his cheeks and pulled his nose to nose with you. “You’re not lying? I’m pregnant?” You needed to hear it again, to make sure Uihoy or him weren’t lying straight to your face. You had to know.

He grunted with a nod.

Oh my god. You were pregnant. After thinking all this time you would never be with a child – not it bothered you, it was finally happening! You squealed and jumped in place, arms thrusted up into the air. New tears prickled the corner of your eyes. Happy tears.

Then, you tackled Uihoy, nearly taking him down to the floor. Your arms crushed the confused Yautja before he returned the embrace in a soft gesture. You buried your face into his neck and deeply breathed in his scent. How you missed being this close with the two of them.

Next, you wrenched yourself away from him to embrace Vic’tao in the same manner. He didn’t expect the hit and fell onto his back, cradling you in a protective manner. You could care less and breathed in his missed scent as well. You could almost cry from how much you longed for their touch.

After a small miscommunication between the three of you, all was well. They explained to you that female Yautjas are different when pregnant. They didn’t know if it was the same for a human. So, they decided to proceed with caution. Worst of all, both of them thought you knew you were pregnant. A female can sense the change inside of themselves within the first three weeks. Clearly, you didn’t know until they told you.

From that day forward, they were the best to-be-daddies. They waited on foot and hand for you. Whatever you wanted, you didn’t even need to move from the bed or chair. They’ll get it for you. They wanted to show they could not only care for you during a time like this but for the baby as well. Which, you a sit down about.

Besides the cultural differences you already knew existed, you had them explain what happens with a female being pregnant. Females usually were by themselves during the pregnancy unless they had a permanent mate. Since the two of them had never encountered this situation before, they didn’t know how to handle it.

Females would go through the entire pregnancy by themselves. Those more experience would just give birth the same way. First time mothers or those with little under their belt would call upon others for help.

This knowledge made you terrified but amazed at the same time. The fact they could do this all by themselves was phenomenal. Yet, you knew you could never do that. You didn’t want to be alone.

Besides that one miscommunication, life with the boys had been great. Well, for the most part. Of course, with you being pregnant as a human, they didn’t let you go hunting with them anymore. That was the highlight of your days when they would take you out. It was sketchy enough to let you join them but pregnant. They explained to you your scent would draw every predator in. A pregnant creature meant slower prey to those predators.

So, for the rest of the six months or so, you stayed inside the ship. They would take you out during supervised excursions around the ship. But they would never let you leave their sight.

For the pregnancy itself, it wasn’t bad. Your belly grew far quicker than you thought was normal. Both of them wished to take you to a medic to get checked out. Unfortunately, from each other own clans, they heavily disagreed with hybrids. Bringing you into their territory would unfortunately be the death of your child.

It was just the three of you facing the world with a child on the way.

When it came to the birth, the tub was your best friend all the way through. Both of your mates stayed at your sides the entire time. Whatever you needed, they retrieved it within seconds. They allowed for you body to go through its natural course.

Uihoy was the first to scoop up the yellow floating blob in the water. A powerful cry escaped from her tiny lungs. The sound sent relief through all of your veins. Uihoy quickly passes the heavy baby to you and helps you cradle her close. If you didn’t know any better, you would say this was one of the biggest babies you’ve ever seen before.

By the color of her scales, all of you could tell this was Vic’tao’s child. His first one. He likes to say he was a good sport but the first week, he would rub it into Uihoy’s face. The older Yautja would huff and chuckle while shaking his head. He didn’t mind at all. Since it was possible, there was always a chance for the next to be his anyhow.

As for them being dads, you couldn’t ask for anything or anyone else. They stepped up one-hundred and twenty percent to the plate. When you needed a break, one of them would whisk her away. The other, with your consent, would stay at your side and let you sleep for however long you needed.

It was all by trial and error. None of you knew what you were doing. Uihoy has had children before, but the female would go off to do their own thing. Plus, Quir-oe was a hybrid. A mix of both human and Yautja. Figuring out her needs was difficult. Yautjas eat raw meet but humans don’t. Yautjas stomachs are hardier than humans. The last thing you wanted to do was get her sick.

Over time, Quir-oe would grow. Despite your concerns for her to follow the path of a Yautja warrior, you could see that was what she wanted. It was what she needed. She had this drive to hunt.

Both of your mates would switch who would take her out for a hunting trip. Since she could hold up her own head and walk, they would each take her with them. Every time, you were terrified something would happen. You had to accept that fact with your mates that one day they may not come back from a hunt. But this was different, this was your daughter. No, you didn’t love her more than them or vice versa. But it was a different kind of love and need to protect her.

Yet, you couldn’t take her from the hunt.

Like the dads they are, they would take Quir-oe out to teach her.

Despite this being the first time any of you worked as family, it was perfect. You smiled down at the three of them in cuddled together in bed. A filled waterskin in your hand.

Uihoy cracked open an eye and reached out a hand to you. Your family may not be perfect, but it was the best thing you’ve ever hand. You took his hand and let him pull you down. He held your back to his chest and curl around you. All but Quir-oe’s legs were mixed together at the end of the bed. You hummed softly and let your eyes drift shut.

The Yautja behind you buried his face into your neck then stilled. His claws clenched the material of your shirt. You tensed, about to open your mouth to question what was wrong. Uihoy beat you to it.

“You’re pregnant.”

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #predator x reader #alien vs predator #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #Vic'tao #Uihoy #uihoy x vic'tao

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kykyonthemoon · 4 months ago

Text

Distraction

When you need to study for the upcoming Hunter competency assessment, yet his presence becomes your ultimate distraction.

── .✦ Character x Female Reader|MC

Included parts in order: Caleb - Xavier - Rafayel - Zayne - Sylus

Ky Ky's note: I chose this particular order for the LIs based on the time of day that you would meet him:

Caleb - early morning

Xavier - around midday

Rafayel: late afternoon

Zayne: evening

Sylus: night

── .✦ Tags: R16, MDNI, suggestive themes, biting, teasing, pinning, soft fluff, established relationship, study/work date, pet names (pip-squeak, kitten), no y/n - as always.

── .✦ Word count: 5k6

── .✦ Requested by Yue AuV

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

Caleb

You awoke when the sun was still sleeping. Even on break, you had to carry a stack of books home to Grandma to prepare for the critical Hunter competency assessment the following week. The combat skills test was no issue for you. You were apprehensive about the theoretical test. That was the reason you had borrowed more materials from headquarters to study during these spare days.

As you proceeded down the stairs, you noticed heavy breathing in the living room. You were on high alert, clutching the book hard in your palm. With its thickness, a single throw may cause someone to faint on the spot. You walked gently down the final steps and entered the living room.

It was not quite as bright, but you could see everything in the room. On the floor, a person was facing the ground and doing push-ups. His unclothed back, soaked in perspiration, was displayed. You blinked for a second and recognized who it was.

"Caleb?"

He placed one hand on the floor and the other wrapped behind his back. He stopped performing push-ups and returned his attention to you.

"You woke up so early, pip-squeak?"

"When did you get back? I feared the house was being robbed!"

You sighed with relief, walked up to the sofa, and sat down. Caleb continued doing push-ups, saying:

“The train was delayed so I came home late. When I arrived home, you were already asleep, pipsqueak. So I missed the chance to say hi."

“I see. And why are you doing push-ups here?”

Caleb shifted his other hand to the floor. He replied:

“This is my morning practice routine at the Academy. But pip-squeak, you don't know this, right? Because you always sleep until past noon.”

Caleb chuckled, while you aggressively grabbed a nearby pillow and flung it at his back. "You are pestering me again! Every time you return home, it's simply to tease me, right?"

He rose up and turned towards you. His bare chest was exposed to you. When you realized you were staring at it for too long to the point it was not appropriate, you glanced away.

"What about you?" Caleb asked. “Why are you up so early on a day off?”

You were going to respond but lost what to say as Caleb suddenly leaned in close to you. With one hand, he lifted your book to read the title, while the other moved behind you; his intention left unknown.

Warmth radiated from Caleb, so much that the air in the room became stifling. Drops of sweat rolled down his face, his neck, his chest, and the muscles in his abdomen. He was right in front of you, only a touch away. His breath caressed your hair and cheeks. Burning.

"Review questions for Hunters?" Caleb commented after rapidly reading the book cover. He gazed at you, who appeared rigid and petrified in place. "Pip-squeak?"

You cleared your throat and coughed. Then pulled the book from his grasp. You explained:

“Well… I have to take the Hunter competency assessment exam next week…”

You hastily covered your face with the book, scared Caleb would see your scarlet cheeks. You also had to rely on the fragrance of papers to help you forget the scent of Caleb's body, which was both familiar and emphasized his masculinity more than ever at the time.

You simply hope the sofa would swallow you up so you would not feel embarrassed anymore. You were used to Caleb, including the fact that he trained his muscles in every possible place in the house. But it did not imply you felt fully at ease when you looked at him in this way. Even after you had confessed your feelings for each other.

Caleb knew what was going on in your mind. Why not, given how it was written on your face? He grinned and patted your head. The hand behind you abruptly took out a towel. He stated:

"You're leaning back against my towel."

He stood up and backed away with the towel. It turned out that was what he needed, not you. You inhaled heavily.

"Then let me get another one for you…"

You murmured. But Caleb brought the cloth to his nose. After closing his eyes, he said:

“Mmh. No need. This towel smells like you.”

Your cheeks burned like fire. You turned fast away.

“Y-You should get back to your push-ups!”

After speaking, you quickly opened the book and pretended to read more. You could hear Caleb laughing in the living room. He said:

“Pip-squeak, you can read books upside down? That is very great of you!"

That's when you realized how ridiculous you were. You swiftly adjusted the book in the correct direction and said nothing else. Caleb returned to his morning workout. Your mind could no longer concentrate. Your gaze was attracted to Caleb's strong physique. He looked to be much more purposeful about exercising in front of you. You exhaled.

"Caleb, can't you bring your push-ups to the garden?"

"Nope." Caleb reacted quickly, as if he had previously planned his response in case you wanted him out. “I was here first. You came here after me. If someone must go, it should be you."

You did not like to give in, but maybe you needed some cool, fresh air to recharge. You stood up. "Alright. I'll go out. Happy now?"

But as soon as you approached the main door, you felt heat emanating from behind. Caleb approached behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder. He whispered, somewhat petulantly:

“We haven't seen each other for a month. Are you just going to ignore me like that?”

You did not dare turn around, instead said gently: "I can't ignore you even if I wanted to..."

Caleb put one hand on the door, the other hand turned you around so he could look directly into your eyes. The book you clutched in your palm felt increasingly tight as he got closer. Your bare arm brushed against Caleb's toned abdomen. You held your breath while staring at him.

“So, pip-squeak, how should you welcome me home?”

Caleb gently stroked your chin with his hand. You blushed. The feet automatically tiptoed. You gave Caleb a kiss on the cheek. But it appeared that this gift had left him disappointed.

“Is that all? Do I need to go on duty for another month so you will miss me even more?”

You knew Caleb was teasing you, yet you did miss him a lot. It was just that you were still not really used to intimate contact with him. You looked up at Caleb, his eyes still fixed on you, waiting. Having failed to disappoint him, you stepped on tiptoe again, this time with your lips on his.

Caleb grinned softly. He placed his arms around you and pulled you up against his damp body.

"This is... how a welcome home should be like..." Caleb whispered to you between lengthy kisses.

Xavier

“Have you seen my book anywhere? I think I dropped it.”

Xavier's words echoed out over the coffee table. You looked up from the stack of books and stated:

“Why don't you check on the floor?”

The two of you were not on the sofa, instead, the floor. Xavier leaned down and discovered the half-read book lying under the table. "Here it is!"

You sighed. “Did you fall asleep again?”

"What?" Xavier's perplexed expression resurfaced in your vision. He massaged his eyes. “I didn't sleep… I just closed my eyes to rest a bit and tried to remember the information I just read.”

“Hmm.” You glanced at him. Obviously, you caught him falling asleep when he pledged to study with you.

Long story short, all Hunters must go through a competence assessment. The test included both combat skills and a theoretical test. Hence you had invited Xavier to your flat for a study date. Even a top Hunter like him would have to take the assessment exam.

After barely five minutes of sitting, Xavier asked you: "Is it time to break yet?", and then he felt frustrated when he received a shake of the head from you.

After that, Xavier was continuously distracted by many things around him, like the sound of a kettle boiling in the kitchen, birds chirping outside the open window, and even neighbors arguing down the street. You had to close the windows so you could concentrate on your studies. Xavier gave you one of his headphones and the review session proceeded well for the next half hour. Then he fell asleep and dropped the book on the floor again.

"Xavier, you're cheating!" You spoke as one hand reached out to pinch his face.

"It hurts."

Xavier spoke with a puppy expression. Even if he were like that, you would continue to review. You cleared your throat and coughed.

"Let us proceed. We have to complete the evaluation tomorrow."

Xavier put up his reading glasses and nodded. You heard him mumble a few questions from the book, followed by a long pause. You glanced up to him.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" You asked.

You placed the book you were reading on the table. You simply could not focus anymore. Your mind was racing, words from the document leaping all over the place. Your body screamed for rest.

You crawled to Xavier's side and rested your head on him. He was silent about everything, but softly rested his chin on your hair. The two of you stayed there for a long time, enjoying the tranquility of the lovely morning. Unfortunately, the test prevented you from going out with Xavier. A walk then would be great. You were ready to invite Xavier for a stroll later, but before you could say anything, you noticed his faint, regular snoring next to you.

"Eh, Xavier?" You were astonished. "Are you sleeping now, really?"

The bit of his head lying on you grew heavy. Even when you sat up straight and grasped his head in both hands, Xavier did not bother to wake up. You thought it both amusing and miserable. You allowed him to recline against the sofa. With a very gentle gesture, you helped him take off his reading glasses and put them away. You set one arm on the sofa, laying your head on it while watching him sleep. How beautiful Xavier was; like a prince, a knight who was always there to protect you. And in times when he was being vulnerable like this, you would defend him.

You could not resist but reach out and poke his cheek. Xavier did not immediately wake up, although he moved slightly. You tried to suppress your laughter. Your hand found a pen from the floor nearby and began a grand scheme.

You got up very carefully and climbed onto Xavier's lap. With the pen in hand, you sketched him a fantastic mustache. The tickling of the pen tip caused his face to quiver slightly, but he remained asleep. You gleefully painted the tip of his nose and slid a few strokes across both cheeks. After that, you removed your bunny ear accessories and placed them on Xavier's hair.

You reflected on your work once it was completed. He looked like a giant rabbit that had just grown a mustache. You giggled, planning to flee and get your phone to photograph the situation. But Xavier instantly held you back.

"Ouch!"

The power from him drew your wrist back, forcing you to collapse into his arms. Your rabbit awoke and appeared to comprehend what you had just done. Xavier looked down at your little body lying in his arms and said sleepily:

“What did you just draw on my face?”

“Eh… I didn't do anything…” You chose to deny the crime. You immediately flung the pen away, but Xavier caught you in the act.

Xavier adjusted his posture to sit up straighter, gently pulling you closer to his body. You were hugged tightly from behind by Xavier. His hand caressed your neck, causing you to tilt your head back and stare at him.

And you could not help but laugh at his funny face right there. Xavier grimaced, obviously dissatisfied.

"A Hunter sneak-attacked another Hunter. You understand that's against the rules, right?"

"Yeah…" Still, you thought it amusing. "You won't go gossiping about this to our supervisors, will you?"

Xavier said, "If you want me not to report back, you have to compensate me."

"How do you want me to compensate?"

Xavier's eyes were keen, unlike his drowsy demeanor only a few seconds before. He smiled gently at you, but why did you sense danger as if you had stumbled into a trap?

"You will know very soon."

Xavier's fingers began to move across your face. He drew an invisible mustache for you, followed by a nose and a bunny's whiskers. You felt ticklish and twitched in his arms, but Xavier gripped you even tighter. A while later, you thought he had finished drawing then realized, he was only getting started

“It would be so easy to let you go like that.” Xavier muttered into your ear before softly biting it, sending a powerful electric shock through your entire body, and a reminder to never tease him while he was sleeping again.

It was too late to backtrack; you clenched your teeth. Xavier's warm breath invaded from the nape of your neck to your ear. The kisses he placed on your hair, ear, and neck made you feel heated. Xavier chewed the shoulder of your shirt and removed it, showing your slightly shaking bare shoulder. He softly bit it, followed by a deep kiss. You inhaled extensively, turning around to feel his lips.

Your intention to go for a walk after the study session that day might need to be postponed.

Rafayel

You were seated across from Rafayel in his sunlit studio. Rafayel was painting and singing gently as you buried your head in the book, clutching a highlighter pen and marking practically every word on the page.

"So loud, Rafayel. You are too loud." You spoke with some irritation. Of course, you did not mean it, but the competency evaluation for all Hunters would be held in a few days. To proceed to higher ranking, you must score well in all tests, including the theoretical test.

"And you're so ferocious, Miss Bodyguard. You scared away my inspiration!"

You rose up and moved around the desk full of books and papers to stand next to Rafayel, gazing at the landscape that he was painting. An afternoon at sea that looked just like the sight outside the studio at the time, but in Rafayel's hands, it felt like an enchanting tale.

“It looks like you're still doing well even though your inspiration ran away.” You replied, folding arms across your chest. “As for me... If only I could pass the test as easily and gracefully as you when you paint.”

Rafayel did not glance at you; his brush was still moving across the canvas. He said, "Painting for me is not as easy as you think. It requires all of my attention, passion, and devotion. You, too, will perform well on the test. You've been getting ready for it over the past few weeks."

"But I still feel worried."

Rafayel stopped painting. He turned and looked at you. "Then it's great if you rest and relax a little. When your mind is at peace, everything you do will be more productive."

You groaned as you looked at the mound of books on your desk. You said:

“Let me find something to do then.”

You turned around, and by some force, your hand accidentally brushed his shoulder. In his artwork, an undesired stripe of color appeared.

“Oops! I'm sorry!" You responded instantly. Rafayel gazed up at you with a sulky expression.

“That's it. I'll have to tell Thomas that you've just chased away my inspiration and you're spraying colors all over my painting."

“I didn't mean to ruin it.” You explained. Rafayel said again:

“It's not really ruined. I can still fix it. But, why should I do that? You're the one causing trouble here. So you have to compensate me.”

"Huh?" Your eyes were wide and innocent as you gazed at Rafayel. He took your palm and placed his paintbrush inside.

“Come on, Miss Bodyguard, how should I fix this painting?”

You were not an artist. When you were a kid, you used crayons to draw on papers, but this was Rafayel's creation. Your fingers shook as you gazed at him. He gave you the palette while tilting his head towards the easel.

“Just consider this a way for you to relax for the time being.”

Hearing him say that made you even more stressed. You scowled and stared at him. That irritating smile of triumph made you resentful. Obviously, he was able to fix the painting himself, but he continued placing you in a difficult situation.

"So? If you can't fix it, you must give me a hundred compliments this week."

You frowned. His pompous demeanor was too much to tolerate. You grabbed the brush and began working. But instead of painting on the canvas, you traced a blue line over Rafayel's face.

"HUH?!" Rafayel stared at you, puzzled, and you chuckled. You lifted your hand to paint another line on the opposite side of his face, but he seized your wrist. "What are you doing?"

"Relaxing." You responded with a mysterious smile. "You just suggested that I should relax after studying hard, didn't you?"

"I told you to paint on the canvas, not to paint on me!"

Rafayel pouted, encouraging you to torture him even more. You quickly replied: "For me, Rafayel is the most wonderful work of art."

Hearing that, his eyes brightened up and he gazed at you with adoration. However, you must use the opportunity to swipe the brush over his other cheek while he let his guard down. You laughed loudly, and Rafayel became so irritated that you began to picture a fish with smoke coming out of his ears.

Your victory did not last very long. You felt something chilly on your face, and it smelled like paint. Rafayel lifted his index finger, which was coated in pink and purple. He was chuckling:

“You are also a work of art that I want to paint.”

Following that, the war between you and Rafayel began. You even let go of the brush and used five fingers to wipe as much paint as possible across his body. Rafayel applied additional paint from the tubes in the corner. Both his hands were stained. Seeing this, you attempted to flee, but Rafayel immediately grabbed your waist. He seized you from behind, and his pink, purple, and crimson handprints were all over your garments, covering your chest and neck. You resisted until turning the tables and snatching Rafayel's arm, holding it behind his back and forcing him to the floor.

"Ouch! Ouuuuuuch! You're breaking the arm of an esteemed painter!”

You snorted bitterly, then took advantage of the situation by pinning Rafayel to the floor and letting him struggle. You sat on top of him and began your revenge.

Starting with his dream-like, charming face. Fingers in varying shades of blue and white created traces on Rafayel's cheekbones, nose, and chin before sliding down his neck. He shuddered slightly in defeat.

"You… What do you want to do with me?"

You laughed in an incredibly hazardous manner. "What do you want me to do to you?"

Rafayel's face went crimson, and with the colors you had painted on him, he resembled a sunset over the sea. You slid your fingers inside his white shirt, brushed his powerful chest, and watched Rafayel slightly arch his spine.

"You…" Rafayel inhaled heavily. His heart rate surged. You could feel the heart throbbing beneath your hand. You leaned down very close, looked into his eyes, and whispered:

"Turned out, Rafayel also has the effect of reducing stress and giving me inspiration!"

Rafayel's lips curved up to say something, but you gently bit him. Rafayel fought but was unable to do anything since you gripped both of his hands and pinned him to the floor. You caught his heavy breathing between kisses, both unwilling and adoring to be pestered by you in this manner.

Zayne

Zayne picked up a glass of cold water and pressed it against your cheek, startling you awake. He noticed you nodding on the sofa, with a book face down on your stomach in your lap. He remarked:

“How can you fall asleep after just five minutes of reading like that?”

