#and draw what I wanna see so I just block what I don’t wanna it’s actually an easy novel concept really | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

revasserium · 7 months

Note

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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sinswithpleasure · 3 months

Text

Viewing Pleasure

------------------------ First fic of 2024!!! I'm happy to be squeezing out something, finally. ------------------------

You’re definitely not getting back to work for a while.

Movie scripts are hard work—words might not flow, scenarios don’t make sense, plot holes inadvertently happen, and coincidentally, all of that just happened to merge together into one massive problem ten minutes ago. You’re glad for the distraction that Gaeul provides—your girlfriend knows when to pull you out when you’re too immersed in work, too deep into writers’ block to progress anything. Right now, the distraction she serves is extremely welcome. You’re seated on your shared bed, shirt and pants discarded courtesy of Gaeul herself, boxers sporting a prominent bulge, and your girlfriend tugs her tube top off her body, arms crossed, fingers at the hem as she unwraps herself like she were a gift. She carelessly discards her top to the side, and you feast your eyes on your now-topless love, her cute, petite breasts exposed for you. You can’t help but palm your bulge, groaning at the relief it provides, and Gaeul reaches over to tug at the waistband of your boxers, a soft giggle escaping her lips at how needy you looked.

“This is a good distraction, isn’t it?”

“Fuck… yeah.”

When Gaeul tugs your boxers off, she gives your cock a few soft strokes, which leads you to softly groan and hiss in pleasure. She silences you with a short kiss, then she pulls away to finish undressing. You keep your eyes locked on her, staring with lust as she pushes her shorts off her, inch after inch of skin slowly being revealed at first, then all at once when the garment falls to the floor. Gaeul’s pussy glistens with her slick, and you can’t wait to get a taste of her. However, you’re mildly confused when she wheels over her huge mirror.

“What’re you…?”

“Oh, um…” Gaeul gives a shy grin, “Remember when we watched that porn clip together?”

You know the exact one—Gaeul had showed you a video of an amateur couple having sex in front of a mirror a week ago, and both of you had ended up getting off to it together. She’d mentioned that she’d like to try, and you were more than happy to agree.

“You wanna try it now?” You can’t help the grin that is plastered all over your face—that video was hot as hell, and so was Gaeul admitting she wanted to try it then.

“Mhm, I wanna watch us having sex.”

When Gaeul finishes positioning the mirror, she gets onto the bed with you, and you meet her in the middle for a kiss, your hands roaming the expanse of her body. One hand reaches to fondle her left breast, and the other kneads her cute ass, your tongue and hers swirling in a hot, openmouthed kiss. Gaeul doesn’t keep her hands free either—she reaches downwards to stroke your cock once more, her other hand wrapped around you for stability. Both of you moan into the kiss, vocalizing the pleasure you draw from each other’s touch.

“Fuck, Gaeul, baby, wanna fuck you already.” You softly groan your wish against Gaeul’s ear when you break the kiss, your hands latching on to your love’s hips and pulling her down closer to you. However, Gaeul has other plans.

“Not yet, babe.” Your girlfriend grabs your arm to stop you, and the suggestive, coy grin on her face promises that what she has in store might be better than your wish. “We have the entire afternoon, let’s take our time, mm?”

“What do you propose, baby?” You leave a soft peck on her lips, and Gaeul returns you one as well.

“You’ve always said I look so pretty when I cum. Show me, finger me and let me see how pretty I am when you make me cum.”

The anticipation and lust only builds as the both of you get into position. Gaeul rests comfortably between your legs, your hard cock pressed against her back, and she leans against your chest. You stare with unbridled lust as your girl begins to spread her legs. Bit by bit, she exposes herself fully to you through the mirror, and you devour the erotic image right in front of you. A blush dusts Gaeul’s cheeks as she fully opens her legs, and you look below to see her clit exposed from under the hood. Slick runs down her skin as she pants in anticipation, and you can’t help but run your hands over Gaeul’s body, down her arms, across her chest, and over her inner thighs. You pay special attention not to touch her core—you don’t want to give her what she wants just yet.

“God, fuck, you’re looking so fucking hot for me, Gaeul, baby.” You plant soft kisses on your girlfriend’s shoulders up to her neck on both sides, before nibbling her earlobe.

“I feel so fucking hot.” Gaeul can’t help but release shaky breaths and moans as you fondle her. “Please touch my pussy, babe?”

“Mm, okay.” You smirk, and you draw your hands closer to her core. You make use of your middle and ring fingers to spread the slick beneath your fingers across her skin—you collect what drips from her sex, careful not to touch her pussy, and you rub it around her nether lips. Gaeul softly groans as frustration builds, and you whisper in her ear, “Patience, baby.”

“Babe, please.” Gaeul attempts to shift her hips to catch your fingers, but you use your free hand to press her hips back down onto the bed. You can’t help but smile at the whine she releases, and you tease her even more as you draw your free hand up to her chest, ghosting over a taut nipple, then circling over her areola as you whisper in her ear, “Look, baby, look at how pretty you are all needy for me.”

Gaeul moans out loud when she looks into the mirror. She looks absolutely wanton—her body all exposed for you as you tease her even more by kneading her breasts. You can’t help but pull her in for a hot kiss, one which you keep brief. You reach below with your free hand, and when both of your hands reach her nether lips, you begin to spread them open. You put Gaeul’s pussy fully on display in the mirror, your cock twitching against her back as you stare at her wet hole, clenching and leaking, her slick staining the bed sheets beneath her.

“Open your eyes wide, baby. Look at how sexy you are, all spread out for me.”

“Mmgh, fuck, I…” Gaeul bites her lip, a crimson hue spreading across her face. “Babe, I’m shy… I look so naughty~.”

“Yes you do, baby.” You sporadically leave kisses on Gaeul’s cheeks, chin, and neck. “You’re my naughty girl who wants to watch herself have sex with me.”

“I hate you.” An embarrassed whine leaves Gaeul’s lips at your filthy words. “But I… I’m feeling so sexy right now.”

“Good.” You kiss Gaeul on the back of her neck. “You’re my sexy girl, my best girl. I love you.”

“I love you t—mmgh!” Gaeul’s reciprocation of love is interrupted by the one thing she’s wanted all along—your fingers on her clit. You leave her no chance to finish her reply as you slide two fingers over her erect nub, and you rub circles over it as your girl writhes under your touch, moaning out loudly and wantonly as pleasure courses through her veins. A few rubs of her clit sends more slick rushing out of her pussy, and you watch as the stains on the sheets beneath her grow in size. Gaeul can’t resist herself any more—she begins to knead her breasts herself with both of her hands, her eyes glossed over with pleasure as she helps you stimulate her even more. However, you’re not satisfied yet—you give Gaeul two more rubs of her clit before you reach below with your right hand, your middle and ring fingers easily penetrating her slick, wet, warm cunt.

“Oh, my God, fuck~!” Gaeul doesn’t expect the surprise, and you don’t give her a chance to process it—you thrust your fingers into her cunt, thoroughly coating your digits in her slick. Your love can’t hold her moans back—with every upstroke of your fingers deep into her hole, she whines, gasps, groans, whimpers. Each sound she makes only fuels your lust further.

“Fuck, you look so pretty, baby.” You admire the reflection of Gaeul in the mirror—the girl squirms under your touch as she actively thrusts her hips against your fingers. Gaeul is just as eager for pleasure as you are to please her, and you’re nothing short of pleased as well watching your typically composed and shy girlfriend drop her walls, blatantly putting her inner sexual desires on display for you. You grab one of her hands, still kneading her chest, and you pull it down to her clit. “Touch yourself for me.”

Your lust for Gaeul only burns brighter when she follows your word, and you take the only outlet that you can to express it—you push your girlfriend’s chin up, and she meets you in the middle for hot, openmouthed kisses. At the same time, you curl your fingers inside her, seeking the spot that drives her insane. Gaeul’s slick drips all over your hand—your fingers and palm are drenched in her arousal, and you swear she’s never been so wet before. The girl can’t resist moaning with every curl of your fingers inside her, and when she breaks the kiss to cry out in pleasure, you know you’ve got her where she wants it.

“Fuck, that’s right, baby, moan for me. Look at how naughty you are, wanting to watch yourself have sex, watching yourself getting fingered like that. Look at you, all needy, masturbating for me to watch. You’re such a naughty girl, Gaeul, my naughty girl.”

Your dirty talk only adds on to the haze of pleasure that Gaeul enjoys. In between “I’m so naughty”, “Fuck”, and “Please”, wordless moans and the occasional “Babe” make it through, but you interrupt her stream of words with kisses too. The intimacy you share with her only adds to her pleasure, and when you feel her pussy begin to tighten, more slick flowing from her hole along your fingers, you begin to speed up your thrusts in her. Gaeul rubs her clit in time with your fingers, and you pull her close to you with a hand over hers on her chest.

“Baby, fuck, I… mmgh, I’m close, I’m so close, I’m so—” Before she can finish, you whisper right in her ear, “Let it all go for me.”

It takes you two thrusts to take Gaeul to her peak. Your girlfriend gasps, and with a loud moan, her back arches, then she convulses in your embrace. You can’t help but loudly swear when a strong jet of clear liquid gushes out of Gaeul’s cunt, and you pull your fingers out to furiously rub her clit. Her cries of pleasure increase in volume and frequency as more and more jets of her cum splatter all over the mirror and the floor. Both you and Gaeul keep your eyes locked on the distorted reflection in the mirror—the sight of your girlfriend squirting as she orgasms drives you insane. Gaeul can’t stop squirting either—she drenches her feet in the air as she shakes and shudders with each gush of girl cum, every jet of her juices hissing audibly as she continues wetting the sheets, mirror, and floor with her juices. She doesn’t stop moaning throughout—in fact, she gets louder and louder the harder she cums. It takes what feels like an eternity before she calms down, her orgasm finally subsiding, and she deflates into your embrace, her eyes glossed over in a deep haze of pleasure. You pull her tight into a hug—you need to process what just happened too.

“Babe, I squirted…” Gaeul’s exhausted voice draws you out of your trance. “I… I’ve never done that before.”

“Fuck, I know, you were so hot. You must’ve been so horny.” You hug Gaeul even tighter. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” Your girlfriend pants in exhaustion, her body limp after such an amazing orgasm. “And you’re right—I do look fucking pretty when I cum.”

Gaeul rests comfortably in your arms, and you embrace her tightly. Through all of your lust, you’re patient enough to wait, even though you want to have sex with your love already. The intimacy between you and her is something you will never get enough of, and you take the time to leave kisses across Gaeul’s shoulders, neck, and back while she catches her breath. However, you catch some movement in the mirror—Gaeul is rubbing her clit again, her fingers teasing her opening once more, shaky breaths punctuating every pleasurable move.

“Babe,” Your love sighs in pleasure, before her lips rise into a slight grin. “I’m ready again.”

You watch as your girlfriend pushes herself off the bed, out of your embrace. She turns around to press you back onto the mattress, her free hand pulling a pillow for you to rest your head on. You bite your lip and stare in unadulterated lust at Gaeul as she straddles you, and she leans in to kiss you softly. Her hand reaches between your bodies, and she wraps it around your cock to give it a few strokes.

“It’s my turn to please you.”

You can’t help but groan when Gaeul’s kisses begin to travel—your girlfriend is amazing at using her mouth during foreplay, and over that, she’s the best at making you want her, need her. Down your neck she leaves a trail of kisses before her tongue swipes over the trail she left, her hot breath right against your ear when she opts to leverage her soft, sultry voice against you.

“Fuck, baby, so hard, and it’s all because of me.” You can’t help but whimper at how sexy Gaeul sounds. “I love it. I love you.”

“Shit,” you groan, “I love you too.”

Gaeul smiles against your skin at your reply, and she kisses her way down your body. You watch with need as she teases your nipples with her tongue, and she even giggles at your whimpers—she hasn’t stopped stroking you. Her fingers spread your pre-cum all across your length, and more dribbles from your tip as she stimulates your perineum with her fingers.

“Fuck, baby, oh my God…” You can’t help but swear at the pleasure of Gaeul’s touch, and she raises her head to meet your eyes, the mischief and satisfaction in her gaze making you groan. Your love strokes your shaft slower as she kisses down your chest and tummy, and when she reaches your cock, she replaces her hand with her lips, planting kisses all over your slick cock.

“Mm, you always taste so good.” Gaeul licks your pre-cum off her lips when she kisses you right on your tip. You can’t help but buck your hips when she uses her tongue on you—she pulls your foreskin back and licks all over your tip, paying special attention to your slit. “I love using my mouth on you.”

The moan that escapes your throat when Gaeul takes you into her mouth might be louder than normal, but you don’t care. You love it when she blows you—her hot, wet mouth pleasures you so well, and her skill with her tongue is unmatched. Right now though, you can’t help but stare at the mirror, stare at Gaeul with her head between your legs, her ass up in the air, putting herself on display for you to ogle. She has two fingers inside herself, masturbating again, and you’re mesmerized. You’re mesmerized by the way Gaeul clenches around her fingers, how her ass tightens and loosens, how much of her slick drips down her fingers and wrist to the bed below. Gaeul’s soft moans only add to your pleasure as well—she’s got herself on a steady pace, bobbing her head on your shaft as she services both herself and you.

“Shit, Gaeul, fuck, you’re so fucking hot, oh, fuck…” You place a hand on your girlfriend’s head as you rest on one arm, eyes darting between the visual treats in front of you. Gaeul has her other hand fondling your balls now, adding more pleasure into the mix, before she swaps places with her hand. Now, she jerks you off as she takes your balls in her mouth, her tongue tenderly gliding across your sensitive skin. She’s rewarded with more pre-cum that dribbles from the tip, which she spreads thoroughly over your already-wet shaft.

“Fuck, baby, I… I’m getting close.” You can feel the familiar pressure below your tummy—the desire to erupt, to release just under the surface. Your cock twitches under Gaeul’s touch, and she slows down on jerking you off. She rises from between your legs, and she leans in to kiss you right at the corner of your lips.

“Can you hold it for me, baby?” Gaeul pants in pleasure ever so often. “I don’t want you to waste it like that.”

Your girlfriend leans in, her voice right at your ears again.

“Not when you should be cumming raw inside me.”

“Oh, fuck…” Your cock twitches hard at Gaeul’s words, and another dribble of white pre-cum runs down your length. Your girlfriend admires how needy you look, and she leans in for a kiss on your lips this time, one which turns into a quick makeout with tongues swirling. Gaeul moans into the kiss, and when both of you break it up, a string of saliva hangs briefly between your tongues before breaking and dripping below.

“Babe, I feel so good right now.” Gaeul is moaning right in front of you, her hand between her legs plunging deep into herself. You grab onto Gaeul’s hips as she continues masturbating, and you take your chance to admire your girlfriend pleasuring herself up close in front of you. “I feel so hot, so fucking sexy, showing you how I touch myself in the mirror and in front of you like this…”

Gaeul raises her free hand to support herself on your shoulder, and you keep her steady with your hands on her hips. She gives you a mesmerizing smile, before she whispers, “Watch me cum.”

The next few moments feel like a fever dream, but it’s all very real—Gaeul gets herself off right in front of you. You swear the mirror’s taken off every bit of shame and restraint off her, and you’re more than happy to have a front row view of it. Your eyes rake over Gaeul’s body, but you end up staring at her face, at her expressions. Gaeul bites her lip as the pleasure builds between her, and she doesn’t bother hiding how good she feels—she moans your name out loud, she tells you to keep your eyes on her, and finally, you get to hear the words you’ve so wanted to hear.

“Fuck, baby, fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!”

A short “Oh, fuck!” precedes Gaeul’s orgasm. The next moment, your love’s nails dig into your shoulder, and her hips buck in your hands as her release hits her. A huge gush of squirt sprays all over your abdomen, your cock, and your thighs. You don’t bother holding back the swears that leave your lips, and neither do you stop staring at your girlfriend, as well as the reflection of her in the mirror. Spray after spray of girl cum wets your body and sheets as Gaeul shudders, her eyes rolling back in pleasure with each jet of her squirt that she drenches you in. With each warm spray of cum on your cock, you feel the familiar urge build in you again, and you try your hardest to stave it off, just as she requested. However, you’re not able to hold it off completely—three spurts of hot semen spray onto your tummy as your cock pulses, mixing with her cum on your body. The involuntary mini-orgasm has you groaning—clearly, Gaeul isn’t the only one visibly affected with this new experience.

When Gaeul’s orgasm comes to an end, she leans in to give you a short peck on the lips. However, she notices your cumstained cock and skin, and she giggles.

“Heh, I thought I told you to hold it, baby.”

“I’m sorry, babe.” You kiss her on the lips again, then give her a wink. “You’re too hot.”

Gaeul’s reply is to smirk. You bite your lip when she turns around on top of you, making it a point to push her ass towards you, softly swaying her hips to keep your attention on her.

“Now, hold it just a little while longer, okay?” Gaeul’s soft voice has you reluctantly tearing your eyes away from her ass. “I want the rest of that all in me, and I’m going to ride it out of you, baby.”

The groan that leaves your lips at her words only gets louder when you feel her sink down on your cock. Your hands instinctively shift to Gaeul’s waist to guide her down on your shaft. Inch by inch, her warm, wet walls envelop your hard cock until she has you hilted in her. Not even a second goes by before she’s lifting her hips already, pulling herself halfway off your shaft before sinking back down. Once, twice, and on the third time she does that, you meet her in the middle with your own thrusts to form a rhythm. Both you and Gaeul don’t bother holding back any moans of pleasure—the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh as well as vocalizations of pleasure merge to form an erotic score that basically is music to your ears. The visuals only add to the experience: not only do you enjoy Gaeul’s moans of sexual relief, you get the best of both worlds in watching her not only fuck herself on your cock right in front of you, but you also get to see it in the mirror. You’re not the only one who’s watching though—Gaeul admires herself as well. She arranges her messy hair and preens in the mirror, partially for herself, and partially for you.

“You look so fucking pretty like that, babe.” You subconsciously begin to thrust harder. “I love you so much, and I love fucking you so much too.”

“I love you too, baby, mm~!” Gaeul’s whines of pleasure break her sentence up, and you’re grinning at the pretty sounds she makes. “You’re right, I… I do look pretty fucking myself on your cock like that!”

“Mm, that’s right, you’re my pretty babe, my lovely girl.” You shift your hands up and Gaeul leans back, using her feet and arms to support herself as she continues to fuck herself on your shaft. Your hands reach up to tease her nipples, and the groan that Gaeul releases has you grinning even more. You sneak a peek in the mirror, and Gaeul has a hand on her clit now, rubbing herself to add to the pleasure. With this new angle, you find yourself hitting her G-spot over and over, and Gaeul only gets louder, wetter, tighter with each stroke of your cock rubbing against her walls. The sensitivity from her previous two orgasms is the catalyst that brings her close to her third, and you’re getting close to orgasm once more as you twitch deep inside her.

“Babe…” Gaeul’s soft term of endearment is all you need to know what she wants. You start to ramp up your thrusts, and so does she. Both of you drive each other closer and closer to orgasm—she drenches your cock with more of her juices, and you’re leaking copious amounts of precum in her as well. Every thrust pushes both of you towards the precipice, and—

“Gaeul, babe, fuck!” Your cry of pleasure heralds your orgasm. Immediately, your cock twitches and you’re firing stream after stream of thick hot cum into Gaeul. Almost immediately, Gaeul shudders under your touch as her hips buck, her pleasure bursting out of her in streams once more. Once again, your love makes a mess of you and the sheets, just as you make your own mess deep within her walls, just as she wants it. You level thrust after thrust deep into your love, hell bent on fucking your cum deeper into her, hell bent on keeping both your pleasure as well as hers, going for as long as possible. Eventually, both of you come back down from your respective highs. Gaeul collapses next to you in exhaustion, a sweaty but ultimately satisfied mess. She snuggles close to you. “Cuddle?”

“Sure.” You wrap an arm around her. “I love you.” “I love you too.” She wraps her arms around you, and both of you bask in the intimacy and each other’s company. You smile as you plant kisses on the crown of her head.

“You were so sexy being all confident like that.”

“Really?” Gaeul grins. “We should do this again. It was hot.”

“You’re right. We should. Thank you for the distraction and the experience, baby.”

“You’re welcome!”

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #male reader #gaeul smut #kim gaeul smut #ive smut #ive gaeul smut

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anakincentric · 3 months

Text

mdni. minors & ageless blogs will be blocked. warnings: sexual content, implied smut, established relationship, dom!anakin, objectification (f receiving), possession (f receiving), size difference, anakin fights with a guy mentions, vaginal fingering, alcohol mentions.

“we’ll go soon, baby, i just wan’ finish my drink.” you say, tilting your head down to sip at your thin black straw sticking out of your pink fruity beverage. sitting at the bar, you kick your heeled feet, knocking the platforms together as you ogle your boyfriend who stands next to you.

“all these people make me uncomfortable.” anakin replies, scanning the room as if to gauge every single person here. powerful brows are knit together in a disapproving frown, judging everyone for their clothing choices and how they like to spend their friday night.

“i promise-promise. almost done. you paid for it, wan’ get your money’s worth.” you assure, long claws coming to caress his rotator cuff appreciatively. your touch soothes him, glancing down at the contact, and his expression softens the slightest bit in the dull light. it makes you smile at him with the straw still tucked in the corner of your lips.

past him, on the other side of the bar, a commotion draws your attention. you crane your neck to see around anakin’s huge frame, large enough to obstruct a lot of your view point. you hardly even notice when his large hand settles on your bare thigh, creeping up to the short hemline of your dress.

“i’m not interested.” a voice says, loud enough for you to hear over the music. your eyebrows furrow, suddenly alerted to distress. alarms ring in your head.

“what’s wrong, princess?” anakin asks with concern. the only strain of concern he knows how to show, glancing over his shoulder to follow your eyeline. you didn’t even realize you’d started to pat at his arm with fervor. you set your glass down, the ice clinking together from the impact, and you push off your seat.

“no, i don’t wanna go with you-“ the voice says again, a girl’s voice. you don’t even give it a second thought as you stride to the source, and anakin’s gotten the picture now, following closely after you.

“c’mon, don’t be a prude. jus’ wanna show you my place.” a man’s voice comes into play, the bass of it now able to be heard over the music now that you’re closer. you’re able to see he’s putting his hands on her, and trying to lead her towards the exit and everybody’s too busy to notice!

“ani-“ you whirl around to address your boyfriend, but he’s way ahead of you.

anakin surges forward, cutting you off with his body to shield you as he invites himself onto the scene. you stand, watching, as he doesn’t hesitate in fisting the guy’s collar to yank him from the girl. ani’s taller than him by far.

“do we have a fucking problem?” you nearly jump at anakin’s mean voice, meaner than the one he uses when you’re in trouble for being a brat. the guy turns, not expecting to crane his neck to look up at anakin, coming face-to-chest first. he suspends his hands with a nervous smile, and the girl seizes her chance to back up now that she’s released.

“we’re jus’ havin’ a li’l fun. mind your fucking business-“ the guy says, slurring his speech. you’re sure he smells like alcohol, and ani hates that smell.

you blink as anakin says nothing and latches a hand on the guy’s upper arm for proper leverage, dragging him towards the door easily. as he gets further, you’re able to creep to the girl. you know anakin wouldn’t want you anywhere near this, wouldn’t even want you to see this side of him, but you’re sure she needs someone right now.

