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cursingtoji · 9 months

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as requested, a longer version of this drabble

synopsis: geto spared one woman from the village he exterminated due to the pleading of mimiko and nanako, now he has to live in between preaching a world without non-sorcerers during the day and sleeping with one during the night; a dive into the mind of a conflicted man.

cw: canon events (no major spoilers), death topics, fem submissive reader x cult leader geto, smut, oral (m -> f), 1.6k words.

part 2

The day was horribly busy, on days like these, where he had to talk in front of a crowd for such a long time, then entertain donors, then eat curses, Geto can’t sleep due to the loud noise of his mind, he would probably sleep if he was in a equally loud environment, but, except for the sound of your soft breathing, the room has dead quiet.

Dead quiet.

Geto sits up, the cold air hitting his bare chest as he takes in the sight of the red temple across the open window, a ruffling makes him draw and narrow his eyes to the figure in his bed.

He remembers the day he first saw you, trying to sneak in the room where Mimiko and Nanako were locked in, he was in the process of exterminating the people in that village so he didn’t think twice when he grabbed you by your hair ready to let a curse rip you apart but the deafening sound of the girl’s scream stopped him, only then he noticed a bag with food that fell of your hands.

He could see from a distance, you were like the rest of them, a regular non-sorcerer and a few minutes ago he decided what he wanted.

A world free of non-sorcerers.

He can’t make an exception. He shouldn’t.

The twins had tears in their eyes. They’re young and his responsibility now, so a helping hand couldn’t be a sin. He could leave you for last.

Somehow he finds in his heart to spare you, and once he consolidated his power as a leader, he took the three of you in, the girls only leave your side when he’s around, they don’t approach anyone else except the two of you.

The first week you were around sorcerers he could see the fear and confusion in your face. Nanako tugged his clothing and he squatted to listen as she whispered to him “She cannot see them”.

So he provided special glasses for you, one with cursed energy so you could see what people like you shouldn’t, and he made Nanako hand it to you as you slowly began to comprehend what the weird events around you actually were.

She should be thankful, she’s only alive because of me.

He thought about that constantly, especially when watching you smiling and minding your own business.

And you are grateful and respectful towards him, almost never making eye contact, just keeping your head down and only calling him “Geto-sama”, he appreciated that, you should know your place.

It’s only a matter of time before he grows fond of you too, with his influence and your submission, it didn’t take long before you were in his bed, being happy to serve him in any ways.

It’s a contradiction having you around, he knows it. A monkey.

You sleep so peacefully, he wonders if you understand how lucky you are to make it this far.

Tonight could be your last night on earth, how deserving are you to live in his ideal world? You have two little girls that adore you, is that enough? He could just tell them something awful happened.

His cold fingers trace the back of your neck, ghosting your cervical spine.

You fell off the stairs and broke your neck, so sad.

That’s believable, the temple has many stairs.

His index finds your pulsing point.

A man attacked you, another monkey, and cut your throat, how horrible.

His eyes drop to your rising chest.

You fell on the lake and drowned, a terrible accident.

There’s so many possibilities to get rid of you without them blaming Geto.

Warm fingers unexpectedly find his hand, your small hand covers his. Suguru feels his human side returning to him, the dark cloud over his head slowly fading away as you take his wrist and you turn your head to kiss his palm.

He feels like crying, confused and guilty.

The bedroom is dark enough for you to miss the look of despair in his eyes, he allows you to caress the veins in his forearms, tracing it all the way to his biceps until you find his neck with your arm completely extended. Suguru gives in to the light pressure you make, bringing him to lay back down with you. You kiss his shoulders, his chest, his neck.

He doesn’t feel worth your kisses.

Again the contradiction.

You kiss his jawline and he stops you with a hand over your lips, he doesn’t want you to feel the way his lips quiver, you don’t ask questions, just accept and kiss his palm again, holding it against your cheek.

Geto is hard on you sometimes, giving humiliating tasks such as cleaning up the remains of someone who wronged him or capturing a curse that will for sure attack you. As much as he sometimes thinks of creating a space between the girls and you, the little ones always find a way back, helping you clean while keeping a non-morbid conversation topic or helping bandage the scratches you got from the small but feisty cursed spirited you were assigned to.

Yet you never once complained, always bowing in obedience with a soft “Yes, Geto-sama” coming out of your lips.

He knows when to treat you well too, sometimes he knocks on your room at night, sometimes he sends someone to call you over to his. When his whole cult speech was over he would dismiss everyone except you, to be alone in the giant spacious room with him, he likes to take you there, where your quiet sounds of pleasure bounce through the walls and create an echo.

You’re good to him, not to his cause, to Geto-sama you’re useless, but to Suguru Geto you’re an anchor.

He returns your kisses, sucking on your clavicle then down the soft skin of your breasts, where he takes in one nipple and licks until it gets hard enough for him to gently bite on and make you gasp.

Your hands find his hair, his long soft locks, the same ones you brush ever so patiently when Mimiko and Nanako turn it into a mess of knots from braiding and tying tiny silicone elastics on, you don’t scold them, even if it means to stay hours with Geto trying to undo it afterwards.

They will grow up to be spoiled.

But he also could never scold them like a father is supposed to, deep down he knows he won’t need to, they adore him, anything he’ll say they’ll do.

They’re good kids, he supposes he owns it to you too.

Suguru leaves a wet trail of kisses down your body until he’s between your legs, he first starts by licking the surrounds of your clit teasing patiently as you get wetter, the sleepiness doesn’t allow you to protest or whine, only to close your eyes and take whatever he’s willing to give you while tangling your fingers in his hair.

When he finally gives your nub some attention in the form of sucking, your leg twitches, he squeezes it and places it over his shoulder, at this point he’s laying on his stomach vaguely thrusting his pelvis onto the mattress to relieve a bit of the aching in his cock he gets when eating you out.

He adds more tongue as he moves down your needy hole, which pulsates around nothing, Suguru hums nuzzling your glossy folds, the vibration goes straight to your hardened nub.

“Geto-sama” you moan when he fucks you with his tongue, the tip of his nose hits your clit perfectly, once he looks up to see you falling apart on him you shiver, his eyes are predatory, you wonder if you should retrieve your hand from his head, but he quickly closes them again, losing himself in the taste of you. God, you taste so good. What makes him get through the day when he has to absorb those disgusting curses is the thought of getting lost between your legs, sucking your nipples, eating his own cum off you, sucking your tongue…

He feels your orgasm approaching as you tug his locks harder, whimpering softly. Usually he would make you beg, stopping his ministrations just before you get there and delaying it until there are tears in your eyes. Tonight he’s enjoying the silence, he might just let you go ahead, but there’s something he wants to hear.

“Say my name” he orders with a raspy voice.

“Get—“

“No” he bites your inner thigh, “My actual name.”

“Suguru” you roll his name so beautifully on your tongue.

“Keep saying it” he dives back, making out with your pussy and paying extra attention to your puffy clit as you call his name in a prayer.

He misses it, the way his first name used to be used, nowadays is just “Geto-sama this, Geto-sama that, master, sir”. It would inflate his ego if it didn’t come out of monkeys' mouths.

But Suguru? He left that for you only, even the other sorcerers he considers family just call him Geto.

Before he realizes you’re already cumming, hole pulsating around his tongue and heels digging on his back. He slows down his pace, nibbling on your glossy lips then taking your hand out of his hair to kiss it like you did earlier, the act makes your heart swell, you caress his face, thumb rubbing the dark circles under his eyes.

“Suguru” you call his name again, this time looking straight in his eyes, they don’t seem predatory anymore as he moves up finding a safe spot on your chest, where he lays down listening to your heartbeat as your fingers work through the knots in his hair, this time caused by yourself. Your other hand caresses his back and shoulders, whatever skin you can find to soothe him. Now he doesn’t have the loud voices in his head and bitter taste in his mouth and manages to fall asleep again.

part 2 ->

#geto x reader #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x you

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emo-batboy · 8 months

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Battinson and the JL ft. His Eventual Identity Reveal

(If you’re just here for the cutesy bits, skip to Attempt #2. Otherwise, STRAP IN CUZ IT’S A LOT)

Bruce Wayne of Matt Reeves’ The Batman is not the founder type.

He wouldn’t voluntarily join a book club, much less join a league of super powered vigilantes whom he does not know personally.

So in this universe, you probably wouldn’t call him one of the three Founding members.

But he’s still integral to the formation of the Justice League

It starts out with a friendly visit :)

Bruce is patrolling on a random night in Gotham when he notices a weird thing in the sky. It’s floating just far enough behind him that a less vigilant person wouldn’t have noticed, but Bruce is always watching his own back, and he takes it as a threat.

He strays from his usual path and then heads to a warehouse roof before turning to face the threat.

It’s Superman. All smiley and dressed in primary colors. The strongest, most powerful being on Earth just floating over like he wasn’t stalking Batman a second ago. Bruce does not like that.

“What do you want with Gotham?” He asks. “I don’t,” Superman says. “I wanted to talk to The Batman.” So this is some kind of fight? An intervention? A warning? Then Superman frowns. “You…are The Batman, right?”

Bruce only nods as he considers his options, but he can’t really do that when Superman has super speed, super sight, super strength, super breath, super lots-of-things-that-Batman-probably-doesn’t-know-of.

Then Superman surprises him by landing on the roof and giving him this pitch about a superhero group.

Superman and a few other vigilantes have been bouncing around the idea of teaming up together so they can help one another protect their cities. And The Batman was a “perfect candidate.”

“I’m not joining your club.” “It’s not a club. It’s a league.” “What’s your mission statement, then?” “A what?” Bruce fights the urge to roll his eyes. He still doesn’t trust this guy. “Take your league idea back to the drawing board then we can talk.” He does not intend on talking.

But two months later, Superman is back. This time, he brings another super powered vigilante named Wonder Woman.

She smiles, politely approaches him, and says “Superman tells me you want to learn more about our league.” That is not what he said, but he doesn’t bite.

Bruce can’t decide which they remind him of more: college recruiters or cult leaders. But because Wonder Woman genuinely seems to care about seeing this project through, and the roster she has of current like-minded vigilantes is impressive, he lets her talk.

And to give her credit, she definitely thought out the logistics more. It almost makes up for the time they’re wasting.

Okay, fine. They’re still way behind on concept, and it’s pitiful. He actually feels bad.

They obviously care! They just have no idea how to run a business like he does. Is it a bit cynical to think of this league of Justice as a business? Yes, but that’s the only way he can even conceive this happening and working.

Bruce asks about their organization’s leadership structure, and that’s when Wonder Woman falters a bit. “We want to work with each other, not for.” Bruce bites his tongue on that subject.

He asks about their scope of work. “We want to help as many people as we can, but that can be ironed out later.” Bruce bites his tongue on that subject.

He asks “Who’s funding this?” She answers, “We have a few members willing to pitch in, but the majority will have to come from generous citizens.” And that’s when he just stops asking questions. Because what?

If he could cry the grease paint off, he would.

They can’t just think every super-powered vigilante is going to sing Kumbaya and braid each other’s hair. There needs to be checks and balances within the organization to avoid tyranny and corruption. They need a reliable source of donations (that doesn’t immediately out Bruce.) They need a proper chain of command. They need to map out their area of responsibility. They need to design a VERY strict vetting process. It’s not sunshine and rainbows. It’s hard work!

So he says he’ll think about it again and complains to Alfred about the weird super stalkers.

But for SOME reason, Alfred doesn’t see the problem

Alfred encourages him to join so he can “make some friends.” But how can he trust these people if they can’t even make a half-decent pitch? It’s like a bad episode of Shark Tank.

And “make friends?” They’re all masked

But after a week of gentle nudging (read: very firm lectures), Bruce agrees. ONLY to keep tabs on the rest of the vigilante world and possible threats to Gotham

(And without his help, they’ll probably butt-dial Lex Luthor the nuclear codes or something)

And he is damn well going to figure out who these people really are before he helps them make a Super Organization.

Alfred figures out about half of their secret identities purely as a brain exercise while Bruce is out fighting crime and collecting head injuries like Pokémon cards. They figure out the rest together.

They also develop contingency plans for every single member. Just in case.

And after months of Batman being visited by random vigilantes, whom he has several choice words for about personal space—“This is my city. Go away.”—he accepts. On several conditions.

Not all of them are appreciated.

Attempt #1: “Making Friends”

After several scheduling conflicts, a lot of prep work, and a really good hype session in front of the mirror, Bruce heads on over to the first official meeting.

Batman arrives with a long list of things they need to do before going public. The first thing on the list?

Write A Mission Statement

What the fuck are they actually trying to do? Bruce thinks this is a great starting point.

And you’d think (you’d think) this Justice League thing would be easier to tolerate than the drawn-out exec meetings he has to sit through with boring, old businessmen who keep delaying things so they can hash out every little detail.

To Bruce’s absolute horror, he BECOMES the boring businessman who’s delaying things so they can hash out every little detail. He misses the boring, old businessmen. At least they knew what they were doing.

Every turn, he is argued with.

“Why do we need a mission statement?” “‘Power Structure’ feels authoritarian. Can’t we just share leadership duties?” “Do we really need this much paperwork?”

Bruce has the audacity to say, “We need to develop some sort of protocol that helps us analyze any possible threat.” But no. “Why can’t I just jump in? I have eyes.” “Jumping in without studying an opponent’s behavior could cause more harm than good,” he insists. “So what? I’m going to watch an alien monster go on a rampage through my city instead of fighting it?” “Yes. You don’t know what it’s capable of.”

Bruce already regrets joining.

All he hears is the others gossiping. “Is this guy really telling us how to be heroes?” “He’s got a major stick up his ass.” “I knew we shouldn’t have let him join.” And if that doesn’t dissuade him, he doesn’t know what will.

“How was the first meeting?” Alfred asks. Bruce scowls. “I’m not making friends.”

Nonetheless, Bruce sticks it out for weeks until they have some semblance of an organization. And, to his shock and amazement, it…kind of works.

The Justice League makes its debut, and Wayne Enterprises generously donates some money “out of spite” after Lex Luthor publicly denounces the league. (Honestly, Bruce would too if he hadn’t personally duct-taped it together himself.)

But the league starts small, just like he told them, they respond to natural disasters and public safety threats first (as per the outreach initiative) and focus on protecting communities in need (as per the mission statement.)

Yes, they still think Batman has a stick up his ass because he’s a stickler for writing incident reports, but no one else reads them so he has the right to be pissed.

He’s almost kind of sort of content with how it’s going. Even his reputation as a vigilante is improving.

That’s when another glaring difference between him and the other members appears.

Despite looking the same age as the rest of the team, Bruce is actually much younger?? Even excluding the aliens, gods, etc.

Most of his teammates are in their late 30’s, early 40’s. Meanwhile, Bruce is at the ripe age of 29 and a half.

He is the youngest by ten years.

Everyone kind of just assumes he’s the same age, though, so they make references to 80’s kids stuff that he only vaguely understands through Alfred and his business partners. He just sits there in silence like a child who snuck over to the adult table and is waiting to get caught.

So on top of the rift he (accidentally) created when they started the organization, it’s even harder to connect through similar interests. Other than punching people together.

And Bruce Wayne has a bad case of imposter syndrome when it comes to their superpowers.

He’s always in the corner brooding, and everyone’s like ummm antisocial much?

