#fishing chairs have support | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emphistic · 1 month

Note

Obsessed with your work frfr. Can I get a fic or anything you're comfortable with sukuna's friends coming over to his place and the reader sleeping in his bed or smth and him getting all protective and his friends teasing him. Thanks!

"You two are so annoying," Sukuna muttered into his mic, looking back at your calmly sleeping figure on his bed.

"Don't be such a party pooper, 'Kuna!" Gojo's laughter sounded through the pink-haired man's headset.

"I told you already, don't call me that."

"Aww, so your girlfriend can call you pet names but little ol' me can't? You're really showing your true colors here, man," Gojo feigned to cry.

"Could not care less," Sukuna rolled his eyes, his fingers swiftly clicking on the keyboard as he continued his game.

"I am to going to come over there and fuck you up."

"Satoru—" Geto tried to stop his white-haired friend.

"Try me. I'll kick your ass." Sukuna quickly retorted.

"Nah, I'd win."

A pinging sound was emitted through the Discord call as Gojo disconnected. Geto sighed, "Let's hope he's not actually going."

"Knowing him he's probably just going to rejoin the call. Give it a few minutes."

The few minutes were given and Gojo did not rejoin the call or the game lobby.

Sukuna drummed his fingers on his desk, clearly bored. "Damn, that idiot is really out of it today, huh. Died three games in a row to a bunch of newbies, and now thinks he can beat me in fight."

"I'll see if I can catch him midway, and drag him back," Geto suggested.

"Good luck with that," Sukuna chuckled.

Another ping sounded through Sukuna's headset as Geto left the call. The pink-haired man disconnected from the call as well, and sat up from his chair, slowly walking over towards you.

He admired your sleeping face, the fall and rise of your chest slightly hidden beneath your (his) sweater, the drool dribbling down your chin onto his pillow — which he didn't mind.

He gingerly brushed aside a strand of your hair so he could get an even better look at your face. Despite having been together for more than two years now, Sukuna still blushed at the thought and sight of you. Could you blame him though?

Sukuna slightly jumped at the sound of his doorbell ringing. He looked down at you to see if you had woken up from that but you only shifted a bit, unconsciously nuzzling your face into his palm, seeking his warmth.

What the hell? Was that dumbass actually being for real? Sukuna thought, as he reluctantly pulled away from you and walked out his room to go open the door.

This time, instead of the doorbell ringing, there was a pounding on the door.

"Okay, okay! I'm coming!" Sukuna quickly unlocked the door and, lo and behold, standing outside was a scene he was not expecting to see, like, ever.

Gojo, bent down with his hands on his knees, dripping sweat and huffing and puffing. Tufts of his white hair were everywhere, even more messed up than usual. Geto, who was leaning on the wall for support, was not looking much better than his friend.

"I'm sorry," Geto said, his chest heaving, "I tried to stop him, I swear."

Sukuna scrunched up his face, "You ran . . . all the way over here? From your building?"

"Uh huh, that's right," Gojo held out a thumbs up, still heavily panting. "Let me in, I'm going to beat your ass up now."

"No way in Hell, Satoru. And even if I did, you are in no condition to go toe to toe with me," Sukuna pointed to himself with his thumb at the word 'me'.

"C'mon, dude. I need a water, my throat is as dry as your game," Gojo continued to pursue.

"Yeah, my game is just sooo dry, huh? I'm literally the only one here with a girl on my arm."

"Bro, just let me in," Gojo pushed Sukuna aside, and stumbled into his apartment. Geto glanced at Sukuna with an apologetic look on his face, "My bad."

Sukuna sighed, mouthing, "Don't worry about it."

The three men settled in the kitchen. Gojo stuck his head in Sukuna's fridge and searched for a cold drink. Having finally fished one out, he stood back upright, leaning on the counter and drinking.

"So," the white-haired male said, between gulps, "where's the girl?"

"The girl?"

Gojo nodded, still drinking. "Uh huh. Where she at?"

"Sleeping." Sukuna gestured to the closed door at the other end of the apartment.

"How rude of her, the most amazing, handsomest man is in her home and she is sleeping?" Gojo placed his water bottle on the counter, and put a hand over his heart, feigning hurt.

"’Don't blame her. I would do the same," Geto joked, Sukuna let out a reverberating laugh.

Gojo rolled his eyes, before storming over to your room. Sukuna quickly moved to standing in front of the door, blocking Gojo from entering.

"Hmm, what's this? You have something to hide, Sukuna? Perhaps . . . drugs? Substances? Or maybe, another girl in your bed?" Gojo rubbed his chin with both his index and thumb simultaneously.

Sukuna scowled at Gojo, "You don't know shit. I do not have another girl in there."

Gojo raised a brow, "Then why would you not want me entering?"

"Because you would wake the girl up, obviously," Geto added, coming to Sukuna's defense.

Sukuna sighed, "Fine, you wanna see so bad? Be my guest." Sukuna turned around and twisted the knob, pushing the door open. He was the first to step in.

Gojo snickered, his eyes landing on your form, "Guess you don't have another girl in here."

"Will you quiet down? You're going to wake her up and she's going to kick you two out. You know she gets more cranky than anyone else," Sukuna whisper-shouted, not helping his cause.

"Tch, she would never kick me out. I'm a literal blessing to be near," everyone rolled their eyes at Gojo's remark.

At this, you rolled over in bed, opening your eyes to glare at the three men in your bedroom.

"I've been awake for the last two hours, you assholes. You guys are so loud that even when Sukuna is wearing headphones I can still hear Gojo screaming his head off. I mean, seriously, do you guys ever close your mouths? For, like, even a second."

The three men all switched their gazes between you, and each other. Geto was the only one sensible enough to apologize to you, before stepping out of the room and leaving you to continue glaring at Sukuna and Gojo, who were now both sweating buckets.

"Baby, I swear, I tried to stop them—"

"Don't 'baby' me," you glowered at your lover.

"Oooh, someone's in trouble," Gojo didn't even attempt to muffle his laughter.

"You: Gojo, get out. Sukuna, you can make your own dinner."

"Wha– babe, please, you're cooking is way—"

"Don't make me say it again."

Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lich1 @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius

#sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff

1K notes · View notes

feluka · 2 months

Text

Please support Yassin (@/yassindraws on twitter) if you have an account there. He's an Egyptian artist who is a victim of the regime's crackdown on protestors. He posts a lot of beautiful paintings.

Here's a some of them documenting his trauma from his time in prison.

[ID: Responding to a tweet by @/MustafaHosny that reads: "ايه الدعاء اللي نفسك يتحقق في ليلة القدر؟", a quote retweet by @/yassindraws that reads: "خروج كل المحبوسين ظلم و يعيشوا حياتهم و ينسوا كل الأيام الحزينة و يكون عندهم ذكريات سعيدة زي ما بقى عندي دلوقتي".

Attached is a traditional painting, depicting a man peering through a tiny window in his jail cell door. He is wearing a white T-shirt that says "تحقيق" and is turned away from the viewer. While his torso is distinct, his bottom half melds into the background, which is a vague pattern of teal and brown hues, meant to represent the wall, but also overcomes parts of the prisoners himself and the cell door, and bleeds into their outlines.]

[Translation: Responding a tweet that reads "What prayer do you wish will come true on the night of destiny?", he tweets "The emancipation of all the unjustly imprisoned, and that they will be able to live fulfilling lives and forget these miserable days, and be able to make beautiful memories like I have now."

The word on his shirt in the painting is an Arabic word that could be translated to either "interrogation" or "realisation".

The night of destiny is the night where the full moon appears during the month of Ramadan.]

[ID: A tweet by @/yassindraws captioned "Memory". Attached is a traditional painting, depicting a dozen prisoners dressed all in blue, facing against the wall with their heads bowed. All of their hands are cuffed together behind their backs, save for the prisoner nearest to the viewer, whose hands are in front of him, exposing his back to a warden who is drawing back a whip. Another warden is pointing to the prisoner. All figures are abstracted and vaguely outlined, but especially the prisoners', whose faces are not outlined at all, and instead blend with the sepia-toned walls they are facing.]

[ID: A tweet by @/yassindraws that reads: في سجن وادي النطرون صياد عجوز من سيناء مسجون من اربع سنوات كل يوم وقت التهوية "التريض" قاعد في الطرقة قدام الزنازين بيصنع شبكة علشان عنده أمل انه يخرج و يصطاد سمك بيها. لوحة رسمتها في سجن وادي النطرون ١ سنة ٢٠١٨ في شهر رمضان".

Attached is a traditional painting depicting a man in his jail cell wearing a white tank top weaving a net in red, green, and blue stripes. Where his neck and head would be, instead spouts a collection of lilac, lavender, and pink colored flowers from his tank top. At his side is a water bottle, and above it, pinned to the wall is a paper that says "هذا الوقت سيمر."]

[Translation: The tweet says "In Wadi-Al-Natroun prison, an elderly fisherman from Sinai, every day during "excercise" time he would weave a net because he has hope he will get out and catch fish with it. I painted this in Wadi-Al-Natroun prison in 2018 during the month of Ramadan."

The paper on the wall in the painting says "This time will pass.]

[ID: A tweet by @/yassindraws that reads: مسجون كان معايا في سجن استقبال طرة زنزانة 1-4 كان محبوس لمدة 4 سنين في سجن العقرب و كان بيقول دايما انه لما جالنا بقى حاسس انه خرج من السجن من شدة قسوة ظروف السجن الاول".

Attached is a traditional painting of a man slumped over a folding chair, his arms folded around his chest. Where his head would be, a single rose sprouts from the neck of his blue sweater. It appears to be wilting.]

[Translation: The tweet says "He was imprisoned with me in Tora prison cell 4-1. He spent 4 years in Al-Aqrab prison prior, and always used to say that when he transferred to join us, he felt like he was emancipated because of how brutal his previous prison experience was.]

[ID: A tweet by @/yassindraws that reads: "رسمت اللوحة دي في زنزانة رقم ١٤ انفرادي في سجن استقبال طرة 2017 كنت عايش في زنزانة لوحدي طول الوقت مبتكلمش مع حد مفيش غير حيطان مبتشوفش شمس لان الزنزانة جوة عنبر معزول".

Attached is a monochromatic traditional painting depicting a prison cell from the point of view of its sole occupant. There is a pair of slippers on the floor, and a couple of bags hanging from the ceiling. The word "الله" is written on the cell door. The painting is done almost entirely in blue, except for small specks of magenta and yellow arranged close to the center.]

[Translation: The tweet says "I painted this in cell number 14 in solitary in Tora prison. I lived in this cell all by myself with nobody to speak to but walls that never see sunlight because the cell was inside an isolated ward."

Written on the door is the word "God".]

The 2011 Revolution:

[ID: A tweet by @/yassindraws posted on the 25th of January, 2024. It says: "لما كنا بنحب بعض"

Attached is a traditional painting depicting the events in Tahrir square in Cairo, Egypt, during the protests of January 25th, 2011. The median of the square is occupied with white and cyan tents set up by the protestors. The surrounding streets are flooded with masses of people, holding up signs. Some signs are abstracted, but some of them are legible, and they read: "حرية"، "سلمية"، and "الشعب يريد اسقاط النظام".

The masses of people are depicted abstractly by alternating patterns of black and white, but some of the heads in the crowd are splotched with streaks of bright red. Some red appears to be bleeding through some of the tents as well.

In tbe very center, among the tents, is a single yellow flower, painted at a scale larger than that of any item in the painting.]

[Translation: The tweet reads "When we loved each other". The signs read "Freedom", "Nonviolence", and "The people want to dismantle the regime".]

Mosque in Alexandria:

[ID: A tweet by @/yassindraws that says "صلاة التهجد النهاردة من مسجد القائد إبراهيم- الاسكندرية".

Attached is a dichromatic traditional painting depicting a mosque in Alexandria, Egypt. The painting is done with distinct vertical strokes representing the walls of the mosque, and horizontal strokes to represent the stairs. The figures of people praying and a tree by the stairs stand out as the most cohesive elements, represented by dark silhouettes. The painting is done with cyan as a base color, dark teal for the shadows, and bright yellow for the highlights.]

[Translation: The tweet says "Tahajjud prayers today at Al-Qaaed Ibrahim Mosque- Alexandria].

[ID: A traditional painting of a man sitting down on a step in a dimly lit room, sketching on a paper on his lap.]

[ID: A tweet by @/yassindraws that reads "و انا صغير كنت بستنى اخر شهر رمضان محلات البقالة لما تبدء تبيع العاب و بلالين اللي ينحط فيها حبوب ارز و تشخلل و نعمل ازعاج للناس و كورة و مسدسات بلاستيك و كانت طموحاتنا نخرج في العيد بعيد عن اهالينا و الناس اللي تعرفنا و ننبسط".

Attached is a traditional painting of a typical Egyptian street. The road is unpaved and lined with trees. Children are marching along away from the viewer. Closest to the viewer is a figure sitting down on a stool next to a tree.]

[Translation: The tweet says "When I was a child, I would always wait for the end of the month of Ramadan so that the grocers start selling toys and balloons that we would fill up with grains of rice that we would rattle to make noise and annoy people and balls and plastic guns and our ambitions were to go out on Eid and go far away from our families and everybody who knew us and be happy".]

[ID: A tweet by @/yassindraws that reads "I'm an Egyptian artist and I made this 🌻" (It ends with a sunflower emoji.)

Attached is a video of a young man with short cropped black hair and brown skin, dressed in light beige shorts that reveal a flower tattoo on his calf, and a navy blue short-sleeved t-shirt with a pattern of green and rose leaves. He is turned away from the viewer, holding a canvas that is slightly taller than him and approximately twice as wide as him.

He slowly turns around, smiling, revealing the painting on the canvas: a realistic sunflower on a sky-blue background.]

#i'm in awe of him #art #he always supports other artists and is super friendly to interact with!#give him a follow!

2K notes · View notes

horrorartsworld · 1 month

Note

Hey!! A mutual just sent me your fic "A manspreading man" and gosh,,,definitely one of the best steamy Alastor x reader I've read 😩❤ If you're okay with it, could I request an Alastor x shy!reader where a cozy night when neither of them can sleep so they stay up, maybe having tea together too but, they end up getting steamy with each other?,, 😳 Love your work!! ❤❤

𝓉𝑒𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒹

alastor/shy f!reader

warnings: smut w/ a lil fluffies. pet names. kind of primal alastor. p in v. fingering. dub con. not proofread.

aww thank you nonnie baby!! tbh manspreading man was one of my favorites to write so i’m very glad to hear that you liked it so much to request something this lovely & spicy 🤭 got me going back to my roots with writing for al lol, i hope u enjoy <3

For some odd reason you couldn’t fall asleep. Not that the noises of constant terrors outside and the old sounds of the hotel didn’t have you usually sleeping like a baby it’s just that tonight of all nights seemed different.

Having you tossing and turning like a flopping fish, moments of just staring at the empty ceiling, or throwing a pillow over your face in hopes that you might suffocate yourself to sleep, but none of those seemed to help your ongoing sleep deprivation.

Finally after the last toss you turned you end up throwing yourself out of bed with a huff and your feet seem to oddly enough lead you to none of than Alastor’s quarters right across from your room. The door being slightly cracked enough to let you peak inside, hearing the inviting soft crackly of a jazz record playing and seeing the flicker of a candle going on an end table. Though it seemed very inviting you couldn’t help the sudden nervousness you felt wash over you when you went to approach the door, hugging the blanket you dragged along the way for some kind of support in this. Since you did have a crush on the deer fellow after all and everytime he would come around you would loose all your senses and look like an utter idiot when you’d scurry away from him to save face. In which you were completely committed to doing right now until the door suddenly swung open and you were met with Alastor’s elegantly tall stature.

“Oh!- Well hello my dear..” He speaks surprised to see you standing there holding your blanket in hand, hearing the static in his voice instantly turning your cheeks pink. “What brings you to my door at this hour.?”