“get the fuck out.” anakin tosses the full grown man outside, letting his knees buckle to land on the pavement from the force of his push. “if i see your face around here again i won’t be so fucking nice.” you stand next to the girl, both hypnotized by your boyfriend demonstrating his domineering personality. the guy wallows on the ground, scraped up but otherwise fine. he sways in place, and looks over his shoulder to see anakin’s back is turned. he takes the chance, picking himself up to get his revenge. being as drunk as he is, it’s child’s play for perpetually-sober-anakin to hear him coming, facing him and leaning back to dodge the punch thrown. it’s effortless, a perfect and swift incline of his body away from the man who stumbles because he missed. anakin raises his leg, connecting his hefty boot against the guy’s stomach and the air is kicked right out of his lungs. anakin’s chain rattles against his pants. the man falls back, clutching his aching abdomen as he rolls on the concrete.

at this point, the conversations in the bar had gone silent, watching with bated breath. some had even pulled out their phones, hoping to capture a viral video probably captioned “handsome hero kicks asshole out of bar.” you’re kinda swooning. anakin lumbers back, swiping at his nose with his thumb, and he looks positively masculine. an aura of power radiates off of him, as if he had fun teaching that idiot a lesson though you could tell he was holding back.

he rejoins you and the girl. “thank you.” she says, croaking. anakin only nods. he’s so humble, you think, he gets so uncomfortable when he’s thanked for stuff like that. he comes to stand behind you, nearly caging you against the bar as he addresses the tender. you beam with pride, and pulse with a need. the fact everyone just saw your boyfriend kick someone’s ass and now he’s right behind you acting like he didn’t just do that.

“an ice water.” he orders, and promptly it’s given to him. he slides it to the girl.

“you don’t have to-“ she begins.

“it’s okay.” you tell her. “you need it after something like that. i’m so sorry that happened.”

she doesn’t say another word, gratefully taking the glass to sip it. anakin runs a hand through his hair, and then his fists rest at the edges of the bar on either side of you. if you’re not mistaken, it’s almost possessive. as if he’s keeping you safe from any other offenders that may be lurking, shielding you with his body.

after a bit of chatting, you keep your promise, the two of you getting ready to leave since you’d abandoned your drink. she appears she’s getting ready to leave too. “ani, walk her to her car.” you gaze up at him when you tell him, and he looks to her expectantly.

she glances between you. “oh, no. that’s too much trouble, you don’t have to do that.” she objects, and you feel that sense of protectiveness wash over you again. her shaken expression of upturned brows too pitiful to ignore.

“nonsense. we’re happy to do it.” you insist, and interlace your fingers with anakin’s. “c’mon.”

after escorting her, she thanks you both profusely, and drives out of the lot. anakin doesn’t say a lot, but you’re used to that. you can’t stop ogling him with doe eyes while you practically skip with pep alongside him.

“what are you looking at me like that for, huh?” he questions, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“no reason.” you reply in a melody.

“do i have my work cut out for me when we get home?”

you giggle at his innuendo. “you can’t blame me! you were so hot in there.” briefly, you surmise the interaction with exaggerated gestures and paraphrased dialogue, recreating the heroic scene in which he helped that girl.

“alright. i get it.” he sighs, conceding. “you sure you can wait ‘til we get home?”

“yeah… i might need a little help on the way home. drinking got me all tingly.”

“oh, yeah? your little parts hurt for me, baby?” anakin teases you, obviously making fun of you as he draws you into his side with a strong arm around your waist, practically lifting you off the ground as he curls into you, speaking into your hair.

“stop it!” you chide with an embarrassed grin as you land back down, continuing to walk in step with him.

you approach the car, but he doesn’t let you get in, pressing your back to the window with his body. massive hands cup your face, angling it to kiss you. you gasp, clutching onto the front of his shirt. he parts your lips with his, inviting his tongue inside to toy with yours. sliding his against it to coax it to attention. an involuntary whimper is drawn from you, squeezing your eyes shut as something as simple as a kiss makes your cunt quiver.

his wandering hands palm your hips, drawing you to him, arching your back as he leans more of his weight onto you. weight you wish was on you in other ways, you wanna get filled right now. as if he reads your mind, those roaming hands don’t stop at kneading your ass in your little dress, but one gets adventurous. it wedges between your bodies, seeking out where it’s needed most, cupping your cunt over the fabric.

weakly, you push at his shoulders, and break the kiss. he’s undeterred, latching onto your neck to mouth at it. “anakin, we’re in the parking lot.” but you don’t really care, the idea of his hand up your skirt out in the open has your hole slick with need.

“want my trophy.” with that, thick fingers hook under your hemline, and stroke at your folds hanging out the lips of your pussy. “thought you said you needed a little help.” his voice vibrating against the column of your neck sends a shiver down your spine.

“i meant in the car.”

you gasp, interrupting your own self as the tips of his index and middle kiss your clit. sucking on your pulse point, you moan quietly as he dips them into your slit, gathering the moisture. “mm - all this for me?” he inquires, and you have half a mind to scold him with a pat on his arm. his bicep, heavy and meaty, probably wouldn’t even feel it. “i can’t wait any longer.” his middle finger sinks into your hole, and you claw at whatever you can reach as you deal with the sting of the stretch. your thick lashes flutter when your eyes roll into the back of your head. “so tight, angel, should i have kept going? could’ve at least given him a bloody nose. maybe lose a couple teeth-“

“don’t talk about him right now.”

“imagine if i fucked you. right here, right now.” his tone has darkened.

“ani,” you whine, and he straightens to get a look at you. your face caked in a full-face of pretty make-up is becoming skewed while he fucks you on just one finger.

“right in this parking lot, right against the car.” he slams his hand against the metal, and the hardin smack makes you jump from fright. but it’s the fear tactic that makes you horny, looking up at him with wide glossy eyes and plump parted lips. he’s smug. “loosened up f’me.” he muses, introducing you to a second finger. it’s starting to make the wet noise now. “you like thinkin’ about me fucking you? is it because that guy could still be here? how embarrassing would that be, huh? i throw his bitchless ass out and then go fuck my girl about it.”

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tastesousweet · 3 months

Text

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (iii) - pt 1 pt 2

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : no one frustrates and confuses y/n more than matt

warnings : smoking weed, alcohol/drinking (i headcannon everyone 21+!), tension, sexually suggestive

mickey speaks : THIS IS LONG AS SHIT!!!! ngl im not obsessed w this part but u guys r the sweetest thank u for loving this story so far and for ur patience. part 4 definitely won't have as long of a wait.

THIS IS PART THREE GO READ THE FIRST TWO PARTS NEOWW

MATT hates hosting parties.

now that he and his brothers have hosted three of these "get together"s to promote the warehouse, he’s realized just how much attendees dont give a shit about respecting the space they're in. he found it to be a cool concept for sure: give out free tiny tats along with food and drinks for more exposure and networking. nick came up with it and it sounded perfectly easy way to build their brand and get to know people in LA.

except the first one was a complete mess, with chris constantly promoting the party (he mentioned it to almost everyone he talked to, encouraging them to bring friends along), frequent instagram posts dedicated to the event, and natural word of mouth the warehouse was suddenly overcrowded and trashed within the first hour of being open. matt barely got through that night without losing his temper or calling the cops to shut down his own party.

that’s not to say matt hates attending parties as severely as he hates to have his own. he’s more than willing to go out when he has a set time to leave and good enough company. he’s trained his anxiety to behave within those spaces so that he's not ruining his or anyone else's time. now it seems his anxiety only spikes when it comes to (what feels like) hundreds of people surrounding him in his space with no intentions of leaving until well into the morning. at that point he’d prefer to be at home, completely alone.

just as he does now that nick has dragged him out to a nearby liquor store to buy “goodies” for the event later today.

matt’s face carries his typical dry expression as nick stands next to him, hands resting on his hips, eyeing the various vodka bottles.

“nick, it’s alcohol not the fucking newspaper,” matt grumbles.

“i know that! i just don’t wanna choose the wrong one.” he defends.

“if they don’t like something i think we have more than enough to choose from at this point,” matt sarcastically nudges his arms that hold onto a wide selection of alcohol that nick has impetuously given him with quips of ‘okay, hold this one.’

“matt, i wouldn’t have brought you if i knew you’d be such a buzzkill, jesus.” nicks tsks.

“alright, don't say that like i was begging to come here, nick. i had no choice and-"

nick cuts him off swiftly, noticing a few girls have joined them in the aisle, “matt, move." nick guides him backwards with his hand, "you’re like, in the way.”

matt turns his head to see what exactly he was blocking, before turning back to nick and scowling, “‘m literally not in the way at all.”

“they might need to see all the options,” nick shrugs, going back to narrowing his options down while matt stands in slight annoyance, zoning out.

until he overhears the two girls call, “yeah it’s over here, y/n! come!”

and matt can’t help but turn and look (at an embarrassingly quick pace that he’d blame on his brain's pristine sound recognition and not that he wanted to see you, necessarily).

and sure enough your frame comes into view (clad in a sweatshirt and small pair of shorts), confirming that he did not mishear and you unfortunately were in fact the y/n called for. not wanting to deal with small talk, he immediately turns to nick, “the second one is best, nick. alright, let’s go.”

nick looks over to him, throwing his hands up loosely, “ohh, now you wanna be helpful whe-" he closes his mouth when he sees you over matt's shoulder, "did you know y/n's here?” his eyebrows draw together and he swiftly grabs a tall bottle of Absolut and places it in matt’s arms before walking around him (ignoring his hand’s poor attempt to hold nick back).

you’re too busy discussing which vodka tastes best with a few of your friends to notice nick walking up to you guys. you only look over once you hear a snap followed by a hushed “matt!”

you host a tender smile when you recognize the two tattooed boys, “nick? what are you doing here?” you glance from nick to matt who seems to be holding a full bar's worth of liquor while nick holds nothing but a tote bag and sunglasses he enjoys fidgeting with.

“y/n, i have a party i’m hosting tonight why would i not be here? now the real question is why are you here at 11:30 AM?” he jokes, squinting his eyes at you.

“same reason as you,” you shrug then realize you haven’t introduced your friends properly. “oh! and these are my friends; i texted you about bringing along, remi, erin, and andrea.” they each wave slightly as you gesture to them.

after an exchange of greetings and smiles (though you could tell matt’s was so phoney), nick backtracks, “okay but actually why are you here?”

“did you think i was joking? i’m getting drinks for your party!”

“i mean this in the kindest way possible: why?”

“i wasn’t gonna show up empty handed! it’s common courtesy to bring you guys something whether or not you ask.” you insist and matt fights the urge to roll his eyes.

he knows you have no mal-intent but god damn do you make yourself look so fucking pretentious.

“yeah, we’re trying to figure out what would be the best kind to bring right now,” erin chimes in.

nick immediately agrees, “oh my god, tell me about it. i was just struggling with that too!” and he turns to matt to validate, see! it’s not stupid to care about possibly buying the wrong thing!

matt just rolls his lips into his mouth, trying to give anyone a fucking clue that the conversation should be wrapping up by now.

“we’ll probably just end up getting pink whitney,” andrea reaches for the bottle on a nearby shelf.

matt can feel your eyes on him but he chooses to keep looking down at nick's ugg boots as if they’re the most interesting thing he’s seen.

you shift your eyes back to nick who’s still talking to andrea before you begin to speak, “well, i’m sure you guys are busy, you know, party planning.”

suprisingly, matt speaks up to agree with you, "yeah, you’re right actually. we are pretty busy."

nick cuts in with a shake of his head, “well, we’re actually not doing much before the party starts, honestly. we’ll probably just drop this off at the warehouse and set up a little, then go home, right matt?” nick shrugs to his brother who's eyes only widen with a look of question, “oh that's so true, matt!" he turns back to the girls with a smirk, "if you guys want you should come hang out with us now!”

matt wishes he currently had a free hand so that he could slap it over nicks mouth and drag him away before he sells his own kidney next.

"oh that's okay, we still have some stuff at home to do before we even think to get ready, but we'll be there tonight," you smile and look over to the girls who each agree.

"okay, we'll see you around then." matt tilts his head to the side encouraging nick to follow as he walks away.

"you have my insta so just dm me if you need anything. okay, bye! don’t forget swimsuits!" nick smiles and waves before rushing to catch up to matt who has already left the aisle.

౨ৎ

“i still can’t believe y/n was there, like what are the odds?!” nick giddily sighs and looks over to matt as the two walk out of the store.

“yeah, how fuckin’ weird," he murmurs, adjusting the brown bags in his hands to reach for the keys hanging from his belt loop. "small world, i guess.”

౨ৎ

“how the fuck are you so calm?” you ask in shock from behind the bat squishmellow you hold while sitting on nick’s baby pink couch, legs crossed.

“y/n, it’s like the teeniest, babiest tattoo ever,” andrea almost laughs as she takes another bite of a miniature rice krispy treat.

this “get together” at the warehouse has been a hit as far as you can tell. when you and your friends arrived it was already rowdy with people everywhere, music pounding, and bottles of alcohol scattered on the counters of a kitchenette (where you placed your own bottle of pink whitney, tied with a dainty white ribbon). you all found nick early on dancing in a crowd of people. he gave out hugs and easily convinced andrea and remi to let him tattoo them. after looking over the flash sheet nick made specifically for tonight, the girls decided to get matching cherry tattoos.

nick’s work area was so soft. he had bright hues of berry hugging his walls in the form of posters and paintings and faint creamsicle colored pillows to keep his couch company. when you all first walked in he explained how much he enjoys when clients bring in a friend so he had to make sure they had a comfy place to sit. you found nick so endearing in that since, he’s very caring and thoughtful despite his attitude at times (a far more understandable attitude than matt’s).

“it’s soo small,” nick adds, “i still think you two should get one,” he smirks looking over to you and erin huddled on the couch.

“hell no, i think i'm good for like another year," you shake your head and look over to erin while you gently run your fingers over your tattooed lower hip.

"yeah, absolutely not. i'm not even close to drunk enough to do that shit right now." she laughs.

౨ৎ

matt finds joint rolling to be the most satisfying part of smoking. the precision needed to perfectly fill, wrap, and burn makes him giddy in his own matt-kind-of-way.

after working on his last client (who wanted a somewhat abstract piece for the lowkey means of a “free tiny tats event”) and successfully sneaking through the crowd to grab a snack then sneaking back into his work area, he wanted nothing more than to get high alone.

he begins to gather his spare weed, grinder, and rolling papers from a spot tucked away in a drawer. he stops by his desk to turn his speaker back on, playing hushed kendrick lamar thorughout the space.

he taps his fingers along to the beat before sitting in a chair and displaying the items in front of him. he begins to grind the weed while humming, only to be interrupted fairly quickly.

"matttt!" chris peeks his grinning face through the curtain before taking it upon himself to walk in, "what are you doin' all alone in here?" matt pauses his movements with a sigh.

"no way you were rolling up and not planning to share? what the fuck?" chris pries in jest, rolling a chair over to sit in front of matt.

"dude, 'm so over this fuckin' party. i was planning to just smoke this and go nap on nick's couch or something." matt explains as he carefully lays the weed in the paper.

"you were barely even out there! got all your clients to text you whenever they got here." chris mumbles a scoff. "that is not the fuckin' point of this by the way, supposed to be meeting new people." chris rolls his eyes leaning himself so far into the chair that his back has practically met the seat.

"at least i'm doing something, you've only given like a tat or two all night," matt mumbles, slowly filling the white paper with weed.

because chris knows he's right he deflects the conversation to the reason he even came searching for matt in the first place. he clears his throat, playing with his fingers, "nick wants to take the girls up to the hot tub."

"thought we weren't allowing randoms up there anymore?" matt smirks at the memory of nick just hours before lecturing the both of them on what ground rules needed to be set so people don't demolish their shop for the fourth time now.

"obviously if they're with nick they're not just randoms." chris shakes his head, "pretty sure it's y/n and some friends she brought along. you remember that girl, right? she was-"

matt stops sealing the blunt to respond, "uh huh, i remember her."

chris lets out a breath, causing matt to finally look up and make eye contact with his brother (after spending their entire conversation too focused on rolling) in surprise at his pause in speaking.

"yeah, she's cool." chris yawns.

"i guess." matt says while finishing off the joint.

matt then lifts his hand up to give chris a view of his rolled joint. "stellar." chris smiles and matt hands it him, "swear you have a gift for this shit or somethin'." chris holds it in different angles near his face.

matt just shrugs and reaches for the tiny red lighter in his back pocket, "light that bitch up," he encourages chris.

"wait, no, let's save it for hot-tubbing."

"no? let's not? i didn't roll it for anyone but myself, let alone a group of barbies."

"be nice, matt."

"give me it, chris," matt rolls his eyes and signals with his fingers for chris to hand it over. “also who says i’m joining you guys in there?”

chris hands the joint back over to matt who’s immediately putting it in his mouth and bringing it towards the lighter’s flame, “nick wants the both of us up there, he thinks it’ll be fun.”

matt’s words come out quieter now that he’s speaking with smoke held in his lungs, “is he shit faced?” matt exhales the smoke as he speaks, “you know he thinks anything is ‘fun’ when he’s drunk.”

he takes another hit while chris explains, “no he’s actually really fuckin’ coherent, hasn’t had anything compared to me.” he smirks knowingly.

“not too much of this for you then,” matt exhales and passes the blunt over to chris. “so who’s gonna be hosting this party if we’re all on the roof?” matt asks squinting at him while playing with the soft edge of his graphic tee shirt.

chris’ face hides behind the smoke he releases, “we have dontae and claire working tonight too, they know how to deal with shit. i’m not too worried.”

“cool, so nick has contradicted himself twice already tonight, what happened to ‘one of us three should always be keeping an eye out’?” matt questions.

chris shakes his head, handing matt the smoked down joint, “literally how am i supposed to know why that kid thinks the way he does?”

matt licks his lips with a smile at his brothers comment then goes to hit the blunt once more.

“but i do know you need trunks on asap, brother.” chris lifts himself up, feeling a little looser now that he’s quite faded, and begins to dig through matt’s backpack in the corner of the room.

“why the fuck are my trunks just casually in my bag?”

“i put ‘em in there knowing you wouldn’t listen when we told you to pack them.”

“because i’m never getting in the pool at a party, that sounds terrible.”

“you think everything sounds terrible,” chris rolls his eyes throwing the plain black swimming trunks at matt’s chest.

౨ৎ

“‘kay so the game is just called, “i dare you…” but we’re gonna play it like drink or dare,” chris explains before taking another sip of his pepsi (he’s attempting to ‘sober up’ before playing a drinking game). “assuming the crowd knows what drink or dare is..?” chris looks around to everyone to confirm. there’s quite a lot of people in the spacious hot tub: you and your friends, the triplets, asha, and two of the triplets’ friends nathan and cameron.

when everyone nods in understanding chris explains something about the order to follow and how to discard any used cards, but you only loosely pay attention. instead, your eyes keep an unfaltering stare on matt who sits across from you with the shadows of his face highlighted light blue from the water below and a warm amber from the outdoor lighting above.

he wears his hair messy and his signature silver chain that reflects in the water harshly. you find yourself focusing on his tattooed hands (large in proportion to the joint he’s just finished rolling), and his pink tongue that has slipped out a number of times to lick at the joint and secure its shape.

he’s so into his own task he hasn’t even acknowledged your presence really. somehow that bothers you and attracts you to him at the same time. his face is so neutral as well, it’s not easy to find matt without a resting bitch face and an foul mood to match.

you feel andrea’s hand guide up your back, carrying water in its trail. you still continue in your curious trance until she leans down to your ear, “don’t start drooling now.”

you immediately look up towards her (as she’s sat on the ledge of the hot tub, cautious of her new arm tattoo). she barks out a laugh and you try not to laugh as well, punching the side of her leg instead.

“what did i miss? what are we giggling aboutt?!” nick excitedly asks as he climbs into the hot tub and sits in the empty spot to the left of you. you turn and greet him with a smile and he immediately hands you one of the many beer bottles he holds, “here, take one, pass it down.”

“oh it was nothing, thank you.” you reply when handed the final bottle.

nick nods before swatting at chris who still stands in the middle of the hot tub, “kid, you can sit down now, i think we all got it.”

chris looks over to nick, “you go first then, nick. i’ll queue up a few songs.” he shifts a floaty that holds a set of cards in it towards nick before taking a seat next to erin (you can overhear him introducing himself even though your attention is on nick as he draws).

“who’s the bright one who chose a game with cards to be done in water?” nick jokes finally looking at the card.

“i’m sure you can guess,” asha laughs next to him.

you watch as nick’s face welcomes a large grin upon reading his dare. “okay…i’m reading this out loud, right?”

“i thought ‘we all got it’?” chris jokes and watches nick deadpan, “yes, nick just say it.”

“this one’s easy, ‘i dare you to make one of the group members crack a smile in less than a minute.’” nick adjusts himself to face nathan, “nate look at me.”

“oh come on nick, nate laughs at everything when he’s drunk.” matt talks despite his lips closing over the joint he’s just about to light.

“i don’t!” nate says before looking over to cameron, who elbows his side, making nathan giggle and cover his face. “no! for real, try me nick.” he adjusts his expression to be serious but just as nick opens his mouth to speak nathan explodes in sudden laughter causing the rest of the group to laugh as well.

even matt laughs into his arm as he passes the joint to remi, next to him.

౨ৎ

as the group continued playing the dares leveled in dirty extremity. asha nibbled on cameron’s ear like a hamster, nathan texted a friend asking to have a threesome, cameron licked sugar off of andrea (who very much enjoyed it), until finally it was matt’s turn.

matt’s been far more sociable and charismatic this entire time spent in the hot tub than you’ve seen him before. but you can’t tell if it’s the weed and alcohol or even just the fact that he’s surrounded by a group with some of his close friends that’s bringing this out of him. you’re shocked the only nagging he’s done was to break up a small argument between his brothers and of course make fun of you, mouthing “you scared?” after you denied hitting the joint for a second time. you mouthed back “no” and rolled your eyes at him but his playful smirk never left.

matt hangs his head and stifles laughter after reading his card, “i dare you to bend over backwards and let the rest of the group spank you, chose who’s best.”

“oh my god!” chris’ laugh is higher in pitch now that he’s extremely high.

“guys i really don’t wanna,” he sighs.

“matt, don’t be lame! you’ll be the first one who’s drinking,” asha encourages.

“fuck this game,” he mumbles under his breath before adjusting himself to lean over the hot tub, everyone laughing at the sight. it was fun to see matt so unserious for once.

after taking turns to hit matt’s ass, he decided the fourth person’s was the best, per his dare’s request, and nathan celebrates with a throw of his hands in the air.

remi then performs a trust fall with the person she trusts least in the group, cameron (who she told there was no hard feelings since they’d only met today), making it now erin’s turn.

she blushes at her card before reading aloud, “i dare you to give a lap dance to the hottest person in the group.” she bites her lip in embarrassment but nonetheless leans over to chris and requests a song in his ear.

chris smiles and taps his phone as erin adjust herself to standing. “this is gonna be hard to do in water,” she messes with her hair.

“you’ll be fine!” you encourage with a smile.

“alright, you ready?” chris looks up to erin and she nods in response.

body party by ciara begins to play sensually through the nearby speaker gaining a few “oouuu”s from the group.

what you don’t expect is for erin to lean herself in front of matt. and matt definitely doesn’t expect this either, but he’s not too mad about it.