But 50% of the time, it’s because he’s thinking “I’ll never amount to the incredible heroic feats everyone else has accomplished. How can I possibly make a difference to the world if I’m already struggling to save Gotham?” Like a little emo freak 🖤

(Meanwhile, you couldn’t pay those mf’s to step foot in Gotham. This Bat guy’s crazy and he’s human apparently?! No way. Nuh uh.)

The OTHER 50% of his “brooding” is Bruce standing to the side with a mixture of concern and judgment because his teammates’ competency in certain areas is…alarmingly low sometimes.

One week, he finds himself thinking, “How do these grown-ass adults not know their way around a digital map? They’re 40, not geriatric.”

Then like a week later, it’s “These fucking war fossils don’t even know Morse code. I gotta do everything around here.”

One of the final straws is when he says, “Did they just break another fucking Keurig? Who does that, Alfred? It’s the fifth one.”

Suffice it to say, he’s not very personable. But is it his fault? Well yeah, a little bit. Like……..65% his fault.

(The remaining 35% is their moaning and groaning whenever Batman calls a meeting.)

Bruce’s irritation is totally justified.

God, he just wants to go home.

Why is he doing this again?

Attempt #2: Actually Making Friends

The first JL member to break through his cold, black exterior is Wonder Woman. She needs help with search and rescue after a sinkhole opens up near an elementary school, but no one’s available until Batman responds to her call.

He’s on the scene in less than an hour and makes quick work in securing the area. Thankfully, she catches him once it’s over. (He always runs off without saying goodbye.)

“Thanks for helping. Everyone else was just so busy. I’m glad you could fly over.” Batman mumbles something that she can’t quite hear. “What was that?” she asks. “I was busy too,” he repeats. She gives him a weird look, and he freezes up for a second as he realizes that probably wasn’t appropriate to say. “I mean…this was more important. There were kids in danger so it didn’t…matter if I was busy.”

Wonder Woman considers how awkward The Batman looks for a moment then smiles. So he really is human. “Well, thank you. The help was very much appreciated.”

Since then, several small acts of kindness and solidarity earn Batman some respect from the rest of the team.

One day, Flash complains about how boring their meetings are so Batman brings a massive bin of fidget toys. After placing them in front of the Flash, he mumbles, “These are for ADHD. They’re useful.” Flash almost cries with relief. He is very touched.

Another day, Green Arrow is severely injured in battle. Without a word, Batman leaves the fight, takes him to a safe location, stops the bleeding, and does it all while repeatedly making sure he’s awake and asking permission to remove certain pieces of clothing.

In another fight, Plastic Man’s mask is thrown off, and Batman sees his face. In a second, Batman tosses a smoke bomb, picks up the mask, and hands it back before anyone else can look. It costs them time and the element of surprise, and Plastic Man knows it, but Batman did it anyway.

A JL member’s stomach grumbles during one too many meetings. Suddenly, their little break room becomes a fully stocked kitchen with shelf-stable meal items and all the basic necessities. There’s a nut-free section, a gluten-free section, everything. The only reason they know it’s him is because anyone else would have admitted to it.

(He renovated the whole fucking thing. In one night. By himself.)

And they all see how gentle he is with children. Countless times, The Batman is spotted prioritizing young civilians at any given moment.

He has lollipops in his belt. And Bluey bandaids too.

It’s the little things that make them feel closer to him :)

And okay maybe his goddamn Mission Statement lecture wasn’t so bad

So they stop moaning and groaning

Okay, now it’s bonding time WOOHOO!!

Attempt #3: Kinda? Friends??

One day, Superman says he isn’t too fond of billionaires (because of Lex, obviously) and goes on a rant about capitalism. Bruce doesn’t dare contribute because 1) he’s the richest man in the world and 2) every other billionaire he’s met is insufferable.

(Including Oliver Queen who Bruce refuses to look at while Green Arrow “defends his city’s billionaire.”)

(And while we’re on the topic of Green Arrow, Bruce cannot forget the disappointing almost-fling two summers ago. He still holds a grudge.)

Green Arrow: “You’re all fashion nightmares. Who wears a cape in the 21st century?” Batman: “At least my facial hair isn’t longer than my dick.” GA: “What was that, Batman?” B: “What?”

Also Bruce is very attracted to Superman.

(He likes older men.)

(Yes, I am referring to Henry Cavill’s Superman.)

(Sue me.)

(But don’t get your hopes up. He does literally nothing about it.)

(Coward.)

One of the JL members complains about how sore they are after a few missions so Bruce cashes in his Monthly Attempt to Socialize and says, “Try yoga. It helps me.” “…Batman, you do yoga?” “Yes. My son got me into it….It’s good for you.” “You have a son?!” He is never socializing again.

They also learn that Batman has the smallest frame on the team. (Like yeah, he’s tall, but he’s also lanky, and everyone else is either an alien or a human dorito.)

One night, they need to sneak through the vents of some building so Bruce offers to do it. Someone says, “It’s a tight squeeze. Are you sure you can fit?” Then he just takes his cape and pauldrons and shoulder pads off and is suddenly like a foot skinnier

“Wait…is this why you’re so good at hiding in the shadows?” Bruce just glares at the Flash for a second before climbing into the vents.

(The answer is yes.)

A betting pool is started over whether or not Batman is part Bat.

In fact, several betting pools begin because no one knows anything about the guy??

Aquaman and Plastic Man go to great lengths to figure out what his hair color is.

They lose their shit once Bruce tells them he’s vegetarian.

Green Lantern: “Every time he opens his mouth, we learn something new. Next, he’s going to tell me he speaks Swahili!” Batman: “I do.” GL: “Oh, come on!”

Superman: “We need someone on the inside for this international operation to work, but that’ll take at least three months undercover.” Batman: “Don’t worry. I have connections.” S: “…In Shanghai?” B: “Yes.”

The Flash adds SHANGHAI?? to his conspiracy board

Bruce needs to stop trying to socialize. It’s better for everyone’s cardiovascular health.

A year or two in, they’re all introduced to Captain Marvel. Bruce is the first and only person to learn his true identity (kid Billy Batson) because Bruce is the only one with a kid. That way, he understands the weird Gen-Alpha humor and references.

Millennia-old deities don’t use the term Flop Era.

And, of course, they play FMK at some point.

(I mean, come on. There are like TWO mature adults on this team, but Martian Manhunter doesn’t know what’s going on until it’s too late, and Wonder Woman is busy at her day job.)

During that particular round, the celebrities are Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor, and Kylie Jenner. Bruce does, in fact, want to kill himself, but he chooses Fuck instead because of this exact conversation:

Green Lantern: Come on, Bats. It’s just a game! Choose already. Batman: No. I’m against killing. GL: Oh, go fuck yourself. This situation is completely hypothetical, and you know it. B: Fine! Fuck Bruce, Marry Kylie, Kill Lex. GL: See? That wasn’t so hard :) Bruce:

He tried

Attempt #4: Ah shit, FRIEND?

The identity reveal comes about three years after he joins. He’s 32, has three kids, he’s been on hundreds of missions with them, the team’s over twice its original size, and there are domestic terrorists overtaking Manhattan.

Superman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, and The Batman try to extract as many civilians as possible, but now they’re being hunted. After hiding in a warehouse and considering their options, MM finally suggests that they pose as civilians, which immediately creates uproar.

Bruce, however, realizes this is the only way out.

But it’s not dramatic or badass like that one JL episode. No, instead, he thinks about it, swallows the regret, and just—

Takes off his cowl.

And the whole room falls dead fucking quiet.

Then, “Oh fuck.”

(That was Green Lantern.)

Bruce just shrugs and mumbles, “Martian is right. It’s the only way.” And really fucking hopes the grease paint hides his red face because he is not having a good time right now.

He would rather die, actually, but they need to get somewhere safe and Fast.

The others look him up and down then nod slowly. “Uh yeah.” “Okay, sure.” “This is fine.” “We’ll do that.”

The others begin slowly taking off their suits and changing into something more casual. Bruce takes his off, revealing the skin-tight compression suit underneath, and stuffs his armor in the roll-up duffel bag that’s kept in his belt.

He changes into his drifter outfit, wipes his face clean, and suddenly, The Batman’s just a normal guy. (A very pretty normal guy, mind you. His teammates have eyes.)

“We can head to my place,” Bruce says. “It’s closer, and I know the train system pretty well.” And yes, he’s pretty soft-spoken outside of the suit, but now it feels even more obvious.

Meanwhile, the others are like—

Oh. My. God.

Oh my god, he’s fucking shy. Batman is acting shy in front of us. Dear fucking god. Batman is Bruce Wayne. And Bruce is shy so Batman is fucking shy?? Bruce is pretty too. Holy fuck. He is very pretty.

And he’s so young?? Oh my god, he’s a BABY wtf?! He’s like four inches shorter. Four inches tall! They’re all towering over him without his massive boots and armor, and he just hunches over with the big duffel bag like he wants to sink into the floor, and he’s so small.

Wonder Woman wants to put him in her pocket.

Sue her.

They end up taking the train back. Bruce has on the mask and cap that hides his face (poor Superman, he really likes his jawline) and they all follow Bruce as he gets off and on several trains at seemingly random stops. THEN when they’re finally in Gotham, they head into an abandoned-looking subway station that leads them into a…cave?? WTF

And in the middle of the cave is an elderly man with a cane and a three-piece suit just lounging on a recliner. (WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK—)

He looks up from his crossword puzzle and says, “Ah! You’ve finally made friends, I see?” Bruce rolls his eyes. “This is not a sleepover,” he gripes. “Shame. I was about to grab your footie pajamas for you.”

The man smiles at them. “A pleasure to meet Master Wayne’s work friends in person. Would you like some coffee? Tea? If you’re like him, this is going to be a long night.”

No one dares to question why this man recognizes them in their civvies

They also can’t tell if the footie pajamas line was a joke or not. After tonight, nothing is off the table.

(This is a minefield of information. Barry is having flashbacks to his conspiracy board. No one is going to fucking believe him.)

They all settle into one corner of the cave. Bruce leaves to change and comes back looking like this:

(Goddamnit, Clark is having a meltdown. His hair looks so good wet.)

At one point while they’re plotting, Wonder Woman glances over his shoulder to see Bruce checking some sort of security camera. A boy, maybe nine or ten, is sleeping in bed. “Is that your son?” Bruce clearly doesn’t want to answer, but Alfred gives him a look, and Bruce sighs. “One of them. Yes.”

Later, they have to analyze some explosive samples in the cave, and Barry, forensic scientist extraordinaire, has some choice words about the non-sterile environment.

Barry: This doesn’t look safe. Bruce: My lab is perfectly clean and functional. *bat screeches* Don’t worry about that.

For the rest of the night, they use the evidence they have to track down the organization while the rest of the JL suits up and saves NYC.

After a few hours, they’re safe to return to NYC for damage control. But Alfred refuses to let Bruce go with them. “Your sons are worried. Drive them to school, then you’re coming home and sleeping.”

Bruce clearly wants to argue, but the mention of his kids stops him. He sighs and turns to the others who are already changed. “Let me know if you need anything. I can be there in ten minutes.”

They all nod, knowing full well they will not be doing that. The guy clearly needs rest.

(Also, he is a single father of three and still goes out every night to punch robbers and crime bosses? Is he doing okay?)

Then they head back to NYC with so many questions.

But a lot of it makes sense too, actually. Maybe they just weren’t thinking about the man behind the mask enough to see it.

They learned a lot about their friend that night.

And they have a lot of bets to cash in.

FIN

Okay :D that was a lot! If you enjoyed it, please let me know. This has been simmering in the back of my head for months <3 Have a great day and drink some water :)

Hey bestie @bruciemilf

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revasserium · 7 months

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can i have one were zoro realises she does things bc of truama (like doesnt speak much etc)

hold me (still)

opla!zoro; 6,680 words; slow!!!!burn, fem!reader, ex-assassin!reader, straw hat!reader, general tragic backstory/trauma, fluff, hurt/comfort, bit of angst, emotionally constipated zoro, communication? what's that?, nami playing therapist bc she's the only one with 1 iota of emotional intelligence

summary: sometimes, stillness is a virtue, and others -- a tragedy. or, in which the straw hats pick up a new member and zoro is equally intrigued and weirded out by you.

a/n: well. you guys asked for slow burn and... the burn is so slow u gotta squint to see the smoke yall. but trust. the burn does get there! pls be patient!! and i tried to combine 2 dif reqs in this one fic :)

You are of the quiet sort. Just a shadow dancing in the periphery of their vision, and when they first met you, you’d told them it was your superpower, a soft, still smile slipping across your lips. Luffy had bought into it immediately, and the invitation was out his mouth before anyone could stop him.

“Come with us!”

“Oh…” your lips pressed into a thin line of consideration.

Zoro’s fingers itched towards his swords because something about you makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But something else — something uncomfortable and strange, something very much like curiosity — seizes his chest and twists his stomach. Strange, he thinks, too strange.

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!”

And then, you’d smiled wider, and nodded, and that had been that.

It’s been three months since then, and you are still of the quiet sort, though it had receded a bit with time. What with Sanji’s gentle flirting and Usopp’s not-so-gentle stories and Nami’s bright, dry-humored companionship, you’d begun to “open up a bit”, so Luffy observed.

Zoro, for his part, has kept his distance. Because sometimes he still catches you at the bow of the ship, staring out across the midnight waters, still as a stone-carved statue. Still as a wooden beam — stiller, even.

“What’s with that?” he asks one day, strolling up to Nami as she traces a fine line over a new map she’s working on.

“Hm?” is her very eloquent response.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth and casts his eyes about the ship, finding them drawn to the shape of you, up at the bow again, reading in the shade of the tangerine trees. Nothing moves except for the wind as it whisps through your hair and the slow scanning of your eyes as it skates across the page.

“New girl,” Zoro says, crossing his arms as Nami finally looks up at him and then off towards you.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Zoro lets out a puff of breath, unfolding his arms to glare at Nami. He finds her grinning a lopsided grin as she clicks shut her compass and puts down her pen. She leans a hip on the barrel she’d been drawing on and folds her own arms.

“Oh, you like her.”

“I’m weirded out by her. ‘S not the same thing,” Zoro snaps, but when he tries to leave, Nami blocks him with an arm and pins him with a sharp, leveling look.

“No, no, no — we’re gonna work this through.”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Uh-uh, you still owe me after that round of drinks the other night — remember when you bet you could drink more than me?”

Zoro narrows his eyes, “I did drink more than you.”

Nami’s grin is gleeful, “No, you didn’t. You had to be dragged back to your room after clogging up the toilet. Or do I need to show you the evidence —”

“Alright — fuck, fine. But really? This is what you’re gonna waste your favor on? You could’ve asked me to —” Zoro gestures around vaguely, “clean the bilge or something.”

Nami shrugs, looking almost too pleased, “Nope! This is what I wanna use my favor for. And, really, you think a bit of bilge water is gonna gross me out? C’mon.”

Zoro heaves a sigh and leans back against the main mast, closing his eyes.

“Fine then. Go.”

Nami sits back on the edge of the barrel.

“No, you go. Admit that you like the new girl.”

“I don’t.” He doesn’t open his eyes.

“I’ve seen you staring at her. We’ve all seen you staring at her.”

“What, that a crime now?”

Nami fights the urge to roll her eyes, “No, but I’ve never seen you try so hard to avoid someone before.”

Zoro lets out a bark of laughter, hard and mirthless, “Yeah, so that must mean I like her.”

Nami cocks her head, “It means you feel something towards her. And I’d suggest you figure it out.”