You shift on your feet fiddling with your hands in the blanket before speaking, “m’ sorry a-alastor i-i just couldn’t sleep..i’ll be going now..” Your eyes trained on the buttons of his blazer, never meeting his gaze in knowing you’d blush more if you did while you spoke, quickly turning on your heel to make your way back to your room though his clawed hand grabbed your wrist before you could completely make your getaway.

Then you were pulled back to face him, his other hand coming up to your chin to make you look up at him, your cheeks instantly warming up more like you knew they would. “Can’t sleep? You poor thing..I actually have quite the remedy for such things..” He hums, then suddenly letting go of you to grab something from a cupboard leaving you standing there in his doorway.

After a second or two he turns his head to see you standing there sheepishly earning a soft chuckle from him. “Come sit dear..it’ll just be a moment.” He says nodding over to an antique arm chair that sat next to an intricate round table with a matching chair on the other side to go with it.

You shimmy yourself over to it making yourself comfortable on the chair, seeming to feel a bit more relaxed now that you were seated. Alastor then comes to sit down across from you holding two warm teacups that you were sure he used his demon magic to conjure to a certain temp, gesturing it out to you to take. “It’s Chamomile Tea…should do the trick for your sleeplessness..” He says taking his own sip before you did, letting the cup warm up your hands until you tasted it yourself feeling instantly at ease when it went down your throat.

“Wow…that’s good! Thank you Al!” You say with a soft hum and a smile causing Alastor’s smile to look more gentle though something was silently brewing behind those mischievous dial eyes.

“My pleasure my dear…my pleasure indeed..” He takes another sip as there’s a long pause between the two of you. Seeing his gaze over the rim of the cup had wandered down your chest to your hips in an indiscreet way, making your breath slightly falter at the sight.

“S-so…what’re you doing up so late as well?” Your gentle voice hardly above a whisper when you stammer out the question.

“Well I hardly ever sleep..too much to do..and too many folks out there trying to put my head on a mount..” He says nonchalantly in which you nod knowing this was very true with his background, but it was hard to even focus on a simple conversation like this one when his gaze continued its improper cycle along your body.

“Um A-alastor?” You tilt your head down trying to catch his eyes in attempt at getting his attention back by making him realize what he was doing though he already was very much aware what he was doing.

“Hmm? Oh sorry dear, it’s just that…fuck..” He unexpectedly cruses causing your thighs to staple shut when a warmth radiates through your core. Your eyes widening at his outburst, taking note that his chest was rising and falling rather quickly. “W-what’s the matter?” You mutter out confused, big doe eyes searching for some kind of answer on his unreadable face.

A tension brews as a low crackly chuckle escapes from his lips, “You like me don’t you little fawn?”

The unexpected question making a lump form in your throat. Why was he asking this? Were you that obvious? “Going quiet on me now?” His voice rippling through your thoughts with a sense of mocking in his tone. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of darling…” He trails off then getting up from his chair with a creak from its old legs, rounding the small table to come and tower over you, microphone buzzing when he sets it beside him as he leaned into you very close with ether hands at the sides of you clutching the arms of your chair. “..I’m quite fond of you myself..” He husks, his once static voice turning to his normal one as he leaned into your ear to utter those words.

“Y-you are?” You manage to find your voice again, feeling as if the chamomile tea had already kicked in and you were in a surreal dream.

“Mmm yess..” He practically purrs while he toys with the hem of your sleep shorts before riding it up so he can peer down at your plush thighs that were trembling so desperately to try and keep them sealed shut. Then thumbing over the sensitive flesh there he forces them open with his claws digging into them so he could hoist you up and wrap your legs around his hips to bring you to bed and once he has you there he lays you down with him on top but keeping your legs secured around him. “..Feel how much i yearn for you,” he says almost like a question as you then feel him grind his hard on into your clothed warmth. Your face burning as you nod. “Good girl..Shall I show you what I want to do to you?” once more nodding your head he can’t help the low growl admitting from the back of his throat when he slides a finger under the hem of your shorts and pulls them down towards the floor, primal eyes locking onto the wetness of your panties. The sight making his smile enlarged.

“My, My...so soaked just from that?” He couldn’t help but tease, in one single motion ripping your panties off, discarding them just like the shorts.

A low humming buzz is heard when Alastor gets a full view of your needy slick. Pretty pussy, all puffy and red, begging for a good fuck. You couldn’t help instinctively attempt at closing your legs once more with how vulnerable you were infront of him, but he holds them open forcefully with his hands. “Sweetheart..no need to shy away from me…i’m gonna make you feel so good..” you whimper softly just by those cooed words alone, along with the two fingers that were now invading your entrance. The sensation making your body shake as he did it without warning, moving in slow in and out strokes with his fingers, making wet sloshy noises with the air with your hushed whimpers. His fingers feeling like they were so far inside that they’ve reached max capacity…Was his fingers always this long?

“Al-al!..” You whine breathlessly, an all too familiar feeling stirring beneath your tummy with your cunt clenching around his fingers, but he immediately stops just before you could fully come undone.

“Not yet...” He hums with a knowing smile, gently patting your cheek with the other hand. You pout at this though that was quickly replaced when his fingers come in contact with his mouth, softly slurping up the left slick on his fingers, before he crashes his lips on yours, long tongue invading your space making you taste the tangy yet neutral flavor of your own arousal, all while your hips rut against his own in hopes to get that feeling back of your lost euphoria.

Finally getting the hint from your movements he pulls back and takes out his cock, tantalizing tapping it against your aching slit before fully pressing it into your already awaiting pussy. A loud enough cry following with his cock stretching you out with it’s full enough size, reaching much farther lengths then his fingers did. “Such a snug little thing you are,” He hisses while rutting into you, your body bouncing and recoiling with every thrust.

Your head falls back into the mattress, mumbling curses under your breath as the feeling was driving you mad, making him chuckle as you seem to squeeze him in tighter. “You like that..the way my cock just goes in…and out..” He groans as he emphasizes the in and out part by going slow and hard, his cock hitting the wall of your cervix even when he goes slow. “Hey..let me see those pretty fucked out eyes..” he growls lowly, “Atta girl..,” his finger leaning your chin down to look at him, the sight of him so sinful it almost made you come undone on the spot.

His ears flat amongst his head, eyes low and focused and his lip curled almost in a smirk with sweat lining his forehead. You wanted that imagine burned in your brain, which you couldn’t help but admit in your slur of babbles passing from your lips, which only made him fuck you even harder. “Mphmm, yeah? Burned in your brain huh..? That can be arranged..” He snickers genuinely considering haunting you with this imagine from time to time just to make you squirm.

Soon enough, the tightening of your tummy comes back once more and your walls contracts around Alastor’s cock harder then you’d expect. The cum creaming down his cock and dripping onto his sheets beneath you though his pace and speed never lets up. If anything it becomes more impactful as he works up his own orgasm, with you feeling overly sensitive.

His claws dig into your hips as his own snaps ferociously against yours and your post-cumming expression floating in your big eyes was enough to have him over the edge. “I’m gonna make you feel nice and full okay sweetheart?” He seethes out as his hips sputter and he spills his load into your spent little womb.

Slowly pulling out and away, he makes a towel appear in his hand to help you clean up. A soft whimper making its way out at the hollowness you now felt inside, but you were starting to feel sleepy with a small yawn coming after your whimper. “That’s it’s darling…you can sleep now..” He then tucks you under the covers gently with a soft kiss to your forehead seeing your eyes fluttering gently into slumber, completely spent with the workout he just gave you.

After he cleans himself and gets dressed he walks over to the abounded teacups eyeing his own carefully, when he realizes in the murky brew that he accidentally spiked his own somehow, chuckling at his own mix up that ether way seemed to do the trick for your tiresome night.

“No wonder the tea’s gone cold..”

#☆⋆｡𖦹 my writings #☆⋆｡𖦹anon’s #☆⋆｡𖦹 alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel smut #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x reader #alastor imagine #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor

537 notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 7 months

Text

I Could Use Somebody | Joel Miller

The Checklist - Free Use

Chapter Summary | Joel, coming home from work frustrated and pent up, doesn't seem to care you're in the middle of a serious work meeting. He wants you? He'll have you.

Chapter Warnings | Basically porn without plot, this is a free use fic so please keep that in mind, consent conversations beforehand, oral sex (M&F), unprotected PiV sex, creampie, cum eating, fingering, these two get up to some questionable things on a zoom call, dirty talk, pet names (baby), established relationship, No Outbreak AU, No Use of Y/N.

Word Count | 3.2K

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Authors Note | I'm going to out myself so hard by telling you all this specific scenario is such a fantasy of mine and imagining Joel Miller being the one to give it to me was too much. The amount of pacing I had to do writing this is not worth imagining haha. I know this isn't for everyone, but I hope those of you into it enjoy it! Shoutout to @swiftispunk for starting off the flurry of voting for this next part - enjoy y'all. If you do enjoy this, reblogs and comments are always appreciated, and if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that whilst this is part of a wider series, this can be read as a standalone if you wish.

Beautiful divider by @saradika

I no longer have a taglist, to keep up to date with my work, please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on notifications.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

You’re finishing up dinner, plate empty, sipping from a glass of water when Joel slips the now worn piece of paper over the table to you. Some things crossed off, some still waiting to be explored. You grin at him over your glass of water.

“Baby, I’m tired tonight.”

“I know, I ain’t fishing, I promise, just wanted to talk to you about this one.”

You look down at the little checklist, one of Joel’s fingers pointing to your handwriting, free use. You bite your lip a little, looking at him through your eyelashes.

“You know what it means?” He asks.

“Yeah,” You nod simply, “Means I let you have me whenever you want, right?” You shrug a little, “Why, you been doing your research, Miller?”

He snorts a little, shaking his head with a little laugh, “Sounds like you have too,” He takes a drink of his water, “Means you agree t’let me do whatever I want t’ya, whenever I want, but I need t’know if there’s anythin’ you don’t want me to do.”

You think for a minute, biting at your lip, “You can do whatever, just as long as I’m not asleep.”

Joel nods his head in agreement, sliding the piece of paper back over the table and into his pocket.

“I’m going to be living in pure anticipation over this now.”

“I know, baby,” He smirks, standing up to clear the plates from the table, dipping to kiss the top of your head as he pike yours up, “That’s part of the fun, right?”

You sigh, heel of your palm digging into our eyes. This meeting was dragging. This meeting definitely could have been an email. It’s now thirty minutes after you were meant to log off, and Jean from Finance won’t shut up about budgets and correct invoicing. Mark still hadn’t said his piece, and he’s known for droning on as well, so you’re going to have to wait at least another thirty minutes to give your update and leave.

Reaching over to pick up the now lukewarm cup of coffee on the desk, you hear the front door open. Sighing again, knowing that Joel is very rarely done with work before you are.

“Hello?” He calls into the house.

“Still in a meeting, baby!” You call back, office door ajar so he can hear you.

You can hear him climbing up the stairs, even without his boots on you can hear his heavy footfall coming down the hallway, his head peaking around the door frame.

“Camera’s off, thankfully.” You smile, turning in your office chair a little to reach your hand out to him.

“It’s late.” He comments, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips when you tilt your face up towards him.

Motioning your head to the screen, you say, “Jean won’t stop droning about budgets, I’m probably in it for the long haul.”

Joel runs a hand down the back of your head, fingers digging softly into the back of your neck which has you leaning back into his palm, rolling your shoulders as he works his thumb through the stress knot, “Did you say it was camera’s off?”

You nod your head, closing your eyes, leaning back into his touch. You can feel him running the tips of his fingers down your arm, fingers circling your wrist, which he then brings up, placing your palm again the front of his jeans where he’s already half-hard. The hand on the back of your neck is gentle, but firm, as it pulls you back a little, making you open your eyes to look up at him.

“You’re gonna suck my cock, baby,” It’s not a question, he isn’t asking, and he’s firm with it too, unbuckling his belt, “Been hard all day thinkin’ a’you, and I want you t’fix it.”

You swivel the chair a little, so you can bring your hands up to pop the button on his jeans and pull the zipper down. You pull his jeans down just to his mid-thigh, bringing your face forward to press soft kisses to the skin where the legs of his boxers are sitting, your palm rubbing gently up against the growing bulge tenting his underwear.

Joel reaches down, palm cupping your cheek softly, but when you look up at him, his eyes are dark, face stoic, “I said fix it baby, not tease me.”

You hook your fingers into the elastic around his hips, dragging the material down slowly, watching as his cock springs free when you’ve pulled his underwear down to meet his jeans. You can already feel the flicker of heat in your abdomen as you wrap your palm around his base, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the skin around him, focusing your attention anywhere but where he wanted it, as your hand moves up and down his length.

Before he can chastise you again, you lean back a little, guiding the head of his cock to your mouth. You bring your lips the the underside of him, pressing your mouth all the way down, before using your tongue to lick all the way back up, relishing in the way Joel exhales, all shaky, when you flick the tip of your tongue to the underside of the tip of his cock. You let him rest on your tongue a little, fisting the base of his cock, before you wrap your lips around him, tongue swirling wet and hot around it.

Joel has always loved when you do this to him, and you’ve always loved the way you can make him come undone with just your mouth. He’s already groaning a little when you flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock, moving your head down, taking as much of him into your mouth as you can before you feel him nudge at the back of your throat. You drag your fist up his length as you pull your mouth back off him, pumping him a few times to wet his cock with your spit, before you carry on exactly as you were, slowly running your mouth up and down him, following the movement of your lips with your fist.

You’re still half-aware of the sound coming from your laptop next to you, you can still hear Jean talking, which is no surprise, but there’s something about her talking about the new budget codes for the next financial year, knowing you’re paying no attention to her and instead sucking your boyfriend’s cock, that makes you rub your thighs together. You’re so wrapped up that when Joel uses his palm to cup your chin, you think he just wants to look at you with his cock stuffed halfway down your throat, but then he’s tilting his head towards your computer.

“I think someone just asked you a question, baby.”

Joel is smirking as you pull your mouth off him, scrabbling to unmute yourself, “Sorry Jean, I didn’t quite catch that, could you repeat the question?”

She sighs, and you can see her in the tiny rectangle, shaking her head. Joel reaches down, taking hold of your hand to bring it back to his cock, his own hand covering yours as he guides your movements, jerking him off whilst Jean repeats her question.

“I said, can you send me your budget reporting by the end of the week so I can get it all imported into the master finance sheet ready for auditing?”

You’re keenly aware that although your camera is off, your hand is currently fisting Joel’s cock whilst you’re having a conversation about fucking budget sheets. You’re pretty sure if you put a hand in your panties right now you’d be soaked from the situation alone.

“Sorry Jean,” You apologise, “Yes, that should be fine, I can email those over before the end of Friday.”

You don’t even wait for her response, just click the microphone button again to mute yourself, turning back to Joel, who is moving your hand off of his cock, fisting the base of it himself to bring to back to your mouth.

He cups the back of your head in one of his wide palms, inching his cock back into the wet heat of your mouth, “What would Jean think baby?” He asks, starting short thrusts into your mouth, “If she knew you’d been jerkin’ me off whilst talkin’ to her?”

It’s a rhetorical question really, considering he won’t pull himself from your mouth to let you answer, but he knows her, he met her last year at the Christmas party, she’d be horrified, clutching the gold crucifix necklace she always wears and praying for your salvation probably.

“Want you t’get nice and sloppy, baby,” Joel coos, “Y’know how I like it.”

And you do, you know exactly how he likes it. You move your palms around his body, palms resting on the meat of his ass, fingers digging into the skin ever so gently as you you slacken your jaw around him, finally letting the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. He loves it when you get messy, when he can hear you gagging around him, when you pull back and he’s covered in your spit.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” He encourages from above as the tip of your nose brushes against the soft skin of his tummy, “Takin’ me so fucking deep.”