“It's the book's fault, not mine.” You made an excuse and reached out to grab the glass of water Zayne had given you. Soon, you would have to take the competency assessment for all Hunters. Since studying alone was dull, you asked Zayne over for a work date. However, the only hard-working person here was him alone.

He returned to the desk and typed on his laptop again. A little cool water only woke you up for a while. You leaned your head on the sofa, eyes half-closed, gazing at him in front. When Zayne focused on his task, he looked breathtakingly beautiful. Everything about him seemed to draw you in. These eyes, these eyelashes, the bridge of his nose, and the corner of his mouth... All of a sudden, he turned around and caught you staring at him. He asked:

“Does my face inspire you that much?”

You did not feel shy at all but nodded heartily. The corner of his lips curved slightly. He replied:

“Then after you're done staring at me, go review your papers.”

"Too far." You extended your hand towards him, as if you wanted to hold him. "My inspiration is sitting so far away, no wonder why I am so sleepy."

Zayne gazed at you. Obviously, he laughed. Then he rose up, held his laptop, and approached you. The seat next to you sank when he dropped down next to you.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah. It's good now." You joyfully responded and resumed reading the book. The Hunters Association handed you a vast stack of books to study, each of which was thick. You were certain that you would perform well on the combat skills evaluation, but the theoretical questions caused you a headache.

After a time, you started to become distracted. You noticed Zayne sitting by your side with a laptop on his lap and wondered how he could focus so intently. He seemed to be able to work at any time and in any location. You looked over to his screen. The stuff displayed there was much more perplexing than your books. You grumbled and struggled on the sofa for a bit, but failed to discover a position that helped you focus. Zayne inquired:

"What's going on? Are you uncomfortable sitting?"

You nodded your head.

"Maybe because you've sat in the wrong position for too long," he told you.

Before Zayne could give you any suggestions on how to improve your posture, you raised your legs on the sofa and positioned them in his lap, on top of the laptop keyboard. He rolled his eyes at you, then gently raised your knees up with one hand while swiftly taking out the laptop and setting it aside.

"Lean back against the cushion." Zayne placed a cushion between your back and the armrest of the sofa. After fixing everything, he inquired:

"Are you more comfortable now?"

You chuckled and nodded. Zayne gave you a face that conveyed both surrender and excessive tenderness. You buried your head in the book again, but the words faded away since all you cared about was Zayne's long fingers brushing your exposed uncovered legs. He was softly rubbing them, which made you feel a little ticklish.

Zayne turned to look at you; your face had become scarlet behind the book.

"Read your book." He said. Despite your best efforts, you could no longer recall anything. Your mind was whirling as he touched your legs. His hands are strong but soft, making you feel at ease and eager to be caressed by him.

So when you saw Zayne's hands leave you as he reached for his laptop again, you stretched your leg and pushed it as far as you could, all the way to the opposite end of the sofa. He grasped your ankle and gently reminded you:

“Be a good girl.”

Then he released you and took the device. He placed it on your legs like they were a desk. Of course, you refused to give up so fast. You continued shifting your legs, causing the laptop to tremble so much that Zayne was unable to continue working. He glared at you, and you retreated behind the book, pretending not to see his agony at all.

"Did you really call me here to work together?" Zayne's voice soared out, as if he had become upset. Before you could respond, he raised the laptop, placed his other hand around your waist, and drove you towards him.

"Erm… Doctor Zayne?"

Being pulled so suddenly, you leaned completely against Zayne. Your forehead lightly hit his chin and your nose touched his Adam's apple. It seemed he was also a bit startled, his throat became dry. For a moment, he looked down at you, and you looked up slightly to observe his reaction.

Zayne said nothing, his eyes fixed on your parted lips. Your heart rate began to rise at such a close distance. Your ragged breathing on Zayne's neck made him gradually forget his original purpose in coming to this place. The laptop was once again put down, and his lips glided lightly across the bridge of your nose.

“Hmm… Doctor Zayne… Are you not working anymore?” You asked softly, when his lips were only about the size of a mint candy from yours. He replied:

“Someone keeps distracting me. In order to work more effectively, I need to address this matter first."

You grinned. You were on Zayne's lap, but when he leaned slightly towards your lips, wanting to touch them, you turned away. His eyes were filled with disappointment when he gazed at you, wondering what you wanted from him or why you placed a little sweetness in his heart just to leave him hanging like that.

You looked up. Your hand stroked Zayne's face before moving down to his lips. Your voice was quiet:

“Doctor Zayne, it's not just your face or your lips that inspires me…”

Your fingertips carefully went down to Zayne's neck. He remained immobile, waiting to see what you would do next. You pressed closer to his body and muttered:

“To me, everything about you serves as an inspiration…”

Zayne's throat was dry. Perhaps when he accepted your offer to come here, he anticipated a work date with you that looked nothing like the way you grinned so wickedly as you pushed him closer to the sofa, slowly turning around and wrapping your legs around his sides. Sitting on his lap, you tilted your head, smiled, then gave him a kiss on his Adam's apple.

Sylus

Sylus appeared at your apartment after the doorbell rang so loudly that if you arrived even a second late, the door would definitely not be intact.

The problem was that he assumed something was wrong with you after learning from Luke and Kieran that you had not left the house in almost three days.

Sylus grabbed and spun you around to ensure you were not wounded. You had to explain that you were alright, but exhausted from several days of studying for the approaching Hunters' competence evaluation.

Sylus shook his head at the mound of books in your living room:

"They teach you these useless things in Linkon?”

“I've got a combat skills test, and a theoretical test. I must pass both.”

Sylus said nothing else. He allowed you to continue immersing yourself in books as he sat comfortably on the sofa, as if this place was his very home.

A short while later, you heard a rattling sound coming from Sylus. Looking over, you were startled to see his gun pointing in your direction.

"What on Earth—"

Sylus lifted his head to look at you, grinned, and continued cleaning his weapon. You let out a loud sigh. Before he came to shatter this quiet atmosphere, you had memorized many questions for the test. But his presence made it hard for you to focus since your gaze was always drawn to him.

You observed him for a long time. There were a few raindrops in his hair and leather jacket. His crimson eyes focused on the gun in his grasp, his head leaned slightly, and the light illuminated on one side of his gorgeous face. Every now and again, you would look up, and when he noticed your gaze fixed on him, he would smile as if he had you in his palm. And it was true.

When Sylus was around, you had trouble focusing on anything else. You groaned and asked him:

“Why are you still here? You know I'm safe and sound. Go home now, Sylus.”

Sylus replied with a to-the-point question: "Do you really want me to leave?"

Outside, it was pouring rain. It was past eleven o'clock at night. You decided to wait for the rain to cease before telling him to go home again. Otherwise, you would find yourself unable to pass the competency evaluation! How dare he be so desirable and captivating?

You had no option but to sit with your back to Sylus. About half an hour later, when the rain was over and you had finished most of the book that needed to be read, you turned to seek for him. Sylus slumped back on the sofa, his eyes closed tight. It appeared as he was sleeping. You approached and called his name.

Sylus did not respond, so you poked his cheek with your hand. He did not open his eyes, but gripped your hand fast.

“Let me sleep. I'll play with you later, kitten."

Even after he stated that, he refused to let go of you. He used force to pull you down next to him on the sofa. When you sat down, he leaned closer, putting his head on your thigh.

"Sylus?"

"Shhh. Just a moment..."

You decided to give up. Looking at him sleeping so peacefully, like a vicious cat who had retracted all his claws and snuggled up on your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair, tracing each line from his forehead to his chin. You thought to yourself how tempting it would be to steal a kiss from him. But the moment you dropped your head, he awoke.

His fiery eyes secured on you. You abruptly sat up straight, as if nothing had occurred. Sylus cracked a grin

"I caught you trying to sneak up on me, kitten."

"What are you saying?" You disputed it and then used your hand to shove him down. "The rain ceased. It's time you go home."

But Sylus grasped your arm. His moves were so quick that you were left startled. He rose up and spun around, using enough power to pin you to the sofa in a sitting posture, your hands securely clutched on both sides of your head.

Sylus leaned down to get closer to you. One of his knees was pressed tight to your thigh on the chair, while the other leg kept his body poised in front of you. This position made it difficult for you to flee, even if you wanted to. Sylus glanced at you like a cat toying his mouse. He clarified:

“I didn't come all the way here to Linkon just for you to order me around and send me back like that.”

Your chest started to throb. You said, "So, why did you come here?"

"To help you pass your test, of course."

"Huh?" You attempted to get away from Sylus, but he grabbed you so hard that your wrists began to turn red.

"Now that you've thoroughly read the book, kindly answer me. If a Hunter found herself in a situation like this, what would she do?”

You returned your attention to Sylus after looking at the pile of monotonous books on the table. He appeared to offer you a challenge:

Sylus undoubtedly had superior fighting abilities than you. He knew which way you would go, so he grabbed you around the waist with a simple arm extension. He picked you up with one arm and shoved you hard into the sofa. As you struggled to get away, he grabbed your ankle.

"Ouch! It hurts!" You yelled, but all you received in return was Sylus' smug laugh.

"Too slow, kitten."

He flipped you over so you could see how tightly he gripped your leg against his dominant chest. Sylus chuckled in a vicious manner and asked:

“Are these little tricks all that the Hunters Association teaches you?”

“You… Sylus… I… Argh!”

You were enraged and tossed several cushions at him at once. When one of them smacked his face, he did not even dodge; instead, he closed his eyes. After that, he gazed down at you, your hair tangled and your arms and legs thrashing in an attempt to escape. His fingers go along your exposed leg. He wrapped both of your thighs around his waist, and his enormous figure crushed down on you on the sofa. His hot breath painted your face and neck, causing you to lose track of everything else. He softly bit your ear and murmured:

“Be still. I could teach you a few combat tricks. But, I'm curious how much you would pay for it."

Header photos by x and x

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starsinmylatte · 9 months ago

Text

Be Our Girl?

If you saw Tumblr immediately flag this, no, you didn't.

This is the first request I received as part of my JJK Fic Readers Supporting Noury event. There are still slots open, so please click the link for more info!

Thank you to @enchantedsylveon for their support and the wonderful request 💜. I went way over the word count because I got possessed by the spirit of horny. Forgive me 😅

Pairing: Geto x Gojo x afab!reader (aka SatoSugu x afab!reader) Rating: Explicit (18+ minors DNI) Word Count: 6.8k Request: Morally grey, obsessive pleasure doms Gojo and Geto take care of their girl while she's on her period.

Click here to join my taglist!

Warnings are found below the cut!

A/N: This is my first time writing a threesome AND my first time writing for both of these characters....... So, Leeeeeroy Jenkins!

Warnings (besides what it says on the request): Use of pet names (princess, baby, etc), references to mental health issues, multiple sex positions, dacryphilia, cursing, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, cum eating, banter during sex, breeding kink, cervix fucking, deepthroating, praise and light degradation, y'all get the gist this is some filth (affectionate)

It was early one morning, far too early for any sane person to be awake as you sat on a couch, trapped between your two long-time friends. On one end of the couch, Satoru Gojo pouted and stared out the nearby window, nursing a can of soda like it was hard liquor. Geto Suguru occupied the other end, glaring at the wall like he wanted to burn a hole through it. He was doing his damnedest to avoid paying his best friend any attention as you sat between the two men, grumbling under your breath. You were unlucky enough to be quite literally in the middle of their dispute.

The two young men had been fighting so much recently, and it had honestly hurt your heart to see. Their bickering had affected their efforts in school, nearly destroyed both of their mental health, and strained their relationship to a breaking point. Shoko had advised you to leave it alone, saying the boys needed to figure it out on their own or just fuck already, but as their other best friend, you just couldn’t take much more of it. Especially when Satoru made a habit of coming over at three A.M. to complain about Suguru.

Funnily enough, that was precisely what had led to the current situation. Satoru had shown up, knocked so hard that he nearly broke your door down in the process, and shoved his way inside your apartment despite your many protests.

Now, there were multiple reasons why his visit was horribly timed. The first would’ve been immediately evident if the strongest sorcerer wasn’t so preoccupied. You were wincing in pain when you answered the door, clutching a hot water bottle to your lower stomach, and Gojo had been too oblivious to notice. He simply brushed past you, already ranting as he headed directly for your plush couch.

“‘Toru, wait-“

“That emo bastard can’t get it through his thick skull that we’re supposed to be friends. He-” Satoru paused mid-rant as the emo bastard in question sat up on your couch, groaning. Suguru had been fast asleep until now, and the raven-haired man looked pissed that he had been woken up.

The deep circles under Suguru’s eyes had only grown more exaggerated in the past few days, and his long, beautiful raven hair was a tangled mess. You could see the weariness he carried creep under his skin more and more, and it honestly terrified you. Suguru had confided in you that he could barely sleep anymore, and like the good friend you were, you offered for him to sleep on your couch, hoping the proximity to a close friend would help ease his mind.

“You’d better be talking about someone else,” Suguru hissed at Gojo, dark eyes flashing with anger as you slammed the heel of your hand against your head.

“I can already feel another migraine coming,” you muttered under your breath. “‘Satoru, as I was trying to say, you may want to come back later because I. already. have. company.”

You punctuated your words with brief pauses, not even bothering to try and hide the annoyance in your tone. Gojo pursed his lips dramatically, rolling his eyes. He immediately turned on his heel to leave, but you beat him to the door. “Oh, no. You didn’t listen to me, so you get to stay. I am not in the mood for this to be a revolving door today.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but one look from you silenced him. You motioned for Geto to scoot over on the couch, and the sleep-deprived man shot you an incredulous look as Gojo pilfered a soda from your fridge.

Nearly thirty minutes of awkward silence had passed between the three of you on the couch before you’d finally had enough. You had been trying to be a good, patient friend, but this morning was the absolute last straw. For half of the previous night, you’d been curled up in a ball with the most abysmal cramps, completely unable to sleep. Finally, after what had felt like an eternity, you had drifted off… only to be woken up by Gojo thirty minutes later. Your cramps were still coming in awful waves, and no medication was helping. You simply wanted to melt into the floor, but you were being forced to babysit two of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers who had ever lived while they behaved like petulant children.

A particularly harsh cramp had you gritting your teeth, barely able to speak as you forced two words past your lips. “That’s enough.”

Both of your companions’ heads whipped around, and you felt the weight of two completely different gazes. One was ice-cold, and the second felt like scorched earth; they were polar opposites, but each held the same intense gravity.

“The two of you are going to talk this out. This all passed ridiculous a long time ago.” You continued, gesturing around dramatically with one hand, holding up the other to silence the noises of protest that left both men. Your throat felt dry and raw with anger. All of the frustration and pain in your body had coalesced into a single, white-hot ball of emotion, which was currently clawing its way out of your throat with a vengeance.

“I’m not finished. Geto Suguru, I want you to feel better, but you have to open up to us. If you keep all your emotions bottled up, you’re going to go insane one day and start a cult or something.”

Geto looked down at his folded hands, clearly a bit stunned by your outburst. Normally, something like this would’ve never happened. You were always such a caring, sweet girl, and you had never lost your temper in front of either man. Both Gojo and Geto instantly knew that they’d fucked up for you to be this viscerally angry and use their full names at the same time. You had never called them anything other than their first names for the many years you’d been friends.

“And you, Gojo Satoru, need to calm down and try to understand your best friend more. The two of you need to actually talk. You’ve just expected Suguru to come to you for help all this time, but you could also reach out first.” Gojo had the decency to blush in embarrassment, setting his soda can down on a coaster while you scolded him.

You stood rather abruptly, intending to leave the two men to sulk while you crawled back into your warm bed, but you forgot about one very important thing in your addled state. The hot water bottle was still on your lap, and it hit the floor with a loud clang the second you stood. Water splashed everywhere, finally catching the attention of both men. Gojo’s icy gaze met Geto’s earthen one as the full situation finally clicked in their heads, and they shared a look that clearly read “oh shit.”

The loss of the water bottle’s comforting warmth was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Fat, hot tears started to roll down your cheeks as you felt your uterus violently contract again. You doubled over, and both men stood, rushing to your side as you cried out in pain, fully sobbing.

“You’re making all of us worry, especially me. I just can’t keep listening to my two best friends complain about each other instead of talking through their problems, and I feel horrible right now, and I just-”

Geto ran a comforting hand down your back. “Shit. Shhh… We’re sorry for making you worry. Right, Satoru?”

Gojo sighed as the raven-haired man stared at him pointedly. “He’s right, we’re very sorry. C’mere, let’s get you back into bed.”

He held his arms out as you sniffled, wiping at your eyes. With one swift motion, Gojo scooped you up in his arms as Suguru quickly towled up the water on the floor. Somewhere deep in your mind, you realized that you could feel Satoru’s warm skin against yours; he had turned off Infinity for you. He cradled you for a few precious minutes, purring soft reassurances against your ear that had you relaxing into his arms.

“S’ alright. I’ve got you.”

Suguru rolled his eyes and finished cleaning in almost record time. He pushed his friend toward your room, entering first to scoop your sheets aside and plug in your big heating pad. Gojo laid you down on the soft mattress, and you immediately snuggled up underneath the sheets. Another sharp stab of pain made you wince, and the two men shared another pointed look and a collective sigh, finding enough truce in their argument to climb into the bed on either side of you.

Geto passed the heating pad to Gojo, who gently placed it against your lower stomach before pulling you against his chest. You clung to him happily, nuzzling into his warmth. However, this new position also made you oblivious to the way Geto’s eyes flashed in frustration at the sight.

The raven-haired man pulled your back against his chest in retaliation, splaying a possessive hand over your hip as Gojo smirked at him. You murmured in appreciation, unconsciously shifting to lay against them equally as you drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep. Geto and Gojo locked eyes and finally relaxed, seemingly arriving at some unspoken agreement. They joined you in a deep, comfortable sleep, and it was by far the best sleep any of you had gotten in months.

The three of you only grew closer after that night. It had only taken a week for Gojo and Geto to patch up their relationship, and they emerged with a stronger bond than before. When Shoko asked about the change, the boys cheerfully credited your period-induced breakdown as the catalyst that led them to reconcile. Gojo would grin cheekily, the action only mirrored by his raven-haired counterpart’s self-satisfied smirk as the two repeated the very same answer to everyone else who asked. They also pointedly ignored how you blushed and stammered at them, “Please, stop telling everyone about that.”

“No can do, sweetheart.” Satoru winked at you over the rim of his dark glasses before sighing dramatically, poking at your soft, pouting cheeks, “Besides, where would we be without you? You put us in our place, so you deserve all the credit.”

Geto chuckled, a darkly amused glint in his eyes as he placed his large hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “You’re right. We both need our girl to keep us straight.”

–

Time flew by as the three of you graduated and rejoined Tokyo Jujutsu High as young teachers. Life was… interesting; some things had changed for you, but many things still stayed the same. For one thing, you, Satoru, and Suguru were still incredibly close. Even though there were always missions to complete, students to educate, and monsters to kill, the three of you made time to spend together.

Quite often, your “quality time” with the two men was spent in the form of a massive movie night at your apartment. There had been many discussions about moving it to Gojo’s ritzy new place, but the routine was already too ingrained in the three of you. So, every other weekend, you all piled on top of your plush sofa to watch cheesy movies, cycling through picks from every genre imaginable until everyone fell asleep.

However, as much as you enjoyed the tradition, you had almost canceled tonight’s marathon. The worst part of your period was supposed to be over by now, but the heavy cramping hadn’t let up at all.

“Those two better be glad I love them so much,” you muttered, blushing slightly as you caught your accidental choice of words.

Love? No, I don’t love those two. We’re just friends. Really good friends.

Thoughts continued to whirl around your head as you hurriedly tidied up your living room and small kitchen, preparing everything for the night. No, you most definitely weren’t in love with both of your best friends at the same time. You were so good at ignoring how the two men had only grown more handsome and attentive to you since their big argument, and you definitely never imagined them taking you to bed….

By the time you had nearly convinced yourself that denial was just a river in Egypt, there was a cheerful knock at the door. The knock lasted for all of two seconds before Satoru pushed it open, grinning widely. The white-haired man still wore his blindfold but had traded his usual all-black uniform for a pair of suspiciously designer-looking grey sweatpants and a soft, black t-shirt.

“I brought treats!” He chimed, setting his armful of baked goods and sweets on the counter.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “‘Toru, did you rob a small bakery? You know you’re the only one who will eat most of it.”

He noticed how you greedily eyed a bar of dark chocolate, snatching it up and waving it at you teasingly, “Oh, so you want me to take it back, then?”

You pouted, trying to reach for the bar as Satoru weaponized his height against you. He held the chocolate just out of reach, and you jumped, almost brushing the very edge of the wrapper. You landed awkwardly, stumbling backward into something- no, someone- very solid. A rich, amused chuckle tickled your ear as Suguru caught you, reaching up to pluck the bar from Gojo’s hand as his hand cupped your hip.

“Having fun without me, already?”

“‘Toru’s being mean,” you complained as Suguru passed the sweet to you with a snide grin directed at the other man.

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically, removing his blindfold to wink at you. “I’ve wounded our princess so she can have the first movie pick tonight.

Your heart twisted and fluttered in your chest at the use of that pet name and the sight of his gorgeous cerulean eyes, but you shoved that feeling aside as quickly as it appeared.

“I can forgive you… this time.”

“And you can make the first batch of popcorn,” Suguru added, his signature sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I’ll make sure to burn yours,” Gojo grumbled in response, heading for the kitchen as Suguru herded you toward the couch.

You plopped down onto the middle of the couch, and Geto settled to your left, promptly handing you the chunky knit blanket you favored. Funnily enough, the arrangement the three of you sat in was as much of a tradition as the movie night itself; you were always in the middle of the two men. The three of you were always sandwiched together, but that didn’t make you flustered. Jujutsu sorcery took such a high mental toll that you had long figured any cuddling was strictly platonic.

Geto looped his arm around your waist, pulling you close, and you almost sighed in happiness as you caught the comforting scent of sandalwood soap and incense that always surrounded him. You tipped your head against his shoulder, smiling contentedly and nibbling into the chocolate bar as the two of you flipped through movies, looking for the perfect one. Gojo cursed loudly in the other room, and you giggled at the loud banging coming from the stove.