“And how’d you propose I do that?”

Nami once again waves in your direction, “Go. Talk. To her.”

Zoro lets out another breath, eyes scanning across the ship, anywhere but towards where you’re still sitting and reading, finger flipping a page in a perfect, smooth, singular motion.

And Zoro’s not blind. Blunt though he may be at times and careless as he is about most material things, he can still appreciate beauty when he sees it. And you — there’s no denying that you’re beautiful. Your strange stillness aside, when you do move, it’s with a dancer’s lissome grace, fluid lines, not a single movement wasted. When you smile, it seems to light you up from the inside, and your words, though soft, carries the well-worn weight of river stones, glittering beneath the clear, spring stream of your voice.

There’s a sharpness in your eyes, a straightness to your spine, a way of carrying yourself as if you’re afraid that one wrong move might shatter you and the entire world around you.

Sometimes when he sees you, he wonders at the hands that had sculpted you this way. He wonders at your life before they’d picked you up in Loguetown, when you’d oh-so-silently slipped up the execution platform and helped Luffy down, all the while staying free of Smoker’s watchful gaze.

The few times he’s seen you fight, he can’t help wondering if you’ve eaten some kind of devil fruit as well. No human could be so fast as that. Or be so quiet. But then again, he’d fought Kuro, and they’d seen stranger things. Still, he marvels at the way you flicker in and out of sight, slipping around the edges of battle like a dark, haunting thing, and men would drop like flies beneath your quick, quiet hands. With nary a sound or shout before their eyes roll back and their breathing is no more.

On the instances when Sanji had asked about your past, your eyes had gone misty and dark, unfocused. You’d gone still, freezing for so long that Usopp would cough just to fill the silence. And then slowly, ever so slowly, you’d turn back towards them with a small, sad smile and say:

“There’s… not much to talk about. I grew up somewhere far away, where if you didn’t keep quiet and still, bad things would happen to you. And then when those bad things happened, if you weren’t quick — the quickest of all, you’d die.”

Bad things, huh? Zoro thinks as he makes his way towards you, a hand resting on the hilt of his swords. He comes to a stop next to you and leans against one of the white planters, casually peering over your shoulder at the book in your hands.

For a long moment, neither of you move. Then, Zoro clears his throat and forces himself to speak.

“Is it good?”

It takes you a second, but eventually, you turn towards him.

“The book? Yeah, I suppose.”

“Not exactly a glowing review.”

You laugh, a soft, breathy little thing as you look back down at the page.

“It's about a girl who falls into an enchanted sleep, and a prince who wakes her up with a kiss.”

“Must’ve been one hell of a kiss.”

“Yes, and one hell of a prince.”

Zoro finds himself chuckling, his shoulders loosening as he takes another breath.

“And then what?” he asks.

“And then… he asks her to marry him.”

You run your fingers along the page, smoothing your palm over the ink and parchment. Zoro watches you, wondering, always wondering.

“What’s she say?” and it’s then that he notices his own voice, hushed and low, barely a whisper.

You look back up at him and smile a smile a sphynx would have been proud of.

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten there yet.”

Zoro takes a breath, and the breath tastes distinctly different than all the breaths he’d taken before it. As if the world takes the breath with him, and some fundamental truth had shifted on the exhale.

The moment breaks, as moments are wont to do, when Sanji calls out for lunch and Zoro jerks out of his almost-reverie. You slowly close your book and rise to your feet, turning back to smile at him.

“C’mon, it’s lunchtime.”

Zoro nods and follows you into the kitchen, where Luffy and Usopp are already digging in, and Nami is pouring herself a drink. She spots the pair of you and catches Zoro’s eyes. A grin ticks at the edge of her lips but before she can say anything, you’re accosted by Sanji sweeping into a deep, flourishing bow, and ushering you towards the table, where he’d set your place in a manner fit for a princess.

“Where’s my setup?” Zoro asks as he drops into the seat next to you, cocking an eyebrow. Sanji shoots him an unimpressed look.

“I’m surprised you can use a fork and knife, moss-head. Just be grateful and eat up.”

Zoro scoffs but digs in nonetheless.

When next they dock, it’s on a rare, peaceful island — an island of light and books and learning, where the air smells of salt and ink and drying parchment, of unwritten words and untold stories. But it smells of a stillness too, and Zoro knows without having to ask that you’d like it here.

And you do.

He’s never seen you smile so much, never seen you so vibrant and full of life. You chat and laugh and read with a voracious hunger, and he finds himself drawn to this new, warm, moving side of you. He finds himself, more often than not, by your side, even when neither of you speak. And he basks in the comfort of the quiet that permeates the air when it’s just the two of you — him hanging in the hammock on deck, you reading by his side.

But now, there’s the soft tapping of your foot, the shuffle of pages when you flip forward to see what’s coming next, and of course the ever-present shush of the ocean as it washes against the Merry’s side.

The Log Pose needs two weeks to properly calibrate to the next island, so they’ve got time to kill.

On the fifth night, over dinner and drinks, Luffy asks the question that everyone’s been thinking since the day they’d all met you —

“So. Why’re you so still all the time? Not that it’s weird or anything — well, actually — it kind of is, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m just asking cause I'm curious!”

You look up from your half-finished wine but Zoro feels it happening, like the hush of a fan blade slicing through air, the gasp before a porcelain vase tips over and shatters. You stop. You stare. You’re frozen in every sense of the word. And he’s known you for long enough to know that you only go still as a reflex, only reach for it as a shield. Against what? He doesn’t quite know.

“It’s… something of a long story,” you say, your voice low and hoarse.

Luffy grins, smacking his lips as he sucks the meat off a chicken leg, “We’ve got tons of time! Right?” he looks around as if for validation, but everyone’s eyes are caught on you and your unnatural stillness.

Zoro shifts slightly in the seat next to you, opening his stance and turning towards you.

“Could do with a good story.”

Your eyes flash in his direction and he offers you the barest hint of a smile.

You relax, ever so slightly, drifting back in your seat, your glass cupped in the palms of your hands. And then, you begin to speak, your voice smooth and lilting, your words washing over them like the faint lull of the tides.

“When I was three, my father sold me for a barrel of beer.”

A dull clack echoes around the room and everyone turns to see Sanji hurriedly righting the thick stein he’s knocked over. Thankfully, it’d been empty.

“Sorry — I just — what?” he sounds furious but Usopp lays a hand across his arm and shakes his head.

You take a deep breath and continue, your voice oddly emotionless as you say, “The man who bought me took me to an island. It was… a dark place. A quiet place. I only learned its name after I escaped — an island called Elysium.”

Nami gasps before clapping her hands over her mouth.

“I’ve just — I’ve heard of that place before, but I thought… I thought it was just a made-up place.”

Luffy swallows hard, frowning, “What’s it like?”

Nami’s eyes flicker between you and Luffy, “Supposedly… it’s the home island for… for the most feared group of assassins in all the seas combined.”

Usopp’s eyebrows jerk up, “The most feared?”

A faint smile seeps across your lips like blood.

“Yes. The Shadows that Live.”

Everyone turns to look at you. Luffy picks up another drumstick.

“Whoa… cool name!”

Zoro hums, “I’ve heard of them before — but mostly, it was just an old wive’s tale about… shadow assassins who hunt in the dark. Mercenaries for hire. But… no one’s ever seen one before.”

“Because… once you see one, you’ll never live to tell the tale,” you say, your eyes now downcast and fixed on the glass in your hands.

“Then…” Usopp’s voice is soft, “What about… you?”

“I… I ran away.”

Silence greets you. But after a moment, Luffy spits out a bit of bone and uses it to pick at the space between his teeth, his eyes round.

“Wow! You must be pretty good to run away from an island full of shadow assassins!”

You almost laugh, his boundless trust hitting you like a punch to the stomach.

“So…” Sanji lets out a puff of silvery smoke, “the staying still thing… that’s just part of your training, yeah?”

You nod, “Something like that.”

Someday, you think, you’ll tell them about the hellscape that was Elysium island, of the long echoing halls, dark and still and silent. Of the mechanical beasts that hunted by sound and movement alone. Someday, you’ll let them know about the poisoned pomegranate seeds that they feed all the “recruits” to keep them hazy, of how you’d kept six of them suspended in your mouth and spat them all out when you’d finally made it far enough from the island to allow yourself to breathe.

“And… are these shadow assassins gonna come after us?” Nami asks, her voice careful and light.

You purse your lips, “I… I don’t know.”

Nami sighs, but a moment later, she moves to refill her drink with a slight shrug, “Well, just one more enemy to add to our growing list. Soon, we’re gonna have to post a sign-up sheet.”

At this, everyone laughs, and the tension snaps like a wounded spring.

Luffy burps loudly, patting his stomach, “I’m not worried — I mean, if you were able to run away from them once, that means you’re stronger than them, right?”

You pause, your hand hovering over the wine bottle. Zoro gently reaches over and refills your glass for you. You shift back into movement, casting him a small smile and taking a sip. The wine is cool and tangy as it hits the back of your throat. You breathe, and the world keeps spinning.

“I… I’m not sure — I’ve never fought… any of… them… before.”

“Guess we’ll find out if they try to come for you then — but you’ve got us now!” Luffy says, reaching for an apple and chomping into it, “ — Sho… you duon gotta wourry —” he licks his lips as he takes another huge bite before tossing the core towards the waste bin, “We’ve got your back!”

Nami makes a disgusted face, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, ugh.”

Sanji chuckles, tapping out his cigarette, “Yeah Luffy, mind your manners.” But his voice is full of laughter and you find yourself relaxing into the sway of the night, the swing of conversation. Beside you, Zoro refills his own glass and leans over to clink it against yours.

You turn, but he only raises his glass before taking a sip.

You mirror his movement, cradling the cup to your chest when you finish.

Later, he finds you by the tangerine trees, ghosting your fingers over their lush green leaves, dark enough to look black in the evening light.

“Hey.”

You turn, “Hi.”

Zoro sighs and looks out over the darkened waves, the moonlight refracted into a million shattered bits of sky.

“Luffy’s right, y’know.”

“What about?” you ask, joining him by the railings. The night air is cool and crisp. Behind you both, the island oozes with lamplight and laughter. Even from here, you can hear the joy, the peace that permeates the air here. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, you think, to stay here forever.

“If they come for you,” Zoro says, “we’ll have your back.”

You let out a small chuckle, looking down at your hands, “I know.”

“So,” he turns towards you, his earrings glinting in beneath the scimitar moon, “you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

You lick your lips, and instinctively, you reach for the stillness. All the days and weeks and months with the people around you have softened you, and for that, you know you should be thankful. Still, old habits die hard, and you have to clench your fists and dig your nails into your own palms to keep from freezing completely.

You take a shivering breath and force it out again.

“Fear’s a hard habit to break.”

At this, Zoro grunts, though it sounds something like consent. The moment stretches, long and soft and taffy-sweet.

He turns back towards the sea, “Yeah,” he says, and then —

“But we can take it slow.”

You swallow hard, passed the broken shards of forgotten words lodged in your throat (you find that they all somehow taste like thank you), and you nod. Warmth tickles your cheeks and you wonder why he’s said we instead of you — and later, lying in your bed at night, staring at the moon-slatted ceiling, you wonder if he was really talking about fear or if it was something else entirely.

You don’t get a lick of sleep that night.

The next few days pass in a light, repetitive blur. You and Zoro are sent on a few short shopping trips in the city, and you’re glad for something to do that involves movement. Shocking how quickly the body adapts once the weight it’d been holding on to is lifted.

You are still quiet, and he, the same; but the silence has shifted around you, and whereas before it’d been solid and steady, it’s now thrumming and charged with some unspoken energy.

Neither of you are blind to it; nor, it seems, is the rest of the crew.

Sanji’s taken to openly teasing Zoro about being with you all the time, complaining loudly that he can’t get a word in edgewise because Zoro refuses to leave you alone. Nami keeps on trying to drag you out for “girl's day” shopping trips, hinting at all the cute clothes you could get and how “green really suits your skin tone, y’know?”

Luffy and Usopp for their part, both just grin whenever they see you together — Luffy stoked at the fact that you seem more happy and talkative, Usopp gleeful at the way Zoro always seems so much softer when he’s next to you.

You’ve taken to watching him when he trains, sitting in the shade of the tangerine trees, a cold drink in your hand as Zoro runs through his katas. You content yourself with watching him flow through the movements, one and then another, and then another after that. He contents himself with your presence, knowing that you’re here, feeling your eyes as they skate down the length of his back or the width of his shoulders.

It’s a peaceful sort of companionship, even if it is living on borrowed time.

When you all wave the little island goodbye, it’s with heavy hearts and tearful smiles. It had treated you well, and you think you’d miss it. But adventure is as adventure does — it calls, beckoning to those with wandering hearts to listen.

The first week back at sea is a strange one, full of a ringing nostalgia. As if you’re simultaneously coming home and leaving one at the same time. Everyone is a bit quiet, except for Luffy, of course, who literally bounces off the freshly waxed planks, humming to himself as he sits on top of the great ram’s figurehead.

“Is he ever still?” you ask one day, sometime in the second week.

To which Zoro makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh, “You’ve been here a while. What’d you think?”

You sigh softly and tear your eyes away from the bright, shivering ball of energy that is your captain towards the far horizon. A sliver of uncertainty twines through you and your breath slows. Zoro glances at you, now long since attuned to your subtle shifts in movement and stillness. He narrows his eyes.

“What is it?”

You shake yourself back into the moment, forcing a smile.

“Nothing. I think…” your words fade as the feeling twists in you again, knife-sharp and stinging. You clear your throat and reach up to brush away a strand of hair. Skin grazes skin as Zoro’s hand meets yours in the same gesture and you both freeze — hands held up, his finger caught against the bend of your cheekbone, your fingers curling over his.

Time slows, slackens around the pair of you, and the moment stays, suspended in space — garnet dark and perfect.

Neither of you dare to breathe. It’s then that you realize how close Zoro is — close enough for you to see the entire ocean reflected in his eyes: big and dark and so endless it nearly unmoors you. Close enough for you to feel the warmth of his skin; his body, emanating heat. You’d often wondered, in the long hours of watching him train, at the glistening copper of his skin and the light-kissed quality, if the sun himself favored Zoro as well.

Like this, it’s easy to believe that beneath his skin, there pulsed something like sunlight.

“Look! It’s an island! It’s an island!”

And just like that, the moment shatters. Time slips back into motion and you pull away from each other, breathless, with warm cheeks and thundering hearts, feeling somehow lightning-touched and static-ridden.

You take half a step back, reaching up to press a hand to your mouth as if to stop something from tumbling through. But what? You can’t really say.

Zoro tips back as well, whipping around to help Usopp and Sanji with the sails as Luffy continues to holler, waving his hat. On the horizon, you see it looming — the silhouette of an island. You lower your palm from your lips to your heart and wonder what kind of island it will be.

Deserted — seems to be the answer when you all make landfall. The island is quiet, but the occasional chirp and cricket staves off your nerves as you all wander cautiously about the beach, squinting into the dense forest that seems to encompass the whole of the island.

“Looks like a good place to camp for the night!” Luffy says, grinning as he plops down on the sand.

Sanji nods, dusting off his hands, “We’ll need some wood for a fire, but I reckon I can whip up some grilled fish from the fresh catch.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look around, glancing back at the darkening horizon.

“Something the matter?” Zoro’s voice is soft as he helps you carry some of the camping supplies from the ship.