His palm is still on the back of your head, holding you still as he starts those shallow thrusts into the back of your throat. You can feel saliva pooling at the corners of your mouth, the sounds of gulping and Joel’s hisses when you gag around him all that you can hear. You bring your hand lower, cupping his balls and almost preen when he gasps, massaging them gently as he fucks your face.

He pulls himself out of your mouth, holding you still, his cock still so close to your mouth, with trails of spit still connecting the two of you. As you take a breath, you’re aware that it’s now Mark’s voice you can hear, which still means you’ve got time until you say your piece, but time is running out.

Joel clutches your cheek in his palm, rubbing away the trail of tears he’s caused from fucking your face, “Gonna fuck you now, baby,” He says, stepping back to kiss your mouth, “Stand up.”

You do, Joel pushing the office chair away from you so he can stand behind you, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down your legs to pool at your ankles, along with you underwear. He’s behind you, pressing himself against your ass before you know it, cock sliding through your slick folds. You’d be embarrassed that you’re so wet without him even touching you, but the way he slides himself into you, burying himself to the hilt in your aching cunt, has your brain blank immediately.

“So fuckin’ wet, baby,” He hisses from behind, hands holding your hips to keep you still, “All from suckin’ my cock, huh?”

Your palms are face down on the desk, body placed just to the side of where your laptop sits. You turn your head around to look at Joel behind you, catching Mark in his little rectangle on your screen - you have no idea what he’s talking about, but the thrill of knowing that you’re not paying attention because Joel is dragging his thick cock out of you, holding still before he slams himself back into you, and they have no idea that’s what you’re doing, makes your indifference to the conversation even more noticeable to you.

He’s rough with it today, not uncomfortably so, but you can tell he’s had a stressful day of it, you always can, when he grips your hips hard enough to leave fingerprints on your skin and does nothing but use you for his own pleasure. He’s always one to return the favour afterwards, getting you off with his fingers or his mouth, but there are just some times when he needs to let out his own frustrations first.

Joel snakes a hand up your spine over your t-shirt, letting his hand tangle in your hair before he pulls back harshly, arching your back into him, it causes a strangled cry to fall from your lips as his cock punches back into you, the thick sound of his skin slapping against yours as he brushes that spot inside you enough to cause tiny black spots to appear in your vision.

“Feel good baby?” He asks from behind you, leaning his chest across your back, tagging at your hair to pull your face to his, his teeth nibbling at the skin of your jaw, tongue licking across it afterwards.

The change in angle, with him led flat against your back is insane, his thrusts now deep and short inside you, his weight pushing you flat against the desk now as he presses his mouth to yours. You open against him immediately, tongue melding with his own, moans swallowed, breaths tasted as he keeps a firm grip in your hair.

“Fuck me,” He groans out, almost pained, “Feel so fucking good baby, gonna make me come.”

You gasp into his mouth, not so much kissing him anymore than you are just lips to lips as he presses further into you, head of his cock nudging painfully at your cervix as he chases his high. You can feel yourself clenching around him, walls tightening and fluttering around his cock as you can feel him start to falter, until he’s biting down on your shoulder through your shirt, groaning out into your skin as you feel him fill you.

It’s a feeling you’ll never tire of, unsure of how you ever went so long without letting him do it, when it feels this good to feel him pulsing inside of you, your name whispered into your ear with a press of a kiss behind it. The feeling of him so desperate and full for you that he’s dripping down your thigh before he’s even pulled himself out of you.

He doesn’t give you much time to recover. He’s pulling at the hem of your shirt to get you to stand, his other hand reaching behind him to get hold of the chair, which he guides you into.

“I think that’s pretty much it from me,” You can vaguely clock Mark saying in the background, signalling that you’re up next, “Does anyone have any questions before I hand over?”

Mercifully, someone does have a questions, which at least gives you time to smooth your hair and try and tamp down the fact you’ve just been fucked by your boyfriend when you should have been listening to the meeting. As you’re reaching down to your ankles to pick up your leggings and pull them back on, Joel’s hand circles your wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing, baby?” He asks, settling himself on his knees between your open ankles, pulling your leggings off completely, tossing them to the side.

“I’ve got to present in a minute.” You pant, pointing to the screen.

He nods his head in understanding, “You’re good at multitasking though, aren’t you?”

It takes a second for what he’s suggesting to settle in your mind, and you think about denying him, but then you remember the agreement, and the fact you’ve not come yet, and then a smirk appears on your face. You’re scooting your office chair further into him, widening your thighs as you do it, reaching out to drag your laptop to the edge of the desk as Joel settles his face into your cunt, tongue already flicking gently at your clit.

“I’m going to hand over to HR now.”

You take a deep breath, unmute yourself, and start talking, just as Joel sinks two of his fingers into your cunt, dragging a gasp from your lips, “Sorry everyone, my camera doesn’t seem to be working, but can you all hear me okay?” You ask, biting your lip at the end to stop a groan from escaping when Joel curls his fingers up into you.

There’s a muttering of agreement across the screen, so you launch into your usual end-of-month spiel, “We’ve had a good response to our employee survey,” You start, the flat of Joel’s tongue working over your bundle of nerves, you let out a cough to stifle the need to moan, “If you haven’t already, please encourage all of your team members to complete it so we can get an accurate picture of what people are feeling.”

You drop a hand to your thigh, where Joel’s hand is splaying your legs apart from him, squeezing onto his fingers as you whimper slightly, “We’ve also attempted to start streamlining our onboarding process, which we’ll test with teams who have new starters in the c-coming w-weeks.”

You look down at Joel, face between your thighs, looking up at you, his fingers pulled from you now, replaced with his tongue. You’re about to protest, tell him you’re a mess there, that he’d only just filled you up with his cum not minutes before, but the way his dark eyes are looking up at you, that familiar twinkle settling across them, and the fact you’re meant to be talking right now, you keep quiet.

“A-and finally,” You try and continue, feeling his tongue dragging through your folds, back up to your clit, “I know it’s only August, but we’re starting to plan our Christmas celebration, so keep an eye out for the date holder and please accept the meeting invite so we can have an idea of numbers, more information to follow.”

It’s a miracle that you mute yourself in time to complete fall apart when Joel sucks your clit into his mouth, rolling his warm tongue across that nub of nerves. The pressure, teamed up with his fingers back inside you, have you falling apart with a scream, your hand flying to his hair, tugging at his curls as he works you through it, thighs shaking, clenching together until he’s forcing them apart, dragging his tongue back down to your entrance, swirling through your combined slick and his cum. He pushed up from on his knees, clutching his palms to your cheeks before he’s putting his tongue on yours again, letting you taste the mix of you and him on his tongue.

“We taste good, huh baby?”

You bite your lip, “That was hot.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, “What about it?”

“Apart from you eating me out whilst I give a very serious company update?” You shrug, “The fact that you ate your own cum from my pussy probably did it.”

He leans forward, pressing another kiss to your mouth, “Sounds like that’s all done,” He comments, you look over his shoulder to the now empty Zoom meeting, with just you left in it, “You hungry?”

You reach over his shoulder and leave the meeting too, closing your laptop down for the night, “Starving.”

625 notes · View notes

brailsthesmolgurl · 2 months

Text

Delirious

No matter how much you had offered your heart and arms to him, you were never his. And he was never yours.

Another oneshot requested by my angsty babies, I am glad you chose Rafayel. Yes, the writer you had wished for is back. Hang on tight to your seats baby gurl, this one gonna be hard to swallow.

Warnings: Angst, no comfort. Make your eyes bleed. Character death. Descriptive Mentions of dark topics so if ur sensitive please refrain.

Artwork is not mine, please support the original artwork!

Ding Dong. Ding Dong. Ding Dong. dINg dOng. DiNg dOnG.

You slammed your door opened and the 183cm drama queen stands in your doorway, head hung low, face drooped towards the floor. If he is not made of solid muscle and bones, you would be watching him melting right into the floor. Sighing, you stood aside and let him in, not even bothering to ask him a single question. You sort of having a gist on what had happened.

"Here, soup for you." He replied solemnly, feet carrying him lazily across the living room and to your kitchen. He brought soup this time, must be something big. Him bringing a souvenir over also means he would probably be staying the night. Not that you guys are in a relationship or anything, but 'complicated' is the right term for the both of you as of this stage.

The chair creaked under his weight as he took a seat on the wooden chair slotted at your dining table. "Rafayel." You grabbed a tissue box and sat down on the opposite end, a good necessity whenever he drops by your house unannounced. His hunched over form under the harsh lighting of your dining room's light unexpectedly painted a blob of shadow on your table. You reached your hand out this time, finger tapped on the wooden table just a few centimeters away from his hand. "Rafayel, are you okay?"

"She broke up with me." His reply was short. No details, no whining, no accusations, but just one sentence. This is an untouched territory for you. Most of the time, he would pressed on the doorbell nonstop until you slam open the door and his lips would not shut off till he was done venting. There were a couple of times he did came in looking like a dreaded fish, but the smell of alcohol would be the perfume of his. Today, however, no alcohol smell and no usual harangues.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

Few days passed, till few weeks, then few months after. For such a while, Rafayel had been hanging out more frequently with you, bringing you to the most random places to hang out such as going to a bowling alley just to get their waffles because he claims he likes to watch people roll balls but he also likes the waffles there. A trip to the market only to buy crabs and releasing them into the backyard to watch which one could run the fastest then the winner shall be rewarded as dinner on the dining table.

He had never been weirder than ever, but maybe this is his way of coping and who are you to judge? You had never been in love. But reading through romance books and watching all of the romantic shows, when love comes to your mind, Rafayel comes to your mind. You thought, maybe you do love him?

"Get out." Your words were final. Index finger sliced through the air and pointed straight towards your front door. Your cheeks glistened under the reflecting light casted by the television that was playing a teen romance flick. But no attention was spared for the movie anymore. "Rafayel. GET. OUT."

"What do you mean?" Eyebrows sewn together, eyeing your expression that spelled hurt. He was confused about your sudden burst of anger. "All I did was talk about the movie. And you got mad at me all of a sudden."

"You did not talk about the movie. All you did, was compared me to her, with the context of the movie." Your nostrils flared, tears stinging at the back of your eyes as if you had inhaled poison. Your throat and chest tightening further the more you held your tears in. "You lied to me. You said you got over her." Your arm fell to your sides, voice feeble. "But, why do you always find the need to compare me to her?"

"Oh spare me, I just went through a breakup, I could use the space to let loose, can't I?" His ignorance egged you on, seeing how indifferent he is about this situation. "Furthermore, I could use the---"

"And you think it's okay to play with my feelings?!" You belted, eyes welled up with tears, blurring your vision. You stepped up to him, hands pointed towards his face this time and you seethed in anger. "You, came here everytime, when she broke your heart. And out of everytime, I stayed. I waited." Your voice started cracking. "I was there for you when you had nobody else. And I picked you up when you thought you could not live without her anymore."

"Well, you could have just left if you---" He chipped in and you slapped him across his face with your palm. Although your hands are small, but it packed enough of a force to cause his cheek to ache, an uncomfortable throbbing pain following afterwards. He left his head tilted to the side, taking in the reality of what had happened. He just got slapped by a girl. Never in his life, he thought he would do something so outrageous that he would get slapped across the face. Guess he just broke his streak of not getting slapped by women.

"I WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU, CAN'T YOU TELL?!" You withdrew your hands and slid onto the floor, full on sobbing as you hugged onto your body to gain warmth for yourself. All of the blood had rushed up to your head which explains why you could not feel your legs anymore, hence the position on the floor. You desperately hoped Rafayel would grab you right now, and hug you tight within his arms.

You heard hurried shuffles, sound of keys jangling and a soft thud next to you. Those noises not tending to your curiosity at all. "I am sorry." His reply was bland, numb even. A sentence for remorse, also a sentence for a goodbye. The doors closed behind you and you were left alone, a forlorn soul basked within the lights emitted from the romance show. Silent sobs overheard by the moon that was peeking in through the windows of your sky roof.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

"Rafayel!" Thomas burst in the front doors, scurrying towards Rafayel's room at full speed after spotting the empty canvas sitting at the living room. Slamming the door that leads to Rafayel's room, the artist was sprawled out on the bed, his room so cold that Thomas could have just witnessed the North Pole without having to be there. The floor was surrounded in trash, papers crumpled up, pencils of all kinds used for sketching strewn across the floor. One may call it an organised mess, but Thomas calls this artist block.

"How long have you been in this room?!" Thomas shook Rafayel's shoulders to wake him up. "Your room is as cold as the cold storage that you use to store your seafood!" Thomas wasted no time in having to collect the pieces of papers and pencils on the floor, arranging them in his hand. "Why are you not done with---"

His nag came to a halt when Rafayel had sat up straight, back hunched over and eye bags the only colour present on his pale features. "What do you want?" Even his voice sounds hoarse, like a teen boy cycling through the age of puberty. "I do not wish to be disturbed."

"Your calls, as usual, went unanswered for the past few days so I helped myself by going over to ask y/n about your whereabouts because I thought you were staying with her pretty often these days." Placing the items onto the artist's white desk, Thomas turned to study his expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I know that look from somewhere." He squinted his eyes, studying him even further. "You had that same look when you caught your ex cheating on you that night." Thomas was referring to the girl that came before you. The one that had broke Rafayel's fragile heart. "Funny, now that I think of it, y/n's not doing any better than you."

Coming to realisation, the light bulb in Thomas' head flipped the switch. "Did anything happened to the both of you?"

"Did she asked anything about me?" Rafayel answered his question with another question. Eyes finally slanted upwards to face the manager of his. He just wanted to hear something, at least something to give him a reason to find her. He felt guilty, remorseful even for putting his burdens onto her. Leaving her all alone, drowning her in her own agony that day was the worse thing he could ever do to someone who had only ever been kind to him. And it took him three days to figure that out in his fish brain.

"No, she just asked me to hand you this." The older man reached into the pocket of his blazer, fishing a pink note out of his pocket and he handed it to Rafayel. The paper a little wrinkled, but the contents of it are a mark of your handwriting.

//𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝒹.// Your cursive writing always a form of art to his eyes. A small, dainty note was all that takes for her to personally pass on the will to him. Rafayel stared at the note for a good minute, the wind coming out of the air-conditioner turning Thomas into a popsicle but filling the silence.

"I have to go." Rafayel uttered, hoisting himself out of the bed in one go and he threw on his dark pistachio green open collared shirt. The one you always quipped about how healthy his skin tone looks in it but with him constantly bantering that the green was a direct insult to his hair and eye colour. Just for this time, he would smother his ego, put on your favourite outfit, and head over to find you.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

The keys he held onto, the same set of extra keys you had entrusted him with, slotted into the keyhole and turning it clockwise, a 'clack' could be heard and he opened the door with the twist of the copper-painted doorknob. The balcony's sliding door remained opened, the sheer white curtains danced to the rhythm of the wind. The lights in your house were dimly lit, providing Rafayel with just enough lighting to navigate himself towards your room.

At this timing, in the middle of the night, he tiptoed through your wooden floors, afraid even the smallest of creaks would give you the spooks. He twisted the doorknob to your door but it jammed halfway. Trying again, with a bit more exerted force this time, the door remained unbudgable. "Y/N...?" He called out for your name, using his knuckle to give a light knock on your door. "It's me Rafayel. Can we talk?"

He was met with a deafening silence. Of course you would not want him to be anywhere near you, be it to hear him apologise for his stupidity or for him to comfort you within his arms. He bet you could care less about him given the last stunt he had pulled on you. He grappled for his phone, pulling out of his pant's back pocket and he turned on the screen, the light on his phone screen puts the dim lightings to shame.

He scrolled through his phone book till he stopped at your name, a heart symbol edited in next to your name. It was not just a stunt for him to catch your attention, the heart emoji has always been there, but after you had taken him in and allowed him to stay with you for a couple of weeks, the heart started making more sense to him, but poor Rafayel couldn’t distinguish what is love and what is bare attraction. If he could get to talk to you this time, then maybe the heart would mean the world to him. Maybe, maybe this time, he will not mess his speech up and break your heart again.