A few hours later, you finally got to Geto’s pick: a cheesy B-grade horror movie. Bags of candy and popcorn lay strewn over the coffee table as the three of you watched the final girl run from yet another masked killer. You had excused yourself to the bathroom half an hour ago to take some medicine and change into a fresh pad, but your cramps stubbornly refused to give up. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin the night, so you suffered in silence, silently wincing in pain every few minutes.

Geto and Gojo shared a look as they felt your body tense for the umpteenth time, and the raven-haired man clicked pause on the remote while his counterpart rubbed tiny circles over the small of your back.

“What is it?” Suguru asked, his voice and expression both filled with concern.

“Nothing, really. I’m fine.” You tried to reassure both men, but they gazed at you, unimpressed and clearly not buying your story.

“We know you well enough to know that’s not true.” Gojo gazed at you, suddenly more serious than he’d been all night. Geto squeezed your shoulder gently, and both men scooted even closer to you, clearly unwilling to let it go.

“Fine,” you grumbled. “I’m on my period, and my cramps are really bad right now. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want tonight to end yet, even though I don’t feel well.”

Geto’s gaze softened, and Gojo laughed quietly, “You know we couldn’t leave our girl when she’s in pain.”

Your cheeks flushed hotly at Satoru’s words.

“You know I’ll never get a boyfriend if you keep calling me that.”

The words left your lips before you could even think about what you were saying; the temperature in the room instantly felt ten degrees colder. Suguru’s deep, coffee-colored gaze narrowed instantly, and Gojo tipped his head down to look you in the eyes, his pale irises shining almost eerily in the dim light.

“Do you not… want to be our girl?” Suguru leaned down to whisper against the shell of your ear, his voice a velvet purr that made you shudder. You felt both men hold you tighter, their grip infinitely more possessive; Geto nipped at the shell of your ear lightly, drawing a small moan out of you.

“Sugu…. I….. mmmmph..”

Gojo traced a finger underneath your chin, tilting your eyes to meet his calm gaze. The new angle of your neck gave Geto the perfect angle to kiss up and down the column of your neck, which he promptly took advantage of, ghosting his lips across the sensitive skin. You shuddered, whimpering slightly as Satoru held your face still in one of his large, calloused hands.

“He asked you a question, baby,” Satoru crooned, a smirk tugging at the corner of his unfairly perfect lips.

Embarrassment mixed with growing lust dusted your cheeks, and your eyelashes fluttered in sync with every sinful drag of Geto’s lips against your skin. Your head was growing fuzzy, yet your body felt light as a feather as you relaxed between the two large men. Any thought of your previous pain had faded away in a sea of bliss and disbelief until another vicious cramp tore through your abdomen. You jolted upright, worry flashing in your eyes. The two men paused immediately, backing off to let you speak.

“Even if I do want this…. We can’t right now. I’m….” You trailed off in embarrassment, staring down at the hem of your shirt.

“Do you think so little of us, sweetheart? You think we’re frightened by a little blood? Geto crooned, and Gojo grinned in response, gasping in mock indignation.

You shook your head slightly, stammering in protest. “I-I don’t think you’re afraid of it, just that ‘s gross.”

Gojo caressed your cheek with his thumb, and Geto nuzzled his nose against the crook of your neck in reassurance. “Nothing about you could ever be gross; what you’re going through is the most natural thing in the world.” The raven-haired man murmured.

“And b-both of you want me?” You responded in a daze.

“Yeah. It’s been that way for years,” Satoru smiled, unashamedly staring at the swell of your slightly parted lips as you gasped in response.

“It’s been the three of us for our entire lives, and you kept it that way. I don’t see why it should ever change,” Geto added with a low note of amusement. He caressed your waist, and another shudder ran down your spine. “You’ve been ours for years… we’ve just been waiting for you to realize it. Let us take care of you, baby. You’ve done so much for us.”

Every nerve ending of your body crackled like a live wire as the two men waited with bated breath for your response. Your mind whirled as you tried to string together an actual sentence. Finally, you were able to moan a single word. “Please…”

The effect it had on the two men was instantaneous. Suguru groaned, reattaching his lips to your neck and pulling you back into his lap. Your back hit his broad, muscular chest, and you melted against him instantly.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long we’ve waited for this…. How many men we’ve chased off because they didn’t deserve you.” Satoru mumbled, surging forward to claim your lips with his own, pinning you against the other man. The kiss started out soft but quickly grew more insistent as you moaned and whimpered every time Suguru grazed your decolletage with his teeth. He started to pull the neck of your shirt aside for better access to more skin, and you writhed in his arms as he left bruises in the wake of his lips.

At any other time, you would’ve questioned Satoru’s confession, but right now, you felt hot, almost delirious with budding desire, as he reached down to trail his fingers over your clothed pussy. He rubbed directly over your little clit, but the pleasure you craved was muted by the thick added layer of your pad, and you whined in protest. “‘Toru, need you s’badly.”

“You hear that? Our princess needs you, Satoru.” Geto purred as the other man continued tracing the outline of your pussy.

You rocked your hips against his fingers, desperate to feel more, but you only succeeded in teasing Suguru as you accidentally rocked your ass directly against his rapidly growing erection.

He hissed loudly, trailing one of his hands under your shirt to cup your bare waist. Gojo chuckled at the sight of his best friend’s suffering, sucking on your bottom lip before pulling away with an audible pop. “Careful now, or you’re gonna make it hard for him to last.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Suguru groaned in response, trailing his hand up to paw at your breast. You whined as he lightly pinched and rolled a nipple between his clever fingers, and the raven-haired man chuckled roughly, “Look at how dirty our girl is, not even wearing a bra. She’s so damn sensitive.”

Your pussy throbbed at his words as Gojo leaned back, kneeling on the couch to watch the show you and Geto were putting on in front of him. Your gaze was half-lidded and hazy with lust, but you could still clearly see the way the muscles of his arm flexed as he reached down to palm his own erection. It stood proud, visibly tenting the dark grey sweatpants he wore, and your mouth watered at the mere outline of his dick. It looked so long and thick, and you could only imagine the bliss of it stuffing you and dragging against your deepest, most sensitive parts.

He brushed a strand of white hair off his face, looking at you with another cocky smirk as he addressed the other man. “Oi, help me out here, Suguru. I seem to remember something about cramps… I think they’re improved by medicine, a heating pad, or something else. Now, what could that be?”

Gojo paused for a clear, dramatic effect, his wolfish grin only growing wider as your breath caught in your throat. You were so distracted that you didn’t even realize Geto’s lips had trailed back up to your ear as he responded in a dulcet whisper, “I think the answer might be ‘they’re improved by orgasms.’ What do you think, pretty?”

“Yes, god yes,” you begged, rubbing your thighs together. The dull ache of your period had faded away into the haze of lust, but your pussy throbbed, begging to be filled.

Satoru winked at you, leaving the couch and walking into your bedroom for a moment. You whimpered as he left, and Geto chuckled again at your reaction, giving your nipple another rough pinch. “There’s no god here, baby, just us. But we’re gonna do you so good… Gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

You lay against his chest as Suguru pushed your shirt all the way up, tucking the hem between your teeth to give himself full, unimpeded access to your chest. He maneuvered the two of you around slightly, leaving you in his lap but allowing both of your legs to dangle off the edge of the couch. “Let’s give Satoru something to look at when he comes back, hmm? Bet he’d love to see these perfect tits.”

He took each of your breasts into his warm hands, alternating between kneading the soft, supple flesh and pinching your aching nipples. You could only moan softly through the fabric of the shirt stuffed in your mouth as Geto took you higher and higher into bliss with every movement.

Gojo walked back in not a minute later, holding a few fluffy, black towels. His beautiful eyes widened at the perfectly pornographic scene spread out in front of him, and he cursed under his breath, rushing back to the couch as Geto smirked at his best friend’s needy expression.

“Careful, or he’s not gonna last long,” he teased, tugging off your shirt as he parodied Gojo’s earlier sentiment.

The white-haired man huffed and shook his head sarcastically, but you certainly didn’t miss the way he threw his own shirt off and knelt between your legs as quickly as he could. His eyes were shining with ravenous desire, and your pussy throbbed as you realized that Geto’s teasing had an edge of truth.

Gojo smiled up at you, tucking a towel between your hips and Geto’s lap before hooking his hands into the waistband of your pants, gently tugging them down and tossing them away.

“Gonna let me taste you, baby?” He keened, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the inside of your thighs as his long fingers toyed with the hem of your panties.

You bit your lip as a million worries flooded your mind, but Suguru caressed your face, whispering conspiratorially, “Think about how pretty he’s gonna look between your legs. He can finally put that smartass mouth of his to good use, right?”

Satoru nibbled his way up your skin, sucking a dark hickey at the apex of your thigh as Geto continued to lavish your breasts with affection. You whined and moaned, keening with every touch. It felt like your entire body was on fire, and you’d go up in flames without the touch of both men. Any embarrassment you could’ve felt had long since evaporated; all you could do was beg for more as both men left their mark on your body.

“‘Toru, please… Wanna cum so bad.” You whined, begging for relief, and Gojo glanced up at you with an expression that would’ve terrified anyone else. He may have been in a traditionally submissive position, but there was nothing submissive about his body language; he looked like a fallen angel with the way his pale hair framed his face.

He slipped your panties off, breathing becoming heavier and heavier as all of your perfect body was finally revealed to his ravenous gaze. Satoru threw your legs around his shoulders, leaning back just enough to inspect your cunt. His pale eyelashes fluttered as he used one of his long fingers to part your puffy, swollen folds, completely mesmerized as you moaned his name and your cunt clenched in sheer anticipation of his touch. You were obscenely wet from the mixture of blood and arousal that trailed down your legs, and Gojo couldn’t wait any longer.

“Our girl’s got a perfect fucking pussy, Suguru,” He mumbled, diving in to lick a fat stripe all the way up to your clit. You moaned wantonly, your head lolling back against Geto’s strong chest as the man behind you held your body upright, still enamored with the way your breasts fit in his hands.

Period sex was very new to you, but you could already tell that it felt different- not different, better. You felt more sensitive than ever before, and not just between your legs. Your breasts felt heavy and full; you had a sneaking suspicion that you could’ve cum from Geto toying with them alone.

Gojo’s eyes fluttered shut in bliss as he ate you out like a man starved. He lapped up every bit of arousal and blood from your weeping pussy, fucking you with his tongue before trailing delicious circles on your swollen clit with his tongue until you screamed his name. Your thighs wrapped around Satoru’s head, and the white-haired man moaned desperately, taking the opportunity to slip two fingers deep into your cunt. You keened at the delicious stretch, and Suguru groaned at the sight.

“T-Toru… Ah-! Sugu….” Tears of pure bliss started to gather in the corners of your eyes as Satoru’s fingers rubbed mercilessly against your G-spot. You felt a familiar band of pleasure start to stretch in your lower stomach, and you whined in desperation. Suguru grabbed one of your arms, pressing desperate kisses against the delicate skin of your inner wrist as his other hand toyed with a nipple in time with Satoru’s thrusts.

“S’close.. Nnnnngh, gonna cum… pleasepleaseplea-” The band of pleasure snapped suddenly before you could even finish your sentence, launching you over the edge of the most intense orgasm of your life. Tears fell as you shattered in between the two men, crying and rocking your hips against Satoru’s face while your core fluttered around his fingers.

“You’re fucking perfect,” Suguru growled as he scooped you up. He cradled you in his arms and leaned down to kiss you as Satoru stood, licking the blood and cum off his fingers.

The taller man grinned as the two of you kissed passionately, leaning over to wipe a tear off your cheek.

“Baby, you cryin'?” Satoru simpered before leaning in to lick off another tear. When Suguru pulled away to tell him off, Satoru pulled him into a searing kiss, slotting his tongue into the other man’s mouth. Geto’s eyes flared in shock before he leaned into the embrace, moaning as he tasted your arousal on his best friend’s tongue.

“I thought you deserved a taste, too. Isn’t she sweet?” Gojo asked innocently as he pulled away to kiss you as well. You whined and ran your hand over his bare chest as the white-haired man nipped at your already kiss-swollen bottom lip.

“Bedroom. Now.” Geto stood abruptly, his voice hoarse as he broke the embrace between you and Gojo. He carried you in his arms, shoving another large towel on top of your sheets before gently laying you on top of it. Your head lolled to the side, and you reached down to play with your puffy little clit, moaning softly as the men finished undressing in front of you.

You watched shamelessly, taking in the sight of their beautiful bodies. Both men were tall and muscular, but Satoru was taller with more of a lean build, almost like an acrobat or a swimmer. Suguru was truly the Yin to Gojo’s Yang; he was stockier and deliciously broad. It was an undeniable fact that both men were gorgeous.

“Sugu… Toru…. Please. Wanna feel you both in me,” You begged, rocking your hips against the movement of your fingers, not even caring about how needy you sounded.

The bed dipped with their weight as both men joined you on the bed without further hesitation. Geto knelt in front of you, motioning for you to get on all fours and face him. You hummed in delight, rolling over and pushing yourself up to face him. Suddenly, Gojo pinched your plush ass with a snicker. You gasped in shock, and Suguru took the opportunity to slap his thick cockhead onto your tongue.

“We’re gonna fuck you raw from both ends first, baby. Gonna really make you ours. How’s that sound?” He questioned with a smirk, rubbing his fat tip over your tongue.

Your gasp quickly turned into a purr of delight as you worked his tip into your mouth, greedily licking at the prominent vein that ran underneath his shaft. Geto’s raven-dark hair fell around his shoulders like a curtain as he moaned loudly. You could taste the salt and musk of his pre-cum as you worked his shaft deeper and deeper into your throat.

Gojo cursed lowly as he lined up his swollen cockhead with your opening. You wiggled your hips back at him, wordlessly begging to feel the stretch and delicious length of him deep inside you. He pushed in at an agonizingly slow pace, trying to give you time to adjust.

You moaned in ecstasy, and Geto gasped, bucking his hips slightly as he felt the vibrations of your throat around his shaft. “Fucking hell, baby. You’re sucking my dick like you were made for it.”

Gojo pushed in further, finally bottoming out with his fat cockhead nestled snugly against your cervix. You whined at the dull ache, but the feeling was addictive. You rocked your hips, desperate for more, and the white-haired man moaned. “And she’s sucking me in like she wants to get pregnant tonight.”

Your eyes flew open, and you gasped around Geto’s dick, drawing another ragged moan from the man. It wasn’t what you had intended at all, but you couldn’t hide your reaction to Satoru’s lascivious words, especially since he could feel your core fluttering in agreement with his statement.

You could feel the wickedly delighted grin spread across his face as Gojo grew deadly silent for a moment. “Oh, Suguru~ you should’ve felt the way she just clenched around me when I said that. Our girl is even dirtier than we thought.”

“I told you she’s perfect.” Geto slid into your mouth even further, sighing in bliss and his own ecstasy as he pushed into your throat, entwining his hands in your hair. You gagged for a brief moment; his dick had more girth than Gojo’s, and it was the biggest you’d ever taken like this. The raven-haired sorcerer moaned and crooned down at you, stroking the column of your throat where his cock was nestled so deeply.

More tears fell as your eyes watered in the bliss of being so completely used by the two men. You felt so full, so complete, and you couldn’t help but moan again as your nose rubbed against the dark trail of hair on Geto’s lower abdomen.

“Shit, gotta move. You ready, baby?” Gojo groaned, shallowly thrusting his hips. You tried to moan in assent, but the sound was strangled by the dick in your throat.

Geto tipped his head back in ecstasy, laughing hoarsely. “She wants it s’badly, ‘Toru.”

The two men started to move, alternating their thrusts in perfect rhythm like they’d planned this moment for years. Every deep thrust from Gojo would send you falling forward onto Geto’s cock; you could only wordlessly cry in bliss from the position the two men fucked you mercilessly.

Satoru pinched and kneaded the tender flesh of your ass with every thrust. He swiped one of his fingers between your legs, collecting the creamy mixture of his pre-cum and your arousal, offering it out to his best friend with a smirk. Geto sucked it off with an audible pop, groaning at the taste as Satoru returned to collect more. You choked again as you felt one of his long, clever fingers tease your tightest hole, circling the rim with predatory intent.

“Relax, baby. Gotta get you ready f’me.” He slipped his finger in, beginning to work you open as you relaxed into the intense but euphoric sensation.

“Our slutty princess wants all her holes filled, huh?” Geto groaned, looking down at your fucked-out expression. “Gotta cum again for us. Gonna make you cum so hard that you can’t think straight.”

Satoru slipped a second finger into your ass, working you open even further as the two men fell slightly out of sync with their thrusts. They were both breathing hard, grunting and begging desperately for you to cum with them. As if on command, you fell apart for the second time with an obscene moan. White sparks flashed through your vision as your orgasm shot through you, even more forceful than the first. Your cunt spasmed around Gojo so violently that he came on the spot, painting your blood-swollen womb with his pearlescent seed.

Geto cursed at the sound of Gojo’s strangled cry, pulling completely out of your mouth. You panted and moaned below him, your body shaking with every thrust as Gojo fucked you through your orgasm. Suguru groaned as your tongue lolled out, begging to be coated with his cum. His balls felt almost uncomfortably full as he stroked his shaft rapidly, intent on giving you what you begged for so prettily.

It only took a few seconds for Geto’s own orgasm to crash through him. The smooth movements of his hips and hands stuttered as he groaned lowly, painting your pretty face with his seed. However, most of it landed in your mouth, and you happily caught it with your pink tongue, holding it out for him to inspect.

“You’re going to… be the death of me one day,” the raven-haired man moaned as he felt blood immediately rush back to his cock. Instead of swallowing, your eyes shone mischievously, and you turned around to pull Satoru into a searing kiss. You mimicked his earlier actions, but this time you were pushing Suguru’s cum into his mouth.

Gojo moaned wantonly at the sharp taste, swallowing his share as his own cock twitched back to life. Geto pulled you away from the other man, maneuvering you to face him as he brought your hips down, filling you with his cock in a single thrust. You screamed hoarsely, cunt spasming from overstimulation as Gojo laughed roughly, wiping the remainder of his friend’s cum off his lips before positioning himself behind you.

The white-haired man watched greedily as you bounced on Geto’s cock, taking a minute to lean back and stroke his dick until he was fully erect. Gojo pulled your hips back, stilling Geto’s thrusts, and he growled in response.

“Gotta let me in too,” Gojo chided, swiping a finger over his fat tip to coat it with pre-cum as he positioned it against your other hole. Your eyes widened, and you gasped as he started to push into you, stretching you slowly but mercilessly. Geto pulled you in for a ravenous kiss, devouring your litany of moans as he struggled to keep from thrusting into you. After a small eternity, both men were seated fully inside you, and you whined their names over and over like a prayer, begging them to start moving.

“Toru, Sugu… nnnnhgh, ‘m so full,” you cried, leaning your head against Geto’s shoulder as the two men cradled you in their arms. Their hands roamed over your body, caressing and groping every inch of you as they began to move, stretching your body past the very limits of pleasure. Your eyes glazed over; you couldn’t tell who was kissing your neck versus who was rubbing achingly soft circles on your clit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as the two men brought you to climax again and again.

Soft rays of dawn were peeking through your bedroom window by the time the three of you fell onto your bed, breathing hard but finally sated. You looked around at the sheets and at your lovers, blushing hotly at the dried red marks that covered almost every surface in the room. The towels had not lasted long.

Geto chuckled, rubbing your back soothingly, “We’ll clean up. Don’t worry.”

“And we’ll prepare better for next time,” Gojo added with a grin, poking your cheek.

Your whole body felt like jelly, but the two men were determined to care for you properly. Suguru walked into the bathroom, and you could hear the sound of water filling your bathtub as Satoru fetched a glass of water for you, helping you sit up to drink properly. He scooped you up, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as he walked you into the bathroom, depositing you in the warm water. The three of you washed each other in blissful silence, with both men being extra attentive to your sore body. Afterward, they changed your sheets and put you in clean pajamas, slipping their own sweatpants on to climb into bed next to you.

“Thank you…” You murmured, already drifting off to sleep between your two lovers.

Geto kissed your temple silently as Gojo laughed softly, “Of course. We have to take good care of our girl, after all.”

Tagging some friends: @saradika @thefact0rygirl @babygirl-leon-kennedy @hereforthesunrise @ashotofspotchka @ironandglass @amyroswell @cassandrablacker @lady-valtieri @justanothersadperson93 @orangecremepuff @belle-smith07 @outspokenbrat @enchantedsylveon @khaleesihavilliard @spam-love @silverliningsandstorms @msniks @panteramarron @cindyneko-strider @unoriginalidea @eldritchbeauty @markleeisdabestdrug @gabbyburgers @its-chickenwing-450 @luneariaa @akiiireix @tojispookiebear @dangoank0 @ifuckinghateschool @barryatsumu @voids-universe @mahgyu @themoonmonologues @byul9158 @pseudowho

#Lyria's fic for Noury🌻#curse you tumblr for making me repost this #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #geto x reader #gojo satoru x geto suguru #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n

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bookshelf-dust · 5 months ago

Text

soul made of honeybees

billy hargrove x fem!reader

gif by @biillys

word count: 6,418

warnings: brief swearing, mentions of smoking, reader deals with body insecurities/dysmorphia, uses exercise as a punishment, all of the struggles that come with trying to accept oneself

synopsis: on a journey of becoming more active and trying to be happier in yourself, you find billy, who helps you develop a healthier relationship with exercising and shows you that your body should be celebrated for all it does for you.

a/n: well, what do we have here? my creative juices have begun to flow again, and this is the first fic to be born of that particular affair. in my head i’ve set this in the late 80s, maybe early 90s, where i imagine billy still works at the pool during the summers when he’s home from college. this is a situation i’ve found myself in over the past year, and i wanted a chance to explore it in this way and sort through some of my own experiences. i hope you will enjoy it. as always, happy reading! <3

————

Jane Fonda is a fucking fantastic woman. But right now, you hate her.