“No… yes… I —” you look up at him, pursing your lips, “I don’t know. I’ve just… this island is…”

Zoro looks around, his dark eyes scanning the thick swath of forest just beyond the beach, “Too quiet?”

You let out a tiny laugh, “Yeah, something like that.”

He nods, “Don’t worry, I’m — we’re here.”

And he leaves it at that, hoisting a stack of wood over his shoulders and going to help Nami with the fire. You watch him with a smile, wondering what on earth you’d done to deserve this level of caring, this magnitude of kindness. Soon, dinner is had and drinks are shared and laughter is spilled like so many silver coins over the white sand beach. The lull of the evening takes over you all, and before long, Luffy and Usopp are slumped over each other, snoring loudly.

You stare into the depths of the fire and try to tamp down the growing dread festering inside your bones. All those years of holding still, of breathing and listening and feeling — you shake yourself — no, not all stillness is a bad thing. Not all silences are made the same.

“You’re doing it again,” Zoro’s voice almost makes you jump. Instead, you turn, finding him next to you as he nurses a half-drunk bottle of wine in his hands. He doesn’t look at you, but there’s a loose grin hinged across his lips.

“Sorry,” you say, ducking your head, feeling a now familiar heat creep into your cheeks that has nothing to do with the dwindling bonfire.

“Don’t be,” Zoro takes another drink, “But I told you… you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I know… and I’ve said before —”

“Fear’s a hard habit to break,” Zoro echoes back at you, finally glancing over and catching your eye.

You breathe out, looking down at your own hands, “Yeah… but I’m trying.”

You both fall silent, and for a while, the only sounds are the crackle of the dying flames, the shush of the ocean waves, and the occasional snores from the rest of your crew. It’s late — later than you realized.

“Do you… want me to grab a book for you?”

You smile, “No, I don’t think it’s bright enough.”

“I could restoke the fire.”

“No, it’s — it’s okay.”

“Alright.”

A bird coos the distance.

“Why don’t you tell me a story?” you ask, turning to look at Zoro proper, shifting till your body is facing him.

In the faint light, you can see the edge of his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“You’re asking the wrong guy — you should wait till the Great Captain Usopp’s awake.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear one from you.”

Zoro sighs, his eyes fixed on the last of the flickering flames. He takes another swig of wine before he starts to speak, his voice low and a bit stilted, but he pushes on. He tells you about his childhood, the village he’d trained in, the doujou in the middle of the wood, his friend who he’d never beat — not even once.

He tells you about he early mornings and the late nights, and how the world had seemed large enough to conquer.

“… And then… there came a morning when she didn’t show up… and sensei came and told me that there’d been an accident.”

His voice almost breaks then, and your eyes catch on the shining white hilt of the Wadou Ichimonji — his thumb pressing against the guard, running along it’s hard metal edge.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

Zoro shrugs, “Don’t be.”

You nod, “Still.”

Zoro slates you a lopsided smirk, “So. Now you know my tragic backstory too.”

You laugh, leaning back to cast your eyes up towards the sky, “And you know mine — it’s almost like we’re friends or something.”

Zoro lets out a long breath, “Yeah… or something.”

There’s a tightness to his voice that makes your skin tingle and it takes everything you have not to look over at him, to try and see if he’s looking at you, watching you the way you’d imagined him to be. You fancy you can feel his gaze on your face, but you close your eyes instead.

You let yourself fall into the warm haze of sleep, and for a while you drift there, your mind sifting through shards of memories and slivers of sound, casting them against the backs of your eyelids as you slowly slide into the darkness of dreams.

You wake up to a gasping stillness — the silence pressing in on your eardrums like thumbs, the darkness around you so complete it’s almost a solid thing. You freeze, your breath hissing to a halt inside you. Then distantly, ever so distantly, you hear the sounds of battle — metal clashing against metal, the hard thud of boots against flesh. You shake your head and reach up to clap your hands over your ears and only then do your senses return to you, snapping back as if you’d been abruptly shunted back into your earthly body.

“Gum Gum — Pistol!”

“Seize her!”

You whip into movement, fast as a flash, dashing away, hoping against hope that it would draw your attackers far enough from your crewmates.

“No one… ever… leaves us…”

The voice is serpentine and susurrus, sinking into your skin like sharpened teeth, but before it can reach you, it’s cut short by a bright flash of silver.

You gasp, whirling around, reaching for the nearest pulse, instinct taking over as you sink your fingers into muscle and flesh. The rush of blood thrumming beneath your fingertips comes too easy, even as a familiar scent accosts you. A moment later, your hands are being pinned above you, and thick, rough bark is digging into your wrists as Zoro stands before you, a sword in one hand, the other holding you still.

His eyes are a little wild and a lot worried. There’s a ring of red rawness around his neck, thin trickles of blood trailing along his jugular, disappearing into the wide scoop neck of his shirt.

“Hey, look at me.”

You nearly whimper, struggling against him, fear still coursing through you like a drug but Zoro is strong enough to keep you held. Behind him, you can see the rest of the crew fending off several shadowy figures, Usopp waving a torch, screaming at the top of his lungs, Luffy whooping as he whacks another figure with his fist.

“Z-Zoro?”

“Yeah, it’s me — eyes up here.”

You swallow in a breath, and then another, and you feel the bright thrum of urgency leave you as your body slowly falls slack. And then you’re slipping, and he’s looping an arm around you to keep you upright.

“Th-they’re here — they —”

“They’re gone — we got rid of them — hey.”

Zoro takes you by the shoulders and gives you a gentle shake. Finally, your eyes catch on his and your gaze holds. You see yourself reflected in them, stark and terrified, but alive — somehow alive.

“They’re gone,” he says, his voice soft and low by your ear, his arm still wrapped around your middle. Shivers wrack your body as you bury your face in his shoulder. He smells of steel and skin and the metallic tang of blood. It’s then that you remember — the wounds on the sides of his neck. The marks in the shape of your hands —

You jerk back and feel a sticky wetness against your cheek.

“Zoro, I hurt you!”

At this, he scoffs, pulling back far enough to flash you a look.

“This is nothing. C’mon.”

He offers you a hand, and after a second you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Wordlessly, he presses his palm to the small of your back, his arm extended to keep you steady as you both make your way back towards camp.

“Phew! That was a workout!” Luffy is saying just as you both reach the outskirts of the now-darkened bonfire. Sanji is pulling out a cigarette, striking a match, and first lighting the end before tossing it into the remains of the firewood, fanning it up into a slow flame.

Nami and Usopp both look a bit shaken, but none worse for the wear.

They all pivot to look at you.

You go still against Zoro’s side, uncertainty flooding through you. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s fingers as they press into the bend of your waist, solid and steady.

Then, Usopp coughs, “C’mon y’all — the Shadows that Live? Psh! More like — the Shadows that Fled, am I right? Yeah? Didya see the way I sent ‘em runnin’ with my brand new fire-powered explosion rounds?”

Nami chuckles and Sanji follows suit, shaking his head and letting out a thin wisp of smoke. Luffy’s grins at you, pumping a fist in the air, clapping his right shoulder.

“See? Told you we’d have your back! We are your crew, after all!”

Weakness seeps into your limbs as you nod, hot pin-pricks of tears itching at your lower lashes. You lower your head and rub at your eyes before looking back up again with a smile. Sanji grimaces as he looks over Zoro.

“Got something on your neck, mate.”

Zoro glares but you glance over and feel your stomach twist with guilt.

“Sorry… I can clean that up for you. They’re not deep but they do need to be bandaged up.”

Zoro wipes down his sword before sheathing it and motioning towards the ship. Behind you, you can hear Nami yawning and saying something about catching up on some more sleep and Sanji reassuring her about having the last watch anyway.

The kitchen is still dark, but the dusty dawn sweeps against the far horizon and neither of you bother to turn the lights on. You carefully set the first aid kit on the kitchen counter and collect the supplies as Zoro leans back against the edge and folds his arms. You work in near silence, reaching up to first wipe the thin threads of drying blood before tending to the tiny, crescent-shaped puncture wounds.

You press an alcohol-soaked cotton ball against one of them and feel Zoro wince.

“Sorry.”

“I’m fine.”

You bite your lips, “If this had been a bit deeper or a few inches over —”

“But it wasn’t. So it’s fine.”

You don’t look up at him but you can feel his eyes on you. Your movements are fluid and sure; you’d clearly done this before.

“Hey, look at me.”

You freeze, eyes slowly gliding up the planes and divots of his neck, slipping up the line of his jaw, so sharp it might’ve been turned on a diamond cutter’s lathe. Your breath hitches as you finally meet his eyes, and there’s a dark, knowing glint behind them that makes your stomach flip.

“I’m fine.”

And for the second time in a handful of hours, you’re caught by the realization of your closeness — only a breath of space between you. There’s a crimp at the corner of his mouth that looks dangerously like a smile and then you’re tipping forward, a thumb reaching up to trace the line of his bottom lip once —

The movement acts like a trigger, and suddenly, he is leaning in and the breath of space disappears.

For all your life of stillness, you thought you’d learned to appreciate the depths and widths of movement. But nothing could’ve prepared you for this — for the push and pull of lips on lips, for the force and friction of skin against skin. For the gasp and hiss, for the breath and kiss.

For the feeling of his large palm as it settles along the swallow’s-nest bend of your neck, the way his thumb runs along your jaw like tracing the guard of his beloved sword, tilting your mouth towards him. For the way your heart might flutter like a tiny, caged bird, or the way you might feel his heart thumping like a fist from his chest to yours.

For the way his voice rolls over your name like a ship at sea; for the way it would shake your body from your bones and leave you more liquid than solid in his arms. For how you never used to think your story would be a love story, but then you realize that every story is a love story if caught in the right moment, in the right light.

And here, breaking apart from Zoro, with a thick, stolen streak of lemon-yellow sunlight leaking in from the kitchen window — that’s exactly what it feels like.

“Oh,” is all you have the strength to say.

Zoro, in all his solid brilliance and quiet audacity, laughs.

You taste the smile on your own lips before you realize you’re smiling. But when you try to bury your face in his neck, he winces slightly as you brush his still-fresh wounds.

“Crap, I forgot about these.”

Zoro chuckles as you hurry to press a few small bandages to the wounds.

“It’s okay. So did I.”

You finish dressing his wounds in silence, though this silence is markedly different from every other silence that had ever existed between you. There’s ease and tension, both, and when you’re finally finished, Zoro takes both your hands in his.

“So…” you say, unsure suddenly of where to look.

Zoro’s laugh is just as soft, just as uncertain.

“So.”

You try to look out the window, but by now, the dawning sun is so bright that it temporarily blinds you and you jerk back. Zoro smiles, reaching up to run his thumbs along your closed eyelids before dropping them to hook around your wrists again.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” he asks, quiet as always.

You purse your lips and let your lashes flutter open. You find him watching you. Heat crests up your shoulders and into your cheeks, and suddenly, the exhaustion of the night before saps at your limbs. You sigh.

“Right now? Not really.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, sounding as relieved as you feel.

You bite your lips and cast your gaze shyly across his face, your bird-wing heartbeat still flapping in your chest. You fight the urge to go still, to reach for that shield that has always protected you before. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s thumbs tracing circles along the insides of your wrists.

“Can I ask for something else, though?”

“What is it?”

You reach up a finger, nudging one of his golden earrings. You don’t miss the way he shivers, or the way his breath quickens in his chest.

“Kiss me again.”

Zoro grins, tugging you towards him, leaning into the curve of your palm as he does.

And does.

And does again.

reqs are: temporarily closed

but feedback is much loved and appreciated!!!

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lovifie · 3 months

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Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 2: Captain’s Dinner

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

Warning/Notes: Captain Price x Reader (on this chapter only, the poly 141 is still building), Oral sex (F receiver), a bit nasty

The rest of the drive goes by in a breath, suspiciously, Simon didn't step on any more bumps, and it felt like being rocking a baby. Kyle got his hand inside your shirt, but as nasty as your acts before, now his hand was just innocently caressing your back, keeping you calm and pliant against him.

At some point, the car stops and you hear Simon talk with someone outside of the car.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

The car moves again but for short this time. And just after a minute or two, the car stops and Simon turns off the engine. Everyone begins to exit the car, Kyle included with you in his arms. You notice people walking around, not too close but enough to see you, and you start to feel self-aware of the fact that you are being carried like a baby by the Sergeant.

“Can you put me down? I want to walk.” You say squirming a bit in the Sergeant’s arms.

“It's faster this way actually, doll.” He responds giving you a quick smile.

“At least put me on your back, it feels weird not seeing where we going.” You say turning your head around as much as you can.

Kyle snickers, making you turn to him with your eyebrows furrowed. “Doll, I actually would be really glad if you let me carry you like this the rest of the way because like this I can hide the fact that I came on my pants like a teenager.”

“Oh.” That's all you managed to say as you feel your cheek blushing. You can definitely feel your panties sticking to your pussy, but he must definitely feel his underwear hardening.

“Soap, Ghost, we will tomorrow at 0700 for a debriefing of today's events. Go rest now. Kyle, come into my office so we can find the key and free our little birdie.” Price orders behind you, relief flowing through your veins at the thought of being free.

Kyle enters the room, Price’s office by logic, and sits you on a desk. And once you are seated, he raises his arm and crouches down getting out of the weird knot of limbs.

He stands before you, free, as you look at him dumbfounded, still cuffed.

“H-how… You could do that?!” You ask looking at him. “I thought you didn't fit, that's why you haven't got out! You could do that?!”

Kyle simply chuckles at you while he adjusts his pants quickly and drops a peck on your forehead whispering against your skin. “Sorry, luv. But it was just too comfortable.” He turns to Price, announcing he is going to take a shower and leaves the room sending you a wink right before closing the door.

You turn to Price, looking a bit shocked still and he picks the key from the drawer at his desk. “Sorry about him, he is a good lad. Hope you were not uncomfortable, right?” He asks as he walks up to you, you put your hands together expecting him to unlock the cuffs, but instead, his hands travel to the back of your tights and he picks you up forcing you to put your hands around his shoulder (almost strangling him for a second before you remember to move your hands above his head)

You let him be, too tired already to fight anymore, and he sits you on the other side of the desk. In front of his chair, once you are seated, he sits on his chair and gets between your legs.

The sight in front of you shouldn't be allowed, broad shoulders making you physically spread your legs to accommodate him, blue eyes looking up at you and warm hands picking yours. “Let's take these off, yeah?”

“Yes, please.” You whisper back, not even sure what you are begging for.

Price takes the cuffs back, furrowing when he sees the red mark where the metal dented into your soft skin. He caresses both wrists drawing circles and then one of them goes higher on your arm up to the bandages. “How's the pain?” He asks looking at your arm.

“Hm? Oh, that… honestly, I always thought bullet wounds would hurt a lot more. It's not too bad, I almost had forgotten about it.” You say smiling back at him.

He chuckles back shaking his head. “I'm definitely having you give a pep talk to the rookies. Sorry about your blouse, as well. I'll pay for a new one.” He says caressing your arm.

“Oh, there is no need, really. This is an old one, I should have thrown it out a bit ago anyway.” You admit shaking your hands to let him know there is no need.

“I insist. And if you get any medical bills, or need any physiotherapy sessions or anything. We will pay for them, we'll take care of you, doll.” He says standing up to his full height still between your legs.

“You keep saying that…”

“What do you mean?”