The phone was set to dial mode and he pressed onto the green call button, ready to receive shoutings from the other side of the room. Your ringtone rang, the stupid song for the Toothless Meme played on rewind. Did you slept a bit too well maybe? He called again, and the same scenario happened.

His heart was hit with a sudden pang of fear. You had always been a light sleeper and noticing the obnoxiously loud ringtone not even waking you up for the slightest bit, he decided to take a step back and bust down the door with his shoulder. Luckily, just with one hard nudge of his broad shoulders, the door dislodged itself.

So does his heart. Your whole room was thrashed, filled with the pink notes that you had given to Thomas earlier. Some were torn, some were sheathed, some had scribbles all over it, all of the notes littered with handwritten notes beyond his comprehension. Rafayel watched you, held up vertically, legs far from touching the ground, a noose was the only thing connecting you towards the ceiling. "Y/N!" He ran up to you and grabbed you, his lanky legs kicking all of the notes out of his way. "Y/N!"

A short burst of flames from his fingers burnt the noose and you fell to the floor. Your face a shade match to the moon that was sitting outside. Rafayel's hands fumbled with his phone, calling the emergency hotline as soon as he could. Strings of curses coming out of his mouth afterwards when he asked for help to be deployed to your location as soon as possible.

While awaiting for the ambulance, Rafayel did CPR, or at least what he could remember from the lesson he had taken years ago. Pumping steadily to a rhythm, blowing air through your mouth to hopefully deliver air to your lungs. The sirens of the ambulances huddled outside of your condominium, the blue and red lights adding on a speck of neon to the monotonous night.

"Stay with me please. Please stay with me y/n." Rafayel held you in his arms, your ice cold skin prickled against his warmth. His tears fell down his cheeks and continued its trail down your already tear-stricken face. He never thought his ruse would cause you this much damage. He thought that you could be the end to his delirium, and the start to his new reality.

The paramedics that arrived on the scene stood aimlessly at the door frame, watching the broken man in front of them, amidst the thrashed room, holding onto a lifeless body of a woman who seemingly cried herself to death.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

Angsty af, this piece is part and partial of my experience as I had once struggled with my mental health before, and it was also due to a shitty ex. But I am doing much better now, and writing this brings back those shitty feels that I used to have, but also reminded me of how much more happier and stronger I am now, and that I am not choosing death because of my ex! :)

But if any of you, do have issues with mental health, please do seek for reliable help. As cliche as it sounds, life is not at all bad if you have people that are supportive of your recovery journey. If you needed someone to rant to, my dms are always open <3.

I do not wish harm for any of my readers, and I want you guys to know that just as much as ur supporting my works, I want to be there to support you if you have any hardships in life as well. Just know that you are loved, and I love you <3.

Sincerely, Brails.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel sfw #rafayel angst

291 notes · View notes

barcaatthemoon · 19 hours

Note

can you write an alessia x reader fluffy blurb for 23. "This sounds like an interogation." and 68. "When did you become an expert in this”, please? where reader is a guest on the tooney & russo podcast? thank you!

special guest || alessia russo x reader ||

"alright, now it is time to introduce our guest for today's podcast," vic said as all three girls glanced over towards you. you had been sitting in a chair next to alessia, who had been struggling to keep her eyes off of you. the internet knew that you were friends, but not anything more than that. most of her teammates didn't even know how serious the two of you were getting. to them, you were just a fan at emirates who came to see arsenal play a few times.

"ah yes, we have a very special guest today. some of you may have heard about her team being promoted into the wsl, and we wish her the best of luck. more importantly, you have been dubbed the internet's top expert on fish and chips in london, what do you have to say about that?" ella asked. alessia looked so proud of you when your team's promotion was brought up that you had to look away.

"when did you become an expert in this?" alessia asked with a laugh.

"well, my mum and da' do run manchester's best fish and chips stop," you said. alessia fought a losing battle against rolling her eyes. ella smiled as she watched the two of you, being one of the only people who knew how much alessia loved you. "we aren't here to talk about that though, are we?"

"no, i was just curious," alessia teased. you sat back in your seat and crossed your arms over your chest. ella and vic asked you a lot more questions than you had expected. you had sort of hoped to sit there quietly and occasionally chime in whenever alessia asked you to.

"there are several rumors of other wsl teams looking to sign you. are there any that you've been looking towards?" ella asked. this was the last place you wanted to tell alessia your news, so you were quick to divert.

"this sounds like an interrogation, and if so, i'd like my lawyer present," you told her. ella put her hands up at the pointed glare from alessia. "that's not the sort of thing i'm at liberty to talk about, but if my club wants to sell me, i guess i've just got to see who wants me. i'm not much special really, but i'm flattered."

"mate, i've got it on good authority that barca's been knocking your door since the everton days," ella said. she wasn't wrong, but you had your eyes set on a specific club. they had yet to make an offer, and you really didn't want to have to wear blue just to stay in london with alessia.

"tooney, drop it," alessia warned. that was the last of the transfer talk until the cameras had cut and alessia was the one to bring it up to you instead. "you've heard something, haven't you?"

"arsenal is being stubborn and the club won't accept the offer, so it looks like i'll be in blue," you told her. alessia bled red for arsenal, not unlike her england captain, leah, and you could see her face fall immediately. "i can go somewhere else, but the distance..."

"no, you go where you want to. if chelsea is what you want, then i'll support you. just not where anybody else can see." there was a bit of a jovial tone to alessia's voice, one that you appreciated greatly. signing for chelsea had been beating you up for weeks, but it felt like your only chance to stay with alessia and in the wsl.

#answered #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader

363 notes · View notes

d0not-disturb · 26 days

Text

Bunch of Grumbo incorrect quotes:

Grian : I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives

Mumbo: I wake up at 4:30 AM

Grian :

Grian : I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives

Grian: I can explain.

Mumbo: Can you?

Grian: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

Grian: I was arrested for being too cool.

Mumbo: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

Grian: Man, I only ever see you awake, do you ever shut down or stop running?

Mumbo: Oh, I’m always running

Mumbo: The question is from what

Grian: Whaddya call a fish with no eye?

Mumbo, not looking up: Myxine Circifrons

Grian:

Grian: fsh

Grian: I'm 10 times funnier and sexier than you

Mumbo: 10 times 0 is still 0 though

Grian: Jokes on you, I can't do math

Grian: You love me, right, Mumbo?

Mumbo: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.

Grian: Mumbo and I have the kind of easy chemistry where we finish each other's-

Mumbo: Sentences.

Grian: Don't interrupt me.

Grian, talking to Mumbo on the phone: Did you preheat the oven like I told you to?

Mumbo: You bet!

Grian: At what temperature?

Mumbo: 535.

Grian: That's the clock.

Mumbo:

Grian:

Mumbo: 536.

Mumbo: Is something burning?

Grian: Just my love for you.

Mumbo: Grian, the toaster is on fire.

Grian: Am I in trouble?

Mumbo: Take a guess.

Grian: No?

Mumbo: Take another guess.

Grian: You fuckers don’t know about my knife stick. It’s a knife taped to a stick and it’s the ultimate weapon.

Mumbo, not looking up from their book: Spear.

Grian: BLOCKED.

Grian: Mumbo...

Mumbo: Oh no, 'Mumbo' in b-flat.

Mumbo: You're disappointed.

Mumbo: Grian was banned from the chicken shack, so we had to go out of town to get some.

Grian: Well, they shouldn’t say “all you can eat” if they don’t mean it.

Mumbo: Grian, you ate a chair.

Grian: *Stubs their toe* FUCK!

Mumbo: Mind your language!

Grian: What else am I supposed to say, “Woe is I”???

Mumbo:

Grian: You have to accept that swear words are necessary sometimes.

Grian: I'm incredibly fast at math.

Mumbo: Alright, what's 30x17?

Grian: 47

Mumbo: That's not even close.

Grian: But it was fast.

Grian: How many kids do we even have?

Mumbo: Biologically, emotionally, or legally?

Grian: I know you’re deflecting by making jokes about how hot you are.

Mumbo: It’s not a joke.

Mumbo: *sniffles*

Mumbo: I’m a legit snack.

Grian: I prevented a murder today.

Mumbo: Really? How’d you do that?

Grian: self control.

#starsaysgarbage #mcyt #hermitcraft #hermitblr #grian #mumbo jumbo #grumbo #waffle duo #Grumbot #well he’s #sort of referenced

159 notes · View notes

seungsuki · 18 days

Text

station cafe - romance between a soccer player and a webtoon artist (gn! reader)

warning: boring tbh (+ too many words)

note: wrote this during while my professor was yapping so hopefully it's okay

itoshi rin hated whenever his practice games were played for too long. he’d like to blame it on his teammates who couldn’t stop goofing around every minute.

“last train for station 2 is leaving”, the loud speakers announced

rin froze thinking he must have misheard the announcement but when it repeated again, his legs began moving without him even thinking. speed walking through the busy salespeople and students, he nearly made it to the train. he could see the gates of the train and he wanted to yell for it to not close but he didn’t. he stopped and slowed down as he watched the gates shut tight.

the train had left for station 2

the last train

he fished out for his phone to check the train schedule. he wasn’t too familiar with the train routes other than the one he usually took. lucky for rin, the next train for station 2 is set for 5 pm

“5 pm?”, rin mumbled to himself seeing that it was only 3:07 pm

what was he supposed to do with all this freetime? he never gave himself that much time. he used every second to practise soccer and to be on top. to defeat his no good of an excuse brother and win the world cup. now what? it’s not like he had any friends nearby

that’s how the younger itoshi wandered into a random cafe near the station. opening the door, he could smell the coffee bean aroma filling the room. he walked to the counter and was greeted by the cashier, who in his opinion, was overly energetic for no reason.

ordering his favourite tea and bread, rin settled at a seat beside the window of the cafe. there weren't a lot of people except for you, seated at the next table. while rin normally didn’t act like a busybody, he was curious as to what you were doing. he could see a lot of papers scattered around the table. they looked like… character designs? are you an avid fan of a series he’s never seen before?

he couldn’t help but notice how absorbed you were on your computer with a drawing tablet attached to it. oh so you’re marking papers? you did look rather young to be a teacher. well it was none of his business. he brushed away any lingering questions and silently enjoyed his tea. tuning into the latest soccer clip between bastard münchen and manshine city, rin booed both parties since he didn’t support any of them and took the time to criticise their play style

he was watching the so-called ‘hat trick’ when a paper flew directly on his face, blocking the match. almost instantly, he heard a small worried yell and a hand reached to remove the paper that didn’t allow him to see anything. why did this remind him of a heavily scripted shojo manga?

“i’m so so sorry! are you okay?”, a voice asked and rin looked up to see the you in front of him this time

“i’m fine”, rin replied short not wanting to engage in the conversation

“they turned on the stand fan so my papers flew everywhere!”, you groaned

that’s when rin looked away from his phone and looked up to you. or more specifically, the paper dancing loosely between your fingers. it definitely looked like a detailed study of a character. just how much of an avid fan are you? then again he couldn't say much himself as he was in his own obsession over soccer. seeing how hard he was staring at the paper, you moved it behind you, allowing your skirt to hide the paper

“i’m a webtoon artist. i have a lot of papers because i came back from a small meeting”, you said taking a seat at the empty chair in front of him

“im [name]! i think i've seen you somewhere haven’t i?”, you asked going through the train of thoughts

“i play soccer”, another short reply followed by a tsk

“oh yeah!! aren’t you the captain for the eleven team against the national team? i watched your match on tv, you were pretty awesome”, you remembered

even though rin didn’t want to engage in the one-sided conversation, he couldn’t help but hear more than the commentary of his discarded phone (which was turned off later on).

itoshi rin picked up a new habit. after his everyday practice, he’d make his way to the cafe near the station. he would order his favourite tea and bread but this time, an extra iced chocolate for you. he sits in his usual seat beside the window and waits. not long he’d see the door open to see you enter. today was rather chilly so it made sense for you to wear your favourite red sweater with white stripes. scanning the room, your eyes lit up seeing a particular teal eyes locking contact with you. a comfortable walk accompanied with a small wave, you made it to your designated seat, in front of him. time would fly as the duo exchange conversations about random topics

rin never realised how he fell for you. maybe it’s the way his heart skips a beat when he sees you? or how he’s obviously less mean to you. in his eyes, you aren’t too bad. you definitely weren’t some lukewarm npc that took up his time. you was someone who he enjoyed talking too. the people around him (or more particularly his teammates) couldn’t help but wonder what made the striker less grumpy

“someone’s in a good mood~”, a singsong shidou said slinging his arm around rin

“right? leaving practice so soon? have a date planned?”, karasu joined in on the teasing

“yeah i do”

that one sentence froze the soccer players. itoshi rin going on.. date? sounded impossible to his teammates. they were dumbfounded at how rin even got a date. a familiar ringtone caught the attention of rin and he peeked his phone to see your text. he kept your ringtone different from the rest of his usual notifications. grabbing his duffle bag, itoshi rin left his obviously curious teammates to go see you at your usual spots

the cafe beside the station

132 notes · View notes

lild00td00t · 10 months

Text

Straw Hats with a Shy! S/O

Part 1

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ussop

I love shy, quiet people, they are my jam !! Part 2 will be up when it’s finished, and will include: Robin, Nami, Franky and Brook! Enjoy ! ~

Luffy

• Will definitely be your voice if you need it, he loves talking enough for the both you so things work out favorably with Luffy.

• If anyone ever asks why you’re so quiet or don’t talk to them he gets defensive on your part, asking why they’re bothering you in the first place

• If he ever senses you’re uncomfortable he’ll draw attention to himself to get eyes off you

• When he does, it’s in the most asinine way possible

• “ YOU GUYS WANNA SEE IF I CAN EAT THIS WHILE ITS STILL ON FIRE “

• Hypes you up to do stuff, say you’re making a call or you ordered on your own, he’ll pat you on the back and be like “ yeah that was awesome ! “

• So sweet, but he can definitely be overwhelming with how boisterous and out going he is, sometimes he might push alittle too much to get his S/O out of their comfort zone

• Id give him a 7/10

Zoro

• Probably loves how quiet you are, especially when he’s drinking, he loves a calm drinking partner

• Like many of the Straw Hats he’ll get very defensive on your part if people tell you to speak up, won’t tolerate people picking on you for being quiet either

• He lets you lean into him or hold his arm if you’re feeling shy, he’ll probably try to look more intimidating to others so they’ll leave you two alone

• Zoro isn’t much of a people person either, so he’d rather be in secluded and low activity places.

•he’ll gladly find you a space so you can both relax and decompress

• I’d give Zoro a 9/10 with a shy S/O, mostly because he won’t make you feel overwhelmed, and while he’s not vocally encouraging you most of the time he does actively urge you through other means to do daily tasks you might struggle in <3

Sanji

• Will kick a hole in someone’s face if they ever tell you to speak up

• The absolute sweetest of all the Straw Hats with a Shy S/O

• He can tell if you’re overwhelmed or in need of alone time, he’ll make you a nice warm cup of tea and probably set out a chair on the deck for you to relax in

• Will definitely tell Luffy to keep it down for you, and WILL resort to violence if he doesn’t, if his S/O wants peace and quiet then SHH!

• 100% sends food back if it’s not cooked how you like or came with something you don’t like, he won’t make a big deal about it either since he knows it’ll probably embarrass you, but is always willing to be your voice when you need it

• Very keen listener who is also observant, he can read your body language and tell if you’re uncomfortable, he has signals for the two of you if you ever want to leave somewhere!

• He will either coddle his S/O or try his best to encourage them, but he doesn’t want them to feel smothered, he’s so supportive honestly

• I give Sanji a 10/10 with a Shy S/O!

Ussop

• Honestly he’s the funniest with a shy S/O

• If you give him permission, he’ll tell people an impossibly HUGE lie about how you lost your voice and why you can’t speak, whether or not people believe it is the tricky part

• He loves having you sit with him while he fishes, unlike Luffy you don’t eat all the bait AND you’re a great ear, so it’s a win win !