She manages to look stunning and effortless with each kick of her legs; while you are sweating profusely, your shorts are up your ass, and your fingers are swollen from overheating.

You hate exercising in the moment, but once her thirty minute video is over and her group of people in tights and tiny shorts are gone, admittedly you do feel better. Rinsing the sweat from your face, feeling your muscles ache the next day—it brings you some sort of satisfaction.

Your body likes that you’ve gotten more active.

But your own hatred for your body was the reason you allowed Jane Fonda into your home to begin with. Sick, right? You know it’s bad, and yet each time you squat, crunch, and press, you can’t stop yourself from wishing you were shaped differently. From looking at the toned and athletic bodies in Miss Fonda’s videos and imagining what it would be like to feel that comfortable in your own skin, to be so graceful and…perfect.

So, you continue to push yourself, in hopes that you’ll become more appealing, that if you keep doing this, there will come a point where you aren’t totally and completely disgusted with the body you’ve been given.

Because at this point, you’ve truly convinced yourself that you cannot be happy in your body. Even if you have noticed your strength levels increasing and really want to push yourself more. But you won’t let that positivity ring free like the woman on your television always wishes you would.

“You did a great job!” Jane’s voice rings throughout your living room as the workout video ends, and you scramble for the remote, having had enough of these cheery attitudes for one morning.

You sit back on your hands, stretch out your legs, and try to steady your breath. Your knees have carpet burn, and you can feel sweat dripping down your temples.

You may be a heaving mess, but you need more. The workouts have gotten easy, and you need something new.

A woman runs by outside your window in a bright pink leotard and blue jogging shorts, matching pink leg warmers meeting her tennis shoes.

I could try that, you think. Maybe I’d like running.

You certainly didn’t like it in school, but most of that was the result of shitty phys-ed teachers and the fact that you were never the athlete those instructors wanted you to be.

You push off the floor and stalk to your room, digging for the sneakers you know are buried in the back of your closet. You have to try this. You need to keep pushing yourself. And if you don’t do it now, with this sudden spark of energy, you probably never will.

Five minutes. You can run for five minutes. And if you feel like you can after that time is up, you’ll do ten.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you’re tying your shoes, shoving away the thoughts telling you that you’ll definitely not look as cute as that woman on the street or any other woman that goes for a run, their ponytail swaying and their cheeks perfectly pinked.

But what does it matter? You have to try. You have to be productive and make something out of yourself. You can’t deal with the pulsing, clawing thoughts of self-hatred anymore. Your body has to change.

The only problem is that you haven’t yet realized your mindset must too.

The heat that swallows you up when you step out of your front door is almost enough to send you right back inside. But how disappointed will you be in yourself if you retreat that quickly?

You let your body begin to walk before your brain can start to argue. Your street doesn’t really have a sidewalk, so you keep to one side as the cyclists and other joggers do, ensuring you won’t be in anyone’s way. Subconsciously, you’re already making yourself smaller even though there’s no one outside to judge you.

You look down at your watch, noting the time, and start to run. Not as though you’re being chased by a serial killer—or a man—but enough that it counts as a run. Those first few seconds are blissful. You feel like a little kid as the adrenaline spreads through your veins. Like your mom has just called you in because dinner is ready, like you're racing against the sunset so that your feet land inside the door just before the streetlights flick on.

You forgot what it was like to move your body in this way. To feel this momentary freedom. You make it about three minutes before your side starts to hurt, a telltale sign that you haven’t done this in far too long. The heat is starting to get to you too, but you said you’d go for five, and that’s what you’re doing.

It’s pitiful, the way you press yourself to the inside of your front door, trying to catch your breath from that little bit of work. Why did it hurt so much more than everything Jane Fonda tells you to do?

Maybe you’re not meant to be the athletic type. Or maybe I need to eat something, you think. I need to make a plan for myself. That could make it easier.

You can’t eat with your shirt sticking to your back though, so you strip and turn the shower on, practically jumping under the cool stream of water. But not before you glance at your body in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall. Your hands find your stomach, eye each stretch mark and bit of cellulite. Each extra-soft spot of skin, every part of you that doesn’t conform to the vision you have in your head.

You wish that five minute run had fixed everything. That you could magically look like an aerobics instructor and be happy in your own skin. Your eyes fill with tears, and you think for a minute that it could be better to just stop before you get ahead of yourself. What’s the point? You don’t know if you have it in you to wait and see results. And you know you won’t turn into someone else, won’t form a new shape…and then you’re spiraling. You can’t think of a single reason why exercising is worth it.

Because it can be fun. Because it pushes you and makes you stronger. You shove this tiny voice away and let your gaze flick back to the shower, where you’ve completely abandoned your cold sanctuary. You hop in and start scrubbing your hair, trying to think of anything that isn’t your body in that mirror, anything other than how much you looked like a fraud trying to fit in with everyone else.

————

You continue on this way for a while longer: running in the mornings, doing as many of the Jane Fonda videos as you have access to at work, drinking more water, blah blah blah. One of the perks of working at the library is that you can check out as many tapes as you want. But you’ve done all of Jane’s workouts, and you need more.

You could swim, but when is the community pool ever not full to the brim during the summer? You could try jazzercise. No. That’s just not for you. You could…go to the gym.

The pool also has small gyms for both women and men, and you know the men’s one is usually very busy, but most of the women in Hawkins take part in other forms of exercise. And if you went in the mornings…you might have the place to yourself. You might could try and tone up.

God, this sounds so stupid.

And your heart rate picks up just thinking about doing this very new and very big and very embarrassing thing, but you want to do it. You’re going to try.

Hopefully you’ll just go unnoticed. This is a totally normal thing for people to do, right?

The community pool opens at ten during the week, but the doors to the gyms open at seven. And that’s what time you get there, out of pure fear that you’ll have to interact with another human and make a fool of yourself. But the universe must be looking out for you on this particular morning, because the door is unlocked, and you slip in without any hassle.

Billy isn’t a morning person. He never has been, but an excuse to get out of his hellhole of a house before anyone else is up to fuck with him? Yeah, he jumped at that opportunity.

Usually the manager opens the gyms and stays to open the pool during the summer, but he volunteered. Especially because he can usually get in a workout before his shift technically even starts.

He’ll bench as much as he can without a spot, work on the pull ups he never tells anyone he struggles with. It just feels good to be able to use his muscles and push himself. Billy is proud of what his body can do, what it does for him, how it protects him—and he’s not ashamed to admit that.

His body is one of the only things he has control over, and he’s heard his share of people talking about how vain he is, how he shouldn’t spend so much time doing this or that. But he doesn’t give a fuck. He’s built a body he’s proud of and feels comfortable in, and truthfully he feels like everyone should be comfortable in their body without anyone else pushing them to look another way.

Billy is leaning against his car, hands tangled in his hair in an effort to tie it up, a cigarette dangling loosely from his full lips when he sees you for the first time.

He watches you get in your car, bag slung over your shoulder, interested only because he never sees another soul here this early.

You’re pretty, he thinks. Your hairline shines in the morning sunlight, damp with sweat, your neck the same. Your sports bra peeks through your pale shirt, and one of your slouchy socks is hiked up higher than the other. You’ve clearly just finished working out, but he thinks you look breathtaking.

There’s something about you. Something light and sweet that he can feel even from this distance, like something is telling him you have a good soul.

The next time Billy sees you, you come out of the door looking frustrated—he assumes at yourself. He doesn’t want to bother you, but he would like to talk to you at some point.

You turn around when you go to unlock your car door and lock eyes with him. Your heart stutters at the fact that someone has caught you, probably knows you were exercising. But he is gorgeous. You give him a small smile, and climb into the driver's seat. All you can think on the drive home is that it must be nice to be so effortlessly gorgeous.

————

You continue on this way for weeks. Close to a month. You workout, you wave and acknowledge one another. This other person who you share this tiny thing with and who you are not judged by.

On this particular day, you decide to be brave though. You packed a swimsuit, and you’re going to speak to that gorgeous boy and hope he doesn’t get freaked out by you.

You place your weights back on the rack, the muscles in your thighs pulsing, your arms feeling like jelly. You’ve only worked your way up to the set of fifteens, but that’s something, right?

You’re sweating, and dread walking outside into the swath of steadily climbing heat and humidity. Your heart pounds at the prospect of speaking to him.

With your bag over your shoulder, you push open the door and step outside, jumping almost immediately. “Shit!”

Billy laughs at your reaction, both because he hadn’t expected to frighten you, and because your jolt was pretty entertaining to witness.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, “I didn’t mean to make you lose your shit, it’s just too hot to stand anywhere without shade.”

You lean against the cool metal door behind you. “Fuck,” you sigh. “My survival skills are clearly not what they should be.”

Billy laughs into his drink, taking a swig from the Coke he bought at the vending machine.

“You headed out?” he asks, subconsciously fussing with a belt loop.

“Well, yeah, I was. But um, I was going to ask a favor from you, if that’s okay?” You must sound like a dumbass, speaking to this man for the very first time, only to ask him for something.

“Shoot,” Billy responds.

“Do you think it’d be okay for me to swim a few laps in the pool? I know it’s not open yet, and I haven’t even told you my name, but I promise not to be a bother or anything. I just kind of wanted a chance to swim when there was no one else around, you know?”

Billy finishes his drink and tosses the can in the recycling bin inches from your hip. It lands with a resounding ping.

You start to think this was a very stupid idea, and that maybe you should’ve just kept yourself at home like always.

“You can totally say no—”

“Yeah, sure I don’t see why not—”

Your words clash together and the both of you start to laugh. You raise your hand, gesturing for him to continue his thought.

“It’s fine by me if you swim a little. I doubt you’re gonna trash the place.” He grins at you, dimples forming in his cheeks. “I’m Billy, by the way.”

A heat rises up your neck and washes over the tips of your ears. You tell him your name and thank him for letting you bend the rules.

“Ah, fuck the rules. It’s just a community pool,” he winks, opening up the gate for you and telling you to have at it.

You’d put your one-piece on underneath your workout clothes this morning, and you try to ignore the prick of shame, even disgust, that you feel having put your body in it as you wade into the pool.

The water is cool, and as it drenches you, you feel lighter, somehow. You swim out to the deep end and push off the wall with your toes, propelling yourself underwater and kicking for as long as you can go while holding your breath.

The little girl that still lives within your soul leaps to the surface, giddy with each push off the wall, each stroke of your arms underneath the water. She is excited. Free.

She isn’t thinking about what your stomach looks like in this swimsuit or how stupid you probably look with your sloppy swimming skills.

You swim for maybe twenty minutes, or at least until your shoulders are aching. You kick over to the wall, hoisting yourself up just that little bit so you can prop your elbows up on the warming concrete.

You feel so light here that it almost makes you forget why you came.

You hear footsteps and Billy appears from around the corner, a fluffy white towel in hand.

“You getting out? I figured I’d come and make sure you hadn’t drowned.”

You giggle. The sound makes him smile, pearly white teeth on display. Your eyes are drawn to his, where the summer sun has multiplied his freckles so much that they blanket his nose and the tops of his cheeks, washing over his temples.

“I appreciate you looking out for my safety,” you say, climbing up the short ladder. Billy holds out a hand to help you steady yourself as you stand. You’re hesitant to take it because you’re all wet, but your hand moves before your mind takes control. “Thank you.” You give him a shy smile.

He grins at you and hands you the towel. You wrap it around your shoulders and follow him back under the awning when he starts walking away. Billy leans up against the cold brick wall and you stand, a little nervously, in front of him, trying to think of what to say.

“I’ll admit, uh, it’s been nice to see someone else here so early in the mornings.” Billy lets out a huff of a laugh. “I was gonna ask though, why’d you pick this shithole to workout in?”

You pull the damp towel tighter against your torso. “It’s a quiet shithole,” you say. “And this whole exercising thing is pretty new to me, you know? I didn’t want to be somewhere people could see me like that.”

You realize how self-deprecating that comment was, realize you’re being too upfront, and try to quickly cover your ass. “What about you?” you ask, daring to make eye contact just to make sure he’s not disturbed.

“Well, it came with the job,” he laughs, “and I love working out. Always have. Plus, it might be a shitty place, but the older equipment is a lot better than what newer gyms are using. So it works for me.”

Huh.

“Oh. Nice.” You chew on your thumbnail. What a fuckup you are.

Billy tilts his head, trying to encourage your gaze to raise to his. “What just happened?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You look at him, his sunglasses pushed up into his hair and arms crossed in front of his chest. “It’s nothing…I just don’t really know what to say to someone who enjoys the gym? Who has a positive relationship with it and everything.”

A crease forms between Billy’s brows. “You’ve been crazy consistent with it, but you don’t like it?” He asks you, but based on your body language and how you’ve acted the past month every time you head out, everything adds up and Billy knows the answer before it even leaves your mouth.

You shake your head, ashamed that you even brought this up. “No,” you laugh nervously. “I hate it. I only started because I’m unhappy with myself? So it’s more of a punishment than something that brings me joy.”

Billy’s chest squeezes at your words. That is exactly why he started working out all those years ago. To make himself stronger because he was ashamed his father had power over him. Because he wasn’t good enough for anyone, so out of anger he made himself more powerful.

But he doesn’t want you to feel that way. You shouldn’t be working out purely to punish yourself for some absurd reason your mind has come up with.

And even though Billy has had very minimal interactions with you, he likes you. He wouldn’t wish the horrible thoughts he’s had for himself on anyone else, but he gets the feeling you already know.

“Well, I’m not gonna berate you or nothin.’ But uh, if you ever want help, or want to workout together so it’s not so miserable, let me know alright?”

You smirk at him, hoping to make the situation a bit less awkward. “Are you implying you’re the reason working out would become less miserable?”

Billy laughs, glad to see you’re not totally opposed to the idea of him offering help. “Yeah. But really, you shouldn’t have to hate it y’know? If I can help you figure out not to hate it…I’d like to try. And we could get to know each other better.”

Billy fidgets with the lighter in his pocket. He’s weaned off cigarettes, but he keeps loads of lighters around so he has something to occupy his hands with. If not, it’s usually not a good situation for him to be in.

Your heart squeezes at the genuine quality in his words. You feel like you’re a lost cause at this point, but there’s a big part of you, the soft and squishy and easily flustered one, that wants to take him up on this offer.

You nod, wrapping up your towel so you can drop it in the bin and go get changed. “Okay. I’ll think about it, Billy. Promise.”

————

“One more.”

“I can’t, Billy. I told you, I’m not strong enough for this shit.”

You swear when you’re frustrated. Billy has learned that over the past few weeks.

He crouches, leveling with you. Your knee bounces, the dumbbells in your hands sitting on the tops of your thighs. “Yes, you can. You’re already up to twenty-fives for your presses. Try one more for me and then you can rest a minute.”

Your eyes well with tears that you quickly blink away as you settle back against the bench. This is the point in a workout where you just start to hate yourself. You think it’s pointless, you know you’re body hasn’t changed enough, you feel like total shit—everything just feels fucked.

You use your knees to help lift the dumbbells and slowly lift them to the appropriate height, making sure to protect your shoulders like Billy taught you. You inhale and raise them up. Your arms are shaking, especially your non-dominant one which is really fighting this shoulder press, and you’re not sure you’ll be able to lift them fully until you do.

“Fuck, yeah!” Billy’s voice reaches your ears just as you’re lowering your arms, completely out of breath. You set the dumbbells on the floor.

Billy is thrilled for you. He can see the progress you’re making, how much stronger you are and less hesitant to try new exercises.

When you look up at him the expression on your face tells him you are not thrilled.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter?”

You stand and walk over to the mirror that covers one whole wall. You put your hands on your hips and bite the inside of your cheek. “Billy, will you look at me, honestly?” You gesture to your body. “This is the matter. I don’t look any different than the first day I showed up here, do I? Even if I’ve been busting my ass, I’ll just never—”

You stop, rubbing your hands down your face and over your bloodshot eyes.

“You’ll never what?” Billy locks eyes with you in the mirror.

You set a hand on your chest, nails digging into your skin. “My body will never be good enough for me. I’ll always look at every other person that walks by, jealous that they have the figure I want and I’ll never have. Why did I have to get stuck with this shit? Why couldn’t I be given a body that I’d be happy with. Life if fucking hard enough, why couldn’t I have this one thing?”

“And you’re just so effortlessly gorgeous, you know that? I wish it was that easy for me, too. It’s just like, why am I even doing this anymore when I know I’ll never look the way other women do? I’m bullshitting myself, aren’t I, Billy? Working out like it’s gonna do anything.”

You exhale and drag your arm across your nose, avoiding Billy’s gaze.

“Hey. Look at me.” Billy’s tone is firm. “Listen for a second, will you?”

“You are getting stronger. You’re using heavier weights all around. Shit, you’re up to fifty for your deadlifts. Hold your arm up for me—yeah, and squeeze, yep. Look at that.”

He taps his index and middle finger on your bicep, on the bit of muscle you’ve grown and shape you’ve built. “You are absolutely not bullshitting yourself, you hear me? If anything, you’re bullshitting yourself by thinking you can’t be happy in this body. You don’t have to look like other women. Who the fuck put that idea in your head? I don’t know if you see how I look at you, but I think you’re gorgeous, and I love to see you becoming more comfortable in the movements you do, in your own strength. Your body does so fuckin’ much for you.”

Billy is still keeping eye contact with you in the mirror. You can feel the warmth of him behind you, and you swear you sweat more because you know he’s right and you know you are getting stronger but fuck you just can’t believe that. You look at him and you just wish you were that lithe, that comfortable in your own skin.

“I’m doing this with you—hey, take a deep breath, alright?” He clocks the way you’re shaking out your hands, trying to keep yourself from breaking. Crying. Screaming out of frustration. “I’m doing this with you because I used to be just like this, you hear me?”

He hates being vulnerable, fucking despises it, but he knows that giving you this information, giving you this little pathway into his life just might save you right now.

“I worked out all through junior high and high school because I fuckin’ hated myself, and I thought if I could get bigger, if I could make myself look intimidating, then maybe other people wouldn’t treat me like shit. That part worked in some places, but I didn’t like myself any more because I hadn’t sorted through any of my mental shit.”

He says your name. Slowly. You like the way it sounds when he says it, hating the way it sounds when it leaves your own lips.

“I know we aren’t all that close yet, but I see so much fuckin’ potential in you. I’m not gonna let you suffer with all this shit alone. I know you hate your body, but this is the one you were given, and there’s no point spending so much time destroying yourself over that simple fact.”

You turn around to face him, your hands on the sides of your neck, rubbing as if that will stop the emotion from rising in your throat. It doesn’t work. Billy’s eyes move back and forth between yours, across your face, tracking every change in your expression. He recognizes what you’re doing, trying to suppress all of this.

“C’mere.”

You go before your mind can fight back. Billy takes you in his arms, tucking your face into his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You breathe unsteadily into his skin. You don’t care that he smells like sweat and you smell like sweat and that you’re shaking and tears are slipping from your eyes. His arms are strong, and the feeling of his biceps squeezing you closer, his hands running up and down your back, it makes it all feel like it’s okay.

“It’s just so fucking hard, Billy,” you mumble, lifting your head up slightly. “It’s not fair. I just want to be pretty and normal and have a body I can accept like everyone else.”

Billy gently touches his index finger just below your chin, coaxing your gaze up to meet his. “I know it is. And I mean it when I say that you are pretty. Honestly, you gotta think about how many ‘pretty’ people there are out there, people who have the bodies the tabloids tell them to have—and are absolute dicks. Hell, that’s how I was in high school.”

Your eyes crinkle at the corners, signaling that he did get a little joy in you having admitted that, even if it’s not a full on smile. His thumb swipes down your cheek, mopping up the little track left by a tear.

“Point is, this, what I’m holding right now, is your body. No one else would know it like you do, know how to take care of it, know where each mark has come from or each thing you’ve put it through. Each thing it’s gotten you through. You can accept it, because I’m going to help you get to a point where you can look in the mirror and not shit-talk yourself.”

You pull back a little, pressing the palms of your hands to your face, your elbows slightly poking the top of Billy’s rib cage. “I’m just so scared.”

“I got you, you hear me?” He pulls your shirt away from your collarbones just so it’s not sticking to your skin so much. “You don’t need to be scared. Not with me.”

You nod. And you keep doing that until it feels a little more believable.

————

Billy can’t stop looking at you.

And he really needs to focus before he runs off the sidewalk and into the road.

But for the first time in the few months he’s known you, you look free. You look happy. You look all of these things and you’re running. There’s a baseball cap perched backwards on your head, one of his from forever ago that he lent (gave) you when you mentioned you didn’t have any.

He can smell the sunscreen you’ve slathered all over yourself, see the sweat dripping down your spine. This is the first time you’ve felt brave enough to go out in just a sports bra and a cropped sweatshirt, bright colored biker shorts covering the tops of your thighs. Your frilly socks make it too, just because it shows how much more comfortable you’ve gotten with doing this.

It turns out you never hated running. You just needed to do it in a different atmosphere, with different thoughts running through your head. And having a good running partner helps, too.

“There’s a bench up here if you want to rest a second before we finish,” Billy says through a rather aggressive exhale. You’re glad the sun is setting, because that makes it so much cooler than when you try to run in the morning with the sun beating down on you and seeping into your veins.

You sit down, taking a long drink from your water. Billy crouches on the sidewalk, shaking out his hair and retying the mess of a bun he was wearing.

“You’re doing so good today,” he tells you, winking at you from his place just a few inches to your left.

You grin into your water bottle. “How long was that?” you ask.

He rises and sits down next to you, his arm slung behind your back on the bench. His thumb brushes the shell of your ear, rubs over the little hoop you’re wearing. You watch as he does a little math in his head, checking out where exactly you are. “Little over two miles, bee.”