“That you will take care of me.”

“Yes. We will if you allow us.”

You look at his face, trying to decipher what he means. But the intensity of his gaze pulls the air out of your lungs leaving you breathless, the heat from his body is scorching against you and the ground seems so far away you feel like you falling off a cliff.

“Are you okay, doll?” He asks softly looking to meet your gaze again cupping your face.

“Yeah.” You say softly pulling his hand away and you put a hand on his chest pushing him back. “I-I should get going, I have work in the morning it's better if I get back home.”

“You can stay the night if you want, I'll drive you to work tomorrow.” He quickly responds like he doesn't want you to go.

“Capt- John.” You correct yourself earning a smile from him. “John, I need to shower, and I don't have any clean clothes, really you have done more than enough for me, I will just go home.”

You stay looking at him, waiting for him to move back so you can hop off the desk and get out. But he doesn't, instead, he gets closer and moves both hands to cup your face making you look at him. “You are thinking too hard, doll.”

And then, as natural as it is to blink, he kisses you.

A soft peck right on the corner of your mouth to test the waters, a soft peck on the other side, and then, softly, almost like melting at the touch, a kiss right to the centre of your lips.

He moves slightly back, enough to be able to speak and ask. “You solid?”

And you nod.

You are not even a hundred per cent sure you know what he means, but you know that whatever the man in front of you would ask, you would say yes.

You shouldn't, you don't know him. You only know his name and his position as Captain. You know your mind is not clear, right now he is your saviour, he is been taking care of you since you met, and he is so strong, so gentle with you, so handsome.

You shouldn't be leaning in for another kiss, but you are.

There is always tomorrow for regrets.

But tonight, all your senses scream John Price.

Never did you though a kiss could get you so hot and bothered, he only has his hands on your face and his lips on yours and you are already panting.

He moves forward, hips crashing onto yours making you gasp and he uses the opportunity to get his tongue on your mouth.

You can taste the tobacco on his tongue, swimming down your body. His hands move, taking your hair back into a ponytail and he pulls back. It stings and you groan softly, shifting to a moan when you feel his lips down your throat.

His moustache tickles the soft skin of your neck in contrast with the scorching feeling of his breath. “Who beat me to it?” He asks, chuckling drily looking at something on your neck.

Fucking Kyle.

“Better to erase it, doll.” He says, possessiveness taking over him. And there are no more soft kisses, now he makes out, no, he devours your neck like a madman. Sucking and biting, feeling the mark erupt and your panties to grow wetter.

You bite your lip to try and not make an embarrassment of yourself from how badly you want to moan, and you take his shirt out of his pants. Running your hands under the shirt, needing to feel him.

“I hope you don't mind, sweetheart. Since it is already ruined…” He trails off as he grabs your shirt over your chest and pulls, hard, pulling the buttons of the fabric and ripping it where it didn't give in.

He almost growls when he sees the skin giggle and he dives right into your chest. His hands rest on your waist pulling you forward him, pulling your shirt out of your pants.

You try to take off your jacket, but the sudden movement causes a sharp pain in your arm making you groan in pain. Price quickly detaches himself from your skin to look at your face, alarmed he hurted you. “Sorry, you alright love?” He asks feeling guilty. You shake your head, only worrying him more and then you add. “It's not you, the jacket. Got stuck on the bandages or something; can you help me, please?” He smirks mischievously at you. “Help you to undress? Oh, darling, that's my pleasure.”

He kisses you on your lips again, taking off your jacket carefully and then your shirt. He pulls your bra strap down your shoulder, leaving your bra downside, your boobs out and pushes up. He cups one of your boobs groaning on your mouth when you moan softly and then bends down to get the other one inside his mouth.

He twirls his tongue around your nipple, savouring the taste of your skin. You move your hand to the back of his head, and when he gets lower, right under your boob over your ribs, and he bites you as you pull his hair moaning his name. “John…”

“Yeah, darling, moan my name like that.” He mumbles against your skin before he goes back to your mouth. “You taste like fucking candy, sweetheart. Can't fucking wait to taste all of your.”

“Do it. Do it, please.” You say against his mouth, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Aw, darling, what a fucking sight. Asking so nicely, how can I say no?” He says between kisses as he undoes your pants.

He lifts your ass from the desk with an arm as he pulls down your pants and your underwear all together. He leaves you again on the desk and undoes the clasp of your bra taking it off. Leaving you completely bare on his desk, while he remains completely dressed. The vest is even still on.

“Fuck… I must have been a fucking saint on my last life to be worth it of this sight, angel.” He says looking up and down your body as he moves his hands from your waist up to your face to give you a kiss. “I'm gonna make you feel good, love. So, so good…” he trails off as he begins to give kisses down your jaw, neck, collarbones, sternum, tummy, and just when he is about to reach your mount. He pulls back making you whine. “Shh, pretty, just getting comfy.”

He grabs the chair from before sitting down, gets closer between your legs and pulls them over his shoulder forcing you to lean on your back using the elbow that is not hurt to prop yourself up enough to see him.

He kisses the inside of your tights, from your knee and higher, higher, higher… you can feel his beard on that soaking part of you where you need him the most. But he doesn't indulge you, instead, he goes back to your knee and high again. Teasing you, leaving you panting, aching, clenching around anything, needy, desperate.

“John… please… no more teasing…” you beg, feeling desperate for him.

“Poor baby, already soaking.” He says looking directly at your cunt, and you feel as he presses a thumb on your clit making you shudder at the feeling and he slowly moves it down your slit, reaching your dripping hole and pressing it, but without getting it inside. Just collecting your juices and driving you mad.

He takes the thumb up to his lips licking it while he looks at your eyes. “Just as I thought, fucking candy, love.” You want to complain, to grab his hair and shove his face against your cunt but the only thing that leaves your lips is a bratty whine, too horny to think straight.

You feel Price chuckle against your skin, and when you finally feel ready to tell him off, he presses his tongue flat against your clit turning your brain to absolute mush as you let go of a moan worth of a porn video as you let your head fall back.

He moves his head up and down, letting his tongue move between your folds; collecting your arousal mixing it with his spit making a mess on his beard.

His index finger moves to your entrance, slowly getting it inside stretching you slightly because of the size of his hands. He sucks at your clit, almost making out with it. And once he feels satisfied with it, he gets a second finger inside.

You keep moaning his name, like a mantra almost, not being able to remain quiet when he begins to thrust his finger in and out of your wet cunt. The sounds, the squelch, the sight, delightful.

You have been given head before, but never like this. It never had you begin for them to keep going, to not let you hanging, never this desperate. But John Price, it has you wishing you could kiss the terrorist of your neighbour just for putting you in his line of vision.

He curls his fingers inside of you pressing a point that has you falling on your back hitting your head load enough for him to chuckle against your cunt, but before he can lift his head to check on you, you just get your hand on his head keeping him in place.

Caressing his hair, spreading your legs even wider, he eats you out like a man starved. Like he hasn't eaten in days like he just found a water fountain in the middle of the desert.

You realise then, that the reason why you have never felt like this before with any ex-lover, is because you have never felt this desired. You can feel Price moaning against your cunt, and it makes you wonder who is enjoying it more.

Not for long though, because you begin to feel the knot on your stomach get tighter. More and more tight, you feel your toes curl and you close your eyes letting your mouth open as you feel the knot coming undone like an elevator free-falling. A high-pitched moan leaves your lips that in any other situation would make you feel embarrassed and your tights clasp around Price’s head when he doesn't relent on his attack.

He helps you ride out your orgasm as you cover your face with your hands, the light in the room is suddenly too bright, and after a couple of seconds, you look up at him.

And the sight…

He is sitting, leaning back against the chair, manspreading wide, an elbow resting on the armrest as he lazily licks clean the fingers that were just inside of you. Absolutely content with himself and his accomplishments, a sight absolutely devilishly delicious.

You notice the tent on his pants, and you try to touch him with your feet. But he grabs your ankle, and you don't have enough energy on you to push it.

“As much as I would like to keep going, doll.” He says letting your leg down and coming up closer to your face. “You can barely keep your eyes open, so I think it's time to rest.”

He stands up, goes somewhere behind you that you guess is the bathroom because of the sound of water and a bit later, he is back. He picks you up, and lays down on a sofa, with you on top.

A bathroom and a sofa inside of his personal office, he really is a military captain. He covers the both of you with a blanket, he gives you a kiss to the forehead and before you know it, you are out.

Post-nut clarity doesn't hit until a couple of hours later.

You are naked, in an unknown man's office, far away from home, with no phone, no keys, no money, no clothes, ashamed.

So you do the only thing you can do, you slip away from the sleeping handsome man, get dressed as fast as you can without making any noise and leave the room. You don't even bother to put on your blouse, choosing to just close your jacket.

Once outside, you let a sigh escape your lips. You know the military base, it is actually not that far away from your home, less than an hour walking back.

Are you excited about walking back home at the break of dawn alone? No. Do you have another choice? Not really, not any that would help reduce the walk of shame you found yourself doing.

So you get your hands on your pockets and start doing your half a marathon back home.

And just as the sun is beginning to pick over the horizon, you reach your home.

Just last night there were dozens of police cars, military workers, everything, the whole paraphernalia. But now? It is just dead silence, no a soul in sight, as if nothing has ever happened.

The janitor calls your name when he sees you, he gives you your keys and tells you that the police dropped them by when they cleaned everything.

You wait for the elevator and make your way up to your floor. On apartment 608, there is a police notice, banning everyone from getting close to the crime scene. There are bullet holes and some bloody handprints on the walls, a blood splutters a bit too close to the height your arm is.

You shake your head trying to forget about it, and open your door. Once inside, you lock the door and look for your phone. Only to remember that it must be in your bag, in your car, where you dropped it when you tried to run.

You look at the clock on the wall that you always forget about, and realise you have 20 minutes to get ready if you want to make it time to work. So get at it.

Most of those 20 minutes, go into taking a shower. You feel dirty, mainly because you are, but also because you feel used. You think about Price and Kyle, handsome military men, they have probably visited countries you don't even know exist and they probably have a lover in each of them.

You are probably just another one, and you let them in so easily. They must have barely felt any satisfaction from such an easy catch.

You feel like crying for being so silly, but a voice in your head stops you. The voice in your head that picks you up whenever you fuck something up. Don't cry! Why would you cry?! They used you just as much as you used them! And they are not crying! So neither are you! You made a grown man cum on his pants by rubbing yourself a bit and an even grown-er man basically get on his knees to eat you out! So don't cry!

So you get out of the shower with another attitude, you are going to get a hold of the situation, you are going to get space between these men and yourself, and you are going to be just fine!

“Son of a bitch!” You exclaim when you see yourself in the mirror, if you had thrown yourself down the stairs there would be fewer bruises on your body. Well, not bruises, hickeys.

You huff getting out of the bathroom to get dressed, and then back to the bathroom to cover all the hickeys.

By divine grace, you make on time for work. You are exhausted, starving and if any of your coworkers spoke to you today just a bit out of tone, you would chew their arms off. But luckily, everything goes right.

At least, until you get back home, and the first thing you see when you get off the elevator, is a masked man standing in front of your door.

I guess it is a series now, I don't know where I'm going with it but there is still a couple of things I have thoughts about.

If you guys have any ideas or scenarios please, tell me hehe

And if you want me to tag you on the next part drop a coment 💗

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aweina · 6 months

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౨ৎ. CHOCOLATE LIPSTICK ( 17﹢) ; mike schmidt

tags fem reader. enemies to ( ? ). mike is mean + angry. 2-3 year age difference. sexual tension. oral fixation. semi-brat taming + 1k words.

mike was staring at you funny, it made you feel weird — annoyed, actually.

“what?” your voice was harsh, muffled by the sweet frozen yogurt coating your mouth.

he raised a brow at your tone, a little vexed from your sudden attitude. it reminded him of the bratty kid he happened to escort out of a toy store just an hour ago. he’s in a bad mood already, but there was no reason to get mad right now.

“don’t talk with your mouth full.” mike tiredly mumbled. an honest suggestion, but half of what he really wanted to say.

you rolled your eyes at his critiquing words. he always seemed to lecture you about the littlest things. how you’re not as productive during your usual security checks or even that one time he was finding the mall keys during your shared nightly protocols — making sure to make a sly comment and sprinkle in an unneeded suggestion about how untidy your bag was. exactly how an obnoxious parent would.

it was annoying. being treated like a child and especially by someone like mike. so what if he was a few years older? slightly more mature than you, much more responsible, and definitely not hot. just a little bit tho, but you’ll never admit that.

but ninety-percent of the time he pisses you off, and this is one of those times.

you swallowed down the yogurt that melted from your seething irritation, brows furrowed at the snarky comment he had to make about your dining etiquette. it’s a fucking mall food court, not a fine dining restaurant.

“do you always have to be a dick to me?” your words were laced with venom, all the suppressed anger managed to bubble out your throat.

his calloused fingers suddenly stopped twisting on the volume of the two-way radio, usual soft hazel eyes darken to a muted brown, stubbled jaw clenched. mike swallowed back the urge to say a few fighting words at your childish retort.

your tone wasn’t a big deal. well, until now.

his day has already been ruined. parents weren’t so attentive when it came to their bratty children, that meant he had to parent them himself — awkwardly standing until their tantrums fall silent or escorting dozens of children that happen to run off for some ridiculous toy. he didn’t need anymore whining from you, especially about something he’s done without the intention of malice — you were childish, immature.

“i don’t need to hear this right now.” mike was too tired to argue. a heavy sigh escaping his lips, his rough hands brushing away the tired feeling in his eyes. “you’re acting like a kid right now, you know that?”

you swore your blood pressure just went up.

“see that’s what i’m talking about! you treat me like a kid and you have to be a total asshole about it. why?”

passing families and teens curiously looked towards your table, the sudden blast of your agitated voice drawing unneeded attention. just what mike needed.

he turns away from their prying eyes, flustered that he was a victim of your grownup tantrum. mike continues the silent treatment as he listens to your incoherent babbling, colorful words like “old man” and “asshole” passed through his eardrums like a sour tune. the grip of his arm was deadly tight. yet, your pouting made his heart skip a bit. it was adorable, it always has been. but not when it’s accommodated with your high-pitched whines, your brows knitted with all these negative emotions, cheeks redden from breathless insults. the angry look in your face looked so familiar — it was the same look everybody seemed to give him.

all this over a smudge of frozen yogurt on your mouth. he would laugh if he wasn’t at his breaking point.

“fuck, i hate yo – !“ with sudden force, mike grabs you by your chin, the pouring insults latched shut with a firm grip.

the reddish hue on your face that was once from your vexation became brighter from mike’s unusual forcefulness — he has never been this angry with you before. weirdly enough, you don’t hate it.

the chocolate remnants blotched over your cheeks, dribbling from your unwiped mouth, was he pointing this out the whole time?