• Like Sanji he’s extremely observant, maybe it’s the Haki, maybe it’s because he’s an awesome boyfriend, regardless he can read your expressions and body languages with ease

• The second he sees you’re uncomfortable though, VERY much like his captain and best friend Luffy, he’ll draw attention to himself

• Will definitely encourage you to try and get out of your comfort zone, hes not pushy or commanding but very gentle about it too

• If you order something over the phone or manage to have a conversation with someone you don’t know well he’ll definitely voice how proud he is of you!

• I give Ussop a 10/10 with a shy S/O <3

503 notes · View notes

motherroam-rs · 3 months

Text

Sleep Deprivation

Relationship: Hunter x Reader

Summary: In the search for Omega, Hunter struggles to sleep and needs a push to get some rest.

Warnings/Tags: Sleep Deprivation, Angst, Comfort, uhhh I think that’s everything

Word Count: 1.2k

Notes: The first 3 episodes have me in a chokehold, I wanna see Hunter happy again - Here’s a super short angsty lil comfort fic for Hunter set just before the beginning of episode 2 🫶🫶 Apologies for any grammatical errors!

Every noise in the Marauder seemed louder with just the three of you in it. Any hum, beep, and sigh seems to be amplified, even Gonkys small movements seemed to echo through the empty space just as loud as Wreckers snores.

Though, it’s not the only change. The ship seems too big now, and it’s hard to remember a time where it was so over-occupied that you would all fight over who got to sleep in a bunk for the night, and who had to use a sleep mat on the floor. Durasteel walls that previously made you all feel like fish packed together in a can, now seemed to stretch out impossibly, making it seem that you were planets away from the ships other two occupants.

Currently you’re sat in the co-pilot chair, preoccupied with your glitchy datapad, attempting to send an encrypted message to Echo for any updates from the clone network. You’re biting down on a sigh at how you wished Tech were here to fix it for you when Wrecker nudges your foot with his own.

You look up, puzzled at the man but your silent question is answered by the attempted jerk of his head. Behind you both sits Hunter, staring abysmally at the control board of flashing lights with his fist tightened around a horn from Roland Durand. The lights cast a harsh shadow on his features and your lips can’t help but work themselves into a frown at the dark circles beneath his eyes.

It had been well over 24 hours since he last slept.

Glitchy datapad now abandoned, you give a quick nod in thanks to Wrecker, before leaving the cockpit to approach Hunter. His chair doesn’t turn, and despite his enhanced senses and the lack of noise in the ship to cover your steps in any way, he gives no indication that he’s heard you. You follow his line of sight to both Tech’s goggles and Lula, both of the items bringing a pain to your chest.

“Hunter?” You press your hand to his armored shoulder, and he finally turns to look at you, slightly startled and you can’t even recall a time that you’ve ever caught him so off guard. Now that he’s facing you, the exhaustion is evident in more than just the dark circles under his eyes, his body seems to slump against the support of the chair in some sort of emotional defeat.

He’s been running himself into the ground over the last few days in pursuit of the Pyke needed in order to get the lead you had all been after, but at least you and Wrecker still managed to somewhat take care of your basic needs of sleep and rations.

Before you can speak, he turns back towards the controls, as if sensing what you were going to say about the neglect to his sleep schedule.

“Tech made this all seem… easy.” Gloved hands gesture to the console of flashing lights, his throat bobbing with a dry swallow as he shakes his head. “All of it takes me twice as long as it took him.”

Hunters hand pinches the bridge of his nose, the same way he does when he has an oncoming headache and your hand presses to the unarmoured section between his shoulder and neck, an area that is usually covered by his scarf. At the touch, his eyes close and lips part with a soft release of breath.

He needs to sleep.

“Come to bed, Hunter.” The whisper echoes through the too-quiet ship, amplified like every other noise, and for a moment it looks like he’s going to refuse. He doesn’t speak, but gives a slight nod of his head, and brushes your hand away to stand and begin removing his armor as he follows you on the way to your shared bunk.

After so long of racing to be the first one on the Marauder after a mission to secure your own bunk for a night, there was some sad irony in the fact that you now couldn’t sleep alone. Following the loss of Tech, and the painful absences of Omega and Echo, all attempts to adjust to the atmosphere of loneliness on the ship were almost painful.

At the start, you think you barely managed a standard 8 hours across 3 full day cycles, let alone in one night, and your restlessness didn’t go unnoticed by Hunter, who had probably slept even less than you. On the fourth night of staring at the ceiling and trying to muffle your quiet crying in the too-silent ship, he had abandoned his bunk beneath you and climbed into your own. His arms allowed you the comfort of not grieving alone that night, and almost every night since.

At some point, it delved into more than simply finding comfort in each other so you could both sleep, sending you far enough past the line of friends for Wrecker to tease you both in an attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere in the Marauder.

Now only wearing the lower half of his blacks, Hunter lifts himself into the shared top bunk, and offers you a hand up, immediately pulling you into him once you’re safely up. In the small confines of the bunk, you’re entirely pressed to his firm body, yet he still holds you tightly against his bare chest as if fearing you’d slip away the moment his eyes closed.

He’s pulled the thin blanket over you both, but with the heat of his body it’s more than enough to keep you warm. “We’ll get her back.” You murmur against Hunters chest in assurance as one of his hands pulls your leg across his own, entangling the two of you together.

You feel his hand twitch against you, “It’s been a long time, and we still don’t know where she is, the only lead we can get right now is by handing over a Pyke to the Durand family.” His voice is heavy with exhaustion and you crane your neck up, lifting yourself from his chest to place your hand on his stubble covered jaw, forcing him to look at you.

“We’ll get her back, Hunter, but you need to sleep.” You lean in to press a kiss to the lips that seem to have set themselves into an ever present frown since that day on Ord Mantell.

Hunters hand presses to your face to mirror your own, his other arm tightening around your waist protectively as he kisses you back. Even when you pull away and rest your head back on his chest, his fingers continue to trace slow patterns on your waist, still refusing to let you go as he gives in to his tiredness.

You wait for his breathing to slow, ensuring he’s asleep before you allow yourself to close your eyes and follow him. In the night, you dream of living together in a house on Pabu, where the only echoing noise is Omegas laugh, where there are no empty spaces to make you feel lonely, and where Hunter can finally rest.

#the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch #bad batch season 3 spoilers #bad batch hunter #tbb hunter #bad batch hunter x reader #hunter tbb x reader #angst with a happy ending

222 notes · View notes

deliciousangelfestival · 4 months

Text

Sweetest Dreams || B.Barnes - Part 4

Character: mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Finally, it's the right time with the right person. ❤️

Warning: Kidnapped, tortured (only a small part)

Part 1: Echoes Of Revenge

Part 2: Shattered Echoes

Part 3: All The Lies

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

"This is fucked up. Where am I?" Y/N's thoughts echoed in the disorienting haze surrounding her.

Ivan, the orchestrator of her current predicament, stood menacingly before her, a cruel grin etched across his face. "You should blame yourself for being in this condition," he sneered.

Y/N, still grappling with the fog in her mind, pressed for answers. "Where am I?"

Ivan, relishing in his control, delivered the chilling truth. "A hangout place for drug addicts. So if you don't listen to me, the next morning the police will find your body. Overdose."

‘Shit.’ Panic surged within Y/N as she scanned her surroundings, her eyes landing on a lone door – a potential lifeline out of this nightmare.

“Stop thinking about escaping.” Ivan's fingers dug into her chin, forcing her to meet his menacing gaze. “To be honest, I don't want to kill you. Because I need your brain to make money.”

Y/N, defiance burning in her eyes, said, “You think I will agree?”

Ivan leaned in, his breath sending a cold shiver down her spine. “You have to. After you make me bankrupt, I've gained a lot of enemies – elite people who invested their money in the company. And they want their money back.”

“So, you want to return the money to high-influence people rather than those with low income?” Y/N's disdain dripped from her words, her body language betraying a simmering anger.

Unfazed, Ivan smirked, reveling in the power dynamic. Y/N, unable to contain her disgust, spat on his face in an act of defiance. Undeterred, Ivan scoffed, “Those people are small fish. The most important thing is the big whale.”

Infuriated, Y/N spat on his face again, her eyes ablaze with defiance. “Work again with a mastermind who made thousands of families bankrupt? Fuck no.” She turned her attention to the door, silently calculating the risks and possibilities of escape.

Ivan wiped his face with a cloth, savoring the moment with a sinister satisfaction. "I knew you wouldn't agree, but I'll change your mind," he declared with a dark chuckle.

With a snap of his fingers, the dimly lit place transformed into blinding brightness. Y/N, still disoriented, realized she was tied to an electric chair. Someone approached from behind, forcing a mouthguard into her mouth.

Before she could react, her head was jolted by an electric shock, and a muffled scream escaped through the mouthguard, "Mrghh!" Tears streamed down her face as the searing pain coursed through her.

Ivan, reveling in the torment he was inflicting, taunted, "You've made my life hell for a year, Y/N. Now I want to torture you a bit."

Y/N, in the midst of the excruciating pain, wished for a chance to apologize to Bucky if today was to be her last.

"BAM!"

Ivan, caught off guard, exclaimed in surprise. He had been confident that no one knew about this hidden location. However, he was about to learn the extent of Bucky's knowledge of the town.

Bucky stormed in with a powerful kick to Ivan's face, sending him crashing.

“What the fuck?” Ivan spluttered, struggling to stand.

Bucky's eyes fell on Y/N, tied to the chair and seemingly lifeless. Panic and darkness consumed him for a moment as he approached her. "Y/N?"

He lifted her gently, holding her close. "You can't die. I don't know what to do without you."

“Urggh, I'm still alive, idiot,” Y/N weakly replied. Opening her eyes felt like a daunting task, and she couldn't quite believe that Bucky had come to her rescue.

Bucky, overwhelmed with relief, clenched his teeth. His gaze shifted to Ivan, who was still attempting to rise.

He turned to Steve, who had followed him to save Y/N. “Make sure he never sees the sun again.”

Steve nodded, advancing towards Ivan with a determined expression. He swiftly broke Ivan's arm, eliciting a pained cry. “You messed with the wrong person, pal,” Steve smirked, ensuring Ivan faced the consequences of his malevolent actions.

Bucky cradled Y/N, his eyes reflecting worry, anger, and relief. "I've got you," he whispered, vowing to protect her from any further harm.

Bucky, keeping a watchful eye on Y/N as she slept in the hospital bed, found himself reflecting on a similar moment from his recent past when he had visited her father.

Her father had looked at him and said, “What a small world.”

Indeed, it was a small world.

Fifteen years ago, Bucky was a teenage boy living alone in a desolate house. His mother had left, and no one bothered with the household chores. His father, Nicholas, was indifferent, unmoved by Bucky's struggles. School was a constant battleground for him, and life seemed monotonous and purposeless.

Then, one day, Bucky noticed his father bringing a guest home. His father never bothered with hospitality, a clue that this visitor wasn't just any guest. It was the first meeting with Y/N's father, a long-time friend of his own father.

Bucky calls him the kind uncle because he worries about Bucky more than his father.

This kind uncle regularly visited, bringing homemade food Bucky gratefully accepted. It was a lifeline in a home where food was scarce.

The kind uncle shared, "I have a daughter your age. I'll bring her next time." However, that promise remained unfulfilled, and it turned out to be the last visit. Bucky later learned that his father had lent the kind uncle money with exorbitant interest, severing their friendship.

It was pivotal for Bucky, revealing the depth of his father's greed and how money could destroy longstanding friendships. The realization left an indelible mark on him, shaping his future goals. Bucky vowed that if he ever became wealthy, he wouldn't burden his friends with the weight of borrowed money.

Then, when he entered university, he met her—the daughter of that kind uncle, Y/N. The revelation brought a sense of purpose to Bucky's life. He witnessed her being taken advantage of by classmates and seniors at the club, prompting him to take a stand and become her shield.

With him by her side, nobody dared to exploit Y/N anymore. Despite her initial annoyance towards him, Bucky saw a cute, angry kitten in her eyes, and teasing her became a daily amusement, injecting excitement into his otherwise mundane university days.

As they transitioned into adulthood, Y/N underwent a transformation. Her style matured, and she exuded newfound confidence, a far cry from her college days, where she often kept her head down.

Bucky enjoyed the challenge when she underestimated him, eventually giving her money because of her work in an investment company. Little did he know that this woman would swiftly elevate him to wealth.

Y/N's unexpected departure left Bucky in a state of confusion. He waited for a month, then three, and finally, six months passed, but she never returned.

The unanswered question lingered: What did he do wrong? His search for her took a year, but when he found her, she revealed that she had used him to rectify his father's mistake, the same father who had caused harm to her own.

Despite the revelation, Bucky didn't care about the past. He just wanted her back. However, Y/N, this stubborn and seemingly heartless woman, refused to yield.

As he watched her sleep, Bucky's hand cradled her cold cheeks. He joined her side, wrapping her in an embrace to ward off the chill. His fingers gently brushed her hair as he stared at the sleeping figure, who had inadvertently disrupted his life since the moment they met.

Bucky didn't harbor hatred; he found perfection in the chaos she brought into his life. The only thing he desired now was for her to wake up and ensure she could never leave him again.

Y/N blinked, momentarily blinded by the morning light streaming in from the window. The female nurse, noticing her awakening, hurried over to assist Y/N in sitting up.

"My dear, you've woken up? You've been asleep for two days," she informed a hint of concern in her voice. The dryness in Y/N's throat confirmed the duration of her unconsciousness.

Two days – no wonder everything felt hazy. Y/N's attention perked up when the nurse continued, "Rest assured, the bad guy has been taken to the police. Your fiancé has been keeping an eye on you for 24 hours."

'Fiancé?'

Y/N's eyes widened at the unexpected revelation. She hadn't realized she had a fiancé. The sliding door opened, revealing Bucky carrying a bucket of flowers. His face lit up with a warm smile upon seeing Y/N awake. "Babe, you're awake," he greeted cheerfully.

The female nurse couldn't help but giggle at the scene. "Yes, and she's healthy. Aww, so romantic, you bring new flowers today." She grinned at the young couple before making her exit.

Bucky chuckled as he placed the flowers in a vase. Y/N couldn't shake off her surprise. He took a seat beside her, brushing her hair gently. "It's the safest way. If everyone knows that you're my fiancée, no one will dare to kidnap you," he explained matter-of-factly.

He pulled her into a tight hug, their bodies sinking into the hospital bed. "Y/N, please don't go. I don't know what I would do without you," Bucky pleaded, his eyes reflecting the exhaustion from lack of sleep. Y/N's heart ached at the sight of the big man pleading.

She gets closer, kissing his forehead. "I won't go anywhere."

Bucky's eyes widened in surprise, a brilliant smile replacing his earlier plea. Finally, in that small hospital bed with the sterile scent of antiseptic lingering, it didn't matter. Bucky could have the sweetest dreams as long as she was beside him.

Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

Join the taglist? 🩷💙🩷

@bagoffeelings

@darkofimagination

@starsofcloud

@cherrybubblebullet

@winterslove1917

@thezombieprostitute

@xcaptain-winterx

@namoreno

@sagebarness

@tenaciousathleteoperatorgarden

@unaxv

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@hopeful-daydreaming

@freshlemontea

@eat-limes-bitches

@kandis-mom

@scott-loki-barnes

@winters1917

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@arunabraganza

@ordelixx

@vicmc624

@blackwood-bodecker-housewife

@mostlymarvelgirl

@musicandbooksaremyhappyplace

@buckybarnessimpp

@charmedbysarge

@almosttoopizza

@sapphirebarnes

265 notes · View notes

fanaticsnail · 5 months

Text

Something Like That

Masterlist here, Request link and mood board here.

