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heich0e · 11 months ago

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(part 2 of emperor!sukuna)

It's dark, and so terribly silent.

It's not the kind of quiet you find comfort in. No peace, or tranquility, in the stillness. The silence is tense, like a breath you hold until your lungs begin to burn. Like time itself has frozen.

Two red eyes watch you from the shadows.

Vicious. Hungry.

You wake with a start.

"Noble guest!"

Your head whips to the side, only to find the young handmaid who had been assigned to serve you kneeling at the edge of your bed. Her hair is tied, as ever, into two neat knots on either side of her head, but her endearingly lopsided fringe still hangs down over her worried eyes.

"Miwa," you breathe, and perhaps it might be in relief if you had the right to feel any. You lift a hand to your chest and feel the way your heart is racing under your ribs.

"Are you quite well, Mistress?" she asks you in concern.

Miwa is a young girl, no more than twelve if you had to guess and, though occasionally her manners fail her, she's dutiful in your care. You're fond of her in your own way. Grateful for a face in your chambers that doesn't mean you harm, or reproach.

"Yes," you say quietly. Barely a whisper and even less truth. "I'm well."

Your eyes sweep around your quarters, and suddenly you have a thought.

"What's the hour?" you ask her. It's night time, you're sure of it. Late if you were put upon to wager. "What brings you here so late?"

Miwa's eyes slip away, like she suddenly has trouble meeting yours.

"Miwa?" you ask again, more insistent this time.

The young girl fists her robe in her small hands, her head hanging slightly.

"It's the Crown Prince, Mistress."

Your chest feels tight.

"Yuuji?" You sit yourself further up in your bed, your sheet slipping down to pool in your lap. "Is he well? Has something happened?"

Miwa looks up at you with eyes that glisten in the soft light of the lanterns around your room, her lips pulled into a tight line.

"I know you and the Crown Prince have become good friends, Mistress," she says to you quietly, and you're surprised. You didn't know that anyone was aware of the little Prince's visits to your quarters. The girl's nose scrunches up. "Which is why it upsets me that the head of household forbid the staff from telling you."

"What's happened to him?" You feel panic in your veins, hot and quickly spreading, in the wake of her words.

"He's ill, Mistress. Fevered. The poor thing has not had the strength to leave his bed for some two days now."

You rip your blankets from your lap, throwing your legs over the side of your bed. You stand quickly, ignoring the way your blood rushes to your head and makes you feel dizzy.

Miwa stares up at you in shock from where she kneels at your feet.

"Come," you tell her firmly, extending your hand down towards her to help her up. "Take me to him."

Miwa knows her way through the Emperor's palace in a way so familiar that you could never hope to memorize the paths similarly yourself. You wonder how long she's been serving in the royal household to be so intimately familiar with every corridor, path, and passageway. She manages to take you all the way across the expansive property, from your own court to the one in which he Prince resides, without being seen by another living soul.

The two of you pause, pressed close together in a narrow passage covered by a tapestry.

"Will there be guards inside?" you ask her, keeping your voice low.

She shakes her head emphatically.

"The guards are outside the door. This is an entry that the servants in the Prince's household use. I assure you he's quite alone in there—his maids are away to take tea since he's resting, and the court physician has left him for the night."

You nod slightly.

"If I hear anyone coming, I'll fetch you," Miwa assures you, and you know she is sincere.

You lift the edge of the silk that covers your small hiding place, and step into the Crown Prince's quarters.

His room is not wholly dissimilar to your own—a realization that only makes you feel a little ill as you realize just how out of place you are in the place you've been confined. On the other side of the wide room is an elevated bed, and there in the centre lies the small form of the Prince.

His round cheeks, though always somewhat rosy, are flushed a violent scarlet with fever. His skin is pale and waxy, and is dewy with perspiration though his little nose is ice to touch. His chest rises and falls in shaky exhales, and his lips—parted as he gasps for breath—are dry and cracking.

Your heart rends at the sight of him.

"Miwa," you call quietly towards where you know the passageway to be. When you get no response you dare to repeat yourself a little louder. "Miwa."

Her head pops out from behind the fine silk weave.

You wave her over to where you kneel at Yuuji's bedside.

"Mistress, what is it?" she asks as she approaches.

You look down towards Yuuji, brushing some of his soft blush-coloured hair back from his sticky forehead.

"How long do we have before the maids return?" you ask her.

"They often take longer than they should," she says, rolling her lip between her teeth. "They bring wine to the guards outside and overindulge in their company. The head maid of the household often scolds them for it."