“oh shitttt,” cameron grins, he and nathan occupied in their own awkward-laughing fit while watching with wide eyes.

she moves slowly and hovers matt in a straddling position to “grind” on him. you take a heavy sip of your drink while watching in an attempt to hide your odd feeling about this. it was like watching a car crash. you watch as matt’s eyes gaze up and down her body, not daring to touch her but unashamed of his attraction.

asha laughs and whistles in support when erin turns around to give matt a view of her ass. nick dramatically ducks behind you yelling, “i actually can’t watch this! oh my god!”

you laugh and to mess with him whisper, “don't worry, it’s over now.”

nick looks back and immediately goes back to covering his eyes and laughing with you, “you bitch!”

you look back to matt who tilts his head back with wide eyes and lips puffing out in humor. and finally, after it feels like the two have dry humped for hours, erin stands back up and bows. matt claps with a wide smile, everyone else joining in.

when erin sits down you look up to andrea who just stifles a laugh with a sip of her drink. “well how the fuck am i gonna top that shit?!” chris exclaims while grabbing a card.

“real question is how the fuck will matt recover from that?” you joke causing matt to look over to you.

“oh don’t worry about me, sweetheart. i’m sure i’ll recover fine. chris,” he lifts his head gesturing for chris to begin his dare.

your tongue travels along your teeth to stop yourself from ruining a good time with your confusing feelings.

“i dare you to give a hickey to the person to your left.” chris bites his bottom lip and blinks slowly before looking over to andrea who just smiles and playfully flutters her fingers at him.

“you’re cool with this right, ‘m not tryna make you uncomfortable or any-”

“chris, shh.” andrea says.

“'kay, where do you want it?” he smiles.

“let’s make this fun,” she adjusts her bikini top and presses her manicured fingers along her right breast, “right here.”

nick is extra dramatic when it comes to watching chris suck harshly on his new friend’s tit, “okay, why the fuck did we choose this game?!” he turns away.

when chris is finished andrea shows it off to the group as proof and pushes chris’ cocky face away with a laugh, “nice job, stupid.”

afterwards, andrea gets a dare to expose her search history with the group, which she does without a problem.

it’s finally your turn to pick a card. “i dare you to lick whipped cream off a person of your choice.”

“oouu who’s it gonna beee?” nick nudges into your side.

you look around the hot tub, wanting to pick someone unpredictable, “ashaaa, you haven’t had much to do yet?” you look over to the girl who now has wide eyes and a growing smile.

“okay, yeah let’s do it,” she shrugs. “nate could you go get whipped cream, please?”

once nathan’s back you move closer to asha and decide to put whipped cream on her shoulder. “it tickles,” she giggles when you lick the entire dollop off of her easily.

you both laugh and you lick your lips as you head back to your seat.

౨ৎ

after another round it’s finally matt’s turn again, he draws a card that reads: give a kiss anywhere, on the person you’d “take home to mama.”

matt slowly stands and rubs his chin with a devious smile. “ummm,” he draws out, giving multiple looks at everyone before he walks over and hovers over you. you’re shocked by your body’s ease when his wet hand lifts to hold your face and his lips connect to yours. the kiss isn’t sloppy, but rather needy. you were just getting used to the taste of the bitter beer he’d just been drinking when he pulls away and steps back, unfazed.

you blink and wipe your fingers around your lips as matt wipes a hand over his eyes while laughing to himself.

“mom, would love y/n,” chris adds, calling back to the initial dare that led to that stomach turning kiss.

“'course she would, she’s a fucking saint.” matt sighs.

you squint your eyes and tilt your head, “i wouldn’t say that…”

“yeah, shit, my bad.” matt spreads his legs across from you, “forgot you have that little tattoo. i’m sure you’re not such a good girl anymore.”

you’re fucking annoyed now. you hate that he thinks you're inferior to him in any way. “hey where’s that ashtray, chris?” you ask, adjusting your seated position.

“uh, here,” he reaches behind him and places it on the same floaty as the cards, along with the lighter.

“you guys are cool to keep going,” you say and take the abandoned joint in your hand to relight it.

matt watches in spiteful anticipation.

“take it slow, and hold it” andrea explains to you in a whisper, knowing you’d never smoked in your life.

erin begins her dare to prank call a customer service line and dirty talk them when you take a hit of the joint.

matt eyes never leave your bothered figure as you inhale and cause the tip of the joint to light a bright red. he can tell you’re trying to prove a point which makes it more amusing to him when your eyes begin to water after you shakily exhale and attempt to hold back a cough.

“don’t hurt yourself.” matt quips under his breath.

౨ৎ

the group hadn’t realized just how long they’d been in the hot tub nor how drunk they all are until they struggled to get out and back to the main floor of the warehouse.

though, lots of giggles and piggyback rides helped them all stay together as they traveled back, cold and still damp. all partygoers were gone at that point, leaving the warehouse empty yet a mess.

nick (being the self-proclaimed good host he is) led the mass of drunk people to the bathrooms and brought extra graphic tee shirts and sweatpants to change into from the many boxes of merch sold in their tattoo shop. the boys had insisted that everyone just sleep at the warehouse due to their abundance of couches and chairs and their fear in sending anyone home in an uber at close to 3 AM.

matt is throwing pieces of trash in a large black trash bag when you step out from the bathroom near the colorful kitchenette of the warehouse.

he glances up when you approach slowly, feeling yourself sobered up quite a bit after peeing and washing your face.

“hey,” his voice is rough in tiredness.

“hey, do you have any water over here?” you ask politely, your lips taste salty when you lick over them.

“in the fridge,” he replies, crumbling wrappers and adding to his bag.

you notice how red and puffy his eyes truly are now that you’re this close to him and in better lighting. you walk past him to get to the fridge, almost completely empty after a long-lasting and full party.

“are you sleeping any time soon?” you ask, opening the water bottle.

“i don’t know.”

“i can always help you clean this if you need me to.”

“‘m good.” he analyzes a glass bottle to decide whether it’s worth keeping.

you nod your head, “cool.”

“you should probably sleep.” matt suggests looking over to you.

“i think i can decide that for myself, thanks.” you drink more of your water.

“you’re right i can only suggest. i’m suggesting you to go to sleep. and if you do stay up i'd suggest you don’t spend your time talking to me.”

you finish off your water and move closer to matt, placing it in the bag. “you truly know how to piss a girl off.”

“it’s my specialty.” he whispers and looks over your face now that you’re so close.

he’s so fucking hot that it genuinely upsets you at this point. you just back up and turn to go find the couch andrea’s decided to sleep on.

“goodnight, sunshine.” he calls after you, going back to his cleaning.

you're not too far away when you hear the bathroom door open and once again matt is greeting someone, only when you look over your shoulder you see erin approaching and matt leaning on the island counter with a smile.

you turn the corner with irritation. and you find yourself in the unfortunate position of having a problematic crush on matt while wanting nothing to do with him at all.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

#this got sillyyyyy #NEXT PART GETS SILLIERRRR #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #sturniolo triplets smut #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo fanfic

287 notes · View notes

snowsonlylove · 2 months

Note

hii!! i commented about making a fic of coryo w or about the song haunted by beyonce, i was thinking maybe something smut if ur comfortable! if not its okay but the fic could be academy!coriolanus x academy!reader and theyre school rivals both working hard to beat each other and theyre obsessed with each other but they hide it with the fact they wanna win but they j wanna fuck (or get together) maybe theyre both possessive and jealous or coryo is the one thats really extra with it,, the story could go rlly slow too and then theres just a part where the facade and tension goes away and theyre needing each other so badly at that moment rushing everything, just like how the song goes idk if i made any sense :o im so excited to see the result!! this song just gives me coriolanus vibes

You Must Be Haunting Me..

a/n note: hii!! yes, i loved your idea and i mostly stayed with your vision, only changing some minor things so the situation makes sense and dw i managed to deliver 🫡 hopefully you like it!! tysm for your idea and i look forward to seeing if there are some things you want to expand on (maybe with little blurbs on this dynamic bc i absolutely LOVE this trope!) & i'm totally comfortable with smut so dw about sending me kinky asks or requests. i totally accept them!!

Pairing: Academy!Coriolanus Snow x AcademyRival!Reader

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N and Coriolanus Snow have been academic rivals ever since the beginning of their journey in the Academy. It’s no secret that both Y/N and Coriolanus are the two top students of the Academy, both of them only being able to beat each other, the rest are just no competition for them. However, they genuinely have no idea why they're doing this constant battle against each other. Little did they know, both of them always think about each other behind closed doors and are obsessed with each other, each equally impressed at the other at how intelligent they are. One day, things just boil over with how Coriolanus constantly riles Y/N up and they explode in a huge fight which results in a turmoil of deep, rough and passionate sex.

Fic Type: Smut (NSFW) 18+, Enemies to Lovers trope, dramatic behaviour from both of them, a wee bit of angst (mostly derived from the name-calling but in my head this is more funny than it is angsty 😭😭😭)

Warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do this guys, use a condom. reader is on birth control), rough pushing, harsh words used from both Y/N and Coriolanus, degradation (use of whore), cunnilingus (female receiving), squirting, lmk if i missed anything else

Word Count: 2k

I do not own Coriolanus Snow or Y/N Y/L/N (cuz it’s you, boo). All credits go to Suzanne Collins and her team. Song credits also go to Beyonce and her team.

I do not allow my works to be republished or translated under any circumstances. Any instances of this happening and YOU WILL BE BLOCKEDDD.

Also, ageless and empty blogs will be BLOCKED as this is a 18+ fic. Report my fics and you’re blocked cuz if u don’t like it, LEAVEEEE.

Y/N Y/L/N and Coriolanus Snow began this disastrous journey from the age of 11-12. Both students entered the Academy with an air of poise and elitism about them as they knew what it took to defeat the competition in the Academy, most students not even being a possible candidate to them. It was all fine and well, until one year, Y/N and Coriolanus were put in the same class for the year, and the rivalry then started..

The first assignment of that year was an individual project on what each student thought the Capitol looked like during its earliest times. Each student was tasked with coming up with a drawing with their thoughts on said topic. This was their chance to go up against each other. Both Y/N and Coriolanus would stay up in the library after school and collect piles of books and do their research and by the time the task was due, Y/N and Coriolanus obviously submitted the best sketches.

After acknowledging this, the professor asked the class to vote for who’s sketch was the best. Small pieces of paper were given out to write either Y/N’s and Coriolanus’s names and as the professor then collected the papers, making both students anxious. As the professor counted the votes, Y/N’s heart was beating out of her chest, Coriolanus’s as well. It was then announced that Y/N won, which made Coriolanus furious as he spewed a full speech on how much he hated her. “You’d never be as good as what they say you are. You’re just dirt under my feet. God! You’re such a bitch!” He screamed as the professor and the class started at him in astonishment as they’ve never seen him lash out before.

Y/N was heartbroken when she heard this as sometimes when Coriolanus wasn’t looking, Y/N would sneak glances towards him and she started to be enamoured by him. Their time together after hours in the library would usually end up in them having conversations about their day and this time together helped them bond better. With this in mind, Y/N truly thought Coriolanus was at least civil enough to be respectful towards her. Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes as she ran out of the classroom, the professor telling her to wait.

Coriolanus, still blind with rage, kept on screaming and yelling obscenities about Y/N as he stormed off to his seat, his face red and his whole demeanour fueling with rage. Unfortunately, this fateful day was what started the vicious rivalry between Y/N and Coriolanus as the two would fight over who got the better grades, which teacher favoured which student more, the differences in their scores in each assignment every single day.

As of current, both Y/N and Coriolanus are 18 and in the midst of graduating. One of their last assignments was unfortunately a pair assignment. Dr Gaul once scoped out the Academy and witnessed one of the fights between Y/N and Coriolanus and she noticed how by getting them near each other, she could make them into the power couple of Panem and have them continue the Hunger Games, which inspired her to whisper in the ear of Dean Highbottom to get them to be in the same class and for them to share a table together until they graduated. Both Y/N and Coriolanus were very unhappy about this, both choosing to ignore each other while they were in their seats.

With both of them getting older, both Y/N and Coriolanus started noticing certain things about them. Coriolanus noticed how Y/N’s facial features were more prominent, how her ass got bigger, her breasts more plump, making him unable to control a certain urge at times which led him to mastrubate thinking about her sometimes. Y/N also noticed a few things about Coriolanus. How he started to grow muscles, how they cling to his academy uniform whenever he took off his academy jacket, how his jaw was sharper, how his nose was becoming more emphasised, how he lost his baby fat. She can honestly go forever and forever about how attractive he is.

That being said, there was one particular day where everything just blew over the water. Y/N and Coriolanus were taking notes during Dean Highbottom’s lecture when Y/N felt Coriolanus’s elbow dig into her arms whenever they got to writing. This obviously made Y/N frustrated as she harshly whispered to Coriolanus to stop a few times, which led to a hushed debate between the two before it grew louder and louder until they were screaming at each other, making the whole class look at them and Dean Highbottom staring at them in shock before yelling for them to stop and stay after class for detention.

Both Y/N and Coriolanus felt embarrassed as they were lectured by Dean Highbottom after class before an assistant of Dean Highbottom requested him to join Dr Gaul for a meeting about the Hunger Games. Dean Highbottom sighed as he looked at the two young teenagers, “Look.. I feel that you two are now old enough to know what is acceptable behaviour in class. I’ll be back soon, do not kill each other while I’m gone.” As Highbottom left the classroom, the tense atmosphere began to build as the door closed behind him.

Almost immediately after he left, Y/N and Coriolanus stared at each other with the most hateful expression ever. Y/N menacingly glared at him while saying with gritted teeth, “See, Coriolanus! If you’re long ass elbow didn’t fucking dig in my arm every single time, that old fart wouldn’t lecture us for one fucking hour! My god, you’re truly dumb!” Coriolanus glared at her before stating, “It’s not my fucking fault that happened with you were taking over the whole goddamn table with your arms everywhere! Geez, Y/N! I thought you’d be more modest!”

Y/N looked at him, shocked, “ME?!! You’re blaming ME for something YOU did! That is so fucking misogynistic coming from you, a man! I swear to god, this is discrimination towards women at its core! Grow the fuck up, Coriolanus! We’re not children anymore! God! I’d be spending my time with Sejanus right now if it weren’t for your stubborn ass!” Y/N huffed while rolling her eyes. Coriolanus stared at her, his face full of jealousy before gritting out, “Sejanus? What the fuck are you doing with Sejanus?! You’re such a fucking whore! Ugh, you’re such a bitch!” Y/N looked at him, offended, “Bitch, weren’t you just fucking Clemensia a few weeks ago? Yeah, I heard about that! Everyone was practically talking about it! Don’t pretend to be so innocent, Coriolanus!”

Coriolanus looked at her, his expression turned dark as he stalked towards her, her taking a step back until her back had hit the wall. Coriolanus leaned towards her, lifting one of his arms to go above her, bringing the other hand towards her chin and lifting it. At this point, the height difference became very apparent as her head was tipped far back, her still glaring at him. “Are you baiting me, Y/N? You talk so much for someone who just fucked Felix Ravinstill of all people a few days ago..” Y/N continued to glare up at him, “At least I had the decency to keep it in my pants longer than you! God, I hate you!” Coriolanus looked taken aback as he muttered while leaning in to cup her cheeks, her face wiggling to be let out of his grip, “Well, I hate you too, sweetheart…”

Coriolanus leaned in as he captured Y/N’s lips with his, their mouths fighting for dominance as they kissed each other as if they needed each other to breathe. The previous tension broke into a more sensual type of tension as Coriolanus wrapped his hands around her hair ravenously while Y/N’s hand made friends with the back of his neck. One of Coriolanus’s hands found its way to Y/N’s waist as he dragged her away from the wall, pushing her towards a nearby desk before propping her up on the desk and spreading her legs, allowing him to be closer to her, not once breaking their kiss. Y/N broke their kiss as she moved her lips to Coriolanus’s neck and trailed them down his Adam’s apple while taking off his blazer and unbuttoning his shirt, Coriolanus doing the same to her.

As they undressed each other, they continued to slide their tongues against each other, the sound echoing around the classroom. They managed to undress each other down to them both only wearing underwear before Coriolanus kneeled down so that he was face to face with the apex of her thighs. Coriolanus leaned in and captured his teeth to her underwear as he slowly pulled it down, revealing her aching, dripping pussy. Coriolanus licked his lips as he roughly shoved two fingers in her cavern as he curled his fingers in and out her folds, creating a beautiful sensation as he found her G-spot with no difficulty.

Y/N moaned as she threw her head back and slid her hands down to Coriolanus’s hair and tugged on it while pulling him closer to her heat. “Oh my gosh.. Coryo, it feels so good…” As he kept pumping his fingers in and out of her, he suddenly attached his lips onto her clit as he sucked on her clit and pumped his fingers harder, each movement feeling more and more intense for Y/N. He kept on going as he curled his fingers one final time, which made Y/N yell out as she squirted and covered his fingers with her wetness.

Y/N sighed in satisfaction as she helped Coriolanus up and gave him a deep, passionate kiss while tugging down his underwear and hooking her legs on the bottom of his back, Coriolanus leaned in closer as he aligned his erection with her heat, tapping his dick on her clit a few times before pushing his hardness in her heat. He only pushed in half of it when Y/N suddenly exclaimed, “Coryo, it’s too much! I can’t take all of it!”

Coriolanus leaned down so his forehead was laying against hers before whispering in a comforting tone, “It will fit, Y/N. Trust me, trust me..” He closed his eyes as he leaned in to capture her lips with his as he pushed in slower this time, now being able to fill her pussy with his cock to the point where their hips were against each other. Coriolanus groaned as he slowly pulled out before thrusting in again, “Fuck, Y/N… You’re so good. Such a good girl..”

Y/N moaned at hearing him praise her as he started to thrust his dick in faster, each time harder and rougher than the last. The room started to echo with the sound of her moaning, his groaning and the sound of skin slapping. Y/N closed her eyes as she moaned, her mouth forming an “O” shape as she threw her head back once more and arched her back, needing to feel closer to him. Coriolanus wrapped his arms around her waist as he pulled her in closer and kissed his way all around her neck, leaving furious red hickeys which would soon turn purple.

The pace in which he was fucking her got rougher each time he would thrust his aching hard dick into her dripping pussy, the slapping sound really turning them on and his balls slapped to her ass, their moans becoming louder and louder each time. The furious force in which he was fucking her started to reach a boiling point as Coriolanus moaned, “Ugh.. I’m fucking cumming, Y/N. Oh.. You’re such a good girl. Such a tight and wet pussy..”

“Ohh.. Coriolanus… So good, so deep… I’m gonna come, gonna come.. OH MY GODD!!” Y/N screamed as she came. Coriolanus groaned as he came inside her, sighing as he tried to bask in the afterglow of his orgasm, holding Y/N tight against his chest in the process. Y/N left kisses and hickeys around his neck as she looked up at him with a dazed but satisfied expression and kissed his lips however, this time the kiss shared between them wasn’t one full of hate, it was one full of love.

As they pulled away from each other and started to get dressed, Coriolanus faced Y/N and said, “You know, if you wanted to fuck me, you could’ve said so.” He said with a smirk. Y/N turned to look at him, acting shocked as she huffed in feign frustration, “Oh shut up, Coriolanus!” She smacked his chest as both of them gave each other a silly grin before hurling in laughter.

#academy!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow angst

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ickadori · 5 months

Text

++ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐈

[summary] kisaki meets someone a bit more organically than he had intended to.

[cws] fem reader -> reader is a mother (the son is named ‘ren’). mentions of an abusive relationship. abuse towards reader. mild violence. allusions to cannibalism. unedited.

[notes] this was in drafts since sept and i actually hate it now but i didn’t wanna delete bc he’s my first luv ^.^ ending is thrown together heh!

Kisaki believed in meeting people organically — he considered himself a bit of a romantic.

Dating apps weren’t an option for him (even if he wasn’t on every criminal watchlist available he still wouldn’t go that route - it screamed desperation, and he liked to be quiet with his) and he had turned down every offer of being ‘set-up’ on blind dates after he had given Hanma a reluctant ‘yes’ and ended up sat across from a coked up, wannabe model that dropped dead of an overdose before the appetizers even hit the table.

It was a bit hard to meet people naturally when you rarely interacted with the public, and when you did, it was because a few big name heads needed to roll. He couldn’t exactly go out to mingle just after taking a handsaw to a man’s neck—you had to be in the right headspace.

He had looked inward at first, scoured his payroll and checked out each and every name listed there. He would never get involved with anyone working directly under him (work and pleasure should never mix, after all) but extended family members were fair game, or so he had thought, before he had realized just how fucked up the people he had working underneath him was, along with their families. Prostitutes, convicts, plebes riddled in debt and holding cans on street corners to try and afford it, losers spending all their measly paychecks in pachinko parlors and whorehouses.

Kisaki had standards, and they didn’t come close to fitting them.

Back to the drawing board.

A white cloud of air leaves his mouth as he sighs, hands slipping into the pockets of his wool, trench coat as he steps out of the driver's seat of the car. He moves to head into the lobby of his office building, gaze quickly sliding over to the kid standing near the entrance before immediately disregarding him.

“Hello, Sir.” He’s greeted with a deep bow, and a dark brow quirks up as he turns his head to look at the boy. He stops, eyes taking in the way he shivers in the cold from his lack of coat, coupled with the ratty t-shirt, gym shorts and sandals.

“I don’t have any cash on me. I’ll send someone back down with some.” He goes to move around, only for the kid to shuffle in front of him and block his path. Kisaki has half a mind to plant his foot in his stomach, but bites down the urge and instead grips the kid’s shirt and wrangles him off to the side.

“Wait! I-I don’t need your money! I need your help!”

“Do you see a badge on me? Go to the police station.” He chuckles as he says it. He usually tells people not to go to the police station. “I can’t help you.”

“I can pay you.” The kid goes into his pockets and brandishes two fistfuls of coins, and Kisaki takes a good look around the dark, empty streets, trying to catch a glimpse of Hanma because this has to be one of his stupid ideas of a joke. “I need your help, Sir, please. My dad—”

“If a man can’t help himself he’s better off dead.”

“—keeps hurting my mom.”

The coins rattle due to the trembling of the kid’s hands. “What’s your name?”

“Ren.”

“How exactly do you think I could help you and your mother, Ren?”

“Kill him.” Ren looks him in the eyes as he says it, and Kisaki hums. Kids are stupidly brave, he thinks. No older than ten and he goes to elicit the help of a random man that he doesn’t even know—

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yes. I…” Ren looks around, unsure, before he’s squaring his shoulders and meeting his gaze again. “I’ve been stalking you! And I saw you kill people with that really tall man so I know that you do it!”

“You didn’t see me do anything like that so don’t ever say that again. Do you understand?” Kisaki should probably toss the kid over a bridge or something - kids had big mouths, and he didn’t need to be brought down by some hobo child who blabbed his mouth to the cops - but he had always had a soft spot for children.

“Yes, Sir.” Ren’s speech was starting to get hard to decipher, his trembling reaching an all time high as his lips turned blue, and Kisaki sighed as he slipped his arms out of his coat, leaving him in a white button down and suspenders.

“Put this on before you freeze.”

Ren pointedly looks down to the coins in his hands, and Kisaki juts his chin to the side, signaling for him to just toss it down onto the street.

“B-But I saved this for two months for you!”

“Just throw it.”

“But it’s money!”

It’s mostly yen coins mixed in with a few 10 yens, and Kisaki sets his mouth to tell him it’s nearly worthless, nothing worth holding onto, and that he could just barely afford a few lollipops, much less an assassination, but he just sighs out through his nose and lets the kid dump the coins into his hand. He pockets it, trying to remember the last time he’s had loose change in his possession, and hands off the coat to Ren who quickly puts it on. It drapes him like a blanket, the arms too long and the hem of the coat dragging along the ground, and Kisaki sighs again.