Bee. Your heart skips every time he says that. It’s a very new thing, but it sort of slipped out one day, and you’ve loved it ever since.

“What movie you wanna see this weekend, honeybee? My treat.”

When you’d asked why he chose that name for you, he’d teased at first, telling you it was just because you’re so damn sweet. But really it was a little more sappy than that.

“Well, you are sweet. And bubbly when you want to be. But think about how much shit those little fuckers get done. How persistent and focused. They’re all cute and fuzzy n’ whatever, but they’re like, badass lil’ things, y’know?”

Your knee bounces excitedly on the pavement. “Really?” That’s the farthest you’ve run so far. And you didn’t even hate it. You had…fun.

Billy laughs, throwing his head back a little and bearing his neck to you. It shines with sweat and it almost looks like he’s glowing. “Fuck yeah. You’ve been kicking my ass this week. I hate running.”

“But you do it with me,” you say.

“But I do it with you.”

You reach over your shoulder and squeeze his hand. “I like running better when it’s with you. Just for the record.” He squeezes back, lifting your hand up gently to press his lips to it.

“I’m proud of you, you know that?”

A crease forms between your brows as you meet his gaze. “What for?”

“For not giving up.” You start to argue with him, but he continues before you can belittle yourself even the slightest bit. “You’ve kept at this, at trying to get yourself stronger and to try and feel more comfortable in what your body can do. I know you probably still wish you looked like some fuckin’ model or some shit, but I can see how much you’ve eased up, you know?”

You nod, giving him a small smile. “I do still wish that sometimes. It would be easier. But I’m getting better, I think. I hate to tell you you’re right—,” he shoots you that cocky, prideful grin, “but my body does do a lot for me. I’m starting to accept that it can do a lot for me…”

You trail off, tapping the toes of your sneakers on the concrete below you. “And I did squat with the bar and those little plates yesterday without a spot.”

The spot in question was watching you carefully from a few feet away, ready to sprint if you needed help.

“Yes, you did, bee. You’re kicking ass.” That dimple forms in his cheek, and you know he’s about to say something smart. “Speaking of ass—”

You stand abruptly, turning around quickly so that the area he’s speaking of isn’t directly in his face. You’ve learned he has a staring problem, specifically with that part of you. Not that you mind. Maybe that’s where your pride comes in.

————

The sun has slipped beneath the horizon by the time Billy slips his key into the gate, pulling it securely shut behind him. The first spattering of stars are trying to show in the purple-blue sky.

The pool is calm, empty, and lit only by the pale bulbs built into it and the two light poles on either side of the patio.

It was Billy’s idea to sneak in for a late night swim. He thought it would be fun, and he knows you hate swimming in an overcrowded pool. But truthfully, he just wanted to give you another space where you could feel completely without judgment and just exist.

“What’s the plan here, Billy? I didn’t even think about taking a detour to get a swimsuit.”

It’s true, you’ve felt so carefree around him that you weren’t overthinking, overanalyzing a scenario like this. You weren’t worried about running inside and finding the most full coverage bathing suit you have because you’re afraid of Billy seeing your body. But right now…you just feel calm. Your body isn’t perfect, but it’s okay if he at least sees your legs.

Billy is already slipping off his shoes and taking off his shirt. “That’s because the point of this is being spontaneous, bee.” He walks to the far end of the pool and dives in, just in his little running shorts, before you can even blink.

You’re nervous, just that little bit because this is so different from something you’d usually do, and now you’re just stripping? You’re just living and having a good time? Who the fuck are you?

You step out of your own shorts and pull off your socks. You’re left in your underwear and your little cropped sweatshirt. You register, as you walk down the stairs, that your underwear are blue, and you look just like Lisa from Weird Science. It makes you smile.

You track Billy’s movements once you're up to your waist and realize he’s heading for you. He squeezes your ankle beneath the water before coming to the surface, a wide grin on his face. His necklace is stuck around his back and on instinct you reach out to straighten it.

His eyes drag up and down your figure. “Hi, gorgeous.” The low drawl of his voice makes the tips of your ears burn.

You wade a little deeper into the water, circling behind him. When you’re drenched up to your chest, you splash him. Billy cackles. It is possibly the most joyous sound you’ve ever heard.

He dives for your waist, hooking an arm around you and swimming off, making you howl with laughter before you have to hold your own breath when he pulls you out deeper than you are tall.

He hoists you up out of the water and gently tosses you to the side, letting you fall into the water on your back. The adrenaline coursing through your veins is magical.

You keep playing with him, playing, like you’re both kids who’ve never been in a pool before, until you’ve run through most of your energy. You try and teach him a game you played as a child, where one person spreads their legs and your goal is to swim between them without touching their skin, even as they move their legs closer together each time.

It’s silly, because you inevitably know you’ll touch your opponents legs, but it’s fun. You don’t think about anything else when you do it. He teases you though, trapping you with his calves most times so you automatically lose.

Now though, you and Billy stand nose to nose, at a depth where you’re not up to your chin so that you can actually speak to him. “This was a really good idea,” you tell him. You push some of his wet hair out of his face and then, rather than pulling away, you set your hands on his shoulders.

He wraps his arms around your waist. “This okay?” he asks, lowering one arm so he can show you he wants to lift you up. You give him a sweet yes.

Billy’s hand grips your thigh, coaxing you upward so you can get your legs around his back. You adjust your arms behind his head, him respectfully keeping his hands on the backs of your thighs. He steps back just that little bit more so he can submerge himself further in the water now that you’re held up.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile for this long before,” Billy says. His blue eyes flick back and forth between your own.

“You’ve given me a lot more reasons to.” Your hand cups his cheek and he swears he could fucking collapse. You’re so gentle with him and Billy never knew he even wanted that. But now he craves it. Craves you.

That cocky smirk you’ve started to recognize before it even begins makes an appearance. “Yeah? Can I give you one more reason to?”

You hum in agreement, and then Billy is pressing his lips to yours. They’re damp and he tastes a little like chlorine, but…he was right. You smile brilliantly into the kiss, and you’re not sure you stop the rest of the night either.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

#savannah’s fics #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove comfort #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove oneshot

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pombeom · 3 months ago

Text

pose away | yeonjun fic (nsfw)

nsfw, mdni!

pairings: enemies to lovers, arrogant model!yeonjun x sub photographer!reader

warnings: nicknames, slut shaming, blowjob, wall sex, markings, unprotected sex, hair pulling

a/n: this might be my favourite fic written yet! djsjkskssjjaka im craving mean yeonjun so bad rn! not proofread

Working as a freelance photographer bought its many challenges. Today was one of them. You hauled yourself out of bed early in the morning to begin setting up the make-shift studio in your living room. Whilst you were studying photography at a college, working part time gave you the opportunity to build up both your experience and portfolio. Often times you don’t get a choice as you take on whatever projects come your way. Even when the person you despised most on campus comes to you asking for a photoshoot, no matter how much you wanted to refuse, you agreed, setting up a date for your shoot which happened to be today.

You move the lights arounds, working out the best places for them and begin creating an inspiration mood board on your phone before he arrives. The sun burned through the large windows, raising the inside inside your home so you turn on the aircon, hoping it would cool your house down in time for your guest’s arrival. You know he would complain about it being too warm being the spoiled brat he is. You didn’t want to take any chances, especially not today when he had promised you a large sum of money for your services even though you often charge little to nothing.

Just as you finished setting up, cleaning up the final bits and bobs around the room, you hear the bell ring and not even a second later, a loud thumping on the door.

“My god, he can’t even wait a second can he,” you sigh shaking your head at his impatience, already regretting accepting his clientele.

You open the door to see a tall man standing arrogantly in front of you, wanting to wipe away that smirk on his face as he walked in, shoving past you.

“Nice set up you there,” he says as he makes his own way through your living room, seating himself down on your leather sofa, manspreading his long legs.

“Thanks,” you roll your eyes, attempting to suppress your annoyance. Why on earth is Yeonjun in your house right now? How did this even happen?

He’s wearing a linen shirt, the first few buttons undone, and black slacks making his outfit look laid back in a put together kinda way. His long hair is styled so it’s tucked behind his ear but a few strands strayed and fell onto his face. No matter how much you hated him, you weren’t blind to the fact that he’s probably the most attractive person on campus. There’s a certain aura he possesses that just lures you in. But you were better than that. He doesn’t seem to control you the way he does other girls. No matter how many times you nearly slipped into his charm, you had always managed to bring yourself back.

“Are you gonna tell me what to do, or are you just gonna keep staring at me like that?” His sharp voice brings you back, slightly embarrassed that he caught you.

“I wasn’t staring, simply observing you to see what I’m working with.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already “observed” me enough before. Unless you wanna keep staring, then go for it. I don’t mind. I know you like it too,” you let out a sigh, making sure he could hear it, rolling your eyes at his self-centredness. How you were to put up with this for another 3 hours was beyond you.

“Come stand here. You see the green tape? Just make sure you stand behind it. You can pose away Mr Choi Yeonjun,” you instruct, getting behind the camera as he makes his way onto the white screen.

Without needing much guidance, he gets into all sorts of poses. He starts off by crouching, sticking out his tongue, eluding with sexiness before shifting to another pose where he’s standing up again, hands in both pockets as he tilts his head ever so slightly but in all the ways that makes a difference.

For the next 30 minutes, he is constantly moving while you’re almost having to do an entire workout just to keep up with him. The heat of the room also gets to you, your cheeks flushed red which Yeonjun notices.

“Are you blushing from how good I look, doll?” his smirk, combined with the nickname sets you off, feeling the heat burn through your cheeks even more.

“Shut up. How about we take a break?” You question, trying to distract you from the fact that you’re now ever so slightly turned on by his comment.

With that, Yeonjun is slumped back on your couch, while you run to the kitchen, rummaging through your freezer trying to find an ice lolly to cool and calm you down.

You discard the wrapper in the bin, taking the long stick of coloured ice in your mouth, sucking off the first layer is its juices. You moan at the feeling of the cold entering your mouth, as the ice begins to melt around it. Walking back to the living room, Yeonjun puts his phone down to look up at you, once again with a smile that has a mischievous allure plastered onto it.

“Doll, you think you could suck a cock like that?”

His remark has you pulling the ice lolly out your mouth instantly, making a pop as it comes out. Your jaw is left hanging as you feel the butterflies in your stomach travel up to your throat, leaving you speechless.

He stand up and steps towards you ever so slowly that for some reason you wish he would go faster so he could be closer to you sooner. When he gets less than 2 feet away, you step back hitting the wall as his arms cage you, trapping you in his presence. His fingers wipe away the juice from your iced treat in one swipe as he takes it to his own mouth sucking off the liquid. Your eyes enlarge from the proximity and his actions, feeling the ice drop down your fingers as well as a wetness forming in between your legs.

“I asked you a question. Do you think you could suck a cock like that?”

“Mhmm…” you were only able to make a short sound while you nod your head, not shying away from his sharp gaze.

“Why don’t you show me then, doll?” He caresses your hair before grabbing it into a tight ponytail and before you know it, you’re on your knees below him, almost seeming as if you were begging for his dick.

With his free hand, he unbuttons his trousers letting them slip down his lean legs and as if on cue, you pull down his black boxers, his long cock springing out. Whilst he may have been an average on thickness, he definitely made up for it in length, so much so that you could already feel it hitting the tip of your cervix.

“Come on doll, suck my pretty cock.”

You begin by encapsulating just his tip in your mouth, letting the coldness from the ice transfer onto his hard length to which it reacts by twitching in your mouth as Yeonjun hisses. You slowly move up and down his shaft looking up at his face whilst doing so, meeting his eyes filled with lust.

“You’re pretty mouth looks so good around my cock, doesn’t it, doll? Go faster.”

His grip on your hair tightens as he begins shoving his dick into your mouth as if on a rampage, tears falling from your eyes. His other hand grabs ahold of your chin, lifting it up further to better his view of what he was doing to you. Your moans vibrate against his cock, sending him into a high as he grunts with every pump. You feel him twitch in your mouth and before he can cum, he pulls out harshly, making the same pop as your ice lolly. Your sobs don’t stop even after he’s pulled out, craving to feel him more. Especially inside you.

“Aww, is my doll crying because she wants me? I think I can help with that. Stand up,” he commands, his voice firm but flirty. His assurance only made him sexier at this present moment as much as you hated to admit it.

Once you’re on your feet, he slams you back into the wall and pulls down your shorts in one swift move, revealing your white lace thong.

“I knew my doll was a slut for me. Even if you hate to actually say it.”

Your excuse was that you hadn’t done your laundry yet so you were left with your more extravagant pieces of lingerie but even you knew that deep down he was somewhat correct.

You feel a sudden sensation as you feel Yeonjun’s lips attached to your neck, sucking under your ear, instantly having found your sweet spot. Melting under his magic touch, your hands automatically move around his neck, pulling him in closer, wanting to feel him more.

“Yeonjun. Touch me please.”

You were desperate for him and you hated it but with the puddle increasingly seeping through your underwear, you couldn’t care less, only wanting to feel him inside you.

Yeonjun, strokes your clothed pussy, that being enough to send you off high, as you moan in his ears, humping his hands.

“Such a slut for me, are you doll? Wonder what you’d be like if you had the real thing slamming into you?”

And that’s exactly what he did. Pushing your thong to the side, he rams his cock in, not letting you adjust, pushing in and out of your pussy as he holds up your thigh, ensuring that he can hit into you deeper. With each thrust, you let out a sinful moan, as Yeonjun’s pride and ego skyrocket through the roof. As he picks up the pace he lifts you up, supporting you against the wall by holding up both your thighs. Even then, he didn’t slow down, continuing to slam his cock into you, abusing the top of your cervix over and over.

“You’re so fucking hot, doll. Can’t wait to be cumming on you babe. Can’t wait to ruin you. You want that don’t you?”

The way he thrusts has you feeling his cock all the way in your throat, making deep moans the only thing that come out your mouth.

“Going dumb on my cock, doll? Such a slut aren’t you?”

He rams into you even faster as you feel your orgasm getting closer. Your hole now sensitive as you feel the knot in your stomach build.

“Yeonjun! I’m gonna cum!” You scream, wanting to reach your high. M

You let out one last moan as the orgasmix wave ripples through your entire body, leaving goosebumps on your skin. Yeonjun rides out your high before pulling out and pulling his own spurts of cum onto your T-shirt which you hasn’t removed. Your favourite black T-shirt was now stained with his cum, not knowing if a round of washing would help.

You collapse as your legs were physically unable to hold you up but before you reach the ground, Yeonjun’s arms catch you, supporting your waist, helping you remain standing.

“Fuck, you’re so hot. And you’re such a slut for me. If only I knew sooner. Would have fucked your brains out much sooner.”

You finally fell. After 2 years of holding it back, you finally fell for Yeonjun’s charm and his lustful aura. Any sense of disappointment you would have felt was overridden with the fact that you had gotten the best sex of your life from this man you despise.

#yeonjun smut #yeonjun hard hours #txt smut #txt hard hours #dom yeonjun #yeonjun ff #txt ff #yeonjun drabble #txt drabble

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dstryvampres · 5 months ago

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drabble or short fic, where the reader is a ballerina and cillian (or any of his other characters) is her teacher and they start an affair??? please arhgggh i love your fics!

Doll Parts

Cillian Murphy x Ballerina!Reader

Warnings: age gap(reader is 20, cillian is late 30s early 40s), power imbalance, smoking mention, fingering

Word count: 2k

A/N: thank you so so so much for the request ! this honestly was a prompt i’d never thought of but really just ended up loving :)

You had essentially been raised by your ballet studio. Years and years spent in the small confines of the studio, moving from the soft and simple preschool classes to the advanced stages. As you moved up your class sizes became smaller and smaller, and your teacher’s became stricter. Finally, as you prepare to audition for the role of Copelia in your company’s spring ballet production. You have been given the honour of training one on one with one of the studio’s ballet instructors. Unfortunately for you, they had paired you up with Mr. Murphy, a teacher you had during your late teens that you found distracted you far more than he actually helped you. You were infatuated with him ever since you first walked into that class with him at 16, and it stayed that way now as he watched you stretch before practice, four years later. His blue eyes were haunting at points, analysing every inch of you at almost every second you were in this practice space together. At almost every moment he tore you apart with his eyes, and you couldn’t get enough of him.

Every night you left the studio to go back home you continually thought of just him. The small touches on the waist as he adjusted your posture, his smooth voice as he whispered praises in your ear, and how you longed for him to press his lips against yours. God, how you longed for him to do anything to soothe the fire that he lit in your body.

Mr. Murphy clapped his hands together, startling you out of your thoughts.

“Okay. Do you think you’re ready to run through the routine from the top, one last time?” Mr Murphy asks, walking over to stand in front of the mirrors

You nod, picking yourself off from the floor and to the centre of the room. Taking a deep breath in before going into the starting position.

“One, two, three, four,” Mr Murphy counts in, clapping his hands in a steady beat as you move through the routine.

Your legs still ache from practice before your break as you start up the routine, but as any dancer at your level would, you work through it. Focusing elsewhere on your breathing and the steps. Gentle leaps, spins, and footwork move you around the fake stage you’re on to the beat of Mr Murphy’s clapping. You’re doing well enough that he hasn’t stopped you yet, able to make it through 3/4th of the routine before you hear anything.

“Stop!” Mr Murphy shouts, and you freeze with your hands above your head and a foot off the ground.

He walks over, shoes making soft thumps as he approaches you. The sound stops as you feel a hand settle on your waist, you close your eyes as his other hand moves to the thigh of your raised leg.

“I understand that you’re tired,” Mr Murphy sighs out, directly in your ear, “but you can’t start to get sloppy when it’s almost over. Your work needs to be consistent all the way through sweetheart.”

You want to melt at the pet name, but stay still as he pushes your raised leg upwards a little bit more. His breath fans over your ear and cheek, grabbing ahold of your chin lightly and turning your head to face the mirror with the hand that was once on your waist. His touch is soft, light, and warm, something that will keep you up tonight. Now the two of you are cheek to cheek, it’s so intimate that for a second you falter, but are able to gain your composure quickly. He smiles at your falter and clicks his tongue.

“Look at how I’ve positioned you,” Mr Murphy whispers, the movement of his lips tickling your cheek.

He slowly removes himself from you, but his touch still feels like it’s burned under your skin, like it always does after practice.

“Continue,” he demands when he is situated in front of the mirror once again.

You start from where he left you, pushing through the last minute of your routine with as much energy as you could manage. Finishing up in a wilted position on the ground, breathing heavily as you wait for any sort of feedback from your instructor. A couple seconds pass before you hear a slow clapping from him. Slowly you look up to be met with a warm smile from Mr Murphy, a foreign sense of joy peaking through his normally harsh and critical exterior.

“Well, that was quite wonderful. Dare I say one of the best practices we’ve gotten through so far. If you continue improving like this for the next three weeks you could land a sizeable role,” Mr Murphy says, walking over to you. He sticks out a hand to help you up, and you take it gently.

“Thank you. All my progress is thanks to you,” you reply meekly, not able to look into your instructor's face now. He’s far too close than what is professional, but it’s not like you mind.

“Would you want to go out and get a drink? Just a small celebration, on me,” Mr Murphy asks, whispering it into your ear. A secret you know that if you take in, you won’t be able to back out.

“Yes,” you whisper back, face getting warm with excitement.

He pats you on the shoulder, tracing his hand down your arm and to your hand before squeezing it. Your chest feels tingly and heavy at the action.

“I’ll meet you outside the studio then,” his hand is slowly pulled away from your own before he leaves the room.

You know why Mr Murphy wants to take you out of the studio tonight. It’s the same reason he looks at you with his icy blue eyes in that way, it’s the same reason why his touch lingers on you for far longer than necessary, and why it’s only you he ever praises and compliments. Still, you wonder if you’re right about your hunch as you meet your instructor outside your studio tonight. He stands leaned up under a light post in the snow, a cigarette between his lips. As soon as he sees you he takes one last puff before squashing it on the ground.

“Hello,” He greets, offering a sly smile to you. His cheeks and ear tips are red from the cold, you almost feel guilty about making him wait for you out here.

“Hi.” You don’t voice your guilt to him, too worried about embarrassing yourself.

“You’re one of my best students,” Mr Murphy states, stepping closer as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I think you’re one of the best dancers at the studio.”

Now he’s so close that the condensation of your breath is mixing together with his. Forming a big cloud above your heads each time either of you take a breath. You stare into his eyes for a couple seconds, searching for what he means by any of this. He smells of cigarette smoke and vanilla. A hand cups your cheek.

“Are you cold?” He offers as a horrible excuse for his close proximity and the hand on your cheek. You both know this, so he leans in slowly, and your eyes flutter shut.

His lips are pressed against your own, softly, gently, like if he pushes any harder against you you’ll shatter. Slowly he pulls away, eyes scanning your face for any discomfort. This time it’s you that pulls him into a kiss, hungrier and harder than the last one. You both pull away.

“I am a pretty good bartender myself,” is all Mr Murphy has to say to get you to follow him back to his apartment.

You walk with haste beside him, arms brushing against one another, almost, the whole way there. Once you get into the elevator he’s already unzipping your jacket and kissing you again, hot and passionate. You know years of longing for him are being released on your end tonight.

Soon enough you’re sitting criss cross on your dance instructors couch, taking in the fairly nice space. Mr Murphy comes to sit beside you after he’a put away your coat. His hand comes to rest on your upper thigh, rubbing it softly and slowly. You bat your eyelashes at him and he leans in to kiss you again, this time you get enough courage to slip your tongue into his mouth. His hands settle on your waist and direct you into his lap to sit. Pulling back from the kiss just so he can stare at you for a brief second, perched upon his lap, before bringing you back into the kiss.

His kisses alternate between your lips and your neck, filling you with hot desire as you trace up and down his torso with your hands. In return Mr Murphy slides his hands under your skirt, toying at your panties underneath.

“Do you want me to finger you baby?” He prys, biting at your ear to punctuate the sentence.

“Yes,” you breath out, grinding down against his lap.