You feel a pang of resentment towards the women who fall short in their care for the little boy before you. You ache upon the realization of his neglect.

"I'll need hot water, and cloths."

"Pardon, Mistress?" she squeaks, watching as you roll up your sleeves.

"Hurry, Miwa," you brush off her effort to clarify, peering up at her with resolution in your eyes. "We haven't much time."

You scoop the small boy up into your arms, carrying him over to a nearby window. You open it as quietly as you can with him in your grasp, and then settle in on the floor as the cold night's breeze rushes in. Miwa appears soon with a basin of warm water and the cloths you requested, her eyes wide as she sees the way you cradle Yuuji in your arms, smoothing your hand along his back.

"Bring it here," you instruct her, and she does as you say. She sets the steaming basin before you, and the cloths just at its side.

You shift Yuuji in your arms.

"He needs the steam to help clear his lungs and break his fever," you tell her carefully leaning the sleeping child face-first above the basin. "Place a cool cloth to the back of his neck, and drape another overtop to trap in the vapours."

Miwa doesn't argue, quickly doing as she's told.

After some time passes, you remove the cloths and shift Yuuji towards the window, his head cradled in the crook of your arm like a babe.

"He needs the dry, cool air now," you tell Miwa as she watches you curiously.

"Mistress, you know a great deal on how to treat a fever," she remarks quietly, ringing out another cool cloth in case it's needed.

You hum, eyes glued to Yuuji's sleeping face. He's breathing a little easier now, his skin a bit less sallow. You dip your finger in the cool clean water and dab it lightly upon his lips to moisten them.

"I have three little brothers," you tell her quietly.

"Really?" she gasps in surprise. "I had no idea!"

Of course she didn't. No one in this land knows anything about you. At least not anything true. They know only what hateful rumours have been circulated through the court, and nothing of your person nor your character.

"Do you have any siblings, Miwa?" you ask her in turn.

"Two older sisters, Mistress," she replies.

"And are they too employed by the royal household?"

"They work at a teahouse just outside the palace, the nicest one in the city!" she says proudly. "They have many noble customers who they attend to."

You smile a little, though it's feeble. You know the kind of teahouses, and the kind of customers, she speaks of. You also know just what attending to them means.

"They must be proud to see their little sister working at the palace," you remark.

She huffs a little. "They still treat me like a child."

You laugh a little, reaching out with the hand not holding Yuuji and ruffling her fringe. "You are a child, Miwa. But there's no harm in that, nor is there any question of your capability in spite of it."

Miwa's cheeks flush pink and she looks away shyly, though undeniably pleased.

"In any case," you note, "my older brothers are the same as your sisters, though I'm long grown. I suspect that treatment never changes."

Her eyes go wide. "You have older brothers too?"

"There are six of us in total," you tell her. "The two eldest sons above me, and then three more who are not yet taller than yourself. The youngest is around the Prince's age, in fact."

You stare down at the six year old in your arms. He looks so much like his father, a man you've come to so deeply resent, but you're helpless to the affection you feel for the little boy. You find yourself holding him a little tighter without thinking.

"Thank you for bringing me here," you say to Miwa quietly.

"You've taken excellent care of his majesty," the maid replies. "He looks much improved in such a short time."

You're grateful that you helped care for so many brothers that you have the kinds of skills needed to help in a time like this. Though the muscle memory seems to ache all the same.

"Come," you pick up Yuuji and move to return him to his bed. "The Prince's maids will return soon, shut the window and remove any trace of our having been here. We should depart."

Miwa hastens to erase any lingering evidence of your presence in the Prince's quarters, and you tuck Yuuji carefully back into bed. As you draw his blanket up to his chin, the little boy stirs for the first time. His eyes, bleary and unfocused, search unseeingly as they open. As though too heavy for his weary body to muster the strength to lift, his eyelids flutter closed again soon. His hand, clammy and small, finds yours.

"Mama?" his little voice croaks, though you know he's unaware of what he's said—too far from the periphery of proper consciousness to even remember this moment when he wakes, you're sure.

You place your hand gently on his forehead, over his eyes.

"Sleep, Yuuji," you whisper to him, and his body slackens as he obeys.

You and Miwa depart soundlessly, the beautiful silk tapestry over the servants passage slipping back into place behind you as you take your leave. The way it swings is the only evidence left behind in your wake.

On the other side of the room, cloaked in the shadows away from the soft light of the lamps, a ruby-eyed stare narrows.