“Get in the car so we can get this over with.”

“This is your place?”

“It’s a shithole.”

“It is.” Kisaki agrees as he cuts the engine, eyes taking in the dilapidated apartment building. He’s seen many like it, but this one might just be the worst. A small section of the building looks to be burned, as if a fire started in a unit and took out a few apartments and no one ever bothered to repair it.

There’s loiterers lingering all around; teens looking to get into trouble, or maybe looking to stay out of whatever trouble is in their homes, junkies scratching at themselves as they pace back and forth, and hookers in dark corners with their johns.

“That’s what my mom calls it.” Ren continues. “She says we’re gonna move one day. She’s been working a lot to save up money.”

“Where does she work?”

“She won’t tell me.”

“Stalk her like you did me.”

“But that’s bad.”

“So you can do bad things to me and not her?”

“Well,” he shrugs. “You’re bad.”

“I guess I am.”

Kisaki opens the middle console and bypasses the gun stashed inside, inside pulling free the pair of brass knuckles and slipping them into his back pocket. “Does your father have a gun?”

“No, they’re illegal. The officer at my school says so.” Ren peers into the console and goes wide-eyed at the sight he sees.

“How big is he?”

“Really big—bigger than you.”

“Where does he work?”

“The… um, the lumber yard.”

The aluminum bat that he keeps under his seat is pulled free, and then he’s signaling for Ren to get out of the car as he steps out into the cold himself. They join at the front of the car, and like bees to honey, a few women who look as if they’re standing on their last leg make their way over to him, dollar signs reflecting in their irises as they take in the sports car he’s just gotten out of.

“Which apartment is yours?”

“It’s this way.” Ren sets off in the direction in which he pointed to, and Kisaki holds up a gloved hand to the women steadily approaching, stopping them in their tracks as they huff and send him scathing looks.

They’re heading in the direction of the apartments that had been burned down, and Kisaki considers offing the father and the mother and just dropping the boy off at one of the orphanages that actually give a shit about the kids in their care. Killing the dad would stop the mom from getting her head knocked left and right, but it wouldn’t fix their problems. Few people had what it took to pull themselves out of a hole like this one, and the woman was clearly lacking a few vital things up top to have ended up in this predicament in the first place.

“Goddamn fucking bitch. Where is it?!” The near snarl brings Kisaki out of his thoughts, and he reacts in time to snag ahold of Ren’s shoulder when he tried to dash for the apartment. A heavy smack sounds seconds later, followed by the sound of furniture and glass breaking, and another sigh, this one heavier, leaves him as he leans the bat against the wall and starts rolling up his sleeves.

“What the fuck am I doing here?” He mutters to himself, crisp sleeves rolling back to reveal toned, bronze arms. The muscles in them flex as lithe fingers wrap around the handle of the bat, and he rolls his shoulders once before taking a step back, raising his foot, and slamming it right below the lock.

It’s been a while since he’s done a house call, but he adjusts quickly. He rushes in —best to catch ‘em before the shock of the door bursting in wears off— and lays eyes on two people, a man and a woman. He aims low and hits a knee, and there’s a crunch that makes his eyebrow twitch and a scream that brings forth a wave of amusement.

The man stumbles, face screwed up in pain and spit and curses flying. He’s built like a brick house, and the physique reminds him of a certain taxing restaurant owner, so he swings the bat again, this time cracking a few ribs and sending the man sprawling down to the floor.

A floorboard creaks behind him, and reflexes kick in as he swings before he looks. A soft gasp and a shout of ‘Sir’ makes him stop just in time, and he turns to see he was about 3 centimeters away from caving the woman’s face—oh.

Even with the budding bruises, the haggard clothing, and the teary, snotty face, Kisaki has to blink twice and bite down on his tongue to make sure he hasn’t died and somehow snuck his way into Heaven—disgustingly cheesy, he’s aware, but he’s a romantic, you know, and the sight of you is enough to ignite something inside him that had been extinguished for quite some time.

He takes in a slow breath, and the tepid, stale air of this should-be-condemned apartment feels like a breath of fresh air, and he knows what this feeling is. He had felt it once, back when he was young and full of a puppy love for a woman that could just barely stand the sight of him.

He should leave, go back to his office and send a cleanup crew to get rid of all the loose ends. He had thought he wanted another woman to send him up in a tailspin, but there were too many variables, too many things that he couldn’t control, too many things that he couldn’t predict, and he was starting to run out of people to kamikaze box trucks for him when relationships went awry.

“Mom!” Ren runs to you, and you wrap him up in your arms, eyes warily watching Kisaki as you try and gauge his intentions.

“I-I don’t have what he owes you.” Ah.

“He doesn’t owe me a thing.” He forcefully drags his eyes away from you to instead look at the writhing man on the floor. Kisaki lifts his foot and settles it on his midsection, grinding the heel of his shoe against the protruding bones. “But I’m sure he owes someone, so I’ll settle the debt for them.” He looks back to you, and a clammy hand tightens around the handle of the bat. “Unless you have any objections...”

Your eyes flicker down to your child’s father, eyebrows scrunching together as you hold Ren tighter, and Kisaki pleads in his head for you to give him an answer that’ll snuff that flame you lit right out.

Ask me to spare him. Tell me how he’s not a bad man, even though he beats you black and blue and forces your son to seek the help of random men in the middle of the night. Cry that you love him. Make me hate you—

“Just... just don’t do it here, please. I don’t want him to see.”

“Of course.”

Ah, hell.

Kisaki guesses this is as organic as it’s going to get.

#kisaki x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tr x reader

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feathernotes · 5 months

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BACKGROUNDS IN WEBCOMICS

I want to talk about sustainability in your work process, featuring our fave: Backgrounds. How to simplify, convey, and deliver in comics! (examples include Phantomarine, Wychwood, Shaderunners and Ghost Junk Sickness) The usual suspect to burnout is often the workload involved. Many ppl who FULL HAM on pages that def need a detail cut for many reasons Main one being: You don’t need excessive detail to tell whats happening in a small panel, in fact, less is better. When you observe a page in its entirety, where does the eye travel? Where does the eye stop? Having a fully rendered BG in multiple panels can actually be a huge distraction, on top of the time it takes to get there. So how do you balance?

In Phantomarine, the most detailed panel is the establishing one, it holds our characters and allows readers to understand the positions they're all in/standing at. Its one panel that provides a specific telling detail: the railings behind Phae indicate we're on the boat.

In the bottom left panel,the artist uses the railings again, but doesnt have to render the lights, floor boards, or sea to show where we were, then uses the colours of said BG and mood to paint the rest of the page. This is where colours/gradients and small objects save the day! The same example is here, just flipped. The establishing shot shares DETAILS that you need to show the readers where we are, then the BG of Pavel eating food isnt over whelmed with background characters or other details that get in the way of the ACTION that is to be conveyed

it would be rather distracting if we were to see Pavel eat that bowl, with sooo many more details involved in the panel- instead, the drapes, hues of light, and clever sound effects tell us what is happening. Wychwood does the very same with establishing shots, then KEY DETAILS to provide the reader with where the character is standing, without sacrificing the facial expressions and details of the CHARACTERS that we need to get across

Most detail is in the top panel, the BAR that Julian holds onto is a KEY PIECE to show where they are in the BG already established. Perfect use of BG! Get used to thinking of those key details when changing scenes and establishing shots!

Pick those key details to tell the reader where they are and draw that. If you have a library scene, please just draw that BG once! Take a specific bookcase or key feature, use blocked shapes and colours, and make it less detailed than the provided establishing shot. I also wanna talk about : Action Scenes Focusing on the ACTION of the scenes is SO important when you have them, and often details get lost when a creator focuses on details that can distract a reader! My advice? Most action scenes are best without/need little backgrounds. A few shots from Ghost Junk Sickness demonstrate this. We're paying attention to the action- we've been established where we are before, so let's play in the sandbox now.

Have a panel or two peppered in there, with the same principal as above to ground where your character is, but do not add a BG in every panel. It instantly takes away from the action when it's not integrated as well, and it takes SO MUCH MORE TIME to draw that sequence!

Read More amazing tips: Here are some GREAT examples by the creators of ShadeRunners, HERE who break down how they do backgrounds ( AND CROWD SHOTS!!!!)

TL;DR: Comics are a MULTITUDE of skills and needs. It takes a lot of time and work to pull it off, so working with methods that make it easiest for you as the creator is what will help you maintain that momentum and stability you need! Good luck and get comicking!

#webcomics #advice #backgrounds

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 6 months

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Kinktober Day 23

Day Twenty-Two | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Twenty-Four

Pairing: Jonathan Levy x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked

Warnings: Dirty talk; vaginal sex; cunnilingus; fingering; unsafe sex; creampie; breeding kink

“How do you do that?”

You frown at his question. You turn from where you’ve scooched to the end of his bed, arching a brow.

“Do what?”

Jonathan pushes himself to sit up, smoothing a hand through his curls and taking his glasses up from the bedside table. He puts them on, adjusting them as he gets a better look at you.

“Talk…Like that," He clarifies.

“Like...? Dirty talk?”

“Yeah.”

Your brow furrows as you think for a moment, then turn away, taking up your pants where they’d been dropped on the floor.

“I dunno,” You shrug, standing and tugging your pants up. “I just talk.”

“You never practiced?”

“Like in the mirror?” You chuckle, grabbing your bra next. “Like, beta-tested what sounded good?”

“You could.”

“I didn’t.”

“So?”

You consider it as you look around for where your shirt had been flung.

“How do you think when you’re having sex?” You bat back.

“What?”

“When you’re having sex, what’s going through your head?”

You finally spot your shirt hanging off of a potted plant. You walk over to it, plucking it off of the plant, shaking it out. You turn back to Jonathan, grinning when you find his face twisted in thought, his brow furrowed.

“Do you think, ah yes, and now I’m going to insert my penis into her vaginal cavity?” You ask, mimicking his voice. He splutters a laugh, ducking his head and adjusting his glasses as his cheeks go pink. “You don’t right? You think, I wanna fuck her pussy.” You tug your shirt down over your head, straightening it. “At least, I hope you do.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“What’s your inner-monologue sound like?” You plant your hands on your hips as you watch Jonathan’s expression shift from curiosity to bashful nerves. You can’t help the softening of his smile, or the way he scrubs his hand across his mouth in thought.

“You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to,” You add, crawling onto the bed on all fours. “And for the record, you don’t have to talk dirty if you don’t want to.” You reach up, cupping his rough jaw. “Just because you’ve been on the quiet side doesn’t mean that I’ve doubted whether or not you're enjoying yourself.” You lean in, pressing your lips tenderly to his, grinning as you feel his lips turning up in a smile. You peck his lips, draw back, then lean in for another peck as his hand comes up to try and grasp your shirt.

“Okay,” You mumble, scooching back off of the bed. “Okay—I have to go. I’m gonna be late for class.”

“You’re teaching today?”

“Giving an exam.”

“Wait, lemme—”

You watch, amused, as Jonathan pushes the covers back and scooches bare-assed across the sheets, offering, “Your sweater is wrinkled.”

“Of course it is. It took a nap on the ficus.”

“That’s a snake plant.”

“I have a spare shirt hanging up in my office, don’t worry about it. You have Ava tonight?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“You coming back?”

“You cooking?”

“I could.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You chuckle. “I’ll grab takeout on the way.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm. Text me what you want.”

“Okay.”

You dip your head, pressing another kiss to Jonathan’s lips before you turn, heading to the front hall for your shoes and socks.

–

You frown when your phone buzzes. You slide it off of the desk, peering down at the screen and biting back a smile when you see Jonathan’s text:

I don’t always think that I wanna fuck your pussy

I mean I always want to, but that’s not how it goes through my head

You glance up, gaze sweeping the testing students before hurriedly typing:

What does go through it, then?

It depends on what we’re doing.

You bite your lip for just a moment, thinking. Before you can answer, your phone buzzes with another text:

Eggplant parmesan

You only just manage not to snort a laugh.

Hero or platter?

Hero

You need a hero? You’re holding out for a hero til the end of the night?

I thought you were coming back right after class

It’s a song

never mind

I don’t think I know that one

That has become increasingly evident

–

On the surface, it’s a little surprising, but maybe it’s not so strange that Jonathan has asked you about dirty talk, or that he’s thinking about it. The separation isn’t so new, and while Mira is still a raw subject for him, you’ve been more than happy to help Jonathan explore a little.

He doesn’t always come right out with it like he had that morning—he doesn’t always just ask. Sometimes, he has to work up to it, or you have to tease it out of him. You don’t mind. You know that he’s not making it a guessing game on purpose.

You look at Jonathan across his dinner table, smiling as you catch him sucking sauce off of his thumb. His gaze flickers to yours, lips pulling into a wider smile when he catches you looking.

“I looked up that song,” He says.

“Oh yeah? You like it?”

“I didn’t realize it was in Shrek 2.”

“I can’t believe you’ve seen Shrek 2.”

“Ava watched it once or twice.”

“Ah. Makes sense.” You look down at your food, poking at it with your fork for a moment. “Do you wanna talk about it?” You offer after a moment.

“Talk about what?”

“About what I say when we fuck.” You smile wickedly as Jonathan splutters into his glass of wine. He clears his throat, giving a small shake of his head as if that’ll help clear it. You rest your chin on your hand, waiting patiently as Jonathan leans back in his seat, adjusting his glasses.

“Uh…”

“We don’t have to,” You tack on.

“No, I know. I know.” He meets and holds your gaze for a moment. “Is it just like…A stream of consciousness for you?”

“Sometimes,” You nod, “I mean…Well, most of the time. But occasionally I’ll work in a phrase or two because you seem to like it.”

“Like what?”

“Mmm…” You trail off, eyes flicking to the ceiling as you think about it. “Stuff like…You feel so fucking good…Your cock is so thick…I don’t know, sometimes I use this tone that you seem to be into.”

“Can you demonstrate it?”

“I don’t want you to get hard before we’ve done the dishes. Might turn around to find you humping the counter.”

“Okay,” Jonathan chuckles, scrubbing his hand over his flushing cheeks. You grin, pushing your chair back and rounding to the sink to set your empty dishes down.

“Want some more wine?” You ask.

“Uh—Sure, thanks.”

You take up the empty bottle from the counter, bracing your hand on the back of his chair and murmuring your thanks as he sets his hand on the stem of the glass to hold it steady. You lean over him, purposefully letting your shirt slip down. You bite back a smile as you feel Jonathan glance surreptitiously in your direction. You swipe your tongue along your lips, glancing toward the wine glass to ensure you don’t spill.

“Just like that?” You murmur, using the tone that Jonathan always seems to be melted by. You grin as his hand twitches, a few of the drops sloshing over onto his fingers. You chuckle softly, straightening and setting the bottle of wine aside.

“That’s the tone,” He mutters.

“Yes it is,” You smile smugly, rounding the table and sitting back down.

You roll your hips down against Jonathan’s, shivering as his beard rasps against your neck.

You really did settle in with the intention of watching a movie (a book you’ve given your students to read that was recently re-adapted—you want to be able to spot any inconsistencies between the book’s content and the movie’s). You’ve managed to make it about halfway through, but you’ve gotten a little…Distracted.

Jonathan had started it. Well, he’s made a comment a time or two that he’s working on that, that he wants to be the one to make overtures. You don’t mind—hell, you approve. It’s thrilling to feel him smooth his hand up your thigh, for him to dip his head and press a kiss to your jaw. He dips his fingers between your thighs, leaving you with no doubt of his intentions. Now, you part your lips in a moan as Jonathan’s tongue sweeps across yours. You let your eyes slide closed, your fingers slipping up into his hair as he breaks the kiss with a slick suck, drawing his mouth away. He turns his head, beard roughly brushing your cheek.

“I wanna fuck you.”

Your jaw drops as you suck pull in a shocked little breath. Those four little words from that warm, husky voice are a shock to the system. It’s like the firing of a starting pistol, the first punch thrown in the name of the revolution. Your grip tightens on his hair, holding his head prone as you tip your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark with want, but you can see the spark of flighty nerves there. You brush your lips against his, murmuring, “Then fuck me, Levy.”

You’re undressed by the time the two of you reach his bedroom. He’s nearly there—shirtless, with his pants and underwear nearly tripping him up as you scooch back onto his bed. You watch him tug the offending garments down, and he drops to his knees so suddenly that you think he’s fallen. Instead, he grasps your hips, yanking you to the edge of the bed before he buries his face between your thighs. You groan at the feeling of his beard raking across your sensitive flesh before his tongue lashes across your clit. You reach down, running your fingers through his mussed curls as you let your thighs splay. You raise your other hand, groping and thumbing your nipples as your hips roll down against his desperate lips.

Jonathan smooths a hand along your inner thigh before teasing his finger over your opening. He eases it inside as he lifts his chin, his tongue sweeping across your clit on the upstroke.

“You taste so fucking good,” He groans, pumping his finger in shallowly before twisting and curling it.

“You make me wet, Jonathan,” You murmur, squeezing down around his finger. “I love how your beard feels—Oh,” You sigh watching Jonathan brush his beard against your thigh as he eases in another finger. “You always know what I need, don’t you…You take such good care of me.”

Jonathan groans against you, sucking a messy kiss to your cunt as he thrusts his fingers into you. You can feel the familiar pressure building, and you reach down, curling your fingers around his wrist to still him.

“I thought you were going to fuck me,” You remind him haughtily. He turns his head, biting your inner thigh harshly, holding your thighs lightly as you jump slightly at the sting. He laps across the skin before he rises, shoving your legs wide. He plunges into you with a single stroke, and your mouth falls open, stunned at the sudden shift.

“So impatient,” He barks as he grinds his hips forward. “I should’ve made you beg.”

You whine, raising your hands and grasping his arms as he braces his hands on the bed.

“I need you to trust me,” He adds, gaze heavy on yours.

“I do—oh, god, I do, Jonathan.”

“Yeah? Trust me to take care of you? To give you—nngh,” He pushes out a snarl, “Give you what you need?”

“Yes!”

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to make me cum, Jonathan.”

“Want me to fill you up?”

“Yes—”

“Fuck a baby into you?”

Your jaw drops as his grasp on you tightens, his hips sawing more harshly, the sound of your slapping flesh filling the room. Your cunt clutches at him, your nails sinking into his muscles.

“You want that?” You ask, breath catching in your throat as he bows closer.

“I want it,” He groans against your neck, knees digging into the mattress. “I want you round with my child. I want—Fuck—I want you full of my seed, I want you covered in it.”

“Oh, my god,” You whimper, fisting your hand in his hair as your chest presses up against his.

“Your p-pussy—” He nearly trips over the word, “Feels so—Mm, so fucking good…”

“Yes,” You breathe. “Jonathan, ‘m so close.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm, mhm. I wanna cum.”

“Say please.”

“Please,” You lower your hand, grasping his ass and tugging him closer. “Please let me cum, Joanthan—Oh, fuck, fuckfuckfuck!” You gasp as your press up into his thrusts, chasing your orgasm as it swells and washes over you.

You peer up at Jonathan and find him watching you, his lips parted with a lusty moan as he cums. His hips pump sharply as he fills you, his hands digging into your thighs as if he needs to keep you there. It’s another moment before he pulls out, flopping onto the bed beside you. His arm curls around your middle, his face pressing into your shoulder as he draws in deep, steadying breaths. You raise your hand, combing gently through his greying curls as the two of you come down together.

"...Any notes?" He mumbles bashfully after a few moments. You shake your head, gaze trained on the ceiling.

"Honestly, Levy? Not one."

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414 ; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021 ; @thatesqcrush ; @shanimallina87 ; @adarasforest ; @s-u-t ; @silversprings-mp3 ; @senawashere ;

#Jonathan Levy x Reader #Jonathan Levy x You #Jonathan Levy/Reader #Jonathan Levy/You #Jonathan Levy fic #Jonathan Levy imagine #Kinktober #Kinktober 2023

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moonsapprentice · 6 months

Note

helllooooo !! you obviously don’t have to do this if you don’t want to do no pressure but i have autism + adhd and i was wondering if you could write headcanons for each of the boys x a reader with autism / adhd ( you dont have to do both you can just pick one if you want ^^; )

this was my first time requesting something so it was a little hard AHHH but if you do this tysm !! :) also thank you for trying to revive the tags bc this is a very big hyperfixation for me and it sucks to never see writing for it lol

Yess!! Omg ahhh this is my first ever request! I’d be happy to do it :)

⋆ ✶ ✷ 𝔐𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞 𝔰/𝔬 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔪/𝔞𝔡𝔥𝔡 ✷ ✶ ⋆

𝔈𝔡𝔡

✩ honestly he’s probably neurodivergent in some way himself

✩ definitely really understanding

✩ finds it adorable when you fidget, but also hates it when he’s drawing you and you keep moving 😭

“No, no, wait move back the way you were”

✩ SPEAKING of drawing, if you’re hyperfixating on something he’ll draw it for you

✩ he just wants to see you happy. 😞💚

✩ if you get overstimulated he’s probably the best out of the 4 to go to

✩ if it’s loud noises, he’ll help block it out by covering your ears, if it’s because a place is crowded he’ll keep you close to himself, etc

✩ helps you re-focus by nudging you lightly or saying your name quietly

✩ if you have a hyperfixation he 100% binges it so he knows everything about it

✩ lets you rant about anything with him

✩ if he’s out at the store and finds something relating to your fixation, he’ll show it to you all exited

✩ if you’re hyperactive, he tries to match your energy and be hyper with you

✩ however, if you need a moment of quiet to just recoup, he’ll be silent and wait until you’re ready

✩ if you’re having a panic attack or overstimulated he rubs your head and whispers comforting things. He’ll take you somewhere private until you’re okay

✩ if you like them, he’ll get you fidget toys

✩ if you stim by bouncing up and down or making repetitive noises he finds it the CUTEST THING EVER

✩ tries really hard not to baby you though

✩ if you go non-verbal, he’ll get those lil card things and try to figure out what you need

✩ for the most part, perfect

✩ but he’d probably get stressed out when you’re upset and he can’t figure out why

𝔐𝔞𝔱𝔱

✩ to be honest he wouldn’t really know what it is 😭

“…adhd..? What does that stand for? A dang hot dude? That’s me!”

✩ once you explain he still doesn’t really understand but he tries his best

✩ always asks you if you need anything

✩ if you go nonverbal he kinda panics, he frantically googles until he finds out what’s happening to you

✩ he kinda just hugs you until you’re okay

✩ same thing goes for panic attacks and stuff

✩ he’s perfect to be around if you’re hyper, because no matter what he’ll get hyper and match your energy too

✩ doesn’t really know what stimming is but he copies your movement/noises

✩ probably has his own collection of fidgets that he lets you borrow

✩ if you randomly start focusing on something unrelated to whatever you’re doing, he’d probably join in 😭

✩ my man is NOT neurotypical ‼️

✩ probably relates to you in a lot of ways if you have ADHD

✩ will definitely indulge in your hyperfixations

✩ super silly

𝔗𝔬𝔪

✩ theme park dad energy

“Don’t touch that. Or that. Y/n!”