“watch your mouth.” you didn’t know if he meant the mess you made or your little tantrum session that set him off.

maybe both, you can’t tell anymore.

you both stare at each other for a second, the tension so thick in the air — the invasive looks felt like a blur in the background, or rather, seemingly drawn away by this peculiar exchange. hazy eyes slowly peered down at your mouth, deliciously glazed with chocolate yogurt. it was tooth aching, he could imagine the taste on his tongue. if only he was a little closer, he never had to daydream about this ungodly sight for weeks.

his thumb slowly drags over your pinkish flesh, gathering the sweet residue that coated your quivering lips. he reached over the corners of your mouth, studying every hitch of your breath and the way you nervously fiddle with the plastic spoon. someone so loud, bratty, could be silenced with a single touch.

pushing past your pursed lips and clenched teeth with ease, his sweetened touch swirled all over your taste buds — the subtle hints of sweat somehow tasted sweeter than the chocolate goodness. mike watches you closely, his slacks suddenly feeling tight. you’re letting him do this to you, without a protest or your usual dirty look.

for another second, his fleeting touch brushed against your wet muscle, mesmerized by its softness. the darkness that loomed in his irises vaporized into a soft green, lured by the sight of an obedient mouth. he finally draws away, a string of saliva connecting his cleaned off thumb and your glossy lips. the rigid grip on your chin loosens as mike huffs in mild irritation, mostly out of astonishment from this predicament.

mike stands from his seat, hiding his hard-on with his bunched up security jacket — hand still soaked from your dribbling saliva. awkwardly, he picks up the trash splayed over the table, making sure his car keys were stuffed deep in his pocket.

“i’ll see you tomorrow.” he steadily spoke, seemingly unbothered.

you nodded, mouth still slightly agape.

mike walks off, leaving you with your own muddled thoughts.

out of complete horror, you hover your nimble fingers over your mouth — the taste of his skin still permeates on your tongue. even with how intimate that whole situation was, mike made sure to clean the remnants of frozen yogurt off your face.

the gall to leave you utterly confused, edged by this new side of your usual grumpy coworker. there was a line between guilty attraction and burning hatred towards mike, you were stuck in the middle of it. but your racing mind seemed to linger towards the shadows casting his tired eyes, the focused look on your compiling mouth, the demand in his voice animating your body like a toy. fuck, yeah okay, he was hot.

the ache between your legs seeped arousal through your pants, you thanked your employers that your uniform was black. gosh, it’s been so long since anybody has touched you like that.

you nearly break your skull when your head falls defeatedly on the table — a heavy groan vibrating in your chest.

you don’t know if you could come to work tomorrow.

#.୨୧ ina writes #.purple mark #( ? )#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf movie x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf x reader #josh hutcherson

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8mitsurikanroji8 · 10 months

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𝒦𝓃𝓎 𝒞𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈

ɪɴꜰᴏ : ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɴʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼

𝘛𝘢𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘳𝘰. 𝘡𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘶. 𝘐𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘶𝘬𝘦. 𝘔𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘰 . 𝘚𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪 . 𝘖𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘪 . 𝘎𝘪𝘺𝘶 . 𝘒𝘺𝘰𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘰 . 𝘔𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘪. 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘶.

────────────────────────

𝐓𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 ⋆˙⟡♡

. Not obvious at all ?

. He’s a sweatheart to everyone he meets ahem Tanjiro effect?

. Blushes whenever you get close ><

. Would offer moments with you

. “Y/n want to eat together ?” “Y/n want to train together?” “Y/n want to take a stroll” etc

. You think nothing of it but for him his heart beats fast and is comforted by these actions

. Doesn’t realize he has a crush on you

. Just thinks you have an amazing personality that draws him in

. It’s just that, right ?

. He finally gets the hint when you guys were alone on a stroll catching the sunset. He caught himself staring at you while smiling as you stood and watched the sun fall, painting the sky orange

. His face goes RED when he realizes ><

. He turns away trying to calm himself down

. You notice, concerned, you take your hand and put it on his face thinking he has a fever

. Faces is literally fire

. Other than that you don’t really realize his feelings for you as he seems to be the same. Only asking for more time with you and more blushing but your mind waves it off

. Little do you know he stares at you while your mind is adrift thinking

. His heart beats fast and his eyes soften

. Yep. He likes you.

𝐙𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮 ⋆˙⟡♡

. Now this one you KNOW [ Sorta ]

. I mean he ask you to marry him only 2 minutes in meeting for the first time

. “YOURE THE PRETTIEST GIRL I HAVE EVER MET. PLEASE MARRY ME!”

. You are dumbfounded with his open admiration

. A little flatter? Yes. Caught off guard ? 100%

. Soon within getting to know him you learn of his lovely dovey personality

. Realizing he is like this with every girl you push aside his comments of marriage and admiration

. I mean he would say that to any one, right ?

. Wrong [ also right tho >< ]

. He would say this to almost every girl he’s met

. But after you ? Oh honey

. You don’t realize how he’s actually fallen for you. Deeply

. Follows you around like a duck

. Someone criticize you [ Even if it’s just critiquing so you know what to work on ]

. That person will not hear the end of it

. “Y/N IS THE BEST PERSON EVER AND IS THE GREATEST DEMON SLAYER SO YOU SHUT UP!”

. Cringey ? Mhm. Cute ? A little.

. If you use sweet words to him [ You mostly say them to everyone tho ] like “honey” “sweetie” “cutie” “sweetheart”

. What color do you want your wedding bouquet?

. He’s planning it all

𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞 ⋆˙⟡♡

. You don’t know and neither does he ._.

.”FIGHT ME RIGHT NOW. LETS SEE WHO WINS!”

. That’s something you will never hear the end of

. He has no idea about what a crush is nor love

. He just thinks you’re a good fighter and wants to fight you whenever he can

. And you just think he’s being his normal weird self :)

. You don’t mind it [ usually ]

. He likes to eat with you

. If you both are heading to a mission and forget to pack yourself food

. He will eat his infront of you and say

. “HAHA IDIOT”

. You roll your eyes ignoring him

. Suddenly his food is being shoved down your throat no comment added

. You better not ask about it

. Your ears won’t be able to handle anymore of his yelling blabber

. But you take his action to heart and enjoy it

. His face is a bit pink

. BUT only because his boar head is warm, right ?

. Sureeee ._.

𝐌𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 ⋆˙⟡♡

. Who are you again ?

. Oh right. The one who gives him the hebegebees

. Jkjkjk

. well

. He’s too lost in the clouds to realize his feelings for you or even realize you’re the only one who’s company doesn’t annoy him or pushes away

. And you don’t realize because his vocabulary is just so grand

. “Mhm” “No” “Yes “I believe so” “What did you say?” “I assume” “Could be” “I have no opinion”

. You tag along him to the point where others know

. “Oh there’s Muichiro. Y/n must be near”

. And vice versa

. He doesn’t realize how close together you guys alway are

. When you’re away on a mission he finds himself with a unfamiliar feelings

. Oh you’re back! Never mind the feeling is gone nothing to worry about !

. You just like his character and enjoy spending time with him

. He won’t realize but he thinks the same

. And more ><

. Both of these are unaware to you and him

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 ⋆˙⟡♡

. Oh boy

. You may be strong both physically and mentally

. You’re enduring both his need to constantly train and his vicious tongue

. You most likely match his adittuide

. Oh he’s got something to say? So do you

. Everyone believes he HATES you

. I mean he does insult you and always wants to fight

. Poor guy doesn’t know what it is he’s feeling

. He didn’t really see romantic love in his childhood

. So he just stuffs those fast heart beat, pink cheeks and fuzzy feeling deep down and try’s to ignore it

. He doesn’t realize but one of the reason he always want to spear with you is because you guys spend close time together

. Also because he’s Sanemi

. And you being you, you don’t mind and take it as another challenge to conquer

𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢 ⋆˙⟡♡

. You talk and he doesn’t

. Perfect match <3

. Here goes another damage one !

. His love language is definitely quality time

. You’re eating ? Under [ or up ] a tree? Simply walking around the garden ?

. Oh look there he is too!

. He definitely catches on to his physical and emotional reactions to you

. And you just thinks you guys are the closets of friends !

. You guys always seem to travel together

. Even in your free time you are found with him strolling around a village together

. Some one insults you?

. You’ll just ignore it and move on

. He doesn’t. Pray for that person.

. Kaburamaru seems to have also found a fondness for you

. He may be jealous of that fact

𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮 ⋆˙⟡♡

. You don’t know what the others are talking about

. Giyu is lovely to talk to !

. He may be one of your favorite hasira to spend time with ♡

. He’s gentle and kind spoken [ with his little use of words ]

. He pays for your meals no matter how hard you insist and listen to you ramble for hours on end with no sign of annoyence

. Why would the others hate him?

. He’s like this with everyone, right ?

. Oh honey.

. You take these actions as part of his character, while he assume he act this way because of his admiration for you being so nice to him !

. I mean you are one of the few who do talk to him without insult

. It never clicks for him what the feeling really is

. That’s until one day

. [ Shinobu ] “Good evening Tomioka”

. [ Giyu ] “Evening Shinobu”

. [ Shinobu ] “You look as bland and boring as ever. How are you”

. [ Giyu ] *no answer*

. [ Shinobu ] “I must say without your little friend you somehow appear more dull. It is odd to catch a moment with you two apart”

. [ Giyu ] *nothing*

. [ Shinobu ] *Giggles* “It’s almost like you two are in a romantic relationship with how close you are.”

. His heart stops with that comment

. And his brain finally realize the feeling

. I mean he’s never felt this way before ♡

. His eyes trail off and soften, catching Shinobu attention

. [ Shinobu ] *Giggles* “ I was only just kidding. It’s not like someone like Y/n could admire your dull personality”

. Oh. Right.

𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨 ⋆˙⟡♡

. “YOU ARE ONE SKILLED SLAYER” “I ADMIRE YOUR TECHNIQUES” “GREAT JOB” “YOU HAVE INCREDIBLE SKILLS” “WONDERFUL WORK”

. He praises you non stop

. I mean who wouldn’t with your talent !

. You take his compliments as a part of his cheerful personality and respect it

. And maybe take a bit of flattery with it ><

. He does too

. He just admires you skill is all

…….

. He offers to dine with you or take you out to eat

. “Y/N WOULD YOU LIKE TO SPEND TIME AND DINE WITH ME!?”

. [ You ] “Oh um, sure okay!”

. “SPLENDID, LETS GET ON OUR WAY!”

. He always ask where you are

. Remembers the small things

. You like that color ? Oh look he just bought you a keychain with it. That’s your favorite food? Guess that’s where you guys are eating tonight

. His acts of romantic feelings fly over both of your guys head

. But not to anybody else

. *Kyojuro and you side by side laughing together*

. [ Slayer 1 ] “Are they together?”

. [ Slayer 2 ] “isn’t it obvious ?”

𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐢 ⋆˙⟡♡

. You guys are actually inspectable

. Always together <3

. She loves your company !

. Mitsuri finds everything about you adorable

. From they way you eat to your fighting techniques

. You make her feel safe ♡

. More touchy with you than others [ expect hugs, face pokes and hand holding when she’s around ]

. She definitely realizes her feelings for you

. She is the love hashira after all

. But she doesn’t act on it afraid you won’t feel the same and forever ruin the relationship you guys already have

. She’s oblivious to the shared love you have for one another

. *Mitsuri thoughts* Oh they just see me as a friend

. Mhm okay ._.

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐮 ⋆˙⟡♡

. This one is a slow burn

. Every mission with you she seems to oddly enjoy

. Whenever you walk into her estate she feels a warmth

. Her heart flutters whenever you hug her or compliment her

. Your smile makes her smile

. She always watches you [ not in a creepy way >< ]

. She just finds herself drunk on the way your eyes light up

. Once it hits her why she feel this way poor girl try’s to ignore it

. Afraid to allow herself to get too close in this field of work

. But the heart wants what is wants ♡

. You begin to dine after missions together

. Have light conversation when running into each other

. And occasionally meet ups outside of work

. She compliments you often

. Once you start to spend more time together she will accidentally graze her hand over you thigh or your fingers just to see you reaction

. This girl knows what she’s doing

────────────────────────

A/n

ᴀʜʜ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ !! ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇꜱꜱᴀɢᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ <3 ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴇ 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

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4K notes · View notes

amentomensmut · 4 months

Text

first time for everything

Drug dealer! Mike Schmidt x fem!reader wc: 4.2k

read part 2 here!

Summary: You’re a good girl. You’ve never been arrested, you don't drink alcohol, and you certainly don't smoke weed. So why were you standing on Mike Schmidt’s doorstep about to buy the very thing you swore you wouldn’t?

Warnings: 18+ content, sorta implied age gap (reader is in college, mike is like the age he was in the movie so like 28-30ish?), cannabis use, shotgunning, dirty messy sex, praise, degradation, spit, grinding, fingering (f rec), handjob, unprotected sex

Authors note: guys i am SO HAPPY with how this fic turned out, and I really hope u guys like it too!! this fic ended up being my longest so far LOL, i got carried away but i LOVED writing the dialogue in this one

You’re a good girl.

You’ve never been arrested, you don't drink alcohol, and you certainly don't smoke weed.

So why were you standing on Mike Schmidt’s doorstep about to buy the very thing you swore you wouldn’t?

—-------------------

“Y/n, it’s seriously no big deal, okay? My dealer’s name is Mike, he’s cool! Just hand him the money and he’ll give you the weed. Simple.” Your friend Sara says as she throws on her work uniform. You furrow your eyebrows at her words, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Sara, I’m not fucking buying weed for you.” You say incredulously, leaning against a wall in your dorm room. Once Sara’s shirt is pulled over her head, she gives you an insulted look.

“It’s not just for me, it's for us! You need to live a little more, Y/n. You haven’t even been to a party on campus yet and it's our third year.” Sara says, emphasising her words with her hands. She brushes her hair, throwing it up into a quick ponytail to make a flat foundation for her ‘Burger King’ cap to lay on top of.

“Well, that’s because I’m studying. I have a job too!” You say with a roll of your eyes. Of course it’s easy for Sara to judge, she’s always been very extroverted. Sara’s the type of girl who’s well loved by everyone on campus, and goes to a party almost every weekend. You can’t blame her. If you were as outgoing and charismatic as she is, you’d follow in her footsteps. However, you’re not, and making friends and being invited to parties hasn’t been an easy feat for you.

You and Sara have been roommates since your first year, and although you haven’t always seen eye to eye, you love her. She’s truly one of your only friends on campus, and even though you know it's pathetic, you think you’d be completely friendless if it weren’t for her. She’s the reason you’ve met most of your friends over your time at college, and although you get annoyed at her, you’re thankful for the times she's pushed you out of your shell enough to have some sort of social life. That being said, buying weed for her is where you draw the line. At least, you think it is.

“I study and work too, but I'm not a total hermit.” Sara exclaims. You scoff and cross the room to sit on your bed. You give Sara a defeated look and she lets out a soft laugh, joining you on the bed.

“Okay, I'll take that back. I don’t think you’re a hermit.” Sara says with a soft smile. She places a caring hand on your back.

“I just think you need to get out a little more, you know? Make some memories, fuck a hot guy, get shit-faced, whatever!” She continues with a laugh. You laugh along with her, and you know she's right. You are a hermit, and it wouldn’t kill you to break out of your shell a little. Even if that means buying weed for your very persistent friend.

“So, why do you need me to buy you weed?” You inquire.

“Because, I’m going to work. Duh.” Sara says, motioning to her ‘Burger King’ uniform. “And I promised my dealer I’d pick my stuff up today. Apparently afternoons are better for him now because he got some weird job working nights.” She continues and you bite the inside of your cheek. Sara notices your apprehension and she grabs your hand.

“Listen, don’t think of it as buying weed. Just…think of it as doing a favour for your friend.” She says softly, ducking her head to meet your gaze that is currently fixed on the floor. It’s just weed, you think. Not cocaine, or something like that.

“And your um, dealer? He’s nice?” You ask, wiping your palms on your jean clad thighs.