The emperor laughs, but there's no mirth in the sound.

#sukuna x reader #jjk writing #jjk drabble #writing #emperor!sukuna

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froggiewrites · 1 month ago

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A Deal You Can't Refuse

Pairing: Demon!Zoro x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You’re tired. Of coming home to an empty apartment from a shitty job you can’t stand, of every day being the same. Tired of simply surviving and not living. So when a handsome stranger comes along, offering you the deal of a lifetime, who could blame you for considering it? Even if said stranger has curling horns and a sharp toothed smile that show he’s a bit more than just your ordinary man? Warnings: AFAB!Reader (no pronouns or gendered language used), Smut, Mild Dubcon, Demonic Contracts, Possession, Masturbation (while possessed), Edging, Marking, Fingering, Vaginal Sex Word Count: 3.6k Notes: I'm honestly pretty excited this one won the poll, I think this is a really strong start 😊This is the longest piece in the entire event! Halloween Special 2024

Another day of shitty work for shitty pay.

Another day of coming back to an empty, crumbling apartment to fall onto a lumpy uncomfortable mattress for a restless night of sleep just so you can wake up and do it all over again.

It’s temporary, you tell yourself. Just until you save enough for a better apartment, just until you save enough that you can quit your job and survive until you find a better one. You just have to wait, and wait, and wait. And sure, you waited for freedom before, and it got you here. But this time will be different. This time it will pay off.

It has to.

It isn’t a particularly bad day when your routine finally breaks, nor is it particularly good. Up until this very moment, it was the kind of perfect mundanity that blurs one day into the rest to create a smothering tapestry of wasted time in your memory. None of them particularly distinct from the rest, none of them worth recalling.

But today there is a man in your bed when you get home.

He’s massive, built like a tank, and he hardly fits in your pathetic twin bed. You can hardly make out any of his features, with his arm covering his face and your blanket covering most of the rest, but for a moment you could swear that his hands seemed to blacken as they reached the tips of his fingers, turning to long black nails with sharpened points.

Your shoulders tense, ready to run, to scream for help (which your neighbors surely won’t provide), to do absolutely anything other than walk through that door.

But then he starts snoring.

It’s so ridiculous you can’t help but laugh. There’s a stranger sleeping in your bed. Of course there is. Why the hell not? At least it’s something new. You close and lock the door behind you as always, throwing your bag to the ground and flopping down on your creaky couch. The stranger continues snoring away, even as you put on the TV and try to drown him out. You should probably call the cops, or grab something to arm yourself with, or do absolutely anything about the situation, but you’re so tired you can hardly bring yourself to care.

It takes an hour for him to wake up.

“What time is it?” His voice is gruff, deep, and thick with sleep.

You look over the back of the couch at him. “It’s about seven.”

“Hm.” He stays still for a moment, before his eyes shoot open and he stands in an instant. He’s tall, towering over you easily, and you can finally see the entirety of him. He has ram’s horns curling out of his green hair, decorated in beautiful gold that matches the earrings hanging from his left ear. He isn’t wearing a shirt, giving you a good look at his muscles, and the transition of his body from man to beast at his hips, where he starts to resemble a ram. He has cloven hooves, which make a loud clop against the floor when he lands. You realize that you didn’t just let a stranger sleep in your bed, but some kind of monster. A demon, perhaps. One of his hands goes to rub his temple, and he grimaces, showing off his incredibly, incredibly sharp teeth, which you instantly imagine sinking into your skin. “Oh, shit!”

You startle, trying to stop thinking about what his teeth might feel like on your neck. “Um. Ah. Good morning?”

“Good morni–What the fuck? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I don’t…know.”

“What?”

“It was just, um. I had a really long day at work, and you were clearly sleeping so deep, and I just…couldn’t really bring myself to care.”

“Oh my god.”

You furrow your brows. “Can you say that?”

“What?”

“God. Are you supposed to like, talk about him? Is that not frowned upon?”

“Is that what you’re worried about right now?”

“For once in my life, I don’t think I’m worried about anything right now. This is too insane for me to process.”

He stares at you for a moment, before he lets out a loud, bellowing laugh. “God. What the hell, sweetheart? I was right to pick you, clearly you need the help.”

“Help?”

He gives you a sharp, dangerous grin. Some part of you, the part that has kept you alive and safe this long despite the monotony slowing you down and dulling your edges, is screaming for you to run. To leave. This thing in front of you, this creature, is far more dangerous than he appears, than he feels. But you can’t bring yourself to listen. “Yeah, help. Name's Zoro. You’re tired, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He reaches out to touch your cheek, and you don’t even flinch when you feel his claws trace down your face. “You’re working so hard, and for what? To do it all again tomorrow?”