✩ because of his temper he’d probably get frustrated easily

✩ but he’d try to hold it back because he cares about you

✩ he’s perfect if you just need some quiet time

✩ as I’ve said before, a great listener

✩ if you wanna rant about your hyperfixations, or you just wanna be silent, he’ll listen either way

✩ really good at reading you when you’re non-verbal

✩ if you keep getting off track, he nudges you until you listen

✩ lets out quiet chuckles when you stim

✩ not in a mean way, he can just find it amusing and cute

✩ if you’re bouncing your knee or something he’ll lay his hand on it and rub it

✩ I don’t really think he’s neurodivergent so it’s hard for him to relate to you

✩ but he’d do a ton of research so he’s prepared for any situation

✩ would never admit that though

✩ loves seeing your eyes light up when you see something relating to your hyperfixations

✩ If you’re overstimulated he holds you, letting you bury your face in the crook of his neck while he either covers your ears or strokes your back

✩ would not baby you

✩ he’d be comforting, but if something happens he’ll give you the truth on what he thinks you should do

✩ he’d be soft with his wording, but my guy does not sugarcoat

✩ likes to see you fidget with stuff, he finds it cute

𝔗𝔬𝔯𝔡

✩ might get confused at some of your habits

✩ after doing a little research he’d be super understanding though

✩ loves it when you fidget with his fingers or his hoodie strings

✩ finds your stimming adorable

✩ like, he can’t help the grin that crawls on his face when you bounce up and down or make repetitive noises

✩ the first time you stimmed infront of him he literally scooped you up and spun you around

✩ gets super protective if you’re overstimulated

✩ he does literally anything he can for you to feel okay

✩ murmurs sweet things into your ear if you’re panicking

✩ if you go nonverbal he internally panics, but he’s calm on the outside

✩ despite his slight panic, he can read you really well

✩ might accidentally baby you, but if it bothers you he tones it down

✩ loves talking to you about your hyperfixations

✩ just generally finds it adorable how you act

✩ likes to sit you on his lap and play with your hair, letting you rant about whatever the hell you want

✩ snickers when you loose focus on whatever you’re doing

“Love, c’mon. We can look at that later…”

✩ very sweet and understanding

TYSM for the request!!! I’m so sorry that it slowly gets worse my tumblr is lagging so bad it’s hell to write 😭 other than that this was super fun to write!!

- xoxo, Artemis

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onlyhuis · 1 year

Text

april 20th: pot luck

member | fwb!chan x f reader genre | smut, fwb to lovers word count | 3.2k synopsis | you're no stranger to smoking in the park on 4/20, but smoking in the park while chan begs you to let him make you cum? that's new. content warnings | marijuana use (smoking), there's angst for like 3 seconds but not really smut warnings | descriptions of female anatomy, oral (reader receiving), fingering, sexual acts in a semi-public setting (they're in a secluded area of a park), sexual acts while high, shotgunning, chan is clingy & cute when he's high :) disclaimer | this story is a work of fiction. both chan and reader are portrayed as consenting adults above the legal age of 21. always make sure your partner is someone you trust and have talked with beforehand while sober. remember to practice safe, consensual sex! notes | requested by @angelwoozi 🧸!! this concept is going to sit in my brain forever now agsdjkfahsd i hope you like it! also tagging @bitchlessdino because it would be a sin if i didn't. happy 420!

you hold the pre-rolled joint between your fingers, watching the way the thin smoke spirals off the end of it. chan holds out his hand as you exhale, and you pass it back to him for him to take his turn.

it's the secluded end of the park, where the trees are thicker and shadier and the grass is always a little bit damp, even during hot summer afternoons. a cool breeze blows today, and distantly you can hear birds chirping and the shuffling footfalls of joggers making their way around the park's running paths.

you lay back, settling down on top of the worn, quilted picnic blanket you keep in your car. for the first time in a while the weather's been nice enough to draw you outside, spring gradually melting into summer.

he holds the joint out towards you but you wave him off, so he sets it at the edge of his ashtray, the little yellow painted one you made him for his birthday in a ceramics class from a few semesters ago.

chan leans back too, propping himself up on one elbow as he reaches for his water bottle absently.

laying on your back, you can see each leaf on the tree, and when the wind blows you can see bits of blue sky peeking through the swaying branches. you hear chan call your name, but you ignore him, just wanting to watch the world go by for a moment. or maybe, you just pretended to hear him call your name. you seem to do that a lot recently, imagining him doing things until you aren't sure what's real or dreamed.

ever since new year's eve when you accidentally on-purpose slept with him and then maybe kept sleeping with him for months afterward, nothing's been the same. despite the fact that you definitely like him as more than just a friend you have sex with, you’ve never talked about it with him because he seems more than fine with keeping things simple; you wish he didn’t, but you don’t want to push him, so you just stick to having sex and sharing your weed.

it turns out him calling your name was, in fact, real, because a few seconds later you see his figure looming over you, blocking your view of the leaves and the sky.

your words come out lilted. "what is it, chan?"

"can i eat you out?"

you blink slowly a few times, thinking and processing his sentence and repeating it in your head so many times until you'd forgotten what he'd actually said.

"eating what? we had tacos earlier. i’ll make you a sandwich or something when we go back, i told you you should’ve brought more snacks to munch on."

“noooooo.” he whines and flops down onto the blanket on his side. "wanna eat you," he grumbles. his fingers find your arm and begin drawing shapes and patterns along your skin as he waits for your response.

it finally clicks in your mind what he's asking, and with much effort you roll your head over to look at him. "why?"

"because it's a nice day outside," he says, fingers trailing down to your wrist. "and i like it. oh my god, you're so hot. like… woah. why wouldn't i want to?"

your heart jumps, and you can't tell if it's completely from his words or mixed with how stoned you are, but you feel so happy. he sounds almost affectionate.

you shift your legs, your pants starting to grow uncomfortable the more you begin to think about chan between your thighs. it's a sight you're familiar with, but one you can never quite seem to get used to.

you throw your arm over your head, tugging gently at the cool grass beneath your fingertips to ground you to earth. "but there's sooo many people out, chan," you say, a little more giddy than you intend. "you’re too high. somebody'll see."

he closes his eyes slowly and furrows his brow, thinking deeply.

"put your bag here, then," he says finally, rolling over onto his stomach to grab your tote bag from the edge of the blanket and haul it over to your hip. it was a good idea in theory, but in reality it barely covers a tiny part of your body, and it would only be effective at blocking his head from onlookers at a very specific angle.

his fingers brush over your thigh on accident, and you sigh, legs parting just slightly. chan doesn't seem to notice, though; he's latched himself to your arm again, tracing his name across your skin over and over like a kindergartener learning to write their name for the first time.

"you really want to?" you ask, peering over at him through foggy eyes but grinning when you see him now focused on the tiny hairs on your arm.

"yes, please," he hums, and he starts kissing the inside of your elbow along your forearm. his lips are warm and so, so soft, it feels like rays of sunshine tickling your skin. until he opens his mouth and he starts gnawing on you, biting gently at your arm.

you swat at the back of his head, and then once more, laughing at how silly he is. silly feels like the right word. silly how cute he is and silly how maybe you're a little bit in love with him.

"oka-ay," you say finally, tugging on his hair to get him to stop biting you. he rests his head on your stomach and gazes up at you with big, soft eyes, and you know there's nothing going on in his head right now. honestly, there's not much going on in yours either, but there's enough happening up there to know better than to not let him have what he wants.

you pull the bag closer to yourself and lift your hips, shifting your pants down just enough to expose the top of your thighs.

"don't let anybody see—" you start to say, but chan is already diving in. he shimmies down your body, positioning himself between your legs so that it would look like he's merely resting on top of you if anyone passing by were to steal a quick glance.

in your present state of mind, neither of you are quite as sneaky as you probably think. you can only pray no one walking around the park is paying much attention to their surroundings, though your spot is far enough away from the main paths that someone would have to be intentionally looking in order to find you.

one thing you know for sure is that chan is a messy eater. in the privacy of his apartment (or occasionally, yours) he'll spend hours between your legs, making out with your pussy until you're so exhausted and overstimulated that just the thought of another orgasm makes you shudder. usually he doesn't go that far, because at the end of it all he still wants to have his cock inside of you, but that doesn't ever stop him from making a complete mess of you anyways.

but to your surprise, when he kisses you over your underwear before pulling them down your hips, his lips are slow and gentle, like wading through water. you feel his fingers kneading your waist, and you realize belatedly that you've been tensed up. you'd been preparing for a fast, rough onslaught of pleasure but clearly chan has other plans today: taking his sweet time with you. and with how fuzzy your head feels right now, going slow is more than fine by you.

he flicks at your clit, laying his tongue flat and smoothing it over every inch of you before flicking again, and subconsciously you angle your hips upward, chasing his mouth. his spit covers your cunt, and when he moves his head back you can feel the breeze cooling the heat between your legs, sending a shiver up and down your spine.

you hear a shrill scream from behind you, and you tilt your neck back to see where the noise came from. upside down, you can see two kids distantly running around in the grass, playing a game.

you yank chan up by the back of his collar and pull your pants up as far as they'll go, ignoring the insane wedgie you've just given yourself as you scramble to look like you haven’t been doing anything suspicious.

you stay on your back, craning your head around to look at your surroundings. once you’re certain nobody’s around, your eyes settle on chan, who’s staring blankly back at you. his face glistens in the sunlight from the amount of wetness all over his face that he doesn't even seem to be aware of.

"wipe your mouth," you try to scold him, but the whole situation is suddenly so funny you can't help the laugh that comes out instead.

chan sits up, a little disoriented at first but he pushes through the clouds in his mind and finally brings his hand up to his face, swiping at his mouth once with the back of his hand. he looks around and he spies the ashtray with the half-smoked joint still sitting in it, and with a lazy grin he leans over to grab it, fumbling with his lighter to reignite it.

he takes a long, slow hit, and you're surprised he's not more out of breath from just having his face shoved in your pussy for what seemed like eternity.

he holds it out to you with a little grunt, and you finally find the energy to prop yourself up onto your elbows to take it from him. you inhale then breathe out a fine cloud of smoke as you pass it back to him, and he sets it back down, giggling to himself.

you smile, his laughter contagious with your already content mood. "what're you laughing at?"

he rolls his head around in a circle, staring off into the distance with a dopey grin on his face. "i… dunno," he answers finally, and he looks back at you, his eyes full of emotion you can't really understand fully.

"well, you almost got us caught, dummy," you tell him, an involuntary pout forming on your lips as you lay back down. "if you wanna have sex we should just go back to your apartment now."

"i don't want to," he whines, and you frown at him. he opens his mouth, stops and closes it again, then finally speaks, seemingly having gathered all his words together in the right order. "of course i always wanna have sex with you but right now i wanna make you cum first. like, right now, right now." he looks over at you again with those big, stupid, pretty eyes of his. "ple-ease?"

"but somebody might see again, channie. you can make me cum at home."

he shakes his head slowly. "but we still have to finish this, anyway," he protests, pointing at what's left of the joint.

you lose focus and stare off at the trees again, knowing he's right. you'll have to stay until it's out, then clean up your blanket and put away your stash, so it's not like you were gonna get home anytime soon then, right?

he turns towards you suddenly, his mouth half open like he's just thought of something crazy. he carefully transfers the joint to your hand, wrapping your fingers around the end of it. "how about i finger you, and you can hold this for me until you cum, and then we finish it and we go home and fuck. holding two birds with one stone."

you glance around, hoping nobody heard him loudly exclaim that he wants to finger you. you think about telling him to keep it down, or at least correct his attempt at a metaphor, but the words feel like too much effort and you're still weary from the almost-orgasm just a few minutes ago.

you stare at the object he had put in your hand for a second before you decide to take a drag, putting your other hand on chan's neck to pull him close so you can exhale the smoke into his lips.

clearly he wasn't expecting it, and he coughs a couple times, but he recovers and immediately goes in to kiss you again. he kisses you for so long it feels like he's never going to pull away, and when you do finally let go for a second it seems like he isn't even breathing.

he just sighs dreamily, his eyes still closed. "i love kissing you," he says, and the way he says it makes it sound so important.

you elbow him in the chest lightly to get his attention, and he lets out a little "oof!" and opens his eyes.

"hurry up so we can go home. i wanna suck your dick," you say, clearly deciding to let him have his way as you push your pants down once more.

his hand slides over your body, and the way he smiles when his two fingers make contact with your pussy gives you goosebumps. his touch feels heavenly, and you have to put all your focus on holding the joint upright so you don’t accidentally drop it. but it’s so hard to stay focused when you can feel his fingers so deep inside you, moving in and out and curling and scissoring and it drives you crazy.

at least in this new position, it’s not as obvious what you’re doing. with shaky hands you take another hit, a bigger one this time, trying to finish it as fast as you can so you can go home and not have to worry about being seen.

chan pushes a third finger into you and you hold back a whimper, wrinkling your nose in pleasure.

he opens and closes his mouth at you, and there’s a few seconds before your brain catches up and you realize he wants you to help him smoke while his hands are occupied. you carefully hold the joint up to his mouth and he wraps his lips around it.

the sight of him laying on his side, his hand cupping your cunt as you act like his personal helper is hotter than you expect it to be, and you clench around his fingers, heat burning in your abdomen.

he sucks in a sharp breath and leans his head away from your hand to cough again. “are you— close?” he asks once he’s recovered, his tone almost pouty. “you’re squeezing my hand so hard and now my dick hurts because i imagined fucking you instead.”

you sigh, leaning your head back against the blanket and letting your eyes close again, your hand propped up in the air. “yeah… i reeally wanna fuck you.”

he pries the joint out of your hand to take a hit by himself, then puts it back in your grip and moves his other hand to massage your breast over your shirt. you whine, not expecting it, and buck your hips up.

“fuck, chan– faster, please,” you mumble, your head swimming.

he puts his thumb to your clit and presses down, his fingers moving more roughly inside of you to draw you closer and closer. after a while you open your eyes, and you find him staring at you with such a sweet, empty look on his face, it makes you want to kiss him forever.

you pull him down on top of you and push your lips against his. your teeth clack with his but you don’t care, because you feel too good everywhere else to even pay attention to one little bad thing.

just like the way chan eats you out, he’s messy when he kisses you, and even more so when he’s high. you can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you whine into him, the rest of the world falling away so that the only two people who exist in the entire world are you and him.

without warning you feel familiar waves wash over you and you practically go limp under him as your orgasm knocks the breath out of your lungs. he stills his fingers inside of you but continues to pet at your clit with his thumb as your walls spasm and contract around him.

when you start to regain some of what’s left of your senses you grab his hand to stop him, pulling him out of your aching pussy. he sighs and pushes his face into your chest, humming against your boobs.

caught up in the moment you hadn’t noticed when you’d dropped the joint, but luckily there was a god or some being out there in the universe that was on your side, because you’d dropped it directly onto the ashtray and not the blanket or the grass.

chan sits up and folds his legs cross-legged as he lights it one more time and hands it to you. there’s not much left of it by now, so it doesn’t take long for you both to finish it. your clothes stink of smoke and you’re a lot clumsier than usual, but you’re more content than you’ve been in a long time.

it’s not the first time you’ve had sex with him while high, but something feels different this time. maybe it was the way he clung to your arm walking back to his apartment, giggling with glee about how he couldn’t wait to have you all to himself. but it was probably more the fact that he told you he loved you right after you came and then proceeded to beg you to let him kiss you again.

of course you let him, your heart and your head soaring as you laid in the grass, casually making out for at least a quarter of an hour. you were in no rush to be anywhere, especially not when you had everything you wanted right here. and it seemed like he had everything he wanted, too: when you finally started to pack up your things to leave, he’d panickedly asked if you would stay with him.

“of course i’m staying,” you laughed, pushing him off of the blanket so you could fold it and put it away. “aren’t we going back to your place?”

“yeah, we are,” he said shyly, plucking a dandelion from the grass. “i meant like… all the time. i don’t wanna do this anymore.”

you looked at him, suddenly scared and a little confused at the sudden change from how excited he’d just been. “…you don’t want us anymore?”

he shook his head. “no, i want you! serious, like boyfriend and girlfriend! i want us to be us.” you don’t immediately respond, and he frowned.“you don’t want to?”

your eyes softened. “i do want to,” you smiled, crawling over to him to cup his cheeks in your hands. “i want to, very much.”

it would be a while before you finally made it back to chan’s apartment, but it was worth the wait. everything was worth the wait.

next year, when you sat in the same spot at the same park to spend your anniversary together, you joked that he had waited until april 20th to make it official because he’d wanted your anniversary to be on a funny date. but really you didn’t mind, because it just gave you more reasons to celebrate.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it lets me know this is something people want to see more of and it helps a ton with being motivated to write. thanks for reading!!

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muldermuse · 5 months

Note

this is kind of a ramble so bear with me:

thinking about sending two sinners!gator into an absolute tailspin when he shows up to your house to see everything in boxes and your clothes packed up in a few suitcases by the door

he’s like ????? WHAT IS GOING ON WHERE ARE YOU GOING???? and just casually saying “skipping town” and going to kiss him and he’s like ??????

i can only imagine the catharsis of telling him that “there’s nothing in fargo for me, most of the town hates me and the ones who don’t just wanna fuck me, you’re probably gonna marry glenda which will only make everyone hate me even more if they find out i’m the other woman. So I want to live somewhere else. I’m not happy here.” and he obv freaks out

and maybe you’re just going to stay at a friends house while your place gets painted, but maybe leaving was on your mind (it’s easier to sell a house with fresh paint👀), and maybe you wanted to see how serious he was about coming with you…but none of that is any of his business…

i’m usually not an angst girlie but i’m on my period and it’s probably a safer bet to be melodramatic and pick a fight with a fictional man than one i actually know 😭😭

ok this ask made me feral, i felt so ANGSTY writing it

thank u so much for sending it through angel <3

18+ only!! Angst below the cut!! Gator is mean and reader is maybe meaner. They're both terrible people. He calls her a whore, she calls him a lot of mean names. Mentions of smut but no actual smut.

Maybe, this is super far in the future for the two sinners fic or maybe it is not canon. who knows!!! not me!!!

You’re not sure how he found out. You’ve quietly handed your notice in at work and said goodbye to the few in this shitty town you care about. Jenson, Jax and Steve have been ghosted (but you know that they’d all come back with a simple ‘you up?’ text). You weren’t going to tell Gator you were leaving- he didn’t deserve a goodbye. You’d planned to go for 3 months as your place was going to get renovated in that time (you’d been saving up for years to make it more of a home). So, you thought that the months away would be an opportunity to become a new person. A better person. Someone who didn’t fuck pathetic Sheriffs. If anyone looked in; they’d think you were going forever. You’d decided that as soon as you left, you’d block Gator and when (or if) you returned, you’d avoid him like the plague.

The U-HAUL parked in your drive probably gave it away. Or when Glenda saw you filling up your truck and made a snide comment about what you were doing. Or maybe it was when you fucked him 2 days ago he made a passing comment about how empty your home looked. Since then, the entire hall area is covered in boxes filled with your possessions. You try not to let it depress you that your whole life has been packed up in a matter of days. You need a fresh start, you’re moving in with a friend a few towns over and you can be whoever you want to be for a few months. No one there has to know that you’ve been fucking a loser in a relationship for the best part of 2 years. You know it’s him as soon as he knocks on the door, no one knocks as loud as him and other people wait to be invited in. Gator lets himself in as you’re checking your backpack one final time.

“The fuck is all this shit?” He kicks a box that’s in his way and you’re thankful you don’t hear a shatter. “Saw the U-Haul and uh- Glenda saw you fillin’ up. Plannin’ a trip or somethin’?”. He tries to sound unbothered but you know him better than that.

You don’t look at him when you tell him, “Yeah, I’m leaving”. You tell yourself that it’s because you’re checking your backpack but really it’s because you can feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins and you’re trying to compose yourself before you lose your shit.

“The fuck did you jus’ fuckin’ say?”

“Sorry, I’ll say it slower because you’re a fuckin’ idiot. I am leaving”. You draw out the last three words and stare at him. You can hear your heart thumping in your ears as you try to read the expression on his face. It’s a mix of anger, confusion, and sadness. A soft kiss his pressed to his cheek as you walk into the dining room to check your toiletries box. That’s the only pleasantry you’ll exchange with him today- or maybe ever again.

His boots stomp behind you as he follows you in. “Well, where are you goin’?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m there, Gator. Now you can fuck off back to Glenda and play fuckin’ happy families for the rest of your life”.

“Well- why are you leavin’? You’ve never mentioned this before”. His voice breaks as he speaks, either a sign he’s getting choked up or he’s getting really angry.

You can feel the anger rattling in your chest and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears becomes overwhelming. “Why am I going? Gator, everyone in this town fuckin’ hates me or thinks that I’m a total whore because of your fuckin’ bitch of a girlfriend. Who- by the way, you’re goin’ to marry because you’re too fuckin’ chickenshit to upset your crazy daddy…” You slam your hands on the table and take a quick breath, “Gator- I fuckin’ hate it here, I’m miserable and I can’t do it any longer- it’s killin’ me”.

He’s stood opposite you and fuck, does he look mad. He doesn’t move for a minute but then shoves your boxes off the table and kicks them when they hit the floor. After a few seconds, he kicks them again with more force and slams his hands on the table.

“Yeah, real fuckin’ mature Gator, breaking my shit beca-“

“What about this? What about us?” His voice is more muted than you’ve ever heard it. His breath is shuddering gasps. You’re unsure why it enrages you.

You laugh cruelly, “What us? What the fuck are you talking about? Gator, you have a fuckin’ girlfriend who you’re going to marry.”

“Yeah but when has that stopped you- huh? You can’t put this all on me. You’re jus’ as bad as me.”

He moves to stand in front of you. The energy in the room is charged, usually, when it feels like this between the pair of you, it would end in some angry sex where you’re both trying to dominate the other person but you both know that isn’t going to happen today.

“You’re movin’ away to be a fuckin’ whore somewhere else... or because you’re jealous of Glenda. She gets all of me and you jus’ get the fuckin’ scraps”. His smile is wicked and his eyes look darker than you’ve ever seen them.

You take a step closer to him, “I couldn’t think of anything fucking worse than havin’ all of you. You’re a pathetic fuckin’ daddy’s boy who’s never won anythin’ in his life”. You get close enough to whisper in his ear, “you’re a fuckin’ loser, Gator.”

You hate how much you want to fuck him in this moment and by the red bloom that’s creeping up his neck; you know he feels the same.

He leaves your home silently. He kicks another box on his way out and you finally hear a shatter. His tyres spin as his car races off your front lawn.

You should block his number and know that that is the end of this awful affair.

But you both know that it isn’t.

134 notes · View notes

strafepanzer · 2 years

Text

atmospheric | act i: cumulus

masterlist | act i | act ii | act iii

a @mybigbangacademia collab with @54prowl

rating: explicit (for future themes)

word count: 9.4k

tags: katsuki’s sailor tongue, staged (and non-staged) meet cutes, mentions of grief

a/n: oh my lord, i thought this would never come to fruition! i wanna thank @kweenkatsuki @kingkatsuki @karikarasuno and especially @54prowl for keeping me sane throughout this! thank you for reading my stuff and screaming about it and helping me through writers block and just being there for me when i was at my most anxious. i adore you all so so much!

“Hell fucking no.” Katsuki laughs. Laughs at the gall, at the sheer audacity. “I don’t need this. Why the fuck would I need this?”

His publicist shares a look with the rep from The Hero Commission. “Bakugo,” she takes a breath, clenches her jaw a little. He’s known Kira for a long time, knows she honestly tries to do what’s best for him, what he needs. “You could be number one.” She states confidently. “And I’m gonna be candid here, because we’re not strangers; I’ve been with you for six long years,” she doesn’t break eye contact with him, if anything she leans into him more. “I’m frustrated. It’s goddamn frustrating watching you sit at six. Six? You’re Dynamight.”