His lips are back on yours once again, pushing you off his lap and into the cushions of his couch. You shudder as he starts to trace your slit through your panties, only able to release now just how wet you are. Spreading your legs open to try to tell him to start fingering you already. The message seems to come across, as he flips the front of your skirt up and pulls your panties down your legs.

Mr Murphy breaks from the kiss to stare at your pussy, spreading it open with his fingers and toying around your wet hole. You whine, bucking your hips up demanding more. He clicks his tongue as he looks back up at you, but still goes back to kissing you. Sliding a digit up and down your pussy, gathering your wetness before sliding a finger in.

You gasp into his mouth at the finger, feeling him smile at your reaction. He pumps it lazily in and out of your wet hot cunt. Not going deep enough, it makes you want so much more. He slides in a second finger, earning him a moan from you. Now with two fingers inside of you, he finger fucks you properly.

He sets a steady pace, hitting different spots inside you each time until he finally hits the spot that has you moaning into his mouth with every push of his fingers. His fingers are long and thick, something you’ve craved for so long to be inside of you. Nights of dreaming about gagging on his fingers, and about him making you cum on them has now come true.

“Do you like this sweetheart? You like how I finger your dirty wet hole?” Mr Murphy asks, speeding up his pace.

You let out a moan in response, nodding your head as your eyes roll back. Your hands look for purchase somewhere, one lands on the couch and the other on his bicep. Mr Murphy’s fingers feel so nice inside you, the way he fingers you brings you to as close to heaven as you’ll get. You squirm around as he speeds up, feeling the heat in your lower stomach increase with every pump on his fingers into your cunt. His heavy breathing just pushes you further to your release.

Mr Murphy’s thumb reaches up to your clit, rubbing small fast circles into the bundle of nerves. As soon as his thumb came to brush your clit, you knew you had seconds to go before you were tumbling over the edge.

“Cum for me sweetheart,” Mr Murphy says, looking at your face contorted in pleasure.

His words finally push you over the edge as you cum all over your dance instructor's fingers. Gasping and moaning loudly, as your hips buck upwards a couple times. You lay on his couch for a couple seconds, breathing heavily as you try to compose yourself. Mr Murphy removes his fingers slowly from you, grabbing a tissue from the coffee table to wipe his hands off. The embarrassment of the situation comes back to you as you try to cover your pussy with your hands.

“There's nothing to be embarrassed by now,” Mr Murphy lets out a dry chuckle.

#.dstryreq #dstryvampres #cillian murphy #fanfic #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #cillian smut #cillian fanfic #cillian murphy x y/n

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leclarifies · 17 days ago

Text

off the grid — II

✰ max verstappen x !driver reader ✰

summary: you strived for nothing but perfection. nothing less was expected from you. being a female formula one driver made it even harder for you to make mistakes. you figured that dating max, your biggest rival yet, wasn't a mistake...right...?

genre: kinda slow-burn? mostly angst, eventual fluff at the end.

wc: 5k

a/n: hello everyone! sorry for the slight delay in posting this part, i was super busy yesterday and couldn't proofread this part. please do let me know if there are any spelling / grammar errors in this part. all of the other parts of this fic will go in the masterlist <3 thank u so much for reading

PREVIOUS PART ✰ NEXT PART MASTERLIST ✰ ASK ME ANYTHING ✰ REQUEST A FIC!

“nothing happened in the way i wanted, every corner of this house is haunted.” - gracie abrams, ‘i miss you, i’m sorry’

——— ₊ ⊹ BAHRAIN GRAND PRIX

"kelly, stop it. we're in public— what are you doing?" max was exhausted with his relationship with his girlfriend. she always made his personal life quite tiring with all of her demands. she harshly pushed him away, not wanting to hear anything else from her boyfriend.

max always tried his best in his relationship with kelly, always listening to her demands, always trying to make him happy, always trying to appease whatever demon that was inside of kelly for the day. but it seemed like his actions were not enough for her.

"no max, i'm done. if you don't want to put a ring on my finger, then it's over," kelly had tears in her eyes before she turned her back on max.

with those last words, she stormed off.

and max didn't bother to chase after her anymore because he, too, was done with their relationship. it was his last straw.

he didn't really understand how it started but kelly started becoming obsessed with the idea of marriage. he had told her in the middle of their relationship that he wasn’t looking for someone to marry. personally he didn’t really want to get married, it came with too much legal issues that he wasn’t looking forward to in case their relationship fell apart.

"what if we got married max?" kelly rubbed her dainty fingers over max's knuckles, max stiffens up at the question before looking at her with a sigh, his look was all that she needed for her to roll her eyes and look away, snatching her hand that was lovingly holding his own.

max didn't understand where this was coming from, he had explained his boundaries very early in the relationship, that he, himself, didn't really understand the concept of marriage or want it.

"love, we talked about this. i don't want to get married, i like things how they are," max touched her forearm, but she moved away from him, a bit too harshly for his liking.

the comfortable atmosphere built around their shared apartment had shattered, and all there was left was the fragments of that comfortable space.

"what if p grows up and she asks, 'mommy, why do you not have a ring around your finger?' then what max?" kelly snapped, standing up with her back faced towards him, not wanting to be near his proximity. max looked away from her, anywhere but her.

"p will understand as long as you explain it to her, why are you so worried about that? she doesn't understand other than the games you install on her ipad and coloring. i seriously don't understand where this is coming from," max tried to stand up and touch her shoulder but she turned around roughly and glared at him.

"it does matter if she understands, what were you thinking?" kelly raised her voice, now getting angrier by the second, "i'm going to be forty soon and still no ring on my finger max, time's ticking and i'm going to have what i want or it's over."

he had caught wind about people on social media bullying her, how they called her a groomer when she approached him when he was young and he didn’t know how to feel about it.

they all called the relationship "inappropriate" and kelly preying on a young driver, but he didn't think it was at the time. now, he was starting to realize that maybe it was.

maybe she wanted things from him a man her age at the time couldn't give her.

max's mind was clouded when he got in that car at australia, it was hard for him of course. he had a long relationship with kelly but he knew when to stop when he felt tired.

the dnf made it harder on max, fucking engine failure. there were rumors going around, as per usual, on why max decided to dnf that day. a lot of people had assumed it was because of his breakup with kelly but that wasn't the reason but it sure as shit added onto his sour mood.

the season went past and he tried his hardest, scoring points, getting poles, wins. he felt hollow though, he still couldn't get over the break up which was uncharacteristic of him.

max scolded himself sometimes, for loving too much. for giving the people who didn't deserve the love he gave. but sometimes he knew that he was a bit rough around the edges, his personality was a lot and he knew not a lot of people were willing to put up with it.

that included you.

he felt horrible for causing you that much heartbreak but he didn't know how to properly show remorse to you, it was his fault and he knew it. both accidents were his fault now that he looked back and actually thought about what actually happened.

then the incident with you and him, sleeping on him just to find some semblance of comfort.

and for once in his life, he was scared.

not scared that you might hate him even more for trying to comfort you, but more so of the fact that how comfortable he felt when he was comforting you.

but after months of heartbreak, that was the first time he didn't think about kelly.

your rookie year ended on a positive note at least, ferrari had managed to overcome all odds and win the constructor's cup with charles becoming the driver's champion.

on the off-season, as soon as he got home. he entered his apartment he shared with kelly, with her sitting there as if she was waiting for him.

"i'm taking the apartment, you have a lot of money. get yourself a new one."

the words coming out of her mouth were cold, and as if that wasn't enough, she had already packed his things into boxes, thankfully they were labelled and not just strewn about without care.

the first night he had settled into his apartment, he was in his feels. he felt upset, rightfully so. he just got kicked out of his own apartment that he paid for, taken by his, now, ex-girlfriend to live in.

and just his luck, the convenience store down the street (which he thought was going to be open around the clock) was closed.

'why the fuck do these things happen to me when i'm already feeling shitty?' he thought to himself before begrudgingly trudging up the street back to his apartment, letting his feelings out in the elevator, when the elevator doors opened, he was caught off guard by a pretty ferrari driver.

max greeted her with as much warmth as he could muster up, "oh, hi y/n."

"what are you doing in my apartment complex?" were the first things out her lips.

SECOND YEAR ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

you and max never really talked about whatever the fuck happened in that ferrari motorhome that night and you didn't want to. your mental health was already fucked as it is and you didn't want to make it worse for the second season, if you were even getting a seat in the next season.

thankfully, ferrari saw the potential in you and resigned with you for a multi-year contract, up until 2027. surprisingly, you had offers from different teams but refused to meet up with them as you were already signed to the iconic red team.

it was finally the winter break and everyone was off races until next year, it felt good. not having to attend multiple parties every month and socialize with people that you really didn't give a fuck about but needed their networking in order to boost your career.

being a female in motorsports was hard, you had never shared your hardships with anyone. knowing that they probably didn't have the same difficulties as you getting through the ranks.

you remembered the taunts, the teasing looks from the boys you were competing against in the karting days but those looks and the taunts gave you enough to propel you to the spot you had now.

"oh look, it's the girly girl driving today. must be an easy race for you ey?" one of the friends of the boy that you were competing today taunted you near enough so you could hear.

it hurt. hearing those words hurt.

you were 14.

and was just discovering the world of misogyny that the motorsports world was filled with.

the competing driver just laughed and shrugged him off.

your dad had looked at you softly before bending down to look you in the eye, he had heard all of the taunts, seen all of the looks and knew how down you felt in your career, but he always encouraged you to push forward.

"you got this champ, ignore them. you are miles a better driver than he is, go wipe the floor with his ass."

and that you did.

you continued to wipe the floor with his ass that race, the smug look on your face was priceless as you saw him look at you angrily and storm off to cry to his daddy about how a girl just beat him in a race.

the plan was stay at home in monaco until someone dragged you out, but a late night snack sounded nice.

begrudgingly listening to your grumbling stomach, you decided to get up and head to the convenience store down the street of the lavish apartment complex you lived at in monaco.

it felt refreshing just to be out and about in monaco without a care in the world what strategies and what upgrades ferrari would bring the next weekend. it wasn't the hardest job in the world but you told yourself that you deserved this long-needed break.

you exited your apartment and locked it, making sure to bring all you needed, your phone and apartment keys and access keycard. your eyes travelled to the door in front of you with lots of folded but used boxes in front of them.

you wondered if someone had moved in but pushed it to the back of your mind as you heard your stomach grumble again.

okay maybe ramen doesn't sound too bad right now...

you walked over to the elevator and pressed the button, but before you could, the doors opened and you were surprised to see who you were faced with.

"oh, hi y/n," max breathed out, his eyes were puffy and face was red as if he was just finished crying, you were genuinely concerned as he exited out of the elevator, the words stuck in your throat. you didn't know what to say, so you blurted something out.

"what are you doing at my apartment complex?" it sounded stupid, and you quickly reprimanded yourself for it inside.

max locked eyes with you before letting out a laugh, despite the despair that was lingering in his eyes, "you do know that multiple people can live in an apartment, right? that's what they're supposed to do."

you internally smacked yourself on the head before letting out a small laugh as well, the elevator doors closed as it dinged to another floor. you looked away from max, trying to press the button for the elevator to come back but it was useless.

"were you heading out?" max asked as you didn't answer his last question, getting distracted from the elevator going to another floor. you finally looked back at him and nodded.

"sorry for the stupid question, i just didn't expect you to live here. on the same floor as me, no less," you spoke gently, as if not wanting to stir any unwanted drama off the grid in the off season, "but yeah, i was quite hungry so i wanted to go to the convenience store down the street to get a bite."

"it's not open 24 hours, i just left to go see myself," max shot you a small smile, "i mean, if you don't mind, i have some instant noodles if you want any?"

you wanted to decline, just go back to your apartment, sleep the hunger off but your idiotic self blurted out another stupid response.

"sure."

you were settled into his apartment and on his sofa, turns out it was the one right across from you. he just moved in. you also didn't know that max was a cat dad. having two cats lovingly named sassy and jimmy, named based from clubs located in monaco. you wanted to laugh at the stupidity of the names.

max was in his kitchen cooking up the instant noodles that he promised earlier. his cat, sassy— or was it jimmy? it was hard to tell them apart, they looked the same— was curled up in your lap, purring to its heart's content.

you pet the cat gently, liking the way she— or he?— purred. they sounded a little bit like an f1 car which made you giggle a little.

the sound of two bowls being set down in front of you on the coffee table broke you out of your little trance with the kitty, you looked up to see max's soft smile, sitting on the floor across from you.

"which one is this?" you ask as you point to the cat snoozing on your lap, max looked up from his bowl of instant noodles, before responding.

"that one is sassy," max spoke, grabbing a pair of chopsticks that he left on the table as he set the bowls down earlier, "come eat."

you nod as you sit on the floor, still across from him to take the chopsticks as well and start to dig into the instant noodles. it wasn't the best thing in the world but your stomach thanked you for it.

you both ate in a comfortable silence before jimmy approached you and started playing with the drawstrings of your hoodie, pawing at it and making you smile, "hi there, you like my hoodie?" you giggled as you pet the cat gently pawing and biting on the strings.

"excuse him, he's quite the playful one," max said in between bites of his noodles, you paid it no mind. the cute little bugger already stole your heart.

you continued eating in silence with him before thinking back to how you found him in the elevator, puffy eyed and red faced, you wanted to ask but was scared that it might come off as intrusive.

"if you don't mind me asking, are you okay?" you asked, going against your gut, assuming that he would probably do the same for you if he had found you in the elevator crying, "you looked like you had been crying earlier, is everything okay?"

max, who had his eyes locked onto you when you first asked the question now looked away to another part of the apartment, he took a pause before answering your question.

"i moved into this apartment because i broke up with my girlfriend and... it's just hard," max breathed out, as if the answer was tight in his chest, "we were in a relationship for four years, it's hard to let go of something like that, you know?"

you nod before finishing up your noodles, not really knowing what else to say. max also didn't add on top of what he said earlier.

it was only when you were getting up and go and excuse yourself back into his apartment when he said something, "thank you for the instant noodles max, i think it's time for me to head back to my apartment though."

"i- uh— do you want to watch a movie–? with me? or i mean if you're tired you can head back... i just need a little human company tonight if that's fine with you," max stuttered over his sentences and you couldn't help but find it cute for a moment.

you scolded yourself for a second before making another stupid decision for the night.

"okay."

testing the car felt great, no big problems whatsoever. lap times were more than satisfactory and it was time for bed. you were tired. being an introvert meant that there was limited social battery for people and it meant that it was time for bed.

"what are your thoughts on the car?" charles came up to you after you got out of yours, taking off your helmet and balaclava, you shot him a small smile.

"it feels better than last year, i think it's fine. i just have a small issue with the brakes, but so far it's alright. we'll just have to see in the first race," you spoke to him and he agreed with you about the brakes. they were kind of slow to respond to the touch, you had to tell your mechanics about that.

you off season had spent mostly with your friends and family. the occasional dinner at either your apartment or max's but that was it. you haven't contacted the other drivers, and they didn't either.

you had speculated that maybe it was because you were a woman and they were scared of women— that was a joke.

this round of testing was done in barcelona, catalunya wasn't one of your favorite tracks but you managed. you were excited to try out the car in abu dhabi though, one of your best tracks. scoring good lap times even when you were a rookie.

as you retired the car for the night, you took off your racing gear, gloves, suit and all. you wore a simple sweater and some shorts to get back to the hotel, but what you didn't expect was max to come up to you and talk.

"hey," he waved you over as you were about to leave the track, he was seen in some red bull gear.

of course he was.

"hey max," you waved at him, you didn't know whether to feel comfortable in his presence or awkward, considering you did spend a bit of time with him in the off season.

"how was your car? i saw you flying with charles earlier," max chuckled, you shrugged with a smile on your lips, the car did feel great. he wasn't lying when he said you were flying with charles.

"yeah, great speed and control for this year," you told him, fiddling with the strap of your bag, "how was your car? you got your problems from last year fixed?" you asked him, you had heard him complain about his "wagon" a few times when you guys were spending time with eachother in his apartment.

"unfortunately no, i told them that we're still having the same problems as last year. i guess it's better but it's still not 100%," max had told you before gesturing to the exit, "you wanna walk with me to the hotel?"

you nod and just listening to him talk the entire time you guys were walking to the hotel. you didn't feel like talking and he was the yapper in the dynamic so you let him talk your ear off, you didn't mind though.

"—and imagine! sassy was there, behind the door. staring at me like i did something wrong but she was the one that locked themselves inside of the room. i had a punch a hole in the door to get them. it was ridiculous," max shook his head as you guys entered the hotel lobby.

you just laughed and made your way to the elevators, thinking back to that time when you had found him in your apartment building, puffy eyed. i guess that was the start of the healing in your relationship, no longer angry at him but still feeling a little bitter about your could've been maiden win.

"your cats are adorable, i would forgive them," you had spoken softly to max while pressing the button in order to go to the floor you needed, max rolled his eyes.

"they're lucky i love them," max had scoffed sarcastically, "well, what about you? you don't really talk much about your personal life..."

"there's not much to talk about," you shrug and shove your hands in you pockets, your family dynamic was complicated. people who knew you on a deep personal level knew that and you didn't know whether you were ready to spill that particular can of worms to max just yet.

"my family life is not great, but i have friends to help. that's all i can say for now," you glance at max who had his eyes on you, but he nodded. he knew a thing or two about an unstable relationship with family.

"which floor are you staying at?" you ask him as the elevator dinged, trying to change the subject but not being subtle about it, signaling that it was at the current floor you guys were at, ready to pick you guys up and deliver you to whatever floor you desired.

"the twelfth, you?" max had asked as he stepped into the elevator as soon as its doors opened, you followed suit.

"i am too, i guess the drivers are all put in the same floor for ease," you shrug but max shook his head, objecting your statement.

"usually, it's the teams that decide which floors to put the drivers. it's based off of room availability. coincidentally, we just stay at the same floor," max had corrected you, you didn't say anything back to that. social battery more than dead.

you had thought it would be funny if you guys were placed right across from eachother just like at home. the elevator ride was filled in comfortable silence, you appreciated that it never felt awkward being silent for a period of time with max.

as the elevator dinged once again, you and max exited.

"well, i'm off to bed, goodnight max," you wave him off as he went right and you went left, "i hope you rest well, we have a flight to catch tomorrow."

you had walked away and he had too, but you heard something that made you turn around.

"you wanna fly with me?" max had almost blurted out, now you fully turned to look at him, you guys were quite far from eachother.

"what..?"

"i have a private jet, do you want to fly with me?"

"max, what the hell? why do you have a private jet?"

"just answer the question."

"i'll double check with my manager and give you an answer later," you shook your head, him having a private jet was definitely not something out of his character, but you didn't know. he never brought it up on the late nights you would spend with him.

"alright, goodnight y/n," max had a small smile toying on his lips, he was waving before you rolled your eyes playfully and waved back, turning back around to rest up.

he's insane.

there you were the next day, on a flight straight to abu dhabi sat with max verstappen. no one had asked for a ride with him, so it was just the two of you on the plane with flight crew.

you didn't know whether to thank the gods or to curse them out for ferrari not having booked a flight for you yet last night.

you were chatting with him, about and anything except for your cars or the race upcoming in abu dhabi. you didn't want to think about that right now, you had told him at the start that you were feeling anxious about it and he respected your wishes and didn't talk about it.

as you landed in abu dhabi, ferrari staff were awaiting your arrival. max was hot in pursuit behind you, you figured it would've been nice to talk and say thank you for the flight but one of the ferrari staff present, your pr manager jessica had come up to you to interrupt your train of thought.

"so, y/n. we have some media coverage to do today, you have a few things to say and address," jessica had explained but you looked up at her confused, what did she mean by 'address'?

max was right behind you and gave you a teasing look that said, 'being bombarded with work already?'

you wanted to roll your eyes and laugh.

when did your relationship get that casual?

"can i at least thank max for the flight before you throw me into media duties?" you rubbed your temples as jessica handed you over an ipad filled with things you needed to answer and address.

jessica lets you go with her hands up held in the air, like she was a guilty criminal.

you turn and look at max who was now next to you, "thank you for the flight max, it was nice chatting with you," you told him before he gave you a small smile.

"no problem, call me if you need another flight. i need a new jet buddy anyway, last one told me to fuck off and stole my apartment," he waved you off before walking away, you really wanted to laugh now. he was so silly.

you finally looked over to the ipad before gasping.

address relationship rumors with max verstappen.

what the fuck was happening?

you were on the press conference line up for today, and of course pr responses rolled off your tongue as if you gave a fuck.

you just wanted to drive, why were press conferences so necessary for you to drive?

"last question for l/n before we end the press conference," one of the journalists spoke up as you nodded, mic up on your mouth, ready to give whatever bullshit they wanted to hear, "what is your current status with max verstappen?"

you wanted to vomit.

"sorry, what do you mean by that? can you clarify?"

"rumors are spreading around that you were spotted boarding his private jet, do you have a comment?"

"well, all i can say is that if i was a man, this news wouldn't be happening. i'm just friends with verstappen, nothing more, nothing less. please refrain from asking me ridiculous questions like these, i just want to drive," you had shot back, thinking that the question was ridiculous, all because you were on the same flight as him?

the press conference wrapped him and charles nudged you, a teasing look on his face.

"'i just wanna drive', ey?" charles laughed and you smiled at his teasing look, knowing that it was all in good fun, "nice job at shooting down the journalists. they have no boundaries sometimes."

"thank you, just because i'm a woman," you joked back and charles laughed, "let's make this testing worth it because i want to beat his ass now."

the abu dhabi grand prix weekend was in full swing, the paddock being filled with people here to watch the race or staff from respective teams trying to wrangle their drivers or trying to fetch important people crucial for the race.

fireproofs were on and a ferrari cap was sat atop of your head, waiting for the go ahead of the engineers for you to sit in your car and finally drive.

quali day today, and you were starving for a fight.