You find yourself leaning in, even as your brain screams for you to stop. “For a better future. I’m thinking beyond tomorrow.”

He’s dripping with sympathy. “Are you? Do you even have the energy to dream anymore?”

You can’t remember the last time you could actually picture your future, picture a life outside of this room. When did you stop dreaming? “Of course I do.” The lie leaves easily, but the bitterness it leaves on your tongue lingers.

“Oh, sweetheart, you can’t lie to me. But that’s okay, I know you’re just scared.” He’s bearing down on you, invading your space, and you can feel heat radiating off of him. “But I can fix that, if you let me.”

God, wouldn’t that be nice? To just let go, and have it all work out for once? But you’re not stupid enough to believe a demon, despite everything. No matter how handsome the smile, how saccharine the words, no matter how much you want to melt into him and just let it all happen. “No way in hell.”

His eyes soften with pity. “I thought you’d say that. Didn’t even want to hear my offer. Because you know if you do you’ll want it, and you can’t handle holding yourself back any longer. I understand, really. And I’m really not supposed to do this, but I just can’t stand letting you waste away here, letting this opportunity slip through your fingers. So I’ll give you a little sneak peek, to help you make your decision.”

“What?”

In an instant, his lips are on yours, and you’re filled with a warmth to your very core. It spreads through your limbs, fills your lungs, the sensation pleasant.

Until you realize you’re speaking.

“Now, sweetheart, I would really prefer to show you the real deal, but I can work with this. Just remember how much better it would be if it were me.”

That was your voice, your mouth moving. “What?”

“Don’t worry, honey. It’ll be good.”

Your hands move toward your chest, and you don’t stop them. You don’t know if you want to. They undo your buttons slowly, as though waiting for a protest that doesn’t come. You don’t say a word until your shirt and bra are fully off, and your hands find your nipples, tweaking them lightly. You shiver, and your mouth smirks. It makes your shoulders tense, makes you defensive. “So proud of yourself for something so small.”

“Is it so wrong to want to please you, sweet thing? To know I was right, and that this was what you needed?”

“What I need, huh? You really think that?”

“I know it.”

Your hands pull off your pants and panties in one smooth motion, no fanfare. Your body sits on the bed, legs spread and ready. Your hands trace delicately up your legs, up to your thighs, and to his final destination. He inserts your fingers into you, not at all delicately, and your body lets out a soft moan. You can’t tell which of you did it. You know it’s him who whispers to the air, tauntingly, “My fingers are longer than this, y’know. And thicker. Imagine how they’d feel, so deep inside of you like this. And god, my tongue? It’s not just for sweet talking poor little mortals like you into deals. I’d have you falling apart already.”

Once he’s done puppeting your head, you feel control fall back to you for a moment. “I think you’re all talk. You can’t even make me cum on fingers I already know can do the job. All size, no skill, huh?”

Your finger finds a spot you know very well, and you can’t help the noise that comes from you. Your mouth smirks against your will. “Is that what you think? You can talk big all you want, sweetheart, but you can’t fool me. I can feel everything you can. And when I do this—” he curls your fingers just right, “—I can feel you clench your teeth trying to hold back. Who are you holding out for? It’s just you here. Would it be so bad to let it all go? Let me take care of you, sweet thing. I can give you all the pleasure you could ever want. You just need to say yes.”

“Eat shit,” you mutter through clenched teeth.

You hear your own laugh, far deeper in your chest than you can normally feel it. “Aw, don’t be like that. This could all be so easy. The only one you’re hurting here is yourself.” The hand he kept idle reaches up, slowly rolling your nipples through your fingers. Your eyes flutter closed despite yourself, as both hands work in unison.

You hear your voice again, thick with want. “Imagine how much more I could do if you let me. Even just a simple kiss could unravel you. And my teeth—and I saw how you looked at them, sweetheart, there’s no fooling me—I could leave you covered in marks. I could make sure everyone you met would know you were mine, ensure they wouldn’t fade for weeks. Imagine them against your neck, right on your pulse. Imagine how easily I could bite through—but I wouldn’t, of course. No to you. But I could—that’s what matters to you, isn’t it?”

“No,” you murmur weakly, clenching around your fingers. “I don’t give a shit about how you look, demon.”