“That’s right!” The rep all but throws his hands up in the air. “Dynamight! You always catch the bad guy! Your merch is one of our best selling lines, you always file your work correctly— and on time!” He stresses, blue eyes as big and bright as All Might’s were. “Your issue is popularity, the polls; you don’t take fan pics, you don’t sign merch—“

“That’s not the point of bein’ a fucking hero—“

“We don’t want you to change, Bakugo, that’s the whole point of this. You don’t have to become a whole different person; in fact, we don’t really expect you to do much, especially during the first few months of the project.” The Project. He wants to snort, to cross his arms and lean back in his chair, show his disinterest; but, shit, he’d be a fucking liar if he didn’t admit sitting at six didn’t drive him up the wall.

“It’ll just start with a chance meeting here, another there, just so social media can get wind of it, and rumours can spread.” Kira relaxes a little, frown lines evening out as she takes in Anderson’s excited vibes. Katsuki huffs a little, meets her eyes. “We’ve had a team working on your story for a while.”

“Story…” he tests the word in his mouth as his brows draw together. “So there’s a script?”

“We have a timeline and set meetings,” Anderson smiles, leaning back in his chair. “Some social media stories we’ll need you to post, more she has to post; but as far as a script goes… it’s more of the direction we need you to go in.”

Katsuki sighs, grabs the surprisingly heavy booklet they presented to him earlier in the meeting. GOLDFISH takes up most of the cover page in giant letters, a corny TOP SECRET stamped in red takes up the rest of it; fucking stupid, dramatic, pretentious Hero Commission shit. He flips through the pages, glosses over the words until he gets to a sub heading titled Chance Meeting One.

They’re lucky he doesn’t peg the fucking book at Anderson.

Subject A bumps into Subject B on the red carpet. Subject B stumbles, Subject A steadies them, asks if they are okay. The two share a look, then get back to business. Paparazzi in the vicinity—

“So, if I’m subject A, who’s the mysterious Subject B?” His voice is dripping in sarcasm as he tosses the book back onto the table. He’s mildly surprised— concerned, even?— when neither of them jump to tell him.

“We can’t… tell you… until you sign the contract.” Kira says quietly, the nerves he’s so accustomed to seeing, creeping back onto her face.

His scowl must deepen astronomically, because she turns to Anderson with her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You’re not the only hero suffering in the popularity polls.” Anderson shrugs, gesturing with his hands. “Kira’s just been meticulous about you getting the boost. In reality, this would be a good deal for all of the top 10 heroes.”

Katsuki feels his eye twitch.

“Shouto, for example, isn’t that great with social cues, tends to shy away from media; he’s already at three, we could get him higher.” Anderson is 100% goading him, and Katsuki knows it, but it’s working.

“Is she a hero?”

“No,” his agent says confidently. “She’s not in the business, not a part of the commission either.”

“She’s well-loved, fawned over. Attractive.” Anderson turns to Kira. “Would you say so?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. We’d never set you up for failure, Bakugo, I can promise you that.”

“I don’t care what she looks like,” he huffs, slightly agitated. “I just don’t wanna drop in the polls.” He grumbles, glare set on Anderson. “Do they know it’s me?”

“Nope, she just knows you’re a hero.” He answers with a toothy smile.

Katsuki presses on. “Does she know I’m in top 10?”

“Her contract states it’ll be a hero in the top 50.” He shoots back, unblinking.

“Just say yes Bakugo, I promise it’ll be worth it.” Kira interjects, eyes hopeful. “And hey, you might actually really like her.”

Katsuki’s snort of laughter is loud. “Doubt it.” He grabs the book and flicks through the pages again, what’s the harm in taking it home and having a read? “Do I have to decide now?”

��Yes.” They answer together, Anderson steadfast and Kira flat.

“Really?”

“No time like the present.” The rep shrugs, the Cheshire grin on his face only growing with Katsuki’s frustration.

“You’re a real fucking ass you know that?” The hero grumbles, throwing his glare over his shoulder, pretending to be interested in the view of the setting sun from their vantage point on the 47th floor of the Hero Commission.

“The sooner you sign, the sooner we get the ball rolling.” Anderson drums the table like a fucking salesman.

And Katsuki signs the contract.

—

Katsuki still lives in the same apartment he bought when he was a rookie. Granted, back then this place was far too good for him, with its timber floorboards, prime location, and it’s five burner stainless steel natural gas cooktop. The previous owner was selling to move abroad; a retired chef who allowed Katsuki a walkthrough of the place as a ‘favour’ to one of Aizawa’s friends.

She—the chef— must’ve seen something in Katsuki when his eyes roamed the sparkling appliances, the range hood, the dishwasher, the fridge, because she accepted his offer, and he’d moved in the next week. It wasn’t until Eijirou had mentioned a couple months into living there, that his bathroom tiles were pink, that Katsuki had even noticed; that’s just how smitten he was with that fucking kitchen.

Now, years later, he feels shitty looking at his commercial grade kitchen.

When was the last time he cooked? Shit, the only time he even uses his kitchen is when he makes himself an instant coffee before work, or reheats takeout from the night before. He’s so busy at TDA, so busy bagging baddies and fighting crime and filing fucking paperwork that he’s gotta eat and run, with the shitty haired idiot eating into his days off with god damned babysitting duties at his place.

Katsuki sinks into the worn leather of his camel coloured couch, A4 envelope in his hand. He should open it, should find out who exactly this mystery girl is, should prepare. Instead, he sighs, tosses the crisp wad of paper onto the seat next to him, runs a hand down his face.

If even one person finds out he’s doing this, he’s over.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hands drawing down his face, crimson staring into the white of his ceiling, the elaborate cornices joining the muted grey of his walls. Bare walls.

The chef had paintings on the walls, heavy velvet curtains over the windows, colourful rugs, buffets covered in photos, house plants, and so much furniture. But Katsuki— young and pretentious— didn’t get that. He liked how huge the apartment seemed without it all, how high the ceilings felt, how large the rooms were.

Now, as much as he’s loathe to admit it, it feels kinda lonely.

But, he’ll do what he usually does when that nagging emptiness nips at his ankles, when he’s alone and actually feeling it: he’ll head to TDA. He’ll get to work, ignore Deku and that half and half bastard when they tell him they’ve got everything covered, ignore sparky when he teases him about not having a life, ignore pink cheeks when she reminds him for the millionth time he’s not getting paid overtime.

With a heaved sigh, he sits forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. That envelope glares at him from the other side of the two seater lounge, sitting there as if it’s some kind of placeholder, as if the girl herself is going to materialise next to him if he dares to open it.

He doesn’t open it.

—

TDA—The Deku Agency (yeah, stupid fucking name)— is lively in the afternoons. Heroes and rookies mingle with civvies in the foyer, sitting at cozy little tables and ordering overpriced drinks and cakes from the café Deku had installed in the far corner of the lobby in a bid to improve relations between them. The Commission loved it.

Katsuki uses the back door.

He takes the maintenance elevator up to the office floor and wordlessly finds his desk, revels in the pssssssht as he sinks into the bright orange, high-backed ergolux. It’s comfy for an office chair, just the right amount of worn in, without the irritation of squeaky screws his old chair had.

“Don’t you have today off?” Icyhot’s glare is blank, cold soba (probably) noodles suspended between the chopsticks held at lip level.

“None’a your business, half ‘n’ half.” Katsuki glares back heatedly, spinning in his chair to face his monitor. It, too, is… orange. Just like Deku’s is broccoli green, and round cheeks’ is pink, and fucking half ‘n’ half’s is… half red, half icy blue. According to Deku, some computer company brought out a whole range of hero inspired computers in a collab with the Commission and he just had to get one for everyone; with matching chairs.

The colours throw off the serenity the floor could have, with its glossy white floors, floor to ceiling windows, the greenery delicately placed around the space. But, that’s Deku and Pink Cheeks to a tee, and the icyhot asshole just goes along with whatever half-baked plan the two of them conspire.

“Was it expensive?” Todoroki presses, those eyes still staring holes into Katsuki.

“Haah?” He knows he shouldn’t rise to the bait, but he’s tense as it is, so that red glare of his is burning through Shouto in an instant.

“The fine? Property damage, Uraraka thinks, but my money’s on defamation?” He says it with such disinterest, that it almost takes Katsuki off guard.

“It was a meeting, dipshit; about my career. I don’t have any outstanding fines.” He almost snarls, irritation a growling monster in his gut. “Asshole.” He adds, filing away Ochako’s involvement in the back of his mind. He’ll call her out for it later; she’s always the one putting ridiculous ideas in that two-toned space cadet’s head.

“Ah, sorry.” He hears him mumble back, followed by a loud slurp that makes Katsuki’s left eye twitch.

“You should be.” The blonde huffs, irritation mounting at the lack of sincerity in his voice. “Who the hell did you think was suing me?”

“Hm? Didn’t you badmouth Grand on Twitter last week?”

Katsuki actually laughs. “If that asshole wants to go to battle, he’ll need to be ready for fucking war.”

“What was the meeting about, then? Your public image? Are they mad at you?”

Yes and no.

“You’re awfully chatty today.”

“Well, I’m having a meeting next week,” Shouto admits, piquing Katsuki’s interest; he swivels in his chair, watches his friend as he plays with his noodles absentmindedly. “Just… Don’t know what to expect.”

“Oh.” Is all Katsuki can really say. He vaguely remembers Shouto mentioning something about almost slipping in the polls, and although he’s higher than Katsuki, he bets his own agent’s been getting a beat down from the Commission. While they don’t really care who sits at number one, they do care when merch sales drop and social media interaction is low.

“I just hate… all of that extra stuff. All of the unnecessary competition that comes along with this job. Reminds me of… Father.” As if sensing he’s stepped a foot wrong (for once in his life), Shouto mumbles a sorry and turns back towards his computer screen.

Normally, a mention of Shouto’s father leaves a bittersweet taste in Katsuki’s mouth, has him turning cheek to cheer his friend up in his own asshole-y way… but guilt nips at his heels. Guilt that his contract might actually have him surpassing Shouto with a leg-up Katsuki doesn’t technically need. Katsuki isn’t Shouto; he’s a prick on purpose, not out of childhood trauma-induced ignorance. Katsuki knows that the things he says and his shitty actions have god damned consequences.

Todoroki’s just a little weird.

Fuck, another reason to feel shitty about signing that fucking contract.

After a few moments, Shouto’s slurping starts again, giving Katsuki the green light to get his head out of his ass. He turns back to his own computer, taps the space bar a few times to wake it up, and logs into the portal.

Time to catch up on some incident reports.

—

The Kirishima Household is lovely. Pro Hero Red Riot bought a place out in the ‘burbs when he got married, a semi-renovated two-storey place with a yard. It’s hard to find a place with a yard so close to the city, especially on rookie hero wages. The place has three bedrooms upstairs, with the living and dining, kitchen, and bath and toilet downstairs; Eijirou’s been trying to convince Katsuki to claim the third bedroom as his, even bought him an alarm clock and an All Might sheet set for the bed, but Katsuki chronically takes the couch.

When he comes over the night before the Gala to watch Akari, the father-daughter duo are playing MarioKart. Katsuki shakes his head at them— concealing his grin— and takes his groceries to the kitchen, set on making dinner for the two of them before Ei has to head off to work.

He must be thinking too hard, the anxiety of the Gala etched on his face, because Eijirou is hovering.

The red head’s also giving him the look.

Between serving his little girl dinner— which Katsuki assured him, he could do— getting his shit together for his shift, and making small talk with Katsuki, he keeps staring. It’s the goading look; the one that says: hey man, I know something’s wrong, but you’re just gonna say nothin’ if I ask, so I’m gonna need you to tell me.

Katsuki’s not gonna tell him.

He can’t.

What, just come out with a: yeah, I actually accepted an offer from the Commission to fake date someone in order for my public perception to improve, so I’ll climb the popularity polls. No chance in hell; not even if the place froze over.

Sure, if anyone were to understand, it’d probably be Eijirou. Either him, Deku, or Shouto, but… he just can’t. Especially with Red Riot sitting at number 8.

Katsuki has to usher him out the door at 6pm, has to pretend he’s fine, and that nothing’s bothering him; he even tries to give Ei a reassuring smile as he hops on his motorbike, but thinking back on that moment, it probably only worsens his perception of Katsuki. Since when does he smile and wave him off to work?

Shit.

He settles onto the sofa next to Ei’s mini me after tidying the kitchen and tossing a load of laundry in the wash. A replay of the morning news should relax him a little, should take his mind off this stupid Gala, the stupid red carpet, the stupid fucking contractual dating.

The news anchors are achingly boring, droning on about the finance sector, the stock market; Deku’s into all that shit, pulled Katsuki into investing almost a decade ago. The idiot even told Katsuki not to waste his first hero pay check on stupid stuff… then went ahead and bought some 160,000Y All Might figure that looked achingly out of place on his coffee table in his tiny loft studio apartment.

Then he’s on the news, a flash of blonde and green and orange flying through the sky. He’d apprehended a villain last night, and the news loves reporting on all of the property damage that usually comes along with Katsuki’s quirk; he’s gotten so good at holding back, but since signing the contract, he knows he’s been acting a little more recklessly. And of course, snakey fucking journalists have to jump on that. Reminds him how much he fucking hates the news.

At least the weather girl’s cute.

“Uncle Kats? You okay?” Akari blinks, looking up from her iPad. She’s the spit out of her father’s mouth with those big red eyes and inky black hair, not to mention how much she loves Katsuki. Must run in the Kirishima genes.

“Why d’ya ask, kiddo?”

“I knew it,” she sighs, pulling her feet underneath her as she locks her iPad. “Dad’s got another girlfriend, doesn’t he? You always get weird like this when he’s seeing someone.”

Katsuki snorts laughter. “Always? Your dad has dated two people since you’ve been alive.”

“You’re acting weird!” She argues, arms gesturing wildly.

“You’re ten, you have no idea what weird even is.” He brushes her off, hoping to relive her of her street, but unable to do it nicely. He doesn’t really do nice.

“Dad was staring at you funny, and you were being weird.” She scrunches her little nose up at him, and Katsuki knows he’s not getting out of this conversation without putting a little bit of work in.

“Your dad stares at me funny all the time, squirt; you should’ve seen him when we were in high school.”

“He looked worried.” Akari frowns, because it is strange when Ei’s not being carefree.

Still, he’s gonna pretend he didn’t notice. “Did he?”

“Yeah and you did too!” She accuses, voice rising, annoyed. “Like, right up until now”

“So, because we both look worried, your dad’s dating again.” Its not a question, it’s her conclusion.

“Yeah, because he’s worried you’ll tell me, and you’re worried you have to keep it a secret. You don’t, by the way, I’m double digits now, so you can trust me with your secrets, I promise, Uncle Kats.” She bats those lashes at him, eyes shining with what he can only call mirth. The one thing she seemed to pick up from Katsuki after all these years babysitting.

He sighs, midway between impressed at her reasoning skills, and bummed that he can’t give her the answers she’s looking for. Still, he lets out a low whistle. “Double digits, huh? Sounds like you’re too old to hang out with Uncle Kats at the parlour.”

Seems like redirection still works for pre-teens, because her ruby reds light up like it’s Christmas. “You said you’re too famous to go out in public!”

“Are you arguing with ice cream, squirt?” He fakes a glower, sends her a little glare that can only be taken as playful.

“No way!” She bounces from the couch and practically runs to the landing. “I’m just gonna put my coat and shoes on!” She calls, talking way too fast. But then her little face pokes back around the corner, brows furrowed. “No take-backs.” She glares, wary.

He sighs, rubs a huge scarred hand over his too tired face. “No take backs.” He shrugs, shaking his head.

Akari seems content to leave his sight after that, her fast footfalls trekking up the stairs, her bedroom door slamming open. Meanwhile, he sinks a little into the sofa, annoyed with himself; mostly for acting so obviously emotional in front of a child, but also for promising her ice cream.

Looks like a beanie, face mask, and sunglasses type of night.

—

Eijirou rolls up the driveway a long thirteen hours after he left.

Katsuki’s made Eijirou a decaf tea— he’s gotta sleep today, and all that— and he’s stirring his coffee with a teaspoon as he leans against the countertop in the kitchen, eyes on the front door in anticipation. He needs to talk to him, needs to reassure his best friend that he’s okay, that there’s not really anything wrong.

Tell him what’s going on without explicitly telling him what’s going on.

“Daddy’s home!” He calls, bursting into the house with far too much energy for coming off an overnight shift.

“Dude, she’s asleep.”

“What?” His face falls, eyes darting around the kitchen like Katsuki’s telling lies. “It’s seven am, she’s got school this morning.” He grows more panicked by the second. “The bus gets here at seven-fifty—“

“Eiji, c’mon, all she’s gotta do is get up, get dressed, and eat breakfast.” Katsuki grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“How are you letting her sleep in? I knew it, something’s wrong. You were acting so weird last night, but this is… this is worse.” He dumps his work bag at his feet, puts his hands on his hips and gives him those god damn puppy eyes that are generally reserved for begging Katsuki to go somewhere with him. “You’re harder on her schedule than I am, Katsuki.”

Katsuki sighs, steps over to rinse his teaspoon in the sink. “I took her out for ice cream last night, and we stayed out past her bedtime, so I told her I’d let her sleep in until seven-thirty.” He picks up Eijirou’s tea, hold it out for him to take. “I’m fine, really, it’s just a work thing.”

Eijirou accepts the mug, takes a few steps to sit at his four-seater dining table. “A work thing you can’t tell your best bud about.”

“It’s—“ Katsuki hesitates, taking his coffee with him to joint Eijirou at the table. “The Hero Gala is coming up, and Kira is making me go. You know how I hate doing publicity shit.” Not a lie. It’s true, he has to go to the pretentious fucking Hero Gala, and he hates all that stupid shit, and, yeah maybe there’s something else going on at the Gala, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he doesn’t wanna go.

Eiji’s mouth hangs open. “That’s it?”

“Hah?” Katsuki glares.

“You’re freaking out about the Gala?”

“Do you blame me?”

“No, I— geez, Kats, I actually thought there was something eating at your soul. You looked like you made a deal with a crossroads demon or something.” He shakes his head of whatever thoughts he’s been having and lets out a laugh, takes a sip of his tea.

Eijirou has no idea just how on the money he actually is.

“Nah, I just don’t know what to wear, how to act. You know how I can get with camera flashes.” He sighs, remembering the last press release he went to— all of the cameras and loud noises, and… fuck, it’s uncomfortable, and reminds him of being out in battle. Maybe he actually needs to get onto someone about PTSD like shitty Deku keeps suggesting.

Eijirou lets out a breath, the weight falling off his shoulders. “Well, you’ve always looked good in red; brings out your eyes.”

Katsuki chuckles then. “You’re a biased little shit, Ei.”

“I know.”

—

The Gala is everything Katsuki expects it to be: loud, crowded, and brightly lit. Paparazzi and fans line the streets for blocks leading to the venue, and it makes his nose twitch. He’s not the best with his public image, but tonight he has to at least try. Has to put in some goddamn effort.

Not only for himself, but for TDA, for his… to be girlfriend.

God, it even sounds fucking stupid in his head.

He drove himself, the plan to pull up in the valet cue and open the envelope, prepare then. In hindsight it’s pretty last minute, but knowing a name threatened over overthinking on his part. He’s never really been known for his level head, and in that respect, he’s his worst enemy.

He’d argued with Kira a couple of days ago about a pre-meeting meeting, something to ease his anxiety, somewhere for him to meet this woman and form some kind of fool-proof game plan; but he was shot down.

What if a pap sees them entering the same building before they even meet?

That’ll ruin the meet-cute for the fans, destroy everything the commission worked hard to create. Which is fair, honestly; she’d asked him if he read the plan, reminded him that until they can’t even have phone contact until the third meet just in case anyone catches wind of anything.

Stupid Commission and their goddamn paranoia.

So as Katsuki sits in the cue, venue a beacon of light a couple a blocks away, he opens the centre console of Maserati Gran Turismo and pulls out the envelope, unrolls it and flattens it against his thighs. This is it, no time to mull over the results, because as he idles, the cue slowly rolls forward, bringing him closer to the Gala by the minute.

As calloused fingers carefully pull at the tab, his mind races. He thinks about just how long he’s waited for this moment, how on edge he’s been since he scribbled his signature at the bottom of that contract. As much as he’s loathe to admit it, he needs to do a good job with this, needs to put in the effort, needs to milk it for all its worth.

For some reason, he thinks back to Shouto sitting in his office chair, clearly worried about his own standings in the ranks, looking sorry as hell. He wonders how Shouto’d feel if Anderson were sitting across from him at the table, offering him help he doesn’t quite need, giving him an opportunity he might not be fit to take.

But, shit, that worrying? It’s so unnecessary. Icyhot might not have even wanted to sign the fucking contract. Sometimes Katsuki doesn’t give him the credit he deserves.

He tugs the paper from the envelope and scans the page.

Your name sits there in bold block letters.

But he has no idea who the fuck you are.

Kira’s got his phone and wallet in her bag so he can comfortably walk the carpet, so he can’t even Google who the hell you are. He says your name over and over in his brain, trying to light up electrodes, trying to think of anything that could bring a face to your name.

“Fuck,” he hisses, reading the name again, skimming through the document. There’s nothing there about you, no occupation, no bio, no nothing. “Fuck.” He growls, glancing up to see the venue way closer than he anticipated.

It’s fine. It’s fine because no other person would even think about bumping into Dynamight, not even on accident. This woman is going to knock into him, he’s going to steady her, not glare at her, and then it’ll be over. He can do this.

It’s going to be fine.

By the time he realises he’s shaking his leg, he’s the fourth car in the cue. He remembers the wise words of wisdom Ei shot him as he left his house that morning: you’re gonna look good, bro; just don’t blow anyone up.

He checks his hair in the rear view mirror, makes sure the lapel of his deep, deep red suit jacket is laying nicely against the matte black if his dress shirt, that his black silken tie is sitting centre. He didn’t wanna wear red, but Kira agreed with Ei, insisted it brought out the ruby of his eyes, and would make it easier for the girl to spot him.

For you to spot him.

Fuck, he’s next.

When the limo in front of him drives away, he rolls up until he’s gestured to stop, puts the car in park and presses the handbrake on. At least the anxiety of meeting you and following this script is taking his mind off how much he hates red carpets.

Oh, great, he’s gonna blend into the fucking flooring.

“Dynamight, big fan,” the valet— tall, lanky, cat-like— opens his door, gestures widely for him to exit the car.

“Hey, thanks,” Katsuki nods, points to the button to the left of the steering wheel. “Handbrake’s on; don’t drop the clutch too fast or you’ll stall her.” He explains as he slides out of the seat, stands tall to meet the valet’s eyes. He’s still a couple of inches taller.

“I will be very gentle with her, I promise.” He grins, holding a ticket out for Katsuki as he shoves his hands into his pants pockets, lifts his chin as if assessing the slightly shorter man.

Then— deeming his valet adequate— Katsuki takes the ticket, slides it into his pocket, and nods him a good night.

When Katsuki turns towards the golden— not red, thank god— carpet, it’s as if someone’s just unmuted the television; it’s suddenly way too loud, his name being screamed from all angles, camera flashes blinding him, people crowding him. He’s ushered to the first little black X taped to the carpet by a busy little woman in a black suit, is briefly told to pause and pose for pics, before she hurries off in a blur.