“Yeah, I told you. He’s cool. Dealing is, like, a side thing for him. To make enough money to support his little sister.” Sara says, getting off of the bed to collect her things. She swings her backpack over her shoulder and starts towards the exit of your dorm.

You’re not totally convinced, and you’re also not sure how buying weed for Sara will make you less of a “hermit,” but with a long, dramatic, sigh you nod your head.

“What’s his address?”

—-----------------------------------

The gust of the cold December wind that hits your face when you exit the city bus makes you recoil into your hood, and with an annoyed huff you set the hair that stuck to your lipgloss from the breeze back into place.

Mike Schmidt’s place wasn’t far, only a 10 minute bus ride away. However, that was plenty enough time for you to almost completely think yourself out of going. You walk to the address that Sara texted you, the sound of snow crunching under your feet somewhat interrupting your racing thoughts. “Just hand him the money, and he’ll give you the weed.” Sara’s voice replays in your head, and the butterflies in your stomach aren’t sure if her voice is comforting or not.

Mike Schmidt’s house wasn’t one to gawk at, at least from the outside. You start the trek from the end of the driveway to his front door and you wonder how many times Sara has done this before.

You reach the front door and your cold, dry knuckles rap on it. The cold air makes knocking on the wood hurt more than usual, and you rub your knuckles softly. You hear heavy footsteps making their way from the back of the house to the door, and you let out a big breath. The door opens and you scan the man in front of you. He’s…not what you had expected him to look like. In your naive mind, you had pictured a big, burly man, covered head to toe in tattoos. But, this man looked like he had just woken up, his eyes still adjusting to the light outside. His curly brown hair was slightly dishevelled and he laced a hand through it, attempting to make it look more presentable.

“Can I help you?” His voice comes out slightly gruff, and he clears it softly.

“Are you the…the drug guy?” You ask in a low whisper, like the title ‘drug guy’ is akin to the name ‘Voldemort’ in ‘Harry Potter.’

“Depends on who you’re asking.” Mike says, leaning against his front door. He gives you a once over with a little smirk and you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m asking you.” You say, and it comes out a little harsh, your teeth chattering from the cold.

“Do you want me to be?” Mike says, and you narrow your eyes at him. His smirk widens and you bite the inside of your cheek, he’s enjoying this. Sara said this would be easy.

“I’m here for Sara.” You say, and Mike nods his head, a soft hum tumbling out of his closed lips.

“Oh, so you’re her druggie friend?” Mike says with a little mischievous smile, although his teasing is lost on you and your jaw drops open in shock.

“What? I, wha-, no!” You stammer and Mike lets out a laugh that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“I’m joking. Come in, you’re freezing.” He says, noting the way you’re shivering on his front door step. He pushes himself off the door frame and motions for you to follow him inside. You hesitantly follow him inside, but your frosty fingers thank you for the new found warmth of his house.

“Do you want something to drink?” Mike asks, leading you towards the kitchen, you following behind him. You shake your head no, even though he can’t see you.

“I won’t be staying long.” You say bluntly, and even though you can’t see Mike’s face, you swear you can picture the little smile that forms on it with your words. You sit down at the dining table, watching as Mike reaches into the fridge, grabbing a can of soda. The dining table is covered with unopened envelopes and you try your best not to snoop while Mike is in the kitchen. You look up as Mike exits the kitchen with an extra soda in hand, placing it in front of you.

“Just in case you change your mind.” He says and a small “thank you” leaves your lips.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Mike continues, and you slowly nod your head, watching as he makes his way down the hallway and towards the back of the house. You half pay attention to the turned on television in the living room from your spot at the dining table, partly watching some sitcom that’s been left on while you wait for Mike to return. The house smells like weed and spicy cologne and your leg bounces up and down rapidly as you listen to the sounds of Mike’s footsteps coming back.

“Here.” He says simply, tossing the baggy of weed onto the dining table in front of you. You look down at it, and you crinkle your eyebrows in confusion.

“This is it?” You ask, your eyebrows raised as you hold the baggy between your pointer and middle finger. Mike looks at you with his arms crossed over his chest and that stupid smirk that seems to be permanently painted on his face.

“This is an eighth.” He answers, like you’re supposed to know what that means.

“It doesn’t look like much.” You mumble, reaching into your pocket to fish out the $40 that Sara gave you.

“Well, you can always come back if you’d like more.” Mike says in a sickly sweet tone, and now you know he’s teasing you. You roll your eyes and you get up from your chair, holding the dollar bills in your hand.

“Is $40 enough?” You question, and Mike nods his head. He holds his hand out and you place the money in his palm. You turn to leave and you hear Mike’s voice behind you.

“Enjoy.” He says, and you can’t help yourself from turning back around.

“And just for the record, I’ve never smoked weed. So-, so don’t think this is for me. Cause’ it isn’t.” You say, and you wonder why you feel the need to explain yourself to this man that you met only fifteen minutes ago. Your eyes squint at the man as he lets out a laugh at your words.

“Trust me, I know.” He says, and you watch as he takes a sip of his soda, never breaking eye contact with you.

“How? I’m literally buying weed from you.” You say, your tone somewhat annoyed. Does everyone think you’re a buzzkill? A hermit? Is it written permanently on your forehead in big, bold, marker that you’re a ‘drag’ for everyone to see?

“I can just tell. You don’t seem like the type.” Mike says with a sort of shrug. You stand there with what can only be described as a defeated look on your face as Mike makes his way over to the living room. He sits on the couch, changing the channel to some sports game. It’s silent for a moment, save for the sound coming from the tv, and you stand in the front corridor motionless as you have a mental battle over what you decide to say next.

“...Can you show me?”

You watch as Mike turns his head, looking back at you from the couch.

“You want to get high?” He asks, and he sounds genuinely surprised. You walk over to the couch, moving to stand in front of Mike. He looks up at you with a quizzical look on his face, his eyes dancing around from your lips, to your eyes and nose. You nod your head and you watch as he swallows slowly, drumming his fingers on his knee.

“I want to try.” You say, and you’re not sure where this new found confidence has come from, but you’re not going to back down now. Maybe when you get back to your dorm and smoke with Sara, you can surprise her by showing her it isn’t your first time getting high.

“Alright.” Mike says, putting both of his hands on his knees and pushing himself off of the couch. You watch him walk over to a console table in the living room, pulling out a little baggy of pre-rolled joints. He grabs a joint and a lighter and walks back over to the couch, patting the spot beside him, motioning for you to sit.

“Have you ever smoked at all before? Like, a cigarette or something?” Mike asks softly and you shake your head. You were never really interested in smoking or getting high, even when your friends had started to do those things. You’re not really sure where that interest is coming from now, although you feel a strange need to change Mike’s impression of you. To be the opposite of what he expects. To impress him.

“Okay so, the first few hits might burn a little. And you’re probably going to cough so it’s a good thing I got you that soda.” He says, walking over to the dining table to grab the soda that you left unopened, and handing it to you as he sits back down on the couch. You watch as Mike fiddles with the joint between his fingers and you look up at him.

“Is there any way to make it burn less?” You ask genuinely, and Mike smiles at you, relaxing back on the couch and slightly spreading his legs.

“I mean, there is. But I’m not sure if you’d want to try it.” Mike says, resting his head against the back of the couch and looking over at you. You look over at the joint resting between Mike fingers and back to Mike.

“Let’s do it.” You say with almost no hesitation.

“Alright.” Mike says nonchalantly. “It’s called shotgunning. I’m going to take a hit, and then blow the smoke into your mouth. So you have to be ready for me, okay?” He continues, putting the joint between his lips and lighting it. You watch as he inhales the smoke and then blows it back out, the smoke exiting his body through his mouth and nose. He licks his lips and looks back over to you for confirmation. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You say with a nervous laugh that you try to play off. Mike takes another hit, and you watch as his chest rises with the smoke entering his mouth and lungs. All of a sudden, he’s grabbing your jaw with his hand and bringing you towards him. He opens your mouth with his thumb tugging at your lower lip and chin, and he’s blowing the smoke into your mouth. He’s so close, and this feels so intimate in a way that you try not to think about.

“Told you to be ready for me.” He mumbles as he pulls away from you, his thumb and forefinger still resting on your chin. You inhale the smoke, coughing a little but not nearly as bad as if you have taken a direct hit from the joint. The weed doesn’t taste great, and you crack open your soda to wash the taste and your semi dry throat down.

“Well, you could’ve given me, like, a countdown or something.” You mutter and Mike gives a genuine laugh at that. He shakes his head at you, and you’re not sure if it’s the weed already starting to hit but you but you stare a little too long at the way his lips turn into that charming smile.

“I can’t give you a countdown if I have smoke in my mouth, smartass.” You roll your eyes at his words but you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. You shuffle a little closer to Mike, your knee hitting his.

“Well, whatever. Can we go again?” You ask, looking up at him. He nods with a hum, putting the joint to his lips and inhaling. You’re ready this time, lips parted as you watch the way his eyes flutter as the smoke fills his mouth. He turns to you, once again grabbing your jaw, and blowing the smoke into your mouth. His lips brush your own and before you can stop it, you let out a soft moan. Mike pulls away from you slightly, looking at you with a lazy smirk. He moves his hand from your jaw to your cheek, rubbing slow circles into the skin with his thumb.

“Someone’s enjoying this, aren’t they?” Mike says, his tone sweet but you know that he’s mocking you. His eyes bore into yours and you can’t find it in yourself to look at him, your eyes fixating on your lap.

“Look at me.” He says, and you do.

“Do you want to try one more time?” He asks, and you nod. Like the last two times, he takes a hit, bringing his mouth close to yours once the smoke invades his mouth. However, as he’s blowing the smoke into your mouth, he only seems to get closer with every passing second. His lips brush against yours hesitantly but you respond by leaning closer into him. The gap is closed and his lips are soft, and the room is spinning. You know the weed is probably a contributing factor but, god, this feels so good.

Mike cups your face in his hands, cradling you like a piece of fine china. He bites your bottom lip, causing you to part your lips so he can slip his tongue inside your mouth. The kiss is needy and wet, but you don’t care. The only thing you can think about is how good his tongue feels caressing your own, and how the hand that was once on your jaw, is slowly trailing up your thigh.

Mike pulls you onto his lap, pressing you down onto him and you let out a gentle whine. He breaks the kiss to look at you and your eyes divert to the place where both your laps are connected.

“Don’t get shy on me, baby. C’mon look at me.” Mike says. You look up at him, starry eyed, and his gentle eyes are already on you. His hair is messy, his lips are swollen, and he definitely looks high.

“There you go.” He says, praising you. “This okay?”

“Yes. I want more.” You whimper, your hips softly grinding down on Mike. The weed is heightening all your senses, and your pussy is throbbing. You can’t think of anything else right now except reliving the ache between your thighs, and Mike looks more than happy to do that for you. He bucks his hips up as you grind on him, and you can feel his erection through his sweatpants. His hands have a strong hold on your hips, pulling you down onto him.

“Mike, fuck.” You choke out. You two are grinding on each other like a pair of horny teenagers, but neither of you care. You two kiss each other messily, and when you pull away, a string of spit connects your lips.

“Take off your jeans.” He simply says, and you couldn’t be happier to oblige. You wriggle off his lap, standing in front of Mike to take your jeans off. You can feel his heavy-lidded gaze on you with every one of your movements, and as soon as your jeans are off, he’s pulling you back onto his lap.

His calloused hands are everywhere. On your hips, your ass, your inner thighs. He presses sweet kisses on your neck, sucking and licking on the places you’re the most responsive to. Your hands are in his hair, pulling and tugging at it, making him groan.

“Can I touch you?” Mike asks, and you let out a quick “please.”

One of his hands trails up your inner thigh, reaching the wet spot on your panties.

“Christ, you’re soaked.” He says, and you let out a shaky breath as he starts to rub you over your panties. You buck your hips into his fingers, silently begging for more. He pulls your underwear to the side, running his middle and ring finger up your wet cunt. His fingers find your clit immediately, rubbing lazy circles. You reach down to palm Mike's bulge through his sweatpants and in response, he sinks two fingers inside of you.

“Fuck, you’re taking it so well.” He moans, pumping his fingers in and out of you. You clench around him, and the television in the background is now being drowned out by the sound of your pussy squelching around Mike’s thick fingers. The palm of his hand hits your swollen clit perfectly every time he moves his fingers in you, and you rest your head on Mike’s shoulder.

“You know, you act all innocent, but you’re not really a good girl, are you?” Mike grunts in your ear. He adds a third finger and your legs clench around his hand from the stimulation. Your hand has now ventured inside his sweats and boxers, and you pull his dick out from the confines of his clothes. His cock is so hard, with pre cum steadily leaking from the tip. You spit in your hand and then bring it back to his dick, stroking him from the base to the tip. You massage his tip with your thumb and Mike lets out a whine.

“Y-you know what I think? I think you’re a- fuck, I think you’re a slut whose finally getting the attention she needs.” Mike grits out, and with his fingers curling in and out of you reaching a spot your own fingers have never been able to reach, you think you’d agree to anything he says.

“Mike, I think I’m gonna-” You start to say, your legs shaking from your oncoming orgasm. But as soon as the words leave your lips, Mike removes his fingers from you.

“I wanna feel you cum around me, okay? Can you do that?” Mike says softly, and you eagerly agree. With your panties pulled to the side, Mike teases you with his dick, rubbing it up and down your pussy. He catches it on your clit every so often, making you jolt. Mike’s cock is glistening with a mix of your wetness and his own, and you decided to take matters into your own hands, grabbing Mike’s dick and guiding it into your pussy. You both moan out simultaneously, and the feeling of being full again makes you throw your head back in ecstasy.

Mike lifts you up, so the tip of his cock is barely in you, before slamming you back down onto him. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, and you watch as the muscles in Mike’s arms flex everytime he lifts you up and slams you back down. His cock is reaching so deep, and being high only makes it feel that much better.

“Fuck, your pussy is fucking perfect.” Mike whines, and he drops his head, letting some of his spit dribble down to where the two of you are connected. Mike brings his hand down to your puffy clit, rubbing fast circles. You let out a sob, lacing your hands through Mike’s hair and pulling him towards you to kiss him. Your moans are muffled into the kiss, and Mike slaps your ass, making you cry out.

“C’mon, baby. You wanna be a good girl? Then cum for me.” Mike says, rubbing your clit faster and fucking up into you harder. Your cunt spasms around Mike as you cum, your legs shaking and for a second you swear you can’t feel anything except for the sheer euphoria making it’s way through your body. You drop your head on Mike’s chest as he cums inside you, and his grip on your hips is so tight it would hurt if you weren’t so fucked out right now.

Mike’s soft voice is what coaxes you out of your bliss, and with his fingers running through your hair you think you could fall asleep right here on his lap with him inside of you.

“Hey, you’re okay. You were so good, baby, but I need to get you cleaned up.” Mike says sweetly in your ear, and you slowly nod your head. You let Mike take you off of his lap and place you onto the couch, his release running down your legs. You watch as Mike tucks himself back into his pants and walks down the hallway towards the bathroom. You suddenly hear your cell phone ringing, and you reach down from the couch to fish it out of the pocket of your jeans on the floor.

“Hello?” You say in your dazed state.

“Y/n? Did you get the weed? You were supposed to be back like an hour ago?” You hear Sara say on the other line, her tone laced with worry.