“Well that’s not very nice, is it? You know my name, you can use it.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m trying, sweetheart. I’m not the one standing in the way of that.” You’ve never heard yourself purr before. It would be rather jarring if your head wasn’t so fuzzy. “I know you want to be strong, to listen to that little voice in your head begging you not to give in, but you know where that little voice is going to get you in life?”

“It’s going to keep me from trapping myself in hell, I think.”

Another laugh. “Well, it could. But really, it’s going to keep you here. Alone. In this sad little room, in your sad little life, safe and sound and so very, very bored. And what use is a life if you don’t use it to live? Where’s the thrill?”

“I can get my thrills somewhere other than fucking a demon, thanks.”

“But you won’t. Sure, you could get into a fight. Do some drugs. Fuck a stranger—one not as handsome as me, but someone. But you won’t do it. Because it wouldn’t be safe. Because you’d be risking something, no matter how small, and you’re terrified of losing control.” Your fingers pick up speed as his rant continues. “But you don’t need control, really. You don’t even want it. You just don’t know how to let go. I promise you, sweetheart, you’ll never regret letting go of the reins. Hand ‘em to me, and I promise you you’ll enjoy every second of the rest of your life, and eternity after that. Imagine it—a life where you don’t have to agonize over every little choice. A life where you’re warm, and safe, and happy, and never, ever alone. Cockdrunk and lost in pleasure, wrapped up in my arms. Can you really, really tell me you don’t want that? Not even a little?”

You imagine it for a moment. A warm bed. Someone to come home to. Never another night spent curled up in this little apartment, dreading tomorrow, knowing it will be more of the same. Never again having to agonize over every little thing, terrified of something bringing your house of cards tumbling down. Never spending the night having to talk yourself down from fear of an unknown, unnamed threat, some unearned terror your brain has forced upon you. It would be sweet. God, would it be sweet. But that feeling sinks in again, that familiar tightness in your chest, and your mouth says the word you always knew it would. “Yes, I could. I don’t want it.”

“God, you’re full of shit.” Your head extends back, giving you a lovely view of your water-stained ceiling, the one that threatens to crumble in on you any day now. You can feel the coil in your stomach tightening, devastatingly close to snapping. “But if you insist.”

Your fingers are gone, and you’re clenching around nothing.

“Wha–?” You sound absolutely pathetic, wanting and needy, and you finally hear a laugh that isn’t your own as he appears in front of you again.

His smirk is all teeth, demeaning and dripping with faux sympathy. “Oh, poor thing. Never knowing what she wants. But I have no choice but to listen to you, do I? If you say it’s a no, it’s a no. A shame. Maybe you can get off on your own.” He leans forward, his lips so close to brushing against yours, but when you lean forward to meet him, he pulls back. “Oh, no, I don’t think so, sweetheart. If you don’t want me, you don’t want me. No half measures.”

You suddenly feel horribly vulnerable, naked and dripping as he looks down at you. You could have tried to chase your orgasm, demon in your room be damned, but you can’t bring yourself to bring yourself to put your fingers back, let him watch you try and fail to measure up to his performance. It feels like letting him win, showing him he’s gotten to you. You tell yourself that’s why you sit still, thighs still parted, staring at him with hooded eyes. Because movement would show weakness. Not because you enjoy the way he’s looking at you, like he can’t keep his eyes off of you, like you’re something worth coveting. Even if it’s in a demon’s nature to lust, to want, to conquer, it must mean something for you to be what brings about these sins. It has to.

“A shame,” he repeats. “You were so close.”

You can feel yourself twitch. You really were.

“It would have felt so wonderful. Mindblowing, really.”

It would have.

“It would have been so easy to say yes.”

It still could be. You finally look away from his heated eyes, and you find your gaze drifting down, beyond his bare torso, his plethora of scars, his clawed hands crossed over his massive chest. None of that shakes your resolve, or at least you’re going to keep telling yourself that. What gets you is the massive tent in his pants, evidence of his own desire. Evidence this deal isn’t just for your sake, or for your soul, or whatever else he might demand in exchange for your cooperation. On some level, he simply wants this, wants you.

“Please.” Your voice shakes.

He stiffens, clearly taken aback. “Please?”

“Please. I’ll take the deal. Just…finish this, please.” You spread your legs a little further, opening your arms to reach out to him. “Please take me.”

“Finally!” He dives forward, lips crashing into yours, teeth clacking. His tongue is longer than you imagined as it shoves its way into your mouth, desperate for a taste of you. One of his hands traces along your thigh, claws raising goosebumps in their path, and the other rips off his pants with an enthusiasm usually saved for unwrapping a present. You suppose he is, in a way. You try to break the kiss to see his dick in all its glory, but he refuses to let you leave, lips chasing yours until he’s finally forced to let you go to breathe.