He straightens a little, softens the agitation on his face a bit, but doesn’t smile. Why the hell would he? The paps are all desperately calling a mixture of his last name and his hero name, shouting at him like he’s some kind of prized pony, and he hates it. He hates the showboating, loathes the OTT smiling.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Kira, her dress a tight purple bodice with a midi length circle skirt; she’s got a headset on, just like the other PA’s and Gala staff, and a black satchel bag slung across her torso. She beams when their eyes meet, but gestures for him to keep posing, uses her pointer fingers to elongate the smile on her own face, then loudly mouths smile.

The audacity of her has a smirk sliding onto his face, and he glances at the paps for a bit, before heading towards her.

“You look good!” She beams, dusting absolutely nothing from his shoulders and looking up at him like a proud mama. “Are you ready?” She leans up to ask him, voice more muted than before.

“Yeah, I just—“ he glances around, leans down to her ear. “I don’t know who she is.”

“Huh? Really?” Kira’s eyes almost bug our of her head. “What do you mean?”

“Shit, I—“

“Bakugo Katsuki willingly participating in a photo op? I think my depression is cured.” Katsuki would know that low drawl anywhere, his gut instinct affirmed when he’s met with lazy lavender eyes, and a just as lazy smirk.

“Shinsou?” Katsuki’s eyes widen. Last he heard about mindfreak, he was working the underground, so seeing him here is kind of throwing him off.

“Nice threads; when did hell freeze over?” Shinsou’s purple hair is in a messy bun, showing off a faded undercut, his suit pirate-esque with a too-open white shirt, brown suspenders and matching brown slacks.

“Funny. Who are you here with?” Katsuki snips, looking around for a possible date.

“What, am I not famous enough to work the golden carpet?” He snips in return. “You caught me, I’m here with Denks.” Then he nods behind him, at Kaminari who’s looking in his element in fucking sequins.

It brings a grin to Katsuki’s face, and he holds out his hand for Shinsou to shake. “Good to see you either way.”

“Bakugo,” Kira tugs his jacket sleeve, eyes wide as she nods for him to keep moving. “We gotta get inside.”

“Oh, sorry dude; I know how this makes you antsy.” Shinsou watches him exchange a look with Kira, takes his hand and gives it a shake.

“See you in there?” Katsuki nods.

“Bet.” Shinsou grins, dropping his hand, sauntering off towards Denki.

“You don’t know who she is? So what, you’re just gonna look clunky and hyperaware of every woman coming within a foot of you on a busy red carpet?” Kira is hissing at him as she directs him towards where semi-retired Mt Lady is having an interview with a reporter. “Did you not open the envelope?”

“I did, I just don’t know who the fuck she is, sue me.” Katsuki snips at her, just as annoyed with himself as she is.

“Oh, if this gets out, you’ll be getting sued Bakugo, don’t you worry.” She shakes her head, and points to the X’s plastered in a zig-zag all the way up to the entrance of the building. “Make your way up, hit each black X. Don’t worry about the white or the red, just hit the black ones.”

“There’s like eleven of them.”

“I’ll meet you inside,” she smiles without her eyes. “Don’t overthink it, and be fucking nice.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Go.”

He heads towards the first X when Denki moves on, a pretty reporter in white standing there with a crew and a smartphone wave him over.

“Dynamight!” She tucks a lock of pink hair behind her ear, bounces excitedly in place on the tallest pair of stilettos Katsuki has ever seen.

For all intents and purposes, this could be her. His heart absolutely hammers in his chest and he’s not entirely sure if he’s nervous because he hates the media, or if he’s about to meet the woman he’s gotta ‘fall in love’ with.

“Good to see you, number six! How’s things?” She asks into the bottom of her phone, before holding it out to him.

“Evening,” he greets. “It’s… loud here.” He makes a point to soften his scowl, looks at all of the fans and other people on the other side of the barricade. Be fucking nice, she said. Be fucking nice.

They absolutely roar.

“I don’t think your fans are used to seeing you like this. Who dressed you tonight?” She eyes him up and down, looks like she wants to touch him, but thinks better of it.

“I dressed myself, actually.” He says with a bit of bravado, that shit eating grin splitting his face as he tucks his thumbs under the lapels of his jacket and runs them down.

She laughs, a full-bodied thing that catches Katsuki off guard, has him looking awkwardly between her and the cameraman. “No, I mean who designed what you’re wearing?”

He doesn’t know. And he can’t be rude to this girl just in case she’s her; there’s a split second of internal struggle within him before she interrupts his chain of thought.

“You don’t know, do you Dynamight?”

“Am I gonna get in trouble from my agent if I don’t?” He looks behind himself, through the crowd for the purple dress, but it’s nowhere to be seen.

“No! No way! Just tweet it later!” She laughs, patting him lightly on his upper arm.

He laughs, almost bitterly. “Right, twitter, sure.” He suppresses an eye roll, lifts his hand to wave at the crowd, the camera, then her. “Enjoy your night.”

“We love you, Dynamight!” She cheers, setting the fans off again, the noise absolutely deafening him; and he’s used to loud, used to explosive. But not like this. At least when he’s detonating, he’s full of adrenaline, not fucking nerves.

The second, third, and fourth X interviews are all more of the same; more questions about his look, about how he’s unusually chatty, about how he actually showed up. It’s hard to be fucking nice, but it does take his mind off the reason he decided to show up tonight.

Until someone’s knocking into him, and he’s instinctively wrapping an arm around their waist to stop them from falling flat on their ass. There’s a collective gasp in the immediate vicinity, but all Katsuki can see is you. You in your shimmery peach gown, eyes bright and wide, face flushed and lips parted in awe.

And he recognises you immediately; sees you almost every morning when he’s got an office shift, sometimes even nights. Ochako’s a stickler for the news, watches the same channel every day like clockwork to keep an eye on the stock market when Deku can’t; and he’s always liked the addition of you, keeps an ear out for your sing-song voice under the guise of needing to know what kind of sky he’s gonna be flinging his body into if he has to fight that day.

“Weather girl?” He breathes, finally putting a face to the name.

You just kinda gawk at him, a special kind of shock that he can only describe as wonder.

“D-Dynamight? Can you help me up?” You blink, not quite knowing what to do with your hands while he has you suspended mid-fall.

As if breaking his trance, he curses a quick, “oh, shit,” before helping you back to your feet.

“Thanks,” you smile a little awkwardly. “And sorry. For, you know, knocking into you.”

“No, uh, harm done.” He mutters back, all of the bravado he’s built up over the course of the carpet walk going down the drain as he watches you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “You okay?”

You process his question without breaking eye contact with him, then you nod once, real slow. “Yeah,” you say, smile growing on your face. “Yeah, I think I am. Nice to meet you.”

He can’t help but mirror your smile. “Likewise.”

—

There’s a photo and an accompanying video going ‘viral’ when Katsuki wakes up in the morning. He knows this because not one, not two, not three, but seven different people send him links to varying posts, with people going a little nutso over his little meeting with you.

Kira’s happy too; she was all smiles for the rest of the night, texting on her phone, disappearing to relay things with Anderson before giving Katsuki his personal items back out of her satchel, and knocking off for the night. He didn’t plan to stay, but he did; had a few bourbons and hung out with Shinsou and Denki and their little gang until daybreak.

Shinsou’s sent him a few messages— he’s a double texter— and Katsuki touches base with him before delving into the world of social media, just to see how successful Meeting One was.

He’s fucking trending.

As much as he’s loathe to search his hashtag, he clicks into it; he scrolls through candid and posed photos of him in his red and black ensemble, people’s text posts commenting on how they would let him “eat them alive” among other—more intense—things, and pictures of you.

He looks at those the longest, studies the lines and curves of your face, compares how you look when you’re at ease versus when you smile brightly. You’re pretty in a… normal way. He’s kinda blown away that they didn’t pick some overly glamorous pop idol, that they found someone that’s practically his type.

Fuck, it makes him a gross type of nervous, though. The way that he’s not going to hate this makes it worse and better, and he’s conflicted because this might not be as bad as he anticipated, and he’s not sure if he likes that or not.

His social media deep dive takes him to your page, and he lays in his bed for what feels like hours scrolling through your content. You’re the weather girl for the nation’s most watched breakfast program, Good Morning Japan, and you’re clearly the show’s sweetheart. There’s photos of you with fluffy animals, on boats, at the beach, with celebrities. Katsuki feels like a dunce for not knowing your name when he read it on the paper.

One of the top posts in your hashtag is a photo of you in a bikini and a sarong, feet ankle deep in the shallow waters of Furuzamami Beach.

Fuck, you’re hot.

He throws his phone towards the end of the bed and begins his morning routine; Deku’s given him the office shift this week, and he intends to make the most out of it.

—

“Hey,” Katsuki pants, breathless.

“Katsuki, bro, the weather girl from channel 5?” Eijirou’s voice is smug as all as it rings through his AirPods. “She’s cute!”

“Eijirou, I will hang up on you.” He threatens, taking the museum stairs two at a time. He’s on his afternoon run through the city, pushing himself a little further than usual because of… reasons. The best part about being on office shift, is he finishes his shift as soon as paperwork is caught up on. And Katsuki is efficient as fuck.

“Akari keeps asking me when you’re over next, by the way. She said that you promised to take her to the parlour again.”

“Oh.” Yeah he did do that. Had her pretend she was feeling sick so he could slip from the grasp of some fans.

“Yeah, you’re bribing my daughter with ice cream again, aren’t you?”

“When’s your next overnighter?”

“Oh, I’m on days for the month,” he sighs, content on the other end of the line. “Tamaki’s taking my nights so I can spend more time with Aki; I’ve also got tomorrow off for the Maru’s anniversary visit.”

“That’s… nice of him.” Ah, yeah, it's the anniversary tomorrow; Eijirou’s taking it a little easier with each passing year, but the death of his wife is a painful cross to bear.

“Yeah I know, he’s a good guy. Anyways, just wanted to know if you wanted company tonight? I’m making breakfast for dinner.”

“Oh, your favourite.”

“Yeah, can’t go past it, am I right?”

“I’ll come around for a bit, but I’ve got a big day tomorrow, so I can’t sleep over.” By big day, he means he’s meeting you again, and he needs the night to himself to overthink the whole thing.

“You got a whole room there, though.”

“Ei, as much as I love you and Aki, I love my bed more.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” There's some shuffling on his end, paperwork probably, then he perks back up. “How long have you been feeding me decaf tea?”

“What?”

“I have decaf tea in my cupboard at home.”

“Ei, I give you decaf every time.”

“Oh.”

“See you tonight; do you need me to bring anything?”

“Nah, I’m all organised.”

There’s a pause where Katsuki contemplates bringing up the anniversary, but thinks better of it. “Be over around six.”

—

He’s not all organised.

If Katsuki could pretend to be surprised, he would, but, “You forgot the eggs? For breakfast for dinner? No eggs?”

“Dude, don’t do this, Akari’s already given me shit for it.”

“It’s fine,” Katsuki suppresses a grin. “I’ll run down and get some. Aki, want anything from the corner store?”

“Chocolate milk!” She yells from her room upstairs.

“Hey, get beers, too.” Eijirou says offhandedly.

This makes Katsuki pause. “Ei.”

“Kats.” He says in response, not meeting his gaze.

“Ugh, fine.” He grunts, sliding his shoes back on and toying with the black facemask in his pocket. “You can thank Maru for my leniency.” He says, glare hot on his friend. Eijirou just grins back as he fixes his stupid ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron behind his back, and Katsuki pulls on his beanie and mask, setting out for the walk.

He knows he wants to settle down a little further from the city. Ideally, even further than this. Sure, it’s a quiet neighbourhood, safe, where the houses have yards, and there’s grass, and trees, but… Katsuki needs more space. Privacy.

His relationship with the spotlight is rocky at best, and there’s this nagging in the back of Katsuki’s brain that warns him off all of this social media shit, the trending, the paparazzi, the overzealous fans.

The bell jingles as he enters the corner shop; it’s later than rush hour, but earlier than the typical teenaged late night snack visit, so the place is quiet.

He grabs the eggs from the shelf and heads down the aisle to the fridges, set on pulling the door open and grabbing a six pack of Sapporos.

“Oh!” A woman gasps, about to grab the handle as he reaches for it. “Sorry!” Her apology slips from her lips, and he feels his face flush a little under his mask.

It’s his fault, he’s been in his own head all afternoon. “No, I—”

It’s you.

You seem to make the realisation just as he does, your eyes widening and a gasp leaving your lips. And you both stare, his own eyes glued yours as if he were stuck in some kind of trance, as if you had him under some kind of spell.

You blink first, and he forces himself to look away for a second, so he can catch his bearings.

“I’m sorry Bakugo, I wasn’t paying attention.” You’re wearing a facemask as well, but your smile pushes your cheeks up to crinkle your eyes.

“Nah, neither was I,” he admits. “You live around here?”

“Me? No, I’m cat-sitting for a friend.” You laugh. “Gosh, this is surreal, isn’t it? Imagine running into you here of all places.”

“Yeah, both of us buying beers,” he does his best to joke— which sounds fucking stupid, by the way— but you laugh a little more, glance around the shop before leaning closer to him.

“Feels like we shouldn’t be talking yet, doesn’t it?” Your eyes almost sparkle under the harsh fluorescent lighting, and he can’t help but stare. “I just wanna say thanks, though— for catching me at the Gala. I wasn’t going to trip so hard, but you were standing there like some grumpy Adonis, and I—” you lean up to whisper in his ear. “I got nervous and actually tripped.”

“Lucky I got good reflexes, huh?” He quips back, suddenly feeling super nervous— which is weird as hell.

“The best— Oh, I better let you get back to your night.” You take a step back, open the door and grab a bottle of wine, boots squeaking on the linoleum floor when you crouch down to grab a 6-pack of beers. “These ones?”

He nods, points to the pink knee-length rain boots you’re wearing. “They’re cute,” he can’t help but snicker. “All part of the weather girl uniform, I guess?”

You hand him the beers with a laugh as you stand. “I happen to think they suit me,” you say in defence, pointing and tapping a toe dramatically.

“You’d be right,” he says a little too gently, clearing his throat when you look up at him with surprise through your lashes. “I, uh,” he starts, those damn nerves not going away. “See you around.”

“Y-yeah, sure.” You nod. “I’m gonna check out the ice cream, bye!” Then in a flash of tan coat and pink boots, you’re heading back towards the frozen section, and he’s shaking his head, eggs in one hand and beers in the other.

He tries not to stare too much, tries not to dwell on the lightness of his heart, or how god damn likeable you are. Instead he hastily grabs a chocolate milk, heads to the checkout, pays for the goods, and leaves.

—

There’s an undercurrent of sorrow that he can feel Eijirou trying to push down all evening. It doesn’t quite seep into Akari— she was only a baby when her mum passed— but Eiji’s frayed edges scratch at Katsuki, and deep into the night they’re both tipsy, sitting on the back porch nursing beers after Akari heads to bed.

They don’t need to talk— far past silence being uncomfortable— but when Eijirou’s shoulders start to shake, Katsuki wraps an arm around him, pulls his head to his chest, and lets him sob.

He stays on the couch, still not ready to christen those All Might bedsheets.

—

The second “official” meeting is supposed to happen while he’s on duty. He read through the file this time, so he’s prepared; maybe even a little… over prepared.

It’s morning, and you’re supposed to be at a certain famous bakery, sampling the goods in an advertising bid between the cafe and your work; weather on location, or something ridiculous. Then, he’s supposed to enter, and he’s supposed to look at you like ‘oh, you’re from the Gala’, and you’re supposed to look at him the same way.

The Commission didn’t account for Katsuki running into an actual villain.

He wipes his bloodied nose on the back of his glove, watches as Iida drives the crook away in the back of a paddy wagon, then pulls his other glove off with his teeth to look at his watch.

9:15am. The meeting was scheduled for 8:10am.

“All good, Dynamight?” One of the EMT’s waves him over and he inwardly groans.

“It’s just my nose, I’m fine.” He insists, swatting the little green man away.

“Just let me do a couple of observations, dude, it’ll take two minutes.” His pink eyes narrow up at Katsuki, and the grumpy blonde gives in, following him over to a bench and sitting down, letting him work his paramedic magic on him.

His phone vibrates in the pocket of his tac pants, and his watch tells him it’s Kira. He taps a few buttons on his watch, connects it effortlessly to the earpiece in his left ear. “Hey,”

“Bakugo, what happened? Anderson is pissed.” She hisses through the earpiece.

“I am currently with…” He glances down at the short man crouching around his med-pack, reads his name badge. “Midori— Really? Your name is the colour of your skin?”

“Bakugo.” Kira presses.

“That’s my Japanese name, my real name’s Timothy.” Midori sasses back, pink glare venomous.

“Timothy, huh?” Katsuki tests the name on his tongue, gauges Midori’s reaction to the pronunciation; the other man seems to soften a little.

“Bakugo.”

“Just use Timothy—“

“Bakugo, focus!” Kira borderline barks in his ear.

“Right, yeah, sorry, I’m here.” Katsuki sighs, looking up at the puffy white- grey clouds overhead.

“We have to reschedule for tomorrow,” Kira sighs, probably doing that thing where she pushes her glasses up and pinches the bridge of her nose. “She’s heading to the coast, though, so you’re gonna have to—“

Kira wants him to what?

His semi-sunny disposition sours. “I can’t do that.”

“Bakugo.”

“Kira,” he starts, feeling his blood pressure rise along with the octave of his voice. He glances down at Mido—Timothy, tries to control his volume. “I’m on patrol shifts this week, I can’t do that.”

He can’t let Izuku or Shouto or Ochako down. That, and he can’t think of a good excuse to be heading to the coast.

“No, you’re right. It’d be better if she could meet you halfway or something.” Kira sighs, conceding a little.

He drops his chin, focuses that glare of his at the pavement next to Timothy. “Not half way—”

“Oh, ouch, are you okay?” Pink rain boots step into his vision, and when he looks up, you’re smiling down at him. He just… stares stupidly up at you, feels something warm and wet drip over his lip as your eyes widen. “You’re bleeding, Bakugo.”

“Shit,” he turns away from you, swipes at the wetness of his upper lip, knowing he’s probably just spreading it.

“Here,” you gently bully his hand away from his face, dab at him with something damp and smelling of coconut. It takes a moment for him to register that you’re sitting next to him, wiping at him like a nurse while the god damn EMT is kneeling at his feet, and Kira is screaming for his attention in his ear.

Without even thinking, he ends that call, silences his earphones on his smartwatch.

“You’ve got your work boots on,” he starts, wary. “You on the clock?”

“Oh, I had a thing a few blocks away, and heard my new favourite hero apprehended some bad guy in the same district.” Your focus isn’t on him, you’re in your handbag, fussing around with wet wipes and a little plastic bag and a handkerchief.

“So, you came for a walk?” He asks, staring. Staring because seeing you on social media is vastly different to seeing you in person, and so close. He could count your lashes, could reach out and test the softness of your skin, your glossy lips—

“Yep.” You grin, looking up and meeting his eyes.

It’s a spark— the same one from the corner store— and it pulls deep in his chest, your beauty and charm and the peace you bring almost overwhelming, yet entirely endearing—

“Hey— sorry, I know this is a wrong place, wrong time type thing,” Timothy stands up, fishes his phone out of his pocket, your spell broken as you both look up at him. “But I’m a huge fan,”

“Of me?” You chirp, surprised. And it takes Katsuki a moment, because usually it’s him being approached with nervous apprehension.

“Yeah, who else?”

You send a sideways glance to Katsuki, “uh, the actual top ten hero in our midst?”

“The top ten hero doesn’t look good in a swimsuit.” Katsuki says under his breath, and you giggle while Timothy pales.

“I’m sure you do,” you whisper back to him, before standing up. “Alright, sure, a selfie?” You ask, all of your attention on Timothy, who smiles at you, his pink irises akin to sparkling hearts; and much to his horror, Katsuki feels like he wants to steal you away from him.

“S-sounds good to me,” Timothy stammers, just as enamoured as Katsuki feels.

“‘Kay,” you agree, smile big and bright and Katsuki has to look away or he might get giddy by proxy. Timothy’s cheeks flush when you stand close—too close, probably— and you direct him into taking a few pics, before making him show you each of them, your nose scrunching as you scrutinise each one.

“Why does my nose look like that?” You frown at the EMT, a little wounded kitty.

“You look great though! You don’t mind if I post it to social media?” He asks, and Katsuki resists an eye roll.

“Of course not! Make sure to tag me so I can follow you back.”

Katsuki stands, hands on his hips. “Perfect, are you done? We’re busy.” He means to say that he’s busy, and he also means to glare at both of you, but it just doesn’t pan out that way. So, he runs with it, throws caution to the wind, and offers his hand to you.

All to quickly, he’s got anxiety nibbling at his heels— the fear of rejection, of ‘am i doing too much too quickly?’ of ‘should I be going off script just because you are?’. It sets in, and almost sends him spiralling. Almost, is the key, though, because before that little beast can sink its teeth into him, you’re taking his hand, practically skipping to his side, and beaming that too-brilliant smile up at him.

“I know a cafe,” you say, waving that pesky EMT off and almost pulling him away from the little crowd Katsuki’s pretending not to notice.

“I bet you do,” he can’t help but look at you— and it feels so schoolboy, and too soon, and off script— and he can’t help but get swept away in the ease at which you flow.

“We can share a parfait,” you lean into him with a little smile, whisper it like a secret. Your arm links around his then, and you lean against his bicep, look up at him through your lashes like a Disney branded cherub.

“Bet you’ll eat the cherry,” he snickers, trying to gain the upper hand, trying to gauge whether or not you’re getting swept up in him, too, because this… this thing isn’t natural, isn’t created from a want, but a need, a contract—

“Silly,” you pull away a bit and pout, “we’ll get two cherries.” And, fuck, you’re pretty. Pretty in all of the ways he loves, like the Commission have his tastes on file. You’re kind where he’s mean, and fun where he’s serious, edges soft where his are hard.

The seed of doubt’s been planted, though, because he can feel himself closing up, shutting down. Even though he’d love to stay in this flirtatious little moment with you, soak up all that attention you’re showering him with, he needs to be realistic— is wired to do so.

You’re acting.

He’s acting.

At least, he’s supposed to be

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mybigbangacademia #atmospheric fic #panzer.writing #leese writes

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maddieg0531 · 5 months

Text

Hugs and Kisses

Oikawa x fem!reader

Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Warnings: Creepy guy, unwanted advances, self blame, reaction that indicates past trauma, uncomfy situations

Synopsis: A guy consistently bothers you and when he pushes a little to hard, you don't know what to do with yourself.

Headcanon: Oikawa is a big physical touch person and LOVES hugs

A/N: I'm back from the dead. A few things about this story. First, writers block is real, so if this sucks, my bad. I just needed to get words on a paper (screen ?). Second, ⚠️ this story may be uncomfortable or triggering for certain audiences ⚠️ You have been warned, read at your own risk. Y/N's reaction indicates potential past trauma, so no she isn't just being dumb or dramatic. It's a real response that real people have. Anywaaaaaaaaay, I hope you enjoy! I'm working on some other things (slowly), so stay tuned!

Masterlist

Dating Oikawa is weird. You and Oikawa started dating about a month ago. You have never been a popular kid. You had your friend group and you did your things just like everyone else. You figured dating him would draw a little bit of attention but not this much. As you walk down the hallway — the same hallway you have walked for two years — people stare at you. You focus your eyes on the floor and try to ignore them. You make your way to Oikawa’s locker, but your lack of attention causes you to run into someone.

“Oh I’m sorry.” You look up to see the captain of the baseball team looming over you, his muscular body way too close to you.

“It’s always a pleasure seeing you.” He winks at you with a smirk.