"you look so serious, amour," a soft voice spoke up as you tore your gaze away from your car, looking up at the owner of the voice. it was alexandra, charles' girlfriend.

"oh hey, alex," you laughed, stood up and greeted her, "how are you doing? i haven't been seeing you around the paddock," alex hugged you and smiled at you, she was always nice to you, much like her boyfriend.

"yeah, i've been busy with dealing with things at home, how are you? you seem quite eager for today's quali," alex had asked as you laughed, apologizing for your seriousness today.

"i was quite angry at the journalist the other day for bringing up me and verstappen's relationship status. i just want to take pole today. don't mess with an angry woman, right?"

alex would only laugh at your statement, knowing full well that you were right.

"AND WITH THAT L/N MAKES A STATEMENT TO ALL THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE DOUBTED HER IN HER ROOKIE YEAR, SHE TAKES POLEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"let's fucking go anthony!" you screamed into the radio as he informs you that you start first place in tomorrow's race.

"you deserve this, you worked so hard to get up to this point. i'm very proud of you kid," anthony spoke to you through the radio before you pulled into the pits, your side of the garage was awaiting you with full smiles on their faces.

and this is why i race.

you exit the car and you're immediately swarmed with hugs and cheers.

"l/n takes pole, l/n takes pole, l/n takes pole!" were the cheers of your engineers as they lifted you on their shoulders and screamed, the screams in the crowd mixed with the adrenaline of the pole made you smile the widest.

"I TAKE POLE THIS WEEKEND, LET'S FUCKING GO!" you yell on the top of your lungs, your engineers were so happy. everyone was happy.

you were rewriting the history of motorsport by force, whether they liked it or not.

you were one of the first few women to enter f1 and the first woman to take pole ever.

this was your break. this was what you deserved– no, this was what you worked hard for. all those years of people doubting you, telling you that you had no place in the sport, that you didn't know how to drive, that you didn't deserve to drive all because you were a woman. to prove all of your doubters wrong. to tell the world that, hey. i'm here, i'm here to prove every single person wrong.

and as if a weight was lifted off your chest, tears freeflowed onto your cheeks.

i fucking took pole today and i'm gonna win again, and again, and again.

you exhale deeply, it was refreshing to not see any cars in front of you for the first time ever. starting front row, on pole no less was exhilarating.

you weren't going to let this go to waste. you were going to take this opportunity by the balls and turn into your first win.

you felt it in your bones.

"AND FOR THE FIRST TIME THIS SEASON, IT'S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO!"

hi there, an anon had recently informed me that y/n being the first female driver in formula history is actually not accurate in real life, so i edited the parts for off the grid from this point backwards to fix any mistakes in my writing. so sorry for not doing my due diligence and actually researching the history of women being in this sport. looking forward to do better in the future.

- aria 🤍

#leclarifies fics #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x yn #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen angst #max verstappen fluff #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max x reader #verstappen x reader

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halfvalid · 1 year ago

Text

the blade daughter, pt. 1

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 8.3k this part

description: as the daughter of dracule mihawk, you've been living alone at home, unwilling to go out and find a life of your own due to the belief that your father needs you around. but when he sends you off to buy him a jacket, you end up running into a pirate crew—and a particular swordsman—that end up changing how you feel.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, sexual harassment (from nameless OC), slow burn

author’s note: finally she's here! i'm posting it spaced out because i don't want to overload you all with a 23.6k fic in one post... IMPORTANT NOTE: i did some research from the animanga for mihawk's personality, weapons, and home, but this is still very much only a fic for OPLA and not the other iterations of the material.

the fic is not exactly only a romance; it focuses a lot on the reader's personal character development along with her relationship with mihawk too. i hope you guys don't mind! i kind of lost the plot lol.

reader is mihawk's biological daughter, but is stated to take after her mother and doesn't bear similarity to mihawk. so the fic is poc reader friendly!

Your dad was late to dinner again.

To be fair, Dracule Mihawk didn’t exactly follow a schedule. He was fickle—back when you’d been a girl, he’d been around all the time, because although he was a lot of things, Mihawk was not an absentee parent. But as you’d grown older, he started being less strict, leaving you alone for days and weeks until you’d finally matured into an adult. Mihawk spent most of his time away from the house, now—but you agreed to have dinner together every week, no matter what part of the ocean he was in.

And he was late.

You’d started cooking the meal early, only for Mihawk to not show up when everything was ready. Or after everything was ready. Or even when everything had cooled, and you’d eaten your fill, and waited in your chair for him to arrive. He finally showed up a quarter past two in the morning, the doors of the dining room bursting open to announce his entrance.

You cracked an eye open from where you’d been dozing in your seat. “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, darling,” Mihawk said, taking his hat off and bowing with a flourish. He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. “I got a little busy. Garp had me deal with a pirate in the East Blue.”

You made a face at him as he sat down to eat. “Could’ve at least let me know. Den den mushi exist for a reason.”

“Ah, well, my apologies.” Mihawk sighed, dramatic as ever—you couldn’t find it in you to be mad at him for more than a few minutes, though, something he knew well. “It would’ve gone quickly had some upstart not challenged me to a duel. So I had to spend the night.” He tsked, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “And then I went to visit an old friend. Red-haired Shanks.”

“I remember him.” You got up from your seat, moving to the kitchen to rifle in the icebox for a popsicle. “Another duel? What’s this week’s body count?”

“You know I don’t tally such trifling matters, sweetheart,” Mihawk said. You shrugged, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen to watch him start eating. “This pasta is cold.”

“Wasn’t cold four hours ago,” you said, languidly licking at your popsicle. “No sympathy here, dad.”

“Fine,” Mihawk said. “Anyway, I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of the man. Tall, green hair, three swords.” He wrinkled his nose. “Said people called him the Demon.”

“Roronoa Zoro,” you affirmed, slipping into the chair beside your father. “Scariest pirate hunter in the East Blue. You killed him?”

“Clearly not much of a pirate hunter, considering he’s a pirate now,” Mihawk said, the scrape of his knife and fork ringing around the room. “Joined the man I Garp sent me after, this little boy in a straw hat. And no. I let him and his crew go.”

You paused, voice faltering as you registered the words. “You let him live?”

“Yes. He was rather interesting. I expect he’ll come find me later,” Mihawk answered. You stared at him, still baffled. Your father was a lot of things, but a man of mercy was not one of them. Your earliest memory of him exacting his power over others was when you’d been two, watching from your crib as he speared the nanny for calling you a brat. A touching gesture, for certain, but still. “But enough about work. How have you been, little hawk?”

“Bored,” you said with a sigh. “It’s so dull on this island.”

Mihawk looked amused. “You could leave. I’m not restricting you here anymore.” Back in your teen years, Mihawk hadn’t let you leave the house—something about enemies wanting to kill his daughter or whatever else nonsense. He’d trained you personally, though, so you were nearly as fearsome as your father—able to beat anyone in combat in the blink of an eye. “You don’t have to stay.”

“The house would get all dusty,” you protested, lips tugging into a line. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t done any exploring. Mihawk had taken you to all four seas throughout your adolescence, and you’d taken vacations to everywhere of importance. You just—didn’t have much of a point to leave, really. You very much preferred not to, something tying you firmly to the island, to your castle. “And besides, where would I even go?”

“I hear the East Blue is interesting this time of year,” Mihawk said. “You could venture around here, but…” He shrugged. “The Grand Line is dangerous.”

You made a face. “I’ve lived here my entire life. I can take care of myself.”

“Certainly,” Mihawk agreed easily. “But it’s simply not worth it. You really should get out more, dear. It’s not good for your health.”

“Maybe,” you said, but you weren’t very enthusiastic about it. “Here, I’ll clean Yoru for you while you finish eating.” You moved around the back of his chair, lifting his sword off the jacket he hadn’t bothered to shed from his back. You grimaced upon seeing a line of dried blood along the blade. “Dad.”

“Sorry, dear,” Mihawk said, and you rolled your eyes, carrying the sword over to the living room. You set Yoru down with a heavy thud, pulling out a box of materials. Mihawk came over to watch you, one arm propped against the doorway as his aureate eyes gazed down as you worked.

Compared to your dad, you looked relatively normal. You’d always taken after your mother—a mysterious woman you barely had any memories of—and the relation between the two of you was never immediately obvious. The fact your eyes were plainly normal instead of bearing the golden hawk eyes Mihawk had was another factor added to that, too.

You pulled out a bottle of oil, pouring it generously over Yoru’s blade before grabbing a cloth to carefully wipe it with. “Where in the East Blue?” you asked abruptly, not looking up. Mihawk’s fork clinked along the ceramic of his bowl, presumably surprised you’d actually consider the offer of leaving.

“Well, I could send you out to run some errands if you wish. I’ve got some things to attend to,” Mihawk optioned. “There’s this one store in Loguetown with a rather nice jacket I’ve had my eye on.”

You shot him a disbelieving look. “You want me to go to the East Blue to buy you a jacket.”

Mihawk shrugged. “My birthday’s coming up.”

“No, it’s not.” You slid your rag along the edge of Yoru’s blade, folding it in half before wiping the entire thing again to ensure there was no grime left. “Finished. Maybe I’ll just stay—”

Mihawk gave you a look.

“Fine. Loguetown it is,” you said with a sigh. “Don’t give me a crew. I’ll just take one of the sloops. I’ll get your dumb jacket for you.” You got up, tossing the cloth over a shoulder to hand wash later. “I’ll leave later today.”

Mihawk clicked his tongue. “You’re so enthusiastic, darling. I can practically see the excitement oozing off of you.”

You rolled your eyes, moving past him to go up to your room. “Short trip,” you said. “No more than a couple of days.”

“The little hawk, so incited to leave the nest.”

“Shut up.”

Mihawk had complied with your wishes, as when you woke up the next morning, he had already prepared a sloop for you to board alone. You packed some of your things, not being too fussy about the clothing or other objects, knowing that the boat was already well-stocked on its own. Mihawk waited to send you off, though you knew he probably had affairs to attend to by now.

“Be good, darling,” he said, while you were loading up the last of your stuff. Just like your father, you preferred to wear your sword on your back; a present he’d given you at the age of thirteen. “I’ll call you. I’ve got business in the South Blue.”

“Have fun,” you said, and he kissed the back of your hand before pushing you off.

Loguetown was just how you’d remembered it, buzzing with civilians and pirates alike. The stores were plentiful, and filled to the brim with customers—it was all a little overwhelming compared to the peace and quiet you were used to. Still, it wasn’t a bad place to stay for a few weeks, and you might as well take your time there.

You slung your coat on as you exited the docks, glancing around the town in search of something to do first. Since you weren’t especially interested in retrieving a jacket for your father just yet, you beelined to the nearest tavern to grab something to eat. It was a lot easier traveling without Mihawk at your side—as much as you loved him, he had the habit of attracting both trouble and fear wherever he went, and he was near impossible to go out with.

The tavern was full, but not too crowded, and you managed to slip over to the bar without much trouble. It seemed to mostly consist of pirates—rough men with flowing jackets and holsters of guns and swords at their hip, clustered together in groupings that clearly proved their alliances with each other. You were one of the only patrons who was alone.

You gestured for the barkeep, and she bustled over from where she was serving a particularly ragtag group of pirates. They were mismatched, colors oddly paired—a girl with neon orange hair, a short man with a straw hat, one wearing a flowery shirt and goggles and the last man dressed in clothes far too formal for a bar. “What can I get for you?” she asked, a thick brogue dragging down her words.

You told her your drink order, still eyeing the group. The barkeep followed your vision and let out a sigh. “Don’t bother. Three men have already tried to capture him for the bounty. Broke half my furniture. And we got a rule here, anyway—no fightin’.”

“Does he have a bounty?” you asked with a frown. She scoffed.

“Does he ever. Thirty million berry, child. Highest in the East Blue.” She shook her head. “That crew won’t let anyone touch ‘im. Hell, I think his first mate’s still outside cleaning up the bodies.” She sighed again. “Well, I’ll have that drink out for you in a moment.”

You nodded, slipping into the closest available chair. Now that you were paying attention, you could see practically every pair of eyes fixed on the group—specifically, on the man in the center wearing the straw hat.

Before you could ask another question, the door to the tavern opened, and a lean, green-haired man filled the doorway. You glanced over at the barkeep, a flash of recognition in your eyes. “That’s Roronoa Zoro.”

“Aye,” she said, setting your drink in front of you. “If there’s someone who might be able to cash in that bounty, it’d be him. But believe it or not, he’s with the Straw Hat.”

You watched as the pirate hunter made his way to the table the others sat at. The glint of his famed three earrings reflected off the tavern lights, and the sword on his hip swayed as he walked—but there was only one rather than the three you’d heard tales about. “Yeah, my father said something of the sort.”

The barkeep hummed, turning to attend to a pirate who’d taken a seat at your left. “And who’s your father, lass?”

“Dracule Mihawk.”

The pirate beside you raised his head, turning towards you in almost alarm. Beside him, his crew quieted, and the barkeep glanced up to meet your eyes. “Dracule Mihawk?” she repeated incredulously.

“He sent me to buy him a coat,” you said. “I don’t suppose you know where any shops are around here?”

“Er, there’s a shop off main you might want to see,” the barkeep said, eyes flickering over to the pirate crew that had changed their focus to you. “Anything else for you, then?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you said, taking another sip of your drink. She nodded, leaving the bar in favor of moving over to another table. The pirate beside you turned slowly, stool scraping against the floor as he sneered down at you.

“Dracule Mihawk’s daughter, eh?” he asked. “Care if I buy you a drink?” Behind him, the rest of his crew tittered. You just sighed.

“Sorry, my father doesn’t let me go out with anyone who hasn’t bested me in combat.” You knocked back the rest of your drink, glancing up and down the pirate’s figure. He didn’t look like much—two pistols strapped to the hip, a longsword on the other, a raggedy leather jacket with a hat to match.

The pirate scoffed. “Please,” he said, though you could see his skin turning rapidly crimson. “I doubt you’re even related to him. No hawk eyes or nothing.”

You met his gaze, lips tightening into a line. “I take after my mother.”

“Biggest lie I ever heard, aye, crew?” The pirate turned back towards the rest of his men, and they cheered in agreement. You huffed out a sigh, trying your very best not to turn combative—despite everything, you were proud of your relationship with your father, and anyone trying to call you a liar for your lineage just left you vexed and angry. Before you could step away, though, the pirate turned towards the rest of the tavern, apparently having had a bit too much liquor. He raised his voice, practically yelling now. “Oi! This girl thinks she’s the daughter of Dracule Mihawk!”

Out of your peripheral vision, you saw Roronoa Zoro look up, the rest of his crew glancing over at you at the words. You were distracted within a second, the pirate shoving your arm. “Hey, don’t look away, girl. I’m trying to—”

You grabbed onto his wrist, nails razor-sharp as they embedded into his skin. “Don’t touch me.”

“Oh, you think you’re tough, do you?” The pirate yanked his hand out of your grip. “Did your daddy teach you how to fight, huh? Think you can beat me?”

“I know I can beat you,” you answered. The pirate reached for his sword, then, fingers tightening around the hilt.

“Alright, let’s make it a bet then. You beat me, I believe your claim about being Mihawk’s daughter.” His lips curled back into an ugly sneer, and you debated stepping out of the conversation and just going off to find that shop for your dad’s coat anyway. Fights like these were never worth getting into, and you really didn’t want to break any more of the barkeep’s furniture after she’d let out her annoyances to you.

Before you could, though, the pirate opened his big mouth once again.

“I beat you, and you go to bed with me.”

You were whipping your sword out before you could even think, red flashing in your vision as you scraped your blade out from the holster on your back. The metal gleamed under the lights, white steel bright as day as you leveled it in your hand. It wasn’t the largest weapon, a perfectly balanced cut-and-thrust spadroon with a golden hilt wrapped in white ribbon. You tightened your grip on the handle.

“I beat you,” you hissed, voice low, “and you’re dead.”

He lunged for you, pulling his sword out in one solid stroke and meeting yours in a loud clang. You shot an apologetic look towards the barkeep, spinning on your back leg and kicking the pirate away. The force caused him to stumble, sword skittering to the side as you shoved it off your blade.

One of his crew members had cocked a gun to your head, and you spun your swords toward him, blade cutting through the metal like it was butter. The rest of the crew stepped back, one or two of them lunging for you. You parried all of their attacks, shoving them to the ground until they stopped trying to fight.

The captain had gotten up, a fierce snarl upon his face as you slammed your blade down towards him. He blocked it with his sword, and then went for various attacks towards your figure—you dodged each one of them, parrying them easily as you moved backwards. At the last one, you used your weight to buck the sword back in his direction, and he stumbled again.

You ducked down, sweeping him off his feet with a well-aimed kick to his shins, and he fell, sword clattering out of reach as he dropped flat on his back. You towered over him, pointing the edge of your blade at his throat.

“You want me to go outside to kill him?” you asked. The barkeep sighed.

“If you don’t mind, lass.”

“Not at all.” You bent over, grabbing firmly onto the pirate’s shirt and yanking him upwards. His crew made a move towards you, but you just shoved your sword in their direction, and they stepped away. You spun your sword’s hilt around in your hand with a flourish, then started dragging the captain out the tavern door.

“No—wait—let me go,” the pirate begged, once you dropped him to the gravel outside and moved your sword to his throat again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean it—you’re a pretty girl, that’s all—”

“I don’t date men who can’t beat me in combat,” you said coolly. “Lower your expectations.” With that, you spun your sword again, sliding it back on the holster of your jacket. “I’ll let you live just this once. If you ever make any comments towards a woman again—”

“I get it. I’m sorry,” the man said, scrambling to his feet. You just eyed him.

“I need another drink.”

The tavern was dead silent when you returned to your seat, gingerly sitting back down on the stool you’d first occupied. “Another drink, if you don’t mind,” you said to the barkeep, and she nodded. A moment passed as she filled your mug, and then she asked—

“Is Dracule Mihawk really your father?”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, taking the drink she offered and taking a swig. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the Straw Hat pirate and his crew muttering amongst themselves. One of them nudged Roronoa Zoro in the side, and he grimaced, the loose shirt he wore parting with the motion. You caught a glimpse of bandages, wound tight with blood seeping through a familiar line. Yoru’s doing.

Zoro stood up, making his way over to the bar beside you. He propped his elbows on the table, but he didn’t sit, nodding at the barkeep. “Another round for my friends,” he said. His voice was quieter than you’d expected; a low mutter and almost soft in timbre. He glanced over at you, eyes flickering down and up again before he spoke. “I tried to kill your father.”

“Yeah, he told me,” you said. “Roronoa Zoro. What happened to your other two swords?”

Zoro scoffed. “Your dad.”

“He can be a little dramatic sometimes,” you said apologetically. He glanced over you again.

“You don’t look much like him.” He paused. “Figured I’d know if Mihawk had a daughter.”

“I take after my mother, and he’s very overprotective,” you said, getting just the slightest bit annoyed about everyone questioning your parentage. The barkeep returned then, sliding five beers across the table over to Zoro, and you stood up. “Now if you’d excuse me, I have some shopping to do.”

You exited the tavern after paying your tab, wandering around the streets of Loguetown to find the closest clothing store. Your father’s style was ridiculously grand, so it’d be something in the nicer branch of the city—you had just entered your best guess when you pulled out a shell phone, pushing the little snail into your ear and calling your father’s number.

He picked up on the first ring. “What is it, darling?”

“Did you have a specific coat in mind?” You glanced through a row of black leather, trying to find one that’d match Mihawk’s liking. “I’m at this place called Lady Tide’s Dressing Boutique. It’s the bougiest place I could find.”

“Lady Tide’s would be correct,” Mihawk said. “I trust your taste. Pick something I’d like.”

“You better be paying me back for this,” you threatened, turning the corner as you spoke. You jumped back in surprise, letting out a squeak as the Straw Hat pirate from before appeared right in front of you, a grin stretching up his face.

Mihawk’s laugh crackled through the line at your surprise. “Get startled, dear?”

“The pirate Garp sent you after is stalking me,” you deadpanned. The Straw Hat pirate’s grin only widened. “I’ll call you back.”

You hung up, taking the den den mushi out of your ear and back into its case. “What?”

“You’re a really good fighter,” the Straw Hat said brightly. “I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m going to be King of the Pirates. You should think about joining my crew!”

“I—” you stared at him in disbelief, mind reeling from the whiplash of his words. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not a pirate.”

Luffy tilted his head to the side in question. “But your dad is Mihawk.”

“That doesn’t make me a pirate. I just stay at home for the most part,” you said. Luffy continued following you around the store, however, even as you stepped past him to browse more jackets. You glimpsed the rest of his crew hanging around the store, though none seemed to do any actual shopping. You figured Lady Tide’s was probably out of their price range. “Why are you still following me?”

“I think you should join my crew,” Luffy repeated. “Have you ever been to the Grand Line? That’s where we’re headed next.”

You gave him a look. “I live in the Grand Line.”

“Whoa,” Luffy breathed. “Well, you must know all about it, then!”

You turned away from him, picking a jacket off the rack in front of you and appraising it. Golden buttons, long tailcoat, wide lapels—not really Mihawk’s taste. You set it back. “Not really,” you finally answered. “Like I said, I stay at home for the most part. Haven’t done much exploring.”

“Don’t you want to?” Luffy asked, taking a step closer to you. You flinched. “Your dad’s one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea! You should be going out and adventuring, not just staying at home and doing whatever Mihawk tells you to!”

“Don’t,” you snapped, voice low. “I stay home because I want to. Not because my dad forces me to.” Your words bore no lie, but still, there was a rumble of uncertainty deep in your gut. Mihawk had always been supportive, but pirating had always been his thing. You preferred the solace of your own home, and there was no point in adventuring when Mihawk had seen it all before.

“I’m just saying, what do you even do all day?” Luffy asked with a quirk of the lip. “Stay home and clean? Go out once in a while to buy groceries or get stuff for your dad?” He gestured at the coat you were holding, and you flushed, shoving it back onto the rack. “Isn’t it boring? Don’t you want more than such an average life?”