Even as he parts from you, it's only to move down to your neck, lavishing it with the attention he promised earlier. His bites are not at all gentle, all done with the express purpose of marking you as his. You finally get to see his cock, absolutely massive and throbbing, leaking precum as it rests against your thigh, desperate for entrance. You don’t know what he’s waiting for, you’re ready and willing, but he must have his reasons for dragging this out. You reach your hands out, expecting to touch his abs, feel them beneath your fingers, but instead you find your hands wrapping around his cock, feeling its weight in your hands.

He groans into your neck. “Eager, are we?”

“I could say the same thing about you.” You feel him twitch at the sound of your voice. You pump your hand once, twice, and savor the sound of his moan. The bites on your neck turn to open mouthed kisses, leaving plenty of hickies on his way down to your chest. His hand finally finds its destination between your legs, fingers delicately inserting themselves between your folds, carefully so he doesn’t scratch you with his claws. They’re so much better than you imagined earlier as he had taunted you. You can feel the stretch as he slowly begins to pump in unison with your pace on him, both of you working each other up. You can feel yourself tighten around him, and your hand falters, distracted by your own pleasure. He doesn’t seem to mind as he continues, moaning against you.

“Just let go, sweetheart. Let it happen. I’ll be here to catch you.” You let go of him entirely, your hands falling to clutch the bedsheets. Your thighs clench around his hand as you cum on his fingers, crying out. He keeps moving until he’s sure he’s milked all of the pleasure he can from you, before pulling his fingers out and bringing them up to his mouth. His tongue, long and forked, wraps around them, savoring your taste.

Before you have a moment to breathe, his cock is pressing against your entrance. His breath is ragged against your ear. “Time for the main event, sweet thing. After this, no turning back. You’ll be mine, and you’ll never have to worry about a thing ever again. I’ll take good care of you.”

He pushes in in one smooth motion, your body welcoming him like you were his already. He thrusts deep and hard, arms wrapping tightly around you as he hits spots you didn’t even know existed. You can feel your orgasm building again quickly, and you can hear him moaning in your ear at the sensation of finally being inside of you. “Give me another one, sweetheart, just one more, and the contract is sealed. Then you’ll get this every day. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes!”

“An eternity of pleasure, a reward for all of your hard work.”

“Yes!”

“Yes, just like that.” Your hips snap together furiously, heat building between you. “Doing so well.” The heat grows and grows, burning through you and leaving nothing behind. When you finally hit your peak, you’re so lost in it all you can feel nothing but your own orgasm and the hot cum shooting into you. You don’t feel the heat of the air, or notice the bed beneath you and the scenery around you has changed. You don’t even notice the smell of smoke, too busy screaming in pleasure.

He’s panting, head pressed into your shoulder, before he laughs. “Great work, sweetheart.” He pulls out, rolling off of you and onto his back, arms behind his head. “We’re really gonna enjoy this.”

The mattress beneath you is plush, sheets silky. The ceiling above you is inlaid with gold, and doesn’t threaten to cave in for even a second. The scent of incense fills the air. You sit up, head whipping around, confused and tense. You hear a jingling as you do. You look down to see it: a black leather collar, fitted tightly but not suffocatingly around your neck. There’s a small golden bell attached, which gently chimes when you move. “What?”

A dark chuckle sounds from beside you. “Don’t worry about it, sweet thing. You don’t have to worry about anything, anymore.”

You’re about to get up, get away from him, demand answers. Before you can, however, an arm reaches for your waist and pulls you down. Your head is pressed into a warm chest, with no room to move. “Calm down.” he coos. “Just relax.” His hand pats your head, and you melt into him despite yourself. “Good pet, just like that. That’s all you have to do now. Sit here, look pretty, and take what I give you. You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll take care of it all.”

You’re practically purring as he rubs your back, whispering about how much you’re going to love this. An easy life, filled with nothing but pleasure and comfort. Everything you’ve ever wanted. All you have to do is let it happen.

“It’ll be easy, sweetheart. Just leave everything to me.”

You can let go. If the collar fits, why not wear it?

And so you do, as you curl into his chest and fall asleep, lulled by the rumbling of his chest and the sound of his voice.

Taglist: @pandora-writes-one-piece

#one piece #one piece x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #one piece smut #froggie halloween special

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