“Uh…” Something about his voices makes you shrink into yourself. You are about to walk away when you feel arms wrap around you. An involuntary squeak escapes your mouth.

“Gooooood morning beautiful!” A familiar voice calls as he spins you in a circle.

You turn to look at him, “Tooru! You scared me.”

“Sorry that I want to see my wonderful girlfriend.” He says placing a kiss on your forehead. His eyes drift past you to see the large captain behind you, “Oh, hey Hiroto. Sorry, did I interrupt or?”

“No. Not at all.” You quickly reply.

“Yeah, just saying hi.” Hiroto says with a begrudging tone. He passes by you, brushing your shoulder and hitting Oikawa’s.

“Man I just don’t understand him.” Oikawa says, shaking his head.

“Doesn’t matter.” You hug Oikawa, his warm embrace and sweet smell relaxing you. You let out a soft sigh, “I have to go to class.”

“But I just got here.” Oikawa pouts.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be late.” You press a kiss on his cheek, “I’ll come to practice this afternoon, okay?”

“Okay.” You laugh at Oikawa’s pouty face. He really is just a big puppy.

Grabbing the last of your stuff, you close your locker and turn to go to the gym. Standing right behind your locker door is the same guy from earlier, Hiroto.

You jump back, “Oh, uh…sorry. I didn’t see you there.” You swing your bag over your shoulder and go to walk around him, but he steps in front of you.

“Hey, if you aren’t busy, you should come to watch baseball practice.” His scratchy voice makes your brain itch.

“Yeah, uh sorry but I’m going to the gym to watch Tooru practice, so uh…maybe another time.” As you walk away, you scratch your head, trying to get off the weird feeling he gives you.

“Yeah, another time.” He calls after you.

You walk into the gym and Oikawa immediately runs and hugs you. His warm embrace immediately takes away the weird feeling from before.

“Hey, love.” He mumbles into your shoulder.

Before you can respond, you hear Iwaizumi yell, “Loserkawa, get over here and warm up!”

Oikawa looks up and pouts. You can’t help giggling at his silly reaction, “You should go warm up.”

“But I wanna hug you.” He whines.

“I appreciate that, but you are supposed to be practicing,” You give him a peck on the cheek, “I will cheer for you on the side.”

“Okay.” Oikawa sulks back over to his team to warm up. You are dating a child.

You watch Oikawa practice and every time he hits a serve he winks at you. You are trying to study, but your book just sits open, while you neglect it to watch your boyfriend show off.

Coach blows the whistle to mark the end of practice. He calls the boys over for a huddle while you pack up your unfinished homework. Oikawa runs up to you for a hug but you stick your hand out preventing him

“What??” He pouts.

“You’re sweaty. There is no way you are hugging me like that. I’ll go wait outside.” You tease. You walk outside into the cold air, a light breeze blowing pass. You shiver, wishing you had brought a jacket. Maybe you should have taken the hug, at least it would be warm.

“Hey”

You jump and turn around to see Hiroto…again. “Oh uh, hey.”

“You need a jacket?” He asks, offering his, which is also sweaty from practice.

“Um I’m good.”

“Oh, well, do you want me to walk you home. It’s kinda late.” He takes a step uncomfortably close.

You back up against the door of the gym, “I’m actually walking home with Oikawa, but uh, thanks..” You try not to sound to uncomfortable. He just stands there staring at you and you aren’t sure what to do. “Um…I’m gonna go…” You open the gym door and quickly walk back inside.

You speed walk over to Oikawa and tightly hug his arm.

“Hey, I thought you were waiting outside?” He looks over at you with slight concern.

“I got cold…” You lie, not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

“Does this mean you will hug me now?” Before you respond, he engulfs you in his sweaty arms, squeezing you tight.

“Tooru! You’re so gross!” You say that, but you really don’t mind. He makes you feel safe and warm. So for all the teasing, you still welcome the hugs.

You have had weird run ins with Hiroto for a week now. You never knew him before and now he’s everywhere. He makes you uncomfortable, but you don’t tell anyone because you don’t want to assume anything about him. It is probably just you being overly judgmental. Every time you see him, he gets more and more familiar with you. He will stand closer to you, be more forward. He has asked to walk you home several times now and you are running out of excuses.

Normally you have Oikawa as an excuse to get out of conversations, but he is really busy with preparing for his upcoming tournament. You manage to go the whole school day without running into him. Just when you think you will make it the whole day, you run into Hiroto outside the gym. (You were bringing Oikawa dinner since he would be practicing late).

“Hey, how are you?” He asks.

“I’m fine.” You respond quickly.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh, I was just giving Oikawa dinner, since he will be here late.”

“So you are staying here late into the night. That’s kind of rude of him to make you stay.” He suddenly sounds judgmental. You don’t know how to feel about it.

“No, uh he didn’t make me stay. I’m going home because I want to, not that I don’t want to stay. I would stay but I need to do homework and…” You are cut off by him laughing at you. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. You don’t have to be so defensive.” He lowers his voice and leans in closer, “although it is kind of cute to see you flustered.”

You feel your stomach flip at the statement, “Well, uh, I have to go now.” You slide past him and start speed walking away.

Hiroto, with his oddly long legs, catches up easily with you, “I’ll walk you home.”

“No, you don’t need to do that.” You say shakily, not making eye contact.

“Yeah I do. You can’t walk home alone. I don’t know why Oikawa would let you walk home alone. If I had a girlfriend as pretty as you, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight.”

You freeze outside the school gates, debating whether or not you’re going to stay for Oikawa’s practice. Should you go and get him? No, you can’t bother him. He is already stressed out about this tournament. You can’t be a burden.

“Um yeah, okay. I’ll see you later.” You stare at him, waiting for him to leave.

He stares back at you, “Well, lead the way.” You just look at him awkwardly, hoping he will take the hint. “Uh, earth to Y/N. Lead the way home.” He waves his hand way to close to your face.

“Why?” Is all you can think of to say.

“I can’t walk you home if you don’t walk home.”

“You don’t need to walk me home.”

“Yeah I do.”

“No you don’t.”

“You aren’t walking home alone. You let Oikawa do it, so why can’t I?”

“Because Oikawa is my boyfriend and you aren’t.”

“Clearly he isn’t a very good one.” He takes a step forward, backing you into the pillar of the school gate, “What do you see in him anyway. He is arrogant and self focused. All he cares about is volleyball.”

“That’s not true!” You pipe out, increasingly scared of his presence.

“Really? Then why isn’t he here to walk you home? Why do you always have to stay late for his practice.” He puts his hand on the brick pillar behind you and leans uncomfortably close to your face. You freeze, “We all know I would be a better boyfriend than him. I can tell you like me, so just forget about him.”

You are scared stiff, his face inches from yours. You want to push him away, scream, run, something, but you can’t move. It’s like you are paralyzed. Suddenly, he closes the gap and smashes his lips against yours. You let out a muffled scream, eyes wide and filling with tears. He pulls away with a nasty grin on his face. You stare blankly past him, unsure of what just happened.

“Since you won’t let me walk you home, I’ll leave you with that.” He winks at you and pats you on the head before walking away.

When he is out of sight you crumble to the ground and break down crying. What just happened?

You walk back to your house in tears, confused, uncomfortable, and guilty. How could you have not done anything? Why didn’t you push him away or stop him? When you get home, you immediately take a shower. You scrub yourself, trying to wash away the remnants of him. You sit in the shower drowning in tears, scrubbing so hard that you leave a rash. You end up crying yourself to sleep.

You wake up the next day, drowsy and confused. You hope it was all a dream, until you look at your arm where you left the rash. You almost start breaking down crying again, but you manage to pull yourself together. You are supposed to meet Oikawa today for coffee to study for an upcoming test. How are you supposed to face him? You let another guy kiss you and you have the audacity to casually get coffee. Your phone buzzes on your bedside table, Oikawas name flashing across the screen. You pick up and Oikawa’s smooth voice chimes through the phone, “Hey love, are you alright?” You freeze. How did he know? “We were supposed to meet for coffee at 10 right?”

You look at the time and it’s 10:15, “Oh crap.”

“It’s okay. I was just texting you and you didn’t respond, so I wanted to make sure you were awake.” You can hear his lovely smile through the phone, his comforting presence washing over you.

“I’m sorry. I just woke up. I’m on my way.” Your voice sounds hoarse and like someone who has been crying all night.

“Okay, no rush. I’ll be waiting. Love you.”

“Love you, bye.”

You jump out of bed and rush to get ready. You throw your hair up, put on some random pair of clothes, and grab an apple before running out the door. Luckily the coffee shop is in walking distance from your house, so you make it there pretty quick. You walk in the door, out of breath and see Oikawa sitting at a table in the corner. His face lights up at the sight of you. You walk over and set your backpack down with a thud.

“Morning love,” He pulls you into a big hug, “You didn’t have to run. You look like you just ran a marathon.” He laughs as you press your face against his chest. The vibration from his laugh is comforting enough to put you to sleep.

You pull back and sit down, “I’m sorry. I woke up late and I didn’t even realize. I forgot to set an alarm last night.”

Oikawa cuts you off by squeezing your hand, “Hey, it’s okay. It happens sometimes.”

You give him a half smile, still worn out from everything. He lifts his hand to cup your face, you instinctively lean into his touch. When you look at him, his face is scrunched up in concern, “Are you okay?”

“What?” You internally start freaking out. And maybe a little externally too.

“Your eyes are all puffy and you look worn down. You aren’t smiling like you usually do and your voice is quiet and hoarse, which usually means something is wrong. What happened?”

You are touched that he knows all of these things, but you feel the guilt pound away in your chest. You can’t tell him. It would crush him. But you should. But you can’t. “What, no. I’m fine.” You lie.

Oikawa is not convinced, “Hmm, okay. You don’t want to talk about it. I’ll wait until you want to.”

He is so good to you and you are so bad for him. You might just break down and cry at his gentle manner, but you don’t. He slides over a coffee cup while you take out your books, “I got your regular.” He smiles.

“Thanks, you didn’t have to.” You blush at his kindness.

“Sure I did.”

You spend a couple hours studying for your test. With each tick of the big hand, your heart drops further into guilt. There isn’t much conversation save for talking about the test. You don’t make eye contact the whole time. Oikawa’s voice was soft and his touch was gentle. He knows something is wrong but doesn’t want to pry. Once you feel relatively well prepared for the test, you immediately get up to leave. Oikawa stands with you. He opens his arms for a hug, letting you decide if you want to take it or not. You gently lean into his arms, so desperately wanting to spill your soul to him, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. So you opt to linger in his arms for a small moment

He gently pulls you close, kissing the top of your head. He whispers with the utmost care, “Whenever you want to talk, let me know. I’ll be right here.” You stand silent. “It can be 3am or two days from now. I don’t care when, but please call me, text me, talk to me. Don’t suffer through it alone.”

You nod as you reluctantly pull away from his grasp. You turn on your heel and rush out before he see’s you cry. Oikawa dejectedly watches you walk away, having already noticed the tears forming in your eyes. He can only hope that you will come and talk to him later.

You practically run back to your house, tears flooding down your face. You feel so guilty. You know it’s not your fault, but it kind of is. You didn’t push Hiroto away. You just stood there and let him kiss you. You never said no, you never rejected him. You brought this on yourself and therefore only have yourself to blame. For hours you sit in your room sobbing, overwhelmed, disgusted, and unsure of what to do. You are practically drowning in your tears when you finally can’t take it anymore. You have to do something, tell someone. You have to tell Oikawa. He will be mad and probably leave you, but it is better to rip the bandaid off than let the wound fester. Your hands are shaking as you pick up your phone to text Oikawa. You can’t bring yourself to call him.

Y/N: Can you come over?

To’ ❤️: Of course 🥰 I’ll be right over

Your eyes eventually dried, probably because you are dehydrated. You get up off your bed, the old springs squeaking as you lift your weight off of it. As you walk pass the mirror, you catch a glimpse of yourself. Your hair looks like a rats nest and there are tear stains on your cheeks. You look like a raccoon who had a really bad day. However, you don’t have the energy to do anything about it. You go downstairs and pour yourself a glass of water. Lord knows you need it. You open your fridge, hoping to find food, even though you haven’t gone to the store all week. Your stomach screams at you for only having eaten an apple today and then exerting enough energy equivalent to running a marathon. The lack of food in your fridge is almost enough to make you start crying again. As if you needed more help, you hear a soft knock on your door. You drag yourself over not wanting to open it, knowing what awaits you on the other side. Your hands shake as you reach for the door knob. You suck in a large breath and fling the door open. As you see your tall, beautiful, loving boyfriend standing there, you can’t help breaking down sobbing again. All the guilt and confusion and pain comes flooding back into you. Maybe if you didn’t drink that water you wouldn’t have started crying again. Your knees give out under the weight of your sorrow. Oikawa swiftly catches you, immediately pulling you into his arms. His heart snaps in half at the sight of you so broken.

“Hey shhh, it’s okay. I’m here now.” He whispers, tenderly lifting you off the ground. He closes the door with his foot and walks you over to the couch. Your sobs resound through the room, each one more broken than the next. Oikawa gently cups your face, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head, unable to choke out words through the tears.

“Do you want to sit here and cry?” He asks kindly.

You grab his shirt, holding on so tight your fists are white. You manage to force out some words, “N-no…I…I-I’m…sor-sorry!”

Oikawa’s face contorts in confusion, “Don’t be sorry. You can sit here and cry and I will comfort you for as long as you want.” You fervently shake your head. Oikawa does his best to decipher your gestures, “No? Do you want to talk?”

You shake your head, trying to force out words. In your effort, you start hyperventilating, everything becoming so overwhelming.

“Shhh, deep breathe in.” Oikawa breaths in, gesturing for you to follow. You manage a broken breath. “Breathe out…Breathe in…Breathe out.”

You and Oikawa do this for a few minutes (more like Oikawa does it and you try between sniffles). Once your breath has evened out, your sobs become more controllable.

“There you go,” It’s not fair that Oikawa’s voice alone can calm you down. “Now what were you trying to say?”

“I…I—“

“Deep breaths, you’ve got it.”

“I…I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” “N-no…you…you aren’t g-getting it.” Oikawa looks at you confused. “I—I….” You start hyperventilating again.

“Shhh, deep breaths. One word at a time. You?”

“I-I…I cheated on you! I’m so sorry!!! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t want to! It just happened and I don’t know how and I don’t know why I didn’t do anything. He just was there and I froze and-and—“

You have lost all control at this point. You are sobbing, rambling on and on. Your face is buried in his chest, tears drenching his shirt. He’s holding you so gently while you are gripping his shirt so hard. You are shaking and feel like you might throw up. Your head is spinning and you are confused. It’s so much that you can’t process it all. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! You’re so good to me and I’m so terrible for you! I don’t know why you picked me. I’m sorry. I know you probably hate me and want to leave me but please…please!…Please don’t leave.” Your voice trails off, drowned under your tears. You need him so bad. You want to look in his eyes, hear his soft voice, be held in his arms, but you can barely hold yourself up. Oikawa is probably going to leave you. He is going to drop you and walk out. You need him to say something, do something. Even if it is yelling, even if he is breaking up with you, you need to hear his voice. Suddenly, Oikawa pulls you in his lap and hugs you softly against his chest. You freeze. That’s not what you thought he was going to do. Is this his goodbye? Is this it? “I-I…” You try to say something but you just can’t.

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” His voice is so warm and comforting. You can feel his heartbeat through his chest as his scent envelopes you. “I don’t know what happened, but you are not in a good headspace to talk about it clearly. So let’s just breathe.” He takes a deep breath, you following suit. “And let’s just sit and calm down for a moment, okay?”

As he hugs you close to him, you can feel your heartbeat start to match his. Your broken sobs slowly turn into small sniffles. You sit in his arms for you don’t even know how long. Nothing was said, nothing was done. You just breathed together and existed together. You felt the exhaustion of everything hit you like a truck. You curl up small in his arms and feel yourself start to nod off into a much needed sleep.

You wake up on your couch, eyes puffy, your thoughts muddled. It’s dark outside even though it was just midday. What time is it? What happened? You were with Oikawa. You shoot upright. Did he leave you? You look around frantically. You have to apologize…you…you—

“Hey, calm down. I’m right here.” He comes around the couch from the kitchen. You feel the tension in your shoulders release at the sight of him. He sits next to you and you almost instinctively lean your head on his shoulder. But you remember, “I was…we were…talking? Crying? I was apologizing! I—“

Before you can get all lost in your thoughts, he cuts you off, “Calm down, it’s okay. You were upset and we sat and calmed down. You ended up falling asleep because you used so much energy crying. It’s been a few hours. I noticed you had no food, so I ordered some. Do you want to eat? Or do you want to talk?”

“I want to talk. I need to talk. WE need to talk.” Your eyes are wide, like a deer in headlights.

“Okay, then let’s talk. Slowly and calmly. One sentence at a time.” He settles you down a bit, knowing your tendency to ramble. “What happened.”

“I’m sorry. I cheated on you and I feel like a horrible person because you are so good to me and I just ruined it.” You can’t bear to look him in the eye.

“What happened? How did you cheat on me?” He asks with a hint of quizzical disbelief.

“Well he wouldn’t leave me alone and I tried to say no but he kept insisting and then he just, he just kept getting closer and I didn’t know what to do and then I was backed up against the pillar and then he leaned in and he-he kissed me.” You feel yourself shudder at the memory, that disgusting feeling creeping up again.

Oikawa tries to desperately hold himself together, waiting to hear the full story before going and punching a man, “Hold on. Who is ‘he’?”

“Hiroto, that guy from the baseball team.”

“And he kissed you?”

“Yes, but I didn’t do anything to stop him. I just froze when I should have shoved him or—“

“Love, this is not your fault.” His voice is light and compassionate, “He approached you, yes?”

“Yes but—“

“No ‘buts’. Just a simple yes or no. Can you do that for me love? I just want to get everything clear.”

You nod with a quiet ‘yes’.

“You did not want him to approach you?”

“No.”

“You asked him to go away and to leave you alone.”

“Well, not in those exact words, but yeah. I should have been more clear…” You stop yourself before Oikawa does.

“You in some form or fashion attempted to express that you did not want him near you, correct?”

You nod.

“However, he ignored said attempt and then cornered you and forced you to kiss him?” Oikawa’s jaw clenches tighter and tighter with each question.

“Yes…but I should have moved.” “But you couldn’t”

“I didn’t”

“You said you froze, right?”

“Yes.”

“That is a totally normal and valid response to fear. You were backed into a corner and someone—much larger than you might I add—was looming over you. He was in your personal space and violated you. He ignored your signs, ignored your fear, and HE chose to hurt you.” Anger starts seeping out of Oikawa, steam practically fuming from his ears.

“You’re angry. I’m sorry. You have every right to be mad.” You start to shrink into yourself again, tears threatening to come back out.

Oikawa realizes his mistake and immediately softens up again, “No, no. I’m mad yes, but not at you. I’m mad at him for being such a terrible person and for hurting my princess.” He pulls in his lap again, your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you like a warm blanket, “You did nothing wrong. None of this was your fault. You are the victim here, okay? You have every right to feel hurt or upset or whatever you need to feel. You are not a horrible person. You did not cheat on me by any means. I’m not mad at you. Please don’t be mad at yourself. I love you so much and you are so wonderful and amazing and I’m so sorry you had to go through this. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you.”

You spin around to look at him, “Don’t blame yourself, please. You didn’t know. I didn’t tell you anything. I thought he would go away, but he just kept bothering me, day after day-“

“Wait, how long has this been going on?”

“…well you remember at the beginning of the week when we randomly ran into him in the hallway?”

“Vaguely”

“Well, after that I kept running into him and he kept saying weird things and asked me to come watch his practice or if he could walk me home. I always used your practice or you walking me home as an excuse but you were so busy with practice yesterday that I couldn’t stay. And then I ran into him outside and he kept following me, insisting on walking me home and then…yeah.” You look at Oikawa, his face slowly burning red with rage.

“So he has been bothering you for a week now?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to say anything because I thought I was being dramatic or looking too much into it…but I guess not…are you mad that I didn’t tell you?”

Oikawa’s face softens again, “No, not at all. I’m sorry that you felt like you couldn’t tell me. You aren’t being dramatic. What he did was genuinely wrong and you are allowed to be uncomfortable or upset by it. Please if anything, anything, big or small, makes you uncomfortable or scared or upset or anything, please tell me. I want to know. I want to help you.”

You place your hand on his cheek, a soft smile poking at the corner of your mouth for the first time all day, “Thank you. That means so much.” You lean your forehead on his, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” He closes the gap between you, gently pressing his lips against yours, afraid of making you uncomfortable.

You melt at his touch. Just one kiss from him and all your fears and worries fall away. You wrap your arms around his neck as his arms hold you tighter around the waist. You could live in this moment forever. You break apart but keep your head leaned on his. You two just sit and bask in each other for a moment before Oikawa pulls you in for a hug. You relax into him, letting his presence melt away the ice of the past 24 hours. He gently strokes your hair, “I hope you know I’m gonna kick his ass.”

“Don’t get kicked out of school, or worse, get kicked off the volleyball team.”

He laughs at your comment, the vibration running through you, “It would be worth it for you.”

You sit up, looking at him with a smirk, “Are you saying you like me more than volleyball?”

“I can play volleyball any time with anyone. There is only one Y/N in this world,” He presses a quick kiss on your lips, “And she’s all mine.”

You blush at his flirting, “You love me. You want to kiss me. You want to hug me.”

“Mhm, so what if I do?” He smirks.

“Hmmm, I’ll allow it, but only if you bring me some food. I have only eaten and apple today and I’m starving.” Your stomach growls and you both can’t help laughing at the timing.

“Okay, anything for you, Love.” He gets up and brings over the ordered food, “But for real, we are filing a report against him.”

“No, I don’t want to make a big fuss.”

“It’s either that or I beat him to a pulp. Your choice.” He says, taking a bite of his food

“Lets do the report.” You lean your head against his shoulder, “But you would totally win.”

“You think so?” He says smirking with a mouth full of food.

“Oh yeah. Baseball has nothing on your serves.”

“Got that right,” He throws his arm around you and kisses the top of your head.

How did you get so lucky to find someone like him?

Epilogue

“Did you hear? Hiroto got expelled.”

“Yeah, I saw him leaving school today.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know but he always made me uncomfortable.”

You hear the murmurs from your schoolmates as you walk down the hall with Oikawa, who is standing awfully tall today. “Someone looks happy.” You nudge him.

“Of course. I’m with you aren’t I.” He smirks down at you.

“Mhm, I’m sure that’s why. At least you didn’t beat him up.”

“Of course not.” He says with a sly voice.

More random voices chime around you, “Bro I saw Hiroto leaving school this morning.”

“Dude, I heard he got expelled.”

“Must have gotten in a fight” “You think?”

“Totally. He had a nasty black eye.”

You smack Oikawa on the arm, “To’ you said you wouldn’t beat him up!”

“I didn’t!” He holds his hands up in defense, “One punch doesn’t count as beating him up.” You walk away, pretending to ignore him. “Y/N wait! Come on, don’t leave me like that. He deserved it!.”

You can’t help laughing at his little pouty voice.

“I’ll make it up to you. I’ll buy you coffee.” He spins you around, giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes he can muster.

“Hmmm, a coffee and ice cream.”

“Done.” He grabs your hand happily and continues walking with you.

“Did it hurt? Did he cry?” You mutter.

“Oh yeah, big time baby.” Oikawa laughs.

You are a terrible person for laughing, but you have a pass this time around.

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