Word Count: 4,048

Hi everyone! This is the last x-mas fic I can push out before my time away over the holiday period interstate. I hope you enjoy reading for our boy Zoro. Thank you @sordidmusings for keeping me motivated! Merry Christmas, Anon! Just in case it peaks your interest @gingernut1314

Warnings: Fluff, Christmas, talks of battle scars, kissing, dancing

Just like all of the times you had ventured to Baratie, this time had every intention of being no more than passing time with delicious food. The floating restaurant atop a mighty ship was your favorite stop-off on your way home to Lougetown to visit with your extended family; the food’s glowing reputation almost did justice to the divine quality and the accompanying drinks were what dreams were made of. The fact that the staff was comprised of reformed pirates also held an appeal, considering your ties to that lifestyle as a skilled archer.

Bidding farewell to the vessel you had bartered onto for voyage, you heard a strange amount of merriment floating melodically from the wide fish-mouth at the bar lounge of the grand restaurant. You furrowed your brows, arching one up as curiosity held you captivated by the songs seeping to the surface with a wide array of demonstrated skill. Some vocals were sung blissfully, others shouted with no skill depicted within their throats.

Taking deliberate steps with your bow in hand, quiver strapped firmly against your waistbelt and traveling satchel thrown over your shoulder, you sauntered to the grand doors and lobby of the restaurant to meet the matradee. He welcomed you with a broad smile, which rose to sit comfortably and warmly, peaking at the apples of his cheeks. His regular white formal garb was replaced with a deep emerald green dinner jacket, a small bushel of pointed leaves with red shimmery berries strung together by twine.

“Welcome back to Baratie!” He exclaimed with glee, “I have your usual table awaiting you.” He gestured a guiding hand to the right and indicated for you to follow his direction to the bottom of the twirled staircase.

Your confusion seemed to set in further as you took in your surroundings. The usual bare bars of the railing were ornately decorated with vines of sharpened, needle-like sprigs and small warm lights shining amongst the shrubbery akin to starlight. Your gaze was drawn upwards, noticing a small and sporadic assortment of floral clusters clinging to the roof and down the pillars of the supporting canopy. The bunches were of pale sage green, floating romantically down and arching their spindles out to grasp the pearled white flowers amongst the greenery.

As your gaze fell to rest upon the circular room, you noticed individuals joining against each other in embraces of romantic twirling and swaying. Their voices would raise to join with the tune regardless of how skilled they were to carry the tune, prompting you to raise an apprehensive smile to your lips.

“What is going on, sir?” you asked the fishman matradee as he chaperoned you to your regular table, “this all seems rather strange and unusual for a Monday afternoon, don’t you think?” Your tone of playful jest prompted him to chuckle in response, pulling out your chair for you to sit within your corner booth. Wordlessly, he took your bow and satchel while you unstrapped your quiver to disarm yourself to place your valuable items to be placed in the cloakroom.

“One of our kitchen-hands has returned to us, settling his dining debt from his time with us,” the matradee informed you, a playful twinkle drawn up to his eye, “and in celebration, we’re attempting to showcase a custom he had picked up on his travels.”

You hummed in response with a polite nod, brows raising with interest as you pulled your gaze over to view the diners amongst the crowd. Noticing jovial laughter and an uproar of cheers, you pulled your gaze to seek out its source. A young man with a straw hat atop dark loose curls immediately captured your attention, his eyes upturned and jaw hanging wide as he allowed another heartily laugh escape from his chest. His arms were hooked around the necks of two of his companions, drawing them in closer to his chest; a woman with short orange hair clutched within his right arm, while a bandana-clad man with a similar cheery expression lay gathered within his left.

Scanning over the remainder of the party members surrounding him, your eyes first drew to examine the tall, blonde companion. His hair skewed the view of his left eye, but what you could make of his right; he was a delight to look at. After holding your eyes against the blonde for longer than you truly thought appropriate, your eyes met with the final stranger of the party. His dark hazelnut orbs immediately locked on your probing gaze, bearing a protective intensity, his moss-coloured locks raised without much care as to which direction the strands fell.

As his eyes continued to hold your attention, you stared him down to reciprocate his wordless challenge. His brows furrowed briefly before a wolf-like grin rose to his lips, smirking up to the right-hand side of his face with an air of arrogance. Training as a skilled archer had drilled the practice of continual focus on a multitude of targets. This small challenge set your heart alight with a similar thrill to hunting a foe, the green-haired man not shying away from your attention and focus.

He was captivating. His air of protection and loyalty to his companions transferred without question of translation. You watched as he drew his dominant hand to fall to rest against a white blade hilt at his side, his wrist hanging limply against the handle atop the scabbard. He arched his left brow up at you and gestured with his chin, indicating to you that he would not shy away from a fight if one was to be offered to him. You arched up your brow with your own smirk, gesturing lightly with your hands over your torso and falling down to your waist; indicating you were currently unarmed.

Without breaking your gaze from his challenge, you reached your hand below the white tablecloth, shielding your hand from retrieving an item from your handbag beside you. You let out an audible laugh as you watched him fix his posture more upright, his smirk falling from his lips as his frown deepened in partial alarm. After feeling the hard object you were searching for, you raised it to no longer be obscured from view and rotated it within your hands to demonstrate how non-threatening the item was.

His face immediately dropped at his idiocy as his eyes took in the novel you were holding within your hands, closing his eyes and having a small smile rise to his lips. As soon as his eyes closed and soft chuckle fell from his lips, you relished in the knowledge that he was the first to back away from the intense wordless challenge he initiated with his eyes, indicating that you had won the small victory.

While his eyes were closed, you fully examined his face. Eyes first shamelessly raking over his hair, trailing down and over his closed eyes and settling on his parted lips. His coy smile now completely risen against his lips held a foreign beauty, the creases of his cheeks indicating such softness was not a common occurrence. He was intriguing, someone you would have considered pursuing should you have had more time between your usual meal at Baratie and the upcoming ferry you had booked to shepherd the remainder of your journey.

You shook your head, uncaring whether he would meet his intense gaze against yours again as you opened the pages of the novel you had begun reading on your journey out to sea, picking up where you last left off. The words whittled within the pages were of a variety of archery techniques and forms, a gift bestowed upon you by your favorite uncle - the one you held the most joy in rejoining with in Lougetown.

A gentle cough interrupts the passage you were skimming, drawing your attention up to the waiter beside you. He placed down in front of you a seasonal beverage, the steam rising from the rim wafting towards your nose to envelop your senses with its rich, velvety and creamy scent. You thanked the waiter as he placed an accompanying biscotti beside the treat, the crumbled texture littering the small side dish with pebbles of its buttery substance.

Reaching towards the handle, you raised the drink to your face, gently parting your lips and circling them to blow on the scorching liquid. After relinquishing your gentle blows to your particular satisfaction, you drew up the mug and took a quick sip of the contents. Immediately flooded by the indulgent flavor of the caramelized chocolate mixing with the creamy and decadent texture of the frothed milk. You sighed, breathing out your pleasure at being once again welcomed by the perfect combination of flavors offered to you at Baratie. Placing down again onto the circular, ceramic dish, you lifted your novel to continue reading from the last page you left of; blissfully ignorant or willfully ignoring the intense pair of eyes continuing to hold firm their locked gaze upon you.

“Something the matter, Zoro?” the Straw-Hat captain asked from beside the swordsman, clutching the bone of a perfectly prepared tomahawk steak within his right hand while chewing on the sinew, “you’ve been staring at that table for a long time now.” The swordsman remained quiet, not truly hearing the words spoken to him.

“”M’fine, Captain,” He mumbled. It was true, he had become entranced by the person he was currently inspecting. His bewitchment had only intensified as he witnessed your knowing and examining gaze falling to seek out the loud and joyous laughter falling in the air of the surroundings. You had to be a hunter, by the looks of you: whether it be seeking bounties, hunting animals or contesting mark-matching with the bow you allowed the fishman to leave with.

“You sure there, Moss-Head?” Sanji taunted him, his signature smirk ruffling the temperament of the swordsman further, “you seem awfully focussed on the-... -Oh. Oh, they’re quite pretty, aren’t they?” Zoro snapped his gaze up to focus on the chef whose head was now shamelessly pointed directly at you, eyes searching your body and examining him the way Zoro was trying hard not to.

“What of it, waiter?” he growled in a disinterested snarl. Sanji slowly dragged his gaze from your body over to face the swordsman once more, eyes darkening with a challenging intensity.

“I think they’re very pretty, indeed,” Sanji’s exposed brow twitched in an upturned flirtatious suggestion. Usopp smirked, leaning in on his elbows to get a better view of the show Sanji was absolutely going to engage against the swordsman while Nami shook her head. Rolling her eyes, she sat back to rest her shoulders against the plush booth, tilting her head down to shield her smirk to remain hidden in her expression of amusement at their rivalry.

“I think they’re so pretty, in fact,” Sanji snuck another glance at you, watching as you pursed your lips while turning another page of your novel, “I think I’m going to ask them to dance the next round.”

“What’d you say, waiter?” Zoro tilted his head, attempting to hold his composure and feign disinterest at the challenge. The subtle gruff anchor of his voice gave him away, Zoro winced at his own vocal tone. Sanji chuckled at the failed attempt, choosing to draw his elbows against the table and cradle his chin to rest atop his laced fingertips.

“It’s not like you’re man enough to ask her to dance, anyway,” Sanji’s smirk rose into a broader grin, relishing in Zoro’s physical reaction of sharpening his posture to rise against the jab. The blonde chef chuckled darkly, drawing his lips to press against his fingertips before suggesting with another jab: “Someone like that looks like they’d prefer to be held in the arms of a real man, not something like you, Demon.”

“I’ll let the two of you know when I see one,” the orange-haired navigator murmured in a low tone, her voice immediately capturing the attention of the two bickering crewmates. Usopp feigned pain, clutching at his heart briefly before nodding in confirmation of her comments: both flinging their heads back in unbridled laughter at the motion. Luffy continued to remain blissfully ignorant, finally sucking at the large bone to rid the object from all edible elements of the dish while offering a small laugh of his own. Although he truly had no idea why they were laughing at that moment, he was happy his crew was getting along - to the best of his knowledge, anyway.

That was the occasion after all: merriment and joyfulness being the central point of the entire reason for this celebration. Sanji and Zoro turned back to face each other again, eyes bearing an electric intensity as they met their rival’s challenge.

“No,” Zoro gruffly growled, his lips curling in a small snarl. Sanji arched his head to stretch out his neck, eyes closing as he felt a gentle ‘pop’ and sighing in reaction.

“You gonna actually approach them and ask them to dance?” Sanji lazily taunted him, his smirk returning, “or am I going to get there first?”

At that final nudge, Zoro was away from the table and almost stomping his heavy boots against the polished floorboards like a chastised toddler. Sanji chuckled at the response, reaching forward to claim a portion of the confit potatoes to place on his plate.

“I gotta know, man,” Usopp leant in towards Sanji, his broad smile rising to his cheeks, “were you that interested in them, or just wanted to get a rise from Zoro? I can never tell with you.”

“That’s my secret, Great Captain Usopp,” Sanji’s left corner of his lip curled up in a smirk with a playful glimmer in his eye returning, “I’m always interested in getting a rise out of him. Beautiful strangers are always a bonus. My favorite is when those two things are not mutually exclusive,” he chuckled, collecting an assortment of ingredients on his fork and raising the utensil up to his lips, “two birds with one stone, and all that.”

The thud of heavy boots alerted you to a figure closing the distance between themselves and your body. The thumps of the hard boots against the polished floor reverberated with a sense of danger. Patiently, with a sigh exiting your parted lips, you placed a small piece of parchment back into your novel to tab the chapter and slowly turned to look at the approaching figure.

“Can I help you?” you asked, a bored tone with a subtle air of cautious warning befalling your cadence. As you drew your eyes up, you noticed the same intense gaze from earlier falling to meet your sat position on the table. His eyebrow seemed to twitch, indicating slight agitation as his jaw was clenched tightly shut. Cocking your head to the side, you allowed a partial softness to grace your features as you danced your eyes between focussing on each of his hazelnut orbs.

“I-, uh-,” the man was stumbling over his words, unable to string a sentence of cohesion together. He raised his hand to the scruff of his neck, pinching the flesh with his calloused hands and grimacing at his expression.

“You?” you cooed up at him, a smirk rising once more to your lips. You shook your head, hair dancing at the small sway of movement. Your attention was once again captivated by him; the arrogant energy you had initially met your gaze with was dismantled under his apprehensive aura.

Zoro had every intention of proving how much of a ‘real man’ he was to his crew, although not so much of a display in masculinity; but more of a need to not allow Sanji the pleasure or satisfaction of flirting with someone so enchanting as you. He was going to simply offer his hand to you, smirk in a gesture to ask you to join him on the dance floor and parade you in front of his crew. But alas, as soon as his eyes met with yours once again; he felt helpless and small under your huntress eyes.

“Well, are you going to stand there all rigid, swordsman?” you taunted, reclining in your seat and resting your elbow atop the backrest, “Or are you going to take a seat?”

Again, Zoro found himself taken aback by your direct approach. He followed your index and middle finger as you gestured to the empty seat in front of you. He shook his head a little to rid him of his prior bewilderment and then apprehensively moved to withdraw the chair to take a seat. You took him in, watching his deliberate movements in the way he sat atop the chair: every action intentional. As he sat, he offered no conversation other than broody silence. His eyes would flitter over to check-in on his prior dining companions and grimacing as his gaze was met with taunting gestures from his crew.

“Friends of yours?” you asked him, brow arched and reaching for the handle of your mug.

“Something like that,” he uttered in a gruff tone, arms folding abrasively over his chest. You chuckled at his tone, taking a small sip from your mug and eyeing him deliberately.

“Care to share further, or would you prefer having another wordless exchange?” you placed the empty cup back down on the dish and offered another challenging smile. He snapped his eyes back to yours and his smirk rose again to his lips.

“They’re my crew,” his rumbly chuckle was withheld in his chest beneath his smirk, “I like half of them, but respect the lot of them.”

You hummed in response, index finger dancing atop the rim of your relinquished mug of hot chocolate. “Would you like to tell me more? I’m all ears about the ones you like and the ones you’re less fond of.”

Over the course of the next few hours, the swordsman and you would swap tales of travels throughout the East Blue and the Grand Line. Foes bested, beasts conquered and sorrows overcome: the tales of injuries you had both granted to opponents and received at the hands of them. He leant back against the back of his chair and slowly unbuttoned his shirt and hooked his fingers within the collar and hemline of his shirt to draw it back to showcase proudly to you. You felt your breath hitching in your throat at not only the physique of the swordsman, but in awe at the large healed mark slashed across his torso. You felt utterly ill-seasoned with your smaller indents of arrows and thrown dagger marks littering your shoulders. As you hooked your middle finger in your left shoulder strap and coyly revealed the small silver, healed markings, Zoro was held captivated by the marks to showcase your tales of battle.

Enamored, awestruck and enchanted; you both held a small lilt of encaptured silence, leaning in on your forearms against the white tablecloth and gazing into the eyes of one another. Respecting your mutual combatant skill, both you and Zoro’s eyes fell half-lidded in adoration as you held each other’s undivided attention.

The music and merriment fell into a slow tune, reflective of the seasonal tradition Baratie was attempting to celebrate with succession. Zoro was the first to break the silence between you, placing his left hand on the table with his palm up.

“Would you wanna dance?” he asked, his drawl gruff but attempting to remain polite in his request. You smiled, reaching your right hand to fall within his own, his hand immediately circling around your fingers firmly. His thumb circled over your four fingers, caressing his calloused and experienced hands over your skin.

“You don’t seem like much of a dancer, Zoro,” you commented, both rising to your feet. He drew you in close. Keeping his left hand extended upwards, and raking his right over the mid of your back to draw your torso flush with his, he uttered: “I’m not, but it seemed appropriate. Considering the holiday, and all.”