“Um, yeah. I got the weed.” You say, deciding that for now, you should probably keep it a secret from your best friend that you fucked her dealer.

taglist: @slutf0rmilfs, @angie-likes-to-art

#josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson smut #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #fnafmovie #smut #fnaf

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cherry-shipping · 2 years

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no way……………! sans come hold me !?

#cherry chats #i want 2 hug him and kiss him i feel bad again #physically this time. but when i feel bad physically i get sad too #he could fix me i swear it i swear it #maybe tomorrow ill try to draw somethin 4 myself to cheer up but im too out of it rn #its like im watching everything through u know the bottom of a glass bottle everytjings so weird #and swirly and bulgy and stuff. like a fish eye lense #SO. drawing ended up being really hard i kept feeling like i was spinning #but hopefully ill feel better tomorrow Then ill draw me and sans kissyng

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beelmons · 1 year

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Luxury poker nights (18+)

cw: sex-servant kink, voyeurism, reader gets passed around basically, rossi is there but doesn't engage, hotch x morgan x spencer x reader, reader is an implied escort/prostitute, fem!reader

A/N: i won't apologize for being a slut. PT 2 has be released here!

“I’ll draw three— fuck.” Spencer muttered under his breath as he reached for the cards that Rossi was dealing to him.

Your mouth was tightly wrapped around his cock underneath the poker table, your head bobbing up and down, body bare to your toes as you kneeled on a pad that the guys had given you for that exact purpose. Your tongue running against his shaft was driving him insane, unable to fully focus on the game he was playing. You figured, even if you knew nothing about these men, that this was the only way they could get to beat him.

“Told you poker nights at Rossi’s were the best, kid.” Morgan said from across the wooden surface as he took a sip off his beer “He’s always got surprises like this ready for us.”

The muscular man shot a charming smile and a wink towards the eldest, who replied with a chuckle of his own. “I like to have my boys treated nicely. Only the best.” he added.

“She sure is.” Aaron said with warmth in his voice.

He tilted his head to observe you servicing his subordinate so diligently. Spencer was sitting on his right, Morgan his left, and Dave right in front, so he had full access to the rest of your body while you were focused on Reid. He shuffled a little to have his chair closer to where you were before he reached for your free hand, then leaned enough to be able to place a gentle kiss to the back of it. “Lend me this, will you?” he cooed while he guided it to his already exposed member.

You let out a hum in agreement, your fingers carefully wrapping around the slippery dick; you had tended to him before moving to Spencer, so he was already fully hard, coated with saliva, and almost ready to burst. Your hand mimicked the movements of your head, stroking up and down in moderate motions.

“So, what do we think of the new section chief?” Aaron asked.

“Seems to have a solid career trajectory.” Rossi added.

“As long as he doesn’t begin to micromanage us, I don’t care if he’s a monkey on a monocycle.” Derek contributed as well.

Eyes landed on Reid when he lacked an opinion, only to find out he had his lips parted, his hands on the back of your head as he looked at you devouring his cock, and his pants had grown into a messy pattern. Shortly after, his hands pressed you down and he let his seed spill into your mouth. As you had been paid to do so, you swallowed.

Spencer took a couple of breaths to steady his high, you having moved away from him to have your lips latched onto Hotch’s tip once again. “He seems reliable. But what’s up with the weird interactions with JJ?” his eyes narrowed as he asked.

“Don’t you worry about that, Reid.” Aaron answered, his hand landing on your head in a similar fashion the young doctor had, making sure you kept your pace as they spoke.

“Well, are we here to play poker? or to talk shop?” Morgan interrupted the conversation. “All in.”

“You seem very confident, Morgan.” Spencer teased, eyeing his own cards.

“Oh, does your brain finally work, pretty boy? It sure looked like my girl here had the wires disconnected for a while.” he joked back, referring to the way you had sucked the intelligence out of him.

“Full house. Jacks over sixes.” Spencer said, opening his cards for them to see.

Aaron and Dave threw theirs on the table, not even daring to show them. Reid’s eyebrows raised daringly, confident enough that he had an unbeatable hand. Morgan, however, did not yield, and he threw his cards on the surface to show his hand.

“Poker of Jacks.” he clarified, pointing at the four identical symbols on the square pieces of carton. Spencer let out a small curse and Derek made a happy little dance. “Why don’t you come over here, mama? You wanna be where the winner’s at.” he said, tilting his head to look in your direction.

Aaron shot him a look at the fact that he was depriving him of your velvet tongue. You had long learned that ‘all in’ included everything, and that also meant you. Hotch was gentle enough to offer a hand and help you up, his cock still dangling from his pants as he stood up. Once both of you were on your feet, he pulled you closer, his hands landing to massage your ass. “Give me a quick kiss before you go.” he said half jokingly, and you obliged. His hands squeezing your skin as your lips passionately moved on his.

You rounded the boss’s chair so you could be on Morgan’s side, awaiting your instructions, and he gently tugged you by your waist to guide you to his lap. His dick as was already out, simply laying half-hard against his pants. It usually went like that, all of them with their cocks ready to be attended when they wanted, for as long as the night lasted.

Derek took it into his hand and perked it up, indicating for you to sit on his lap. Before you lowered yourself, though, he aligned his member with your entrance, and you let out a small wince of pleasure at his size. You held onto the table for support, and you were ready to start moving before an arm on your thigh stopped you.

“No, no, sweetheart, you have done enough. We’re changing roles for now, let me treat you well while you play some poker.” the man huskied behind you.

Your eyebrows furrowed questioningly, but you heard the chair move, and felt your body pulled slightly back to have you leaning on the table, your forearms resting right by the edge to help you up. Morgan’s hips immediately began to thrust at their own rhythm, rather slow, although at times faster.

You were panting a little as he fucked you from behind. The cards were dealt, and you got a decent hand. You exchanged two cards, Spencer changed one, Dave two, and Aaron three. All while they barely paid attention to the man fucking you in the middle of the room.

“All in.” Aaron said, and everyone’s eyebrows raised, they all know what that meant.

“Well, baby, if you want to cum, you’re gonna have to beat his hand.” Derek pointed out, his hips still moving into you, the apparent apathy of everyone else just adding to your arousal. You looked at your hand, full house, threes over twos, not very high, but still probable enough that you could take the bag, and hopefully continue getting filled by the man behind you. Although, if you were honest, either outcome was okay. Servicing such handsome, and well mannered men was always a pleasure.

“F-Full house. Threes over t-twos.” you panted out, opening your cards for everyone to see. Dave, almost immediately, folded on the table.

“Close.” Spencer said “As you probably are, too.” he teased with a mischievous smile as he showed his cards “Full house. Sixes over twos.”

“Nice try.” Aaron said when Spencer tried to reach for the pool “Straight flush.” he proudly showed his hand.

“Next round, maybe, pumpkin.” Morgan said before he smacked your ass, hard enough to excite you, not enough to be overly painful.

He pulled out of you and directed you to Hotch by your hips, immediately taking his seat back without putting away his cock.

“Why don’t you grab some water and take a break, honey?” Aaron said as soon as you stood next to him “I have the feeling we’ll be here all night.”

#blurb: mine #blurb: hotchner #blurb: smut #blurb: spencer #blurb: morgan #derek morgan smut #spencer reid smut #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner x reader #spencer reid x reader #derek morgan x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #aaron hotchner x reader smut #hotch x reader #reid x reader #morgan x reader #derek morgan x reader smut

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kimhargreeves · 8 months

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A Flashy Act-Buggy x Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Summary: You and Luffy find yourself with new members for your small pirate crew, quickly after stealing the map to the grand line, you're all kidnapped by a crew of pirates.

(Based on the One Piece Live Action!! since no one has written about Buggy which has surprised me. Enjoy this one shot Buggy fans!! You guys can decide if you want part 2 to include smut or not😩 next part will be written depending on how well people like this🤡)

"You know I'm gonna be king of the pirates. It's the first time I've had a ship like this." Luffy excitedly told the ginger haired girl.

"I know you've told me that many times already. Can you please be silent for once?" She asked getting annoyed by Luffy's constant talking.

"You be quiet. The kid's just excited." The green man known as Zoro told Nami.

Nami was trying to open the lock which was protecting the map inside.

Both of them unexpectedly helped us, when Luffy and I broke inside to find the map to the grand line, with a bit of help from Koby who had been kidnapped by Alvida. Thankfully Luffy saved him, the young boy said he wanted to join the Marines.

Luffy and I had entered and quickly met Nami and Zoro. Zoro was tied up with Nami dressed as a Marine trying to also have the map Luffy and I were after.

I have been by Luffy's side since many years now. Since he was a small boy, I am only just a couple of years older but I was the second person who raised him. The first being my older brother,l Shanks.

Just earlier the four of us were fighting a couple of Marine soldiers with Axe Hand Morgan trying to stop us, and almost did. If it weren't for Zoro and Luffy's help then we might've already been executed.

"He's just being enthusiastic about all of this. There's no need to be so mean." I said glaring at Nami and she glared back as well.

I decided to not say anything else to her so I walked over to where Luffy was holding onto his straw hat.

He had a smile on his face when he turned to look back at me. "Can you believe this, (Y/N). We finally have have a crew. I can only imagine the look on his face if he were to see me."

"I know he'll be proud. You're slowly becoming a true pirate." I nudge his shoulder and saw him smiling as he stared at the dark skies.

"I think we all make a pretty good team."

"Why do you even protect that hat so much. It looks like to fished it out of the trash."

"One man's trash is another man's treasure." Luffy replied to Nami when she spotted him holding onto the hat.

We all looked back and saw Nami has successfully managed to open the lock. "You did it!" Nami picked the map and unrolled it. With the four of us standing close looking down at it.

Luffy didn't get it or understood where the Grand Line is, so Nami began drawing it for him so he could understand it better. Rogers treasure is hidden somewhere in there.

A loud sort of bomb was heard with the sky now turning red. We all ran out of the ship and saw something explode in the sky. Zoro was the first to fall to the floor and Nami began to cough before she collapsed.

Oh shit. I tried to cover my mouth and nose but to was too late and I also fell to the floor and collapsed.

"Shhh (Y/N)."

I jumped up a bit and opened my eyes to see Luffy a bit too close to me. I rubbed my eyes and tried to stand up but saw that the four of us were inside of a wooden box.

"What..how did we get here?"

"It wasn't the Marines work. Before we all collapsed, I saw a ship heading towards us." Luffy said with Zoro quickly replying to him.

"It'll be easy then. Marines have training. Pirates don't."

We all were quickly met with circus music when the top of the box was removed along with the rest of the box. What the hell?

Zoro, Nami and I looked at each other weirdly when we looked at our surroundings. We were inside of a huge circus tent.

Red and white colored stripes with lights decorating the place, weird looking people and a crowd that were seated but we're tied by their ankles.

The crowd continued to clap with Luffy doing the same but Nami and I stopped him.

"No no no. Stop clapping! It's all wrong"

The four of us looked over at where the voice was coming from and we all looked to our left, and saw a tall man come through dressed entirely as a clown.

Long coat, bright blue long hair with exaggerated makeup and a red clown nose.

"The spotlight was late, it missed my entrance. And where oh where is the lion?" He said standing close to a man with white bear ears?

"Heyy. I know you." Luffy said which made me look back at him wishing he hadn't spoken.The man with blue hair turned to look at us. Wait..Luffy is right, we've seen him before.

"I saw your Wanted poster at Shell's town. You're the clown guy..umm..uhh. Binky, right?" He asked.

I nudged Luffy's shoulder. "Shut up, Luffy. That's Buggy." I muttered seeing that the clown kept his eyes on us.

"Buggy." The pirate corrected and grinned. "Buggy the Clown. Buggy, the Flashy Fool. Buggy, the Genius Jester." He said when no one spoke, seems like no one here knows about him.

"That one beside you seems to be the only one who's heard about me." I felt nervous when his blue eyes landed on me and he smiled.

I had only heard of him, and saw him on the Wanted poster. But I swear I must've at least since him once before…

He's creepy..but weirdly find him attractive. Maybe it's just my brain distracting myself from danger, who knows.

Luffy seemed impressed, "Wow. You have a lot of names."

I nodded my head and looked at Luffy, "He does. Everyone in the East Blue knows who he is."

"What did you just say?" His expression changed when I suddenly said that. Which made me confused.

"That everyone knows who you are?"

"Nose?!" I was paralyzed when Buggy came over and was now holding onto my face.

"Are you making fun of my nose?" He said a bit too close to me.

"I swear I wasn't! But..now that you mention it, is that thing real?" I asked genuinely wanting to know.

Buggy tilted his head as he stared at me, "You're kinda cute." He hummed and grinned

I saw Luffy's hand slowly started to try and tough the clowns nose until he smacked his hand away. The clown grinned looking down at me and stepped back letting go of me.

"You think you're so clever… What's real is I've been scheming for months to steal that map from old Axe Hand Moron. Only to find out that I was upstaged by four little nobodies, who stole it from right under my no-…No!! It's in my head now."

"Hey! I'm not a nobody. I'm Monkey D. Luffy. And I will be king of the pirates." My best friend said making Buggy laugh.

"Oh! Now that's funny. My bounty poster graces the marquee of every Marine Outpost for miles. And my menagerie of outcasts and freaks is the most dreaded pirate crew the East blue has ever known. I am destined to find One Piece. And when I do. I will be King."

"No, you won't. 'Cause I'm gonna find it first." Luffy told him.

Zoro stepped between us and looked at the other clowns behind Buggy. "I am Roronoa Zoro. Drop your weapons now and I may let you live."

This made Buggy laugh while looking at the green haired stoic man.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a celebrity in our midst. Too bad I hate sharing the spotlight. Now, maybe we should skip right to the finale."

Buffy retrieve a set of blades and smiled at us.

"My freaks put quite a bit of a rehearsal time into this little abduction. And if I can reward them with that map.. I suppose I'll have to offer them a pound of flesh instead."

Nami stepped between Luffy and I now, now looking at Buggy. "Wait. What if I have something else to offer you? Something more valuable than the map? What if I give you a new freak for your crew?"

"A rare talent. The most spectacular act in all the East Blue. Besides you, of course."

Nami glanced back at me and I glared back. Nami has grabbed Luffy's straw hat and tossed it up, just when Luffy showed his devil fruit powers, Nami left running.

"That little bitch." I whispered glaring at where she left.

It wasn't long at all when they brought her back and she revealed that Buggy's crew had destroyed the entire town.

He shrugged his shoulders as he stared at her. "Not everything. I let 'em keep their hands."

The sign for "clap" was lifted again, making the poor towns people begin to clap.

All the lights were suddenly focused on Buggy again. "I know one of you has my map, and I'm going to get it back." He said in a serious voice now.

"What was it you said, Rubber boy? That ir was in a safe place. Don't look so surprised. I got eyes and ears everywhere."

"I know where it is." I spoke up making all eyes turn to look at me.

I began to laugh as I showed the clowns and Buffy my middle finger. "You can all suck it or shove it up your asses.

Buffy clapped and at the people surrounding him. "Okay! Let's make our guests uncomfortable in the green room." A few clowns came to grab Nami and Zoro.

While another pair came to grab Luffy, Buggy stood behind me grabbed my neck and grinned looking at Luffy and looking back down at me.

"And I am gonna have a chat with our new pals.."

#buggy the clown #buggy #buggy x reader #buggy smut #one piece live action #netflix #anime #opla spoilers #op live action #one piece netflix #one piece x reader #one piece

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