“I’m perfectly happy with my life right now, thank you,” you snapped. “Go preach to someone else.”

Luffy had stopped walking, then, looking at you with an almost sympathetic expression on his face. “Living isn’t the same as thriving, you know,” he said. “You should go out. Find adventure. Aren’t there things you want to know? Questions you want answered?”

“Luffy.” You turned to see Roronoa Zoro move to his captain’s side, head dipping as he spoke to him. His tone was quiet, but you could still overhear— “Leave her alone. We’ve got business.”

Luffy looked dejected at that, but he agreed, bowing his head towards you before turning to the rest of his crew. They’d gathered by the mouth of the store, engaged in their own various activities as they waited. You watched Luffy turn to leave, words climbing up your throat even as you tried to swallow them down. “Wait!”

Luffy turned, that bright smile reappearing on his face. “What?”

“I want to know one thing,” you said, taking a step closer to the captain and his first mate. You glanced up at Zoro, who met your gaze. His face seemed carved of steel, skin bearing no grimace, eyes betraying nothing. “Why did my father let you live?”

Zoro looked away, and you realized he probably didn’t know the answer himself. Before you could speak again, though, Luffy interrupted.

“Because Zoro’s the best,” he declared, capturing your attention away from the injured swordsman. He slapped Zoro’s bicep with a heavy thud, and you were surprised when the other man didn’t even flinch. “And he’s gonna be better than Mihawk one day. He’s going to defeat him in a duel and take his title and become—”

“The world’s greatest swordsman,” Zoro finished. The words were muttered under his breath, clearly to himself rather than intending for you to hear.

You watched them for a moment before finally turning away. “Okay,” you said. “Good luck with that.”

Luffy stared at you for a moment longer, but Zoro was already turning away and walking towards the rest of the crew. There was an unsettling feeling in your gut, one you tried to squash. Whatever—you had better things to do than worry about some Straw Hat pirate and a retired pirate hunter.

You returned to your browsing, looking through various jacket designs until you finally fell across one you were certain your father liked. It was ridiculously expensive, but your father’s taste had always been so—you purchased it without a second thought, slinging it across a shoulder and returning to your sloop for the rest of the day.

To your great disappointment, the Straw Hat pirate’s words continued to echo throughout your head. His demeanor was off-putting, to say the least—the extreme amounts of candor and cheeriness he had made for a disorienting combination. Even as you tried to stop thinking about his terrifyingly honest words, you couldn’t. Don’t you want more than such an average life?

You sighed, mood irritable from the day's events. You’d returned to your sloop and hadn’t done much of anything for a few hours—past having a meal and cleaning up your boat, there was nothing to do. You mulled over your options, wondering if you shouldn’t just start the journey back home. But Luffy’s words came back to you.

“I need a drink,” you muttered, donning your coat and leaving to attend the first bar you could find.

You went someplace ritzy this time, near the peak of Loguetown where neon lights glimmered in the dark hour. It was crowded, and music blasted through the bar, pounding bass nearly making the floor reverberate. You slipped inside without much trouble, squeezing through the crowd and making way for the bar at the other end of the room.

You bought yourself a drink, knocking it back in just a few gulps. There were marines patrolling around in the building, although none of them seemed too keen on completing any of their duties. Pirates walked around freely too, but these ones were more dignified than the ones you’d seen in the tavern at town.

“You hear Straw Hat Luffy’s here at Loguetown right now?” someone muttered to your right. You glanced over with a furtive gaze to see who was speaking—two men, dressed in fine silks and coats. Swords dangled from their hips. Pirates, maybe, or pirate hunters. “His ship’s docked over by south port.”

“You’re not going to try and nab him, are you?” the other pirate hunter asked, fingers pinched around a thin glass of something. “That bounty’s hefty, but fighting them’ll be…”

“I’m getting a bunch of hunters together,” the first one said. “We’ll split the bounty. At midnight, once the whole crew’s asleep. I followed the navigator; seems they’re not leaving until the morning.”

“Thirty million split between many isn’t much.”

“Well.” The hunter made a vague gesture, a smirk playing at his lips. “I doubt we’ll all be alive by the end of the night, if you know what I mean.”

“Right.” The second hunter downed the rest of his drink. “I’ll be there. Where’s the rendezvous point?”

“Slip forty at south port. Come at midnight,” the first one replied. “My boat. Theirs is at fifty-two.”

You turned away, knocking back the last of your drink before setting the glass back down on the counter. Your mind reeled, and you pulled out a pocket watch to check the time. Nearly eleven. Only an hour left.

“Another drink,” you called, but you stopped after that one. Logically, you knew the Straw Hat crew would be able to handle themselves. Your father wouldn’t have let Zoro go had he not been an impressive fighter—and Luffy certainly had to have some tricks up his sleeve, having such a high bounty and all. But an ambush was an ambush.

You needed to go home.

You paid your bill and slunk outside, taking the long road down to the port. You were docked in the east, but you found yourself wandering towards south port, hands shoved in your pockets and sword heavy on your back.

There was no logical reason to get involved with pirates, you tried to tell yourself. That was Dracule Mihawk’s area of expertise. That was Dracule Mihawk’s life. Not his daughter’s. You were not a pirate—there was no point in being one. Mihawk has done everything already.

You stepped onto the pier of south port, the wooden ramp trembling under your feet. They were shoddily constructed; oak on water, with pegs every few feet or so and ropes thrown casually across the walkways. It was overcrowded with boats, too—ships of every kind and size, smushed into spots not big enough for them depending on how much you paid the dock men. The moon shimmered on the surface of the East Blue. She was calm today, waves lapping at the edges of the docks, tranquil in the night.

You checked your watch again. Nearly midnight.

Dock forty moored a relatively small ship, but it was crowded with men—ten or fifteen, maybe, and you knew they’d be killing each other when the fight was through. Thirty million berry divided between so many people was barely worth it. You slunk past them, counting the numbers of the boat berths.

You knew the boat before you looked at the slip number based on appearance alone. It was large in size, a caravel sporting a gigantic goat figurehead. You stared at it, brows furrowed, jaw slack. Well, it was certainly a ship. There was a large sail boasting the ship’s jolly roger—a crudely designed skull and crossbones sporting the same straw hat their captain wore.

With a sigh, you pulled yourself onboard, careful to not make a sound as you landed on the deck. It was quiet, but you doubted the crew didn’t have at least one lookout for trouble. You tiptoed around the mast, moving towards the foredeck.

You were just about to step a foot on the staircase when a gleaming katana came to your throat.

“What are you doing here?”

Roronoa Zoro was as calm as ever as he held a blade to your jugular, posture perfectly straight, eyes tilted in your direction. You glanced down at the blade, registering the smooth metal. It was the white-handled one; upon seeing it closer, you could better register its quality. It must’ve been insanely durable, more so than his other blades considering Yoru hadn’t shattered this one in battle—one of the strongest blades in the world.

“What’s the sword’s name?” you asked.

Zoro ignored your question. “What are you doing here?” he repeated.

You sighed, turning towards him, although you were careful not to touch the sword. Zoro’s grip didn’t budge. “There are pirate hunters coming here,” you answered. “At midnight. An ambush.”

Zoro still didn’t move. The night sky cast his entire face in shadow, the only light on board being a trembling lantern by the interior doors. You could just barely see the gleam of one eye, yellow light shining on his cheekbone. “Why would you come?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” you answered coolly. “My father let you go for a reason. It’d be a shame if you died before you realized why.” It was an easy lie—because the real reason was one you didn’t want to think about. Because Luffy’s words struck something in you. Because they rang true.

“We don’t need your protection.”

You shrugged, only one shoulder moving upwards before relaxing again. “Just a friendly warning.”

Carefully, Zoro lowered his blade, the steel scraping along the edge of its scabbard opening before he slid it closed. “The Wado Ichimonji.”

Your eyes were still on the sheathed katana. “Hm?”

“The sword. Its name is Wado Ichimonji.”

You tilted your head back, angling it towards the sword strapped to your jacket. “Hiru,” you said. “That’s mine.”

“Day,” Zoro translated. “You have matching swords with your father?”

“Just matching names,” you answered. “It’s a spadroon, not a kreigsmesser. Much smaller than Yoru. Birthday present. When I was thirteen.”

Zoro eyed you. “I’ll wake the rest of the crew,” he said. “You can go.”

You made no move to, consulting your watch as Zoro rang the ship’s bell. Five minutes to midnight. You could already hear the near-noiseless patter of footsteps on the pier.

The orange-haired woman was the first out, fingers wrapped around a short wooden rod. She exchanged a look with Zoro, and he nodded towards the pier. She somehow knew exactly what he meant from that, dodging back inside the ship and returning, dragging a dark-haired man out.

“Uh, what’s going on?” the man asked, stifling a yawn as he fiddled with a slingshot. Both Zoro and the woman shushed him. “Jeez, okay.” He noticed you then. “Oh, hey, you’re the hawk dude’s kid—”

“Shut up, Usopp,” the woman snapped. She’d moved by the boat’s side, ducked under the rim. The footsteps were getting louder.

The blond man came out next, hands shoved casually in his pockets and dressed in clothes you genuinely did not think functioned as sleepwear. “Hunters,” the orange-haired woman said. “Ambush.”

“Isn’t that lovely,” the blond man murmured. He caught your eye, and a smile lit up his face. “Well, hello there.”

Both Zoro and the woman rolled their eyes. Before the blond could say anything more, though, the hunters’ footsteps abruptly stopped.

The orange-haired woman spun up from her crouch, wooden stick extending into a long staff as she whipped it out. She slammed one end of the staff into an incoming hunter’s gut as he leapt aboard the ship, forcing him off the side of the vessel.

Everything happened all at once, then—you heard the slick shing! of Zoro unsheathing his katana, and the blond was up and running towards another gaggle of hunters within the second, legs flying in an assortment of well-placed kicks.

You reached over your shoulder, tugging Hiru out of its straps. The blade shone bright under the moonlight, and you caught an incoming hunter’s sword with the lick of it, shoving him backwards as you spun.

“Why’s Mihawk’s girl here?” the blond called, as he slid across the deck, leg raising up into a spinning hook. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He met your eyes and winked, leaving you staring in utter disbelief until another hunter distracted you. “I’m Sanji!”

“Okay?” you asked blankly, letting out a huff of exertion as you whipped your sword toward the hunter. He’d pulled out one of his guns, wielding his blade one-handed as he fumbled with the trigger. You breathed in, recalling your father’s words from the thousands of hours spent training. Take advantage of any imbalances, sweetheart. Focus on the center of gravity.

You aimed a sliding kick at the man’s gun, using Hiru to push against his blade. The pressure caused him to fling halfway across the ship, body thudding against the mast before falling to the ground in a heap.

“Impressive,” Sanji whistled from his spot across the ship.

“Shut up,” Zoro and the orange-haired woman said in unison. Zoro was beside the fallen hunter in a second, katana slashing cleanly through his torso before he spun and shoved the blade straight into an incoming man’s stomach. Sanji just scoffed.

“Show-off,” he said accusatively. Zoro rolled his eyes, turning towards Sanji to argue, when you glimpsed someone at his back. You lunged for the man, sword cutting cleanly through his jugular before he fell across the deck, decollated.

Zoro turned, glancing over his shoulder at the body and then up at you. “You’re welcome,” you said, flicking Hiru to the side. Spatters of blood dripped off its blade.

“...Right.” The number of hunters had considerably thinned, only three or four left. The orange-haired woman was still fighting two of them, placing hits of her bo staff along two mens’ skulls. Usopp had crouched by the forecastle, firing pellets off with his slingshot. Sanji dusted off the final two men, until only the ringleader was left.

“Wait, wait.” The hunter backed away until he ran into the ship’s railing. He scrambled for his pistol, but as Zoro, Sanji, and the orange-haired woman advanced on him, apparently realized the idea was in vain. “We—we can talk about this.”

“I don’t think we can.” You turned at the new voice, watching as Luffy slipped out from the captain’s chambers. His hand came up to adjust his hat, crowned atop his head as always. “You came aboard my ship and tried to hurt my friends.”

The hunter’s jaw fell slack, mouth drying over as Luffy came to stand in front of him. The rest of the crew had parted to allow him space, and Luffy titled his head up, the lick of light from the lantern shining against his skin. A crescent-shaped scar under his eye glowed bright, the skin paler than the rest of his face.

“Gum gum…” he started, voice steadily rising in volume as he extended his hand backwards, fingers curled into a fist. To your surprise, his arm just kept stretching back, limb getting longer and longer with a distinctly rubbery stretch until it was all the way at the other side of the ship. “Pistol!”

His arm snapped back all in one, knocking the hunter straight in the jaw and shoving him off the ship in one, devastating blow. You stared at his flailing body, watching as he dropped straight into the ocean ten or so meters away with a loud plop.

You turned towards Luffy, one brow arched in question. “You’re a Devil Fruit eater?”

“The Gum Gum fruit,” Luffy said brightly. He adjusted his hat once more, fixing it atop his head before reaching an arm out to pat you on the shoulder. “Thank you for warning us. You’re a good person.”

“Don’t mention it.” You glanced down at Hiru. “Have anything I can clean my blade with?”

“Sure! Let Sanji cook you something while you’re here,” Luffy said. “It’s the least we can do.”

“Of course,” Sanji said with a little bow. “What would you like? Name anything and I’ll make it.”

You eyed him. “…Anything.”

Sanji let out an exaggerated sigh. “So uninspired. Meet you in the kitchen, then. We can leave the mosshead to clean up the bodies.”

The orange-haired woman just rolled her eyes. “I’m going back to bed,” she declared. She glanced over at you, appraising you in one solid sweep up and down your body. “I’m Nami.”

With that final word, she departed, snapping closed her staff and slipping back into the boat. Luffy, Usopp, and Sanji shuffled into the boat, presumably the kitchen. Zoro just sighed, setting his katana to the side to start cleaning up the corpses left after the battle.

You made no move to follow the others inside, watching as Zoro easily lifted up one of the hunters. The lines of his biceps strained as he climbed off the ship, still hefting the body before finally placing it down on the pier.

“Just toss them into the ocean,” you called. Zoro glanced over his shoulder, registering you standing there. He picked another body up.

“I don’t want to block our slip,” he answered.

“Fair enough. Any oil around here?” You wandered to the ship’s side, glancing through the boxes fixed to the deck. Zoro gestured in some direction that harmed more than it helped, really, but you dug through some boxes before unearthing something you could clean Hiru with.

You worked in silence, slicking the blade with the oil and rubbing off all the blood and mess that had gotten onto it. Zoro was quick, piling up all the corpses and barely-alive bodies by the dock. He shoved a few of them awake with his boot. “Go find a doctor,” you heard him mutter under his breath. You suppressed a laugh.

Eventually, Zoro climbed back on board, searching for his sword only to find it in your hands. You carefully polished off the last of the blade, then presented it to him. “You’re welcome.”

“…Thanks,” Zoro said, sheathing it in one smooth swipe.

“The cut,” you said, glancing down at his torso again. His shirt was covering the bandages, but you knew they were still there. “It was Yoru that did it. Not Kogatana.”

“The big one, yeah,” Zoro answered. You watched him thoughtfully, although you didn’t say a word. He seemed to get impatient by that, and was speaking just a moment afterwards— “Why?”

You gave a quick shake of your head. “Nothing,” you answered, the lie slipping easily off your tongue. But your mind churned with thoughts, the mere brain activity making your stomach curdle. It hadn’t clicked before, but now—your father didn’t use Yoru on anyone who wasn’t worthy. And letting Zoro live—letting the entire crew go, against Garp’s orders?

This was a more interesting group than you’d anticipated.

Zoro eyed you for a moment as you were lost in thought, though he didn’t say anything to interrupt you. Once you finally looked up, he adjusted, clearing his throat. “Should go inside to make sure the waiter isn’t burning down the kitchen,” he said, straightening.

You stood up, sliding Hiru into its scabbard on your back. “The… waiter?”

Zoro shook his head. “Long story.” He gestured with his head, nodding towards the double doors. “Kitchen.”

You followed him, the soft aroma of garlic and meat wafting around the room the instant you stepped foot inside. Everyone was crowded around the kitchen island, propped on chairs and staring as Sanji prepared a meal before them. You joined the group, glancing over Usopp’s shoulder to watch.

There was a stir-fry on the stove, garlic and onions joined by various other vegetables. Sanji drizzled soy sauce along the pan, scraping it around once with his spatula before turning down the heat. He added in some rice—leftover, it looked—along with some battered eggs, mixing it all together.

“Vegetable and chicken fried rice,” Sanji said, turning off the heat once everything had cooked through and starting to distribute it into servings. “I went for something universal because I don’t know what you like.” He met your eyes, flashing a giant, warm smile again. You took the bowl he offered, fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic.

“Thank you,” you said. The four of you stood in silence, and you had the feeling that you were intruding. The crew was a tight unit, that much was certain—wound tightly around each other, ropes intersecting in delicate knots and bows. You turned your attention to your meal. You hadn’t had a real supper, so the food was a welcome surprise, and it was damn near close to the best thing you’d ever tasted.

“So,” Luffy started, “Not to bug you about it a hundred times, but…” You glanced up. His expression was earnest as he met your eyes, lips tugged upwards in an encouraging smile even as he spoke. “Are you joining us?”

“Am I—? Oh,” you said, realizing what it was Luffy was referring to. “Is the offer still standing?”

“Always,” he answered brightly. “You’d be a good fit for our crew, you know.”

Would you really? There wasn’t much of anything special about you besides your parentage. You were as skilled a swordswoman as any, but there were hundreds better and stronger than you. There was no one thing you truly excelled at. “I’ll think about it,” you said hesitantly.

“Well, think quick. We leave at dawn,” Luffy said. “Meet us back here at blue hour if you’d like to join up.” He smiled again, all unassuming, and it was hard to believe a boy so pleasant had a thirty million berry bounty hanging suspended over his head. He yawned, stretching out his long limbs. “Well, I’m off to sleep. Sanji’s next watch.” He glanced over at Zoro. “Why don’t you walk her back to her slip, Zoro?”

Your brows furrowed, about to object, but Zoro was already standing up. He opted to say nothing, leaving you to set down your empty bowl and say your goodbyes in a hurry to follow him out.

The bodies on the pier had thinned, the alive ones presumably having dragged themselves to town to find a doctor. Zoro stepped over the heap of corpses, and you followed suit, walking in silence down south port. “I’m a little far,” you said. “You might lose your way heading back.”

“I’ll be fine,” Zoro dismissed. “I’m… sorry about Luffy. He can get overly enthusiastic.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you said with a shake of your head. “Are the rest of the crew open to me joining, though? It didn’t seem like he consulted any of you.”

Zoro’s brows lifted at that, though you weren’t certain why. “We’re all fine with it,” he said eventually. “Luffy wouldn’t invite someone who wouldn’t fit.” He hesitated, the plod of your footsteps creaking against the dock walkway for a few paces before he parted his lips again. “I’m going to fight Mihawk again, you know.”

“I figured,” you answered. You could feel Zoro’s eyes on you, scraping along your skin like they were blades themselves.

“You’re not upset by that?”

“Everyone wants to kill him for some reason or another,” you said. “You’re not the first.” Though there was something undeniably special about him. The fact he was still alive, for one. “I figure you’re a long way from that, so I’ll have a father for a few years more until you try to kill him again.”

There was something in the way you phrased your words that sounded so very ironic, and Zoro couldn’t suppress the light grunt from escaping his lips. It was dry, brittle—but closer to a laugh than a scoff, you could tell. “Is that your blessing?”

“Sure,” you said. “I, Dracule Mihawk’s daughter, hereby allow you, Roronoa Zoro, to murder my father in a duel.” The lightness in your tone dropped. “If you don’t mind me asking…” you took in a light breath, letting the taste of the words melt on your tongue before slipping them out. “Why do you want to, anyway? Defeat him, I mean?”

“I made a promise to someone a long time ago,” Zoro answered. His footsteps slowed as you reached your slip, the small sloop you’d sailed all the way to Loguetown calm as ever where it was moored. The black sails—vague, nondescript—sucked away all the light the moon attempted to cast on it, so it was even darker than the rest of the surroundings. “I told her I would become the world’s greatest swordsman.”

“That’s heavy,” you remarked, turning to face your companion. His skin was waxy and dull under the moonlight—aftereffects of the injury he still hadn’t fully recovered from. Zoro just shrugged.

“Maybe. It’s my life’s dream.”

“He’s a good father,” you said. “I think he’d like you.” You paused. “Well, he does. He wouldn’t have let you live if he didn’t.”

Zoro stiffened, the lines of his body tightening, spine pulling up just slightly. You noticed the change—you always did. Observation had always been one of your biggest strengths. Maybe you hadn’t gotten the golden irises your father had, but you had hawk eyes of your own in that way. Never missing a thing, picking out all flaws and details in a scene. “I’m not sure if I want him to like me.”

“He doesn’t feel hatred for a lot of people,” you said. “Just disdain. Though I’m fairly certain he’d have skewered that drunk at the bar earlier if he’d been with me.”

“The one who—” Zoro looked distinctly uncomfortable as he remembered what the pirate had offered you. He made a vague gesture instead, just mildly vulgar in motion. You suppressed a laugh.

“Exactly,” you agreed. “He doesn’t have patience for that sort of thing. He also feels no man who’s weaker than me in combat isn’t man enough to be with me, though I have questions about that particular rule.”

Zoro snorted. “You could definitely do better than the drunk pirate.”

“Right.” You glanced up at the moon, watching the steady silver glow of her face along the edge of the horizon. She was full, round and white, soft powder creasing the dents and shadows of her face. “I’m out for the night, then. Thank you for walking me.”

Zoro shrugged. He didn’t say anything, so you turned away, stepping onto your sloop without another word. You ducked into the interior room, closing the door firmly behind you so you could finally relax.

You had only a handful of hours of rest ahead of you, after all.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

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