“Ah, yes. We never did quite get to discussing what all this,” you gestured with your chin, smiling at the decorations surrounding the room, “was all about.”

“I’m not really sure on the minor details,” he shrugged, awkwardly swaying you to the music, “Cap’n just said something about different traditions needing to be incorporated. Something about food, music, dancing, and decoration-...-oh. Oh, no-.”

You furrowed your brows, looking up at the roof to follow after his risen gaze. A small sprig of white, pearled flowers hung over your heads, accompanied by sage-coloured oblong leaves wrapped in ribbons of satin and twine. You cocked your head, left brow raising in curiosity at the flowers and their significance. Drawing your gaze back to the swordsman in front of you, you noticed he was stooping himself all the more closer to you.

“What are you doing, swordsman?” you questioned, halting him in his descention towards you.

“This is one of those traditions,” he said, unlacing your right hand from his left and wordlessly asking with his eyes for permission to cradle your cheek within his palm. You looked at the hand first, then drew your eyes back up to meet his intense gaze. Smiling, you placed your cheek into his awaiting palm while holding his gaze firmly against your own.

“Touching a stranger’s face beneath strange flowers is a strange tradition,” you furrowed your brows at him once more in curiosity.

“Kissing them beneath strange flowers,” he corrected you, leaning to join his lips immediately against your own. A small squeak fled from your lips, eyes widening as you felt the intensity falling from his chapped lips onto your own.

This was not how you pictured your return to Baratie to go at all. Sure, you had dreamed of meeting a handsome stranger and sharing an embrace with them. The stars just never aligned for you in any way that drew you close enough to share a kiss with them, only ever moments of story swapping or sharing a meal or two with many travelers accompanying you.

You allowed yourself to become relaxed into the embrace, reaching your hands up to circle his neck below the assortment of flowers. His brows furrowed in concentration as he inhaled sharply through his nose in reaction to your reciprocation. You smiled, closing your eyes and tickling the scruff of his neck beneath your fingertips; lacing his untamed sea-sprayed locks within them. He expertly opened your mouth to taste more of your lips by angling his chin upwards against your own. A small groan rumbled within his chest, passing from his mouth to fall against your own as he continued to cradle you against himself.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from his embrace with your eyes remaining closed. You felt a small pause falling with his next actions, before you felt a warm forehead press against your own. You reopened your eyes, your half-lidded and lazy smile mirrored against the face of the swordsman you just shared a kiss with.

Interrupting your embrace, an announcement was called over the speakers. The crackle of cables and wires sprung to life within the metal relay, alerting you with a vocal command: “The next vessel to Lougetown has arrived. All those traveling to Lougetown, report to the peer with your documents. Next vessel to Lougetown will depart in twenty minutes.”

“That’s me, unfortunately,” you sighed, eyes remaining closed but lips drawn up in a wide smile.

“Business in Lougetown?” Zoro’s whisper rumbled within his chest.

“Something like that,” you withdrew your forehead from its place resting against his own, “much akin to your crew, although I’m held attached by biological relation.”

“Anyone I’d know?” Zoro smirked, eyes remaining partly glazed over enamored by your small daliance.

“I never ‘name drop’, swordsman,” you cooed up at him while unlacing your arms from his embrace, “but if you’re in the general area,” you retrieved your belongings from your table and laced your handbag and novel over your shoulder, “I’ll be at the G-5 Marine Base with my uncle for the next month for training.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” he smirked, eyes upturning to indicate his joy at the thought of meeting with you once again.

#x reader #one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x you #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #xmas fic #opla xmas #mistletoe

236 notes · View notes

turtletaubwrites · 3 months

Text

A Good Catch ~ Part 2

Thank you so much for all of your support! This was part of my 600 Followers Celebration, and I am so happy y'all voted for Shanks. I adore him 🥰

Pairings: Shanks x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5030

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 (End)

Ao3 Link

Summary: You've got a few burning questions for this charming captain, but soon you'll be answering his. Is it really safe to trust a pirate?

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, Flirting, Alcohol, Brief Discussion of Family Trauma, Hair Pulling, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Unprotected Sex, (Be safe out there), Birth Control, Aftercare, Shanks is such a fucking tease

A/N: I just love this hungover pirate 😅

A key pressed into your palm. A gentle hand on your lower back. A whispered demonstration, keeping your secret.

Shanks stared at you through the doorway, looking down the hall before grabbing your chin with his thumb, another slow smile on those lips.

“Sweet dreams.”

His eyes crinkled as all you could do was nod, watching him walk away down that lantern lit hall.

The key still held the warmth of his skin.

Fuck.

The metal thumped onto wood as you tossed it on the desk, shoving the chair under the doorknob, just like he’d shown you.

Exhaustion pulled you down, and you rolled yourself into soft blankets, grateful that your mind only had the energy for a few more conflicting thoughts before sleep took you.

He’s done everything he can to make me feel safe.

He’s a pirate.

His crew are all so kind, it feels like they’re a family.

He’s a pirate.

He’s gorgeous, and funny, and sweet, even though he’s annoying as fuck.

But he’s a pirate. And he’ll be leaving in three days. I’ll never see him again.

Dreams of life on the high seas left you foggy in the morning, panic running through you until you remembered where you were.

Thank gods there’s a bathroom in here.

The guest quarters didn’t have a shower, but the toilet, mirror, and sink were a godsend. Cringing at your hair, you got to work, managing to tame it before you climbed back into Shanks’ clothes.

They smell like him.

Resisting the urge to sniff his shirt took more willpower than you’d like to admit.

Quiet.

There was hardly a sound on the entire ship as you struggled to remember the way out.

“Mornin,” came a gruff voice on the deck, waving from his perch on the railing. The light of the sunrise made his brown skin and dark blonde dreads seem to glow.

You would have thought he was attractive if your eyes hadn’t gone wide at the two large pistols on his hips.

“You’re up early,” he continued, tilting his body and moving his hands away from his weapons.

“Fisherwoman,” you choked out.

“That’s right,” he laughed, standing to take a few slow steps toward you. “I’m Yassop. I can bring you down to the beach if you’d like, but I'm sure everyone’s still snoring like sea lions.”

“Is the captain down there?”

“Oh, he’s down there,” Yassop teased, his smirk making you clench your teeth. “Yours might be the only face that could wake him up this early.”

“And why’s that,” you growled, following him across the deck.

“Oh no, I’m not getting into the captain’s business.”

You scowled at the chuckling marksman all the way down to the beach.

“Wake up.”

Shanks whined, weakly batting away the driftwood stick you were poking into his chest. You definitely weren’t getting distracted by the pull of those muscles as he stretched on his makeshift hammock.

The camp looked just as it did last night, except that every mug, plate, and pirate was now on the ground, quiet and still besides the orchestra of snores that Yassop hadn’t exaggerated.

“Get up.”

Shanks rubbed his hand over his face, somehow managing to look stunning even as he struggled to get his eyes open.

“Ugh, fish girl,” he yawned, keeping his hand over his eyes now, blocking out the light. “Are we under attack?”

“What? No. I need to talk to you.”

He peeked through his fingers at you, the hint of that teasing smile already showing.

“If you wanna spend time with me, all you have to do is– ow!”

Another quick jab to those lovely pecs had Shanks rolling out of the hammock, hanging onto your shoulder as he wobbled on his feet.

The driftwood stick fell to the ground as his pretty eyes, heavy lidded with sleep, came so close to yours.

“Sorry,” he rasped, letting his hand trail down your arm before letting you go. “Somebody woke me up too early.”

“I guess pirates are just lazy degenerates after all,” you said flatly, holding in the shivers his touch had caused.

“Degenerates,” he laughed softly, rubbing along his brow as he took in the sight of his hungover men sprawled across the sand. “I suppose that’s fair.”

Groaning, you picked up the stick, gasping as his hand gripped yours. He trapped your fingers around the dry wood, tracing his thumb along your knuckles as he prevented you from poking him.

“Please, fish girl, have pity on an old–” he cut himself off at your frown, “on a handsome, young, very hungover pirate.”

He chuckled as you tried to wrest yourself from his grasp, and he didn’t let you go this time.

“I can’t think this early, love. Not without breakfast, or a shower at least.”

“Fine, let's go take a– I mean you! You take a shower! You’re all sandy…”

His laughter followed you as you stomped your way back to his stupid ship.

Shanks’ laughter had been replaced by more whines as he held his hand over his eyes, getting you lost in the ship on the way to the bathing room.

Finally at the large door to that tiled room, the shaky captain spun to face you. He managed to catch himself on the door frame as he stumbled, then leaned against it as if it were on purpose.

You rolled your eyes as he pulled a scarf from his pocket, dangling it in front of your face.

“Guard the door for me?”

“What? Why?”

“Guess I’ll just go back to slee–”

“Fine,” you said through gritted teeth, grabbing the scarf as you slid to the floor. “Aren’t you too tired to be this annoying?”

“Not in the slightest.”

You could feel him crouch beside you, and saw his feet beneath the blindfold.

He traced around the scarf to check your work, rubbing his thumb along your temple before tugging the fabric further down your nose.

“No peeking,” he purred, and you hoped he hadn’t seen your toes curling, your feet still bare without clean shoes.

“Like I’d want to.”

“Lying is bad for the soul, fish girl,” he teased, tapping the tip of your nose with a finger before heading inside. The sound of his satisfied laughter made you want to crawl out of your skin.

Sitting there, listening to the rush of water as this man showered on the other side of the door, was making you absolutely insane.

He’s a pirate. He’s here for a reason. I can’t get distracted.

“Sorry, I forgot to bring a change of clothes,” his deep voice poured through the door. “Someone interrupted my beauty sleep.”

“So?”

“So, I’m in a towel, we’ll have to stop by my quarters. You can keep the blindfold on if you like.”

“You’ll get us lost again,” you complained, pushing yourself to your feet as you pulled the scarf from your face. “Besides, your shirts show practically your whole torso anyway, so it won’t be much different.”

The door opened wide, Shanks’ smile even wider as your lips parted.

“You really like my shirts, don’t you?”

You managed to frown at him as he grabbed his sandy clothes and shoes, holding them against his hip, just a towel around his waist.

And that line of dark, red hair.

“Mind closing the door for me, darlin’?”

You jolted out of your stupor, shutting the door before following him down the hall.

Some water still dripped from his hair, slow rivulets flowing down the muscles of his upper back, some trailing even further…

“What,” you chirped, trying to remember what he’d just said.

He clicked his tongue a few times, shaking his head to let more shining drops of water dance down his skin.

“Waking the captain up early just to ignore him? Did all your manners fall off your boat with your missing oar?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, standing to face him in front of the door to his quarters.

Shanks was not doing well at suppressing his self satisfied grin, and you were having trouble focusing on anything at all.

“Will you get the door for me, love?”

“Why,” you countered, still trying to keep your eyes glued to his face.

“You really argue about everything, don’t you?”

He shook his head, then dropped his clothes and shoes to the floor. The sound of the shoes startled you, bringing your eyes down.

Just in time to see his towel slipping, more of that dark red hair traveling down before you squeaked, turning around and clamping your eyes shut.

Shanks brushed past, the heat of his body, the scent of his skin, so close. He paused behind you as he opened the door, and you couldn’t hide your small gasp as he breathed that deep, dangerous voice along your neck.

“Guess you should have kept the blindfold on.”

You held your breath as you tried not to shake, listening as he moved away. Soft chuckles teased you through the air as he shut the door.

Breath came back to you, heavy, and too loud, as you turned to find his clothes and the damp towel on the ground.

It had just happened, but the memory of him breathing on your skin with nothing on his own sent heat twisting in your core.

He’s a pirate. He’s leaving. I’ll never see him again.

Shanks came out with a smirk, the shirt he’d chosen today not tucked or buttoned at all, just the sleeve tied off at his missing arm.

“What’s the point of wearing a shirt at all,” you huffed, taking the change of clothes he offered.

“Because you seem to enjoy it so much,” he called through the door as you changed.

It felt like your head was about to explode with all the shit he was doing to you. It was embarrassing, and you had to focus.

You crossed your arms when you faced him in the hallway, trying to shut down every part of your brain that wanted to fucking giggle when he looked at you.

“What are you–”

“That color looks good on you,” he hummed with a crooked smile, tugging the rolled up fabric of his shirt at your elbow.

You stuttered, but he turned on his heel.

“W-Wait!”

“Let’s talk over breakfast.”

That stupid red hair walking away almost made you scream.

The Red Hair Pirates were in various stages of wakefulness now, but many were already drinking, laughing, and singing as if the night had never ended.

Shanks moved through them with an effortless joy, clasping hands, patting backs, laughing and joking with every crew member that wasn’t still passed out.

That dingy table. Mismatched chairs. Surprisingly good food.

A knee that kept brushing against yours, rubbing along your thigh everytime he turned to talk to you.

He was pushing all the boundaries. And you’d let him. You pulled him in last night, and now he was playing, testing, torturing you.

But you knew he would stop if you asked.

How can I trust someone so fast?

“You wanted to talk about something,” he asked, leaning back after his last bite.

His wicked grin made you regret asking to speak in private.

Warm sand slowly shook from your feet as you crawled over rough stone. Shanks whined a few more times after you led him away from camp, but soon he was walking beside you, with another breathtaking smile. Now and then over the gentle waves, you swore you heard him humming the notes to a song.

“Y/N, look at this one,” he laughed, pointing to another tide pool.

You sat on the rock beside it, the hint of a smile on your lips as he joined you.

So close.

“So what did you wanna talk about,” he asked, voice still soft like those soothing waves. He reached out to hand you a little stone he’d picked up.

The warm stone fell into your palm, helping you stay present as you rolled it between your fingers.

“What are you doing on my island,” you questioned, finally meeting those pretty eyes. “You said you have business here, and I need to know that you aren’t endangering my home.”

“Endanger–,” he cut himself off with a laugh, his brows furrowing as he shook his head at you. “You didn’t need to make up excuses if you wanted to spend the day with me, fish girl.”

“Shut up,” you growled, fighting not to let his annoying charms distract you this time. “You’re pirates. You said you had business on this side of the island for three days. What are you doing here?”

“I did say ‘business,’ didn’t I,” he mused, nodding to himself before looking across the beach.

“Well,” you pushed, struggling as he met your eyes, his face so relaxed, amused.

“This is it,” he gestured vaguely, his crooked smile giving you a headache.

“What do you mean? You mean your business is here, at this beach?”

“No, Y/N,” he rasped, grabbing your hand and squeezing it, the little stone pressing into your palm. “This is it.”

He nodded toward the camp, and let out a sigh.

“We’re on vacation.”

This smile of his made him look like a little kid that got caught stealing sweets. You blinked at him.

After a long pause, he took his hand from yours, bringing it to your chin to push your mouth closed.

“Don’t fucking mess with me.”

Your voice came out rough as you pushed yourself back, almost slipping into a tide pool as you stood.

“I swear I’m not messing with you,” he let out with a small groan as he stood. He moved in close before he wobbled his head back and forth. “Well, I’m not messing with you about that.”

“Fuck you,” you seethed, head going foggy with the overwhelming flood of emotions from the last day.

Shanks moved in slowly with his arm outstretched as if he were trying to calm a frightened animal. Or a child.

And you acted like a child, frustrated tears burning in your eyes, hitting your fists against his chest as he got too close.

“Stop lying to me! Please don’t hurt people here, please don’t–”

“Shh, shh,” he hushed you gently, somehow managing to hold you against him with one arm, your hands shaking between your warm bodies.

“We’re not here to hurt anyone. I swear on my life, and the lives of my crew. All we wanna do is relax until we have nothing left to drink. Then we’ll buy up all the booze your village has to sell, and be on our way. Plus food and whatnot, but–”

Your ragged breaths brought that spicy scent of him into your lungs, your forehead falling against his chest as you started to calm. A bit.

“Are you telling me,” you growled against his skin, “that you took me hostage while you all go on a three day bender?”

You felt his laugh as he held you to him, resting his cheek on your head for a moment before releasing you.

“We didn’t take you hostage. You paid for a ride.” He held up his hand as your mouth opened, itching to argue.

“Besides, fish girl,” he teased gently, “after hearing your story last light, it sounds like you could use a vacation too. When’s the last time you had any fun?”

“I have fun, asshole. Quit changing the subject.”

“Lying’s bad for the soul,” he hummed, touching the tip of your nose again.

The energy drained from your body, and you left him to climb off the rock, falling onto your back in the sand.

“So what do you do for fun?”

Shanks’ husky voice rolled over you. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know that he’d sat behind your head, leaning over your face as he spoke.

“I’ll have fun once I get off this shitty island.”

Finally, the pirate stayed quiet. Waiting. Until those rough fingers smoothed the hair from your face.

You didn’t stop him as he traced along your skin, letting relaxation wash over you. He moved from your temples, your cheeks, your jaw, behind your ears. Making sure to move his hand to both sides, evening out his slow caresses.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you confessed, fighting the heat of tears rising in your throat. You rolled that little stone in your fingers, the motion soothing your nerves.

“Why’s that?”

“... Because I’m ‘Fish Girl.”

Shanks paused, and you wondered if he’d stifled a laugh.

“What do you mean,” he asked, voice like the gentle waves just a few paces away.

It all came spilling from your lips. He listened to everything, fingers still tracing your skin.

All the pain. Your mom leaving you with grandma, never coming back. You were so young, and it didn’t feel that bad at the time. You didn’t understand.

Grandma would tell you stories, you’d sit together on her boat for hours and hours. She taught you how to fish before you were strong enough to reel anything in.

“That sounds wonderful,” he said, his voice somehow telling you there was a smile on his face.

“It was. But kids are mean. I didn’t know we were poor until I went to school. I didn’t know I stank all the time until they called me ‘fish girl.”

His fingers tensed on your skin, a guilty pause before he kept up his soothing touch.

“I never relax. I’m always working because I want a better life. All those mean kids grew up with me in our shitty little village. A few have tried to connect now that we’re older, but I don’t feel like it. I’m still 'fish girl.”

Shanks started to speak, but you cut him off.

“I know they were just kids, but they were brutal. I was a kid too, and I could never imagine hurting anyone the way they hurt me. I don’t want to be friends with those people.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

A heavy sigh left your lips, then a small gasp as his hand moved to the side of your neck, the touch of those fingers more satisfying than anything you could remember.

“Fishing used to be something I loved. But since grandma’s been gone, I can only bring in half of what we used to. It’s not enough to save anything. I wanted to sell that stupid fish so bad,” you admitted with a laugh, a deep hum coming from the listening pirate.

“Where do you wanna go,” he asked, his fingers trailing into your hair.

“I want to go somewhere where I can love fishing again. I want to live stories like grandma did. I want to be a fisherwoman. I don’t want to be ‘fish girl’ anymore.”

The loss of his touch was heavier than you expected.

“Come on.”

You opened your eyes to meet his, shining at you over his outstretched hand.

Tucking the stone in your pocket, you let him help you up, surprising yourself with a laugh as he shook the sand from your hair.

“Well, I’d say you deserve a vacation. What do ya say?”

Laughing at his silly wiggling eyebrows, you nodded, giving a breathy “okay,” as he took your hand.

He leaned over you as you walked, sending shivers across your skin as his breath touched your ear.

“Fisherwoman is a mouthful, so I’m gonna keep calling you ‘damsel.”

“No, you won’t,” you commanded. You cursed at him as he giggled, dropping your hand to run toward the camp.

“You sound like you’re in distress, do you need help,” he yelled back.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

You chased his laughing form until he slowed, grinning at you as he started to walk backwards.

The look on his face when you launched yourself at him would be seared into your mind forever. You both grunted as he toppled onto his back, his arm hanging onto your waist as you fell together.

The look on his face with you straddling him in the sand was even better.

Your hands had planned to slap him, but those eyes, those lips, and that look of joyful surprise did you in.

That gentle hand fisted roughly into your hair as you crashed your lips onto his. A quiet, needy moan left your throat, and his answering growl made your eyes roll back.

Thunderous cheers erupted from the crew, and you almost looked up at the camp until his fingers gripped your hair tighter, making your thighs clench around his waist.

He pulled you away gently, his parted lips and near frantic eyes matching yours.

“You sure,” he checked in, voice barely audible over the singing and shouting pirates. “Let’s get away from the crowd.”

Shanks kept looking over at you, that crooked smile following you back to the ship. He kept asking what you’d like to do, where you’d like to go.

“These clothes are sandy,” you noted, your voice low. “We should go to your room to change.”

He came in for a kiss, his deep voice rolling over you.

“We’re sandy too. We should probably shower.”

“Okay,” you agreed, melting under his dark eyes.

He pushed your sandy hair aside when you reached the door to the bathing room, kissing and nibbling from the crook of your neck to your ear, holding your waist as your knees went weak.

“Should we take turns guarding the door,” he rasped while your hands smoothed over the muscles around his waist and lower back.

“No.”

Practically stumbling through the door as you tried to keep touching each other, you stood in the center of that tiled room, and tore the clothes off of each other's skin.

There were no worries in your mind right now, just the electric touch of his hand and lips over each part of your body as it was revealed.

You cried out as you felt the hard length of him through his pants before you'd freed him from the fabric.

“You want me that much already, sweetheart?”

The urge to bicker was overridden as you pulled his pants from his skin, his thick cock springing up toward his stomach.

The need to touch him overwhelmed you, and you wrapped your hands around him, loving the moan he let out at your touch.

“Let’s shower, damsel,” he choked out as he kissed your cheek. “I need to bring you to the bed, now.”

That delicious smelling soap coated your skin, giving you an excuse to explore as you washed each other’s bodies. With as much of the sand and soap gone as possible, Shanks pushed you against the wall, his fingers traveling up your thigh.

“I thought you said you’re bringing me to the bed?”

“Just a minute,” he pleaded, teasing fingers until you nodded.

“Still this wet after washing it all away?”

Those rough fingers rubbed along your clit, his name dropping from your lips in needy moans.

“Mm, keep saying my name like that, beautiful,” he rasped, plunging in one finger, then two as your back arched against the cool, tile wall.

“Shanks, please…”

“Please what? What does my damsel need?”

“Take me– fuck. Take me to bed.”

You gasped as his fingers left you, finding his mouth as he sucked the taste of you off of his skin.

He tossed you a towel, kicking the clothes into a corner.

“Come on.”

“Wait,” you called, rushing to that pile of sandy fabric.

His crooked grin made you blush as he watched you grab that silly little stone.

“Come on,” he whispered onto your lips after pulling you into a deep kiss.

A trail of water followed your path, practically running and gasping with laughter all the way to his quarters.

He didn’t get you lost this time.

Now he was the one calling for you to wait as your hand reached for the door.

“We don’t have to do anything, Y/N. We can still relax and have fun together. Please, tell me if you’re not comfor—“

“Take me to bed, Captain,” you demanded, walking through the door before him.

The only answer he gave was to slam it closed, then wrap himself around your back, kissing your neck until you moaned.

“Shanks…”

“Yes, sweetheart,” he said before licking and nibbling at your earlobe.

“I don’t know,” you laughed, arching against him. “I just wanted to say your name.

The deep rumble that came through his chest had that pressure building in your core. His hand grasped yours, until you opened to give him the stone.

You stood smiling with your eyes closed until he pressed himself against your back again.

He pulled at your damp towel, then trailed that perfect hand down the front of your body, feeling everywhere he’d touched under that warm water and delicious soap.

Those fingers found you again, slipping easily in the dripping mess he’d already made of you.

“Mm, so wet. So good for me, aren’t you, beautiful?”

All you could do was whimper as he circled your clit, until you cried out at the towel covered press of him along your ass.

“Please…”

“What darlin’? Tell me what I can do for my damsel?”

His raspy voice was too much, and you gasped as he palmed your needy pussy to hold you up as your knees went weak.

He chuckled in your ear as he kept grinding the meat of his palm against you.

“Please, Y/N, please tell me what you need. I’ve got you.”

His whisper brought desperate tears prickling in your eyes until you could finally speak.

“Fuck me now, Shanks. Fuck right fucking now, or I’ll never forgive you.”

He grabbed you, easily moving your weight with one hand until you fell back onto the edge of the bed.

He left you then, digging though his desk, tossing things out of drawers in a frantic search.

“I said right fucking now,” you demanded, still breathless.

“Yes, but—“

“I’m on birth control. Now hurry up before I find another pirate—“

Your sentence ended in a yelp as he pounced on you, his thick cock rubbing through your folds as he ate your moans.

“Don’t go saying shit like that again,” he rasped as his dark eyes bore down on yours.

“You’re the one who keeps calling me damsel. If you’re not going to help me—“

A filthy moan left your lips as he guided his tip to rub circles over your clit.

“Oh, I’ll be helping you plenty, don’t worry sweetheart,” he promised, this dark smile of his going in your list of favorites.

“What was that you said about ‘right fucking now,” he taunted, giving you no time to brace for the press of him.

He worked his way in slowly, putting your leg over his shoulder while he watched your face.

“How’s that sweetie,” he teased, his own voice breathy and desperate now as his hips finally met yours. “Is this what my girl needed?”

“Fuck, Shanks. Fuck me please.”

“You are a very demanding woman, you know that?”

Any retort you would have had died in your throat as you screamed, his deep thrusts making your toes curl.

“So fucking gorgeous. Gods, Y/N, you take my cock so well.”

Shanks gripped your thigh against his chest, pressing it to him until he locked you into place.

“Oh right there, sweetheart? I’ll help my pretty girl right there, just say my name again.”

He hit that sweet spot inside you over and over as if it belonged to him, claiming it, taking it back. Every word from his lips felt like vibrating pleasure down your skin, and in no time at all, you were screaming his name, arching your back against those red sheets as you fell apart.

He fucked you through your orgasm, sweet praise almost impossible to understand as your mind disappeared.

“You feel so good coming on my cock, you made such a beautiful mess. You're gonna go again for me now, okay?”

He chuckled at the pathetic whine from your lips, but never stopped his rhythm.

“Please, pretty damsel? I helped you out. Now let me watch those dainty fingers on your clit. Let me feel you milk my cock one more time before I fill you up.”

He moaned along with you as your body clenched around his.

You couldn’t argue with that heated smile. His hungry eyes watched your fingers slide over your clit, scraping his lip between his teeth as he tightened his arm around your thigh.

“Just like that. Let me see my girl come on my cock again. Fuck... You feel so good, so fucking good for me, baby.”

“Shanks, you feel… I’m close.”

“I know, sweetheart, can you feel me too? Come for me, I’m gonna— fuuckk…”

Shanks leaned over you, shoving himself as deep as he could go. Pleasure ripped through your body as you clawed at his back, more screams filling the air.

The sensation of both of you coming at once, your body milking his as he spilled ropes of heat inside you, had your mouth slack, body limp and useless as you twitched together.

Shanks leaned his forehead against yours, staying hilted within you as he caught his breath.

You gave him a droopy smile as he lifted his head, and he laughed before covering your face in kisses while you squirmed.

This made both your bodies twitch again, moaning as he pulled himself out of you.

He grabbed one of the damp towels as he knelt at the foot of the bed, kissing your thighs as he gently cleaned your sensitive skin.

“Stop,” you begged weakly as his soft touches across you body kept your aftershocks going.

The mattress shifted under his weight, bouncing you lightly until he pulled you up the bed onto his chest. His arm wrapped around you, still leaving lazy circles of touch across your back and hip.

“Now what,” you whispered, fighting to keep the real world from invading your brain.

“Anything my damsel wants,” he hummed, leaving a soft kiss against your still damp hair. “Your vacation’s only just started.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Hi, I have once again gone INSANE over another One Piece character. I need help. Someone please lock me away.

Part 3

#shanks x reader #red haired shanks #x reader #reader insert #fem!reader #one piece x reader #one piece fics #turtletaub fics #follower celebration #fic requests #mine #fluff #one piece fluff #shanks fluff #shanks fics #shanks smut #one piece smut #smut #use of y/n

227 notes · View notes

talewrites · 2 months

Text

Fragile Part 6

😈😈😈

(This chapter got too long- I had to cut it short,,,, :]]] Enjoy!)

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’, 'miss', and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, blood, electrocution, graphic depictions of torture, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Today you were spending time with Donnie while he worked in front of his monitors. You liked it there much better than in his lab. He had a map of the city up with little marks indicating spots where the Foot had been spotted. But that wasn’t what he was working on right now.

No, you and Donnie were doing much more important things at the moment.

Like playing the new update in Stardew Valley.

“Fishing mods are cheating.”

You gawked at him in mock offense. “But you can’t pause in a multiplayer farm, there’s no time to play the fishing mini game!!”

“That’s why it’s more of a challenge!” He stuck his tongue out while he clicked his mouse rapidly to fight off a slime in the mines.

You pouted, adjusting the laptop in your lap. “I don’t need my cozy farming sim to be challenging…”

Donnie did not miss the cute grin that graced your face after, his heart fluttering in his chest.

These past few days you found yourself smiling more and more easily. Whether it was Mikey getting covered in flour while you baked cookies together, or Raph teaching you how to purl stitch, or Leo showing you how to wield a sword. You were enjoying spending more personal time with the turtles as you got to know them better.

Your toes curled where you were perched in the chair beside Donnie, glancing up at the map again. Your eyes always drawn to the blinking red dot marking the location of the lab you escaped only weeks before. The police had raided it and found it empty, which only increased your unease as to where Dr Stockman might be hiding. It already felt like a lifetime ago, that night when the turtles first found you.

You owed them your life.

“Hey (y/n), you almost ready for afternoon training?” Leo came over, snapping you out of your thoughts. Leo leaned against the back on Donnie’s chair, earning a dismissive swat from his younger brother.

“We’ll stop after we finish up this day, Leo.” Donnie said not even taking his eyes off the screen. You giggled and got back to fishing on the beach.

You were two hours into your training session with Leo.

“Okay, good. Now when you kick, focus on your balance. Stay firmly planted and your leg should have more power.” Leo coached you.

Master Splinter was supervising while sipping his tea. It had barely been 5 days since your mutant abilities had manifested. But you were already making astounding progress in unlocking its potential. Leonardo had played a big part in the process, being the one who had helped you work through your fears of using your mutant reflexes, so the abilities came more easily to you when training. He trained with you every day, while Master Splinter provided guidance. Everyone was doing their best to support you through all the changes.

Casey suddenly jogged in through the entrance of the lair.

“Guys! Just got word, the Foot are planning to rob a warehouse full of high tech weapons tonight. We gotta go intercept it.” He said waving around his cellphone.

“What? Where? Their communication frequency has been quiet since they moved those chemicals to the old Sacks building!” Donnie spun around in his chair to face Casey, you and Leo walking into the living room with Raph and Mikey close behind.

“Queens. Our contact in the Foot Clan leaked the info to us just half an hour ago.”

“Huh, that’s strange. That’s all the way on the other side of town. Aside from Sacks Tower, they’ve only really been active around the East Village and ChinaTown this past week. Maybe they changed their frequency again to throw us off track.” Donnie was quickly typing up info on his keyboard.

“Well, regardless, we better go check it out.” Leo sighed. He wanted to keep training with you, but it would have to wait.

“Heck yeah! I’m bringin’ the steak-out snacks. Who wants Doritos?” Mikey grabbed his ratty old Jansport backpack and started shoving cans of Orange Crush into it.

“(Y/n), you stay here and keep an eye on Donnie’s computer. The Foot might try to communicate about their raid tonight. Donnie’s program will intercept it. April will be here in about an hour, so just tell her if anything suspicious comes up.” Leo asked you.

“Right!” You said standing to attention and giving a military salute with a silly little grin on your face.

It made Leo’s heart melt in his chest and his expression turned soft.

“Just, stay safe, okay?” He patted you on the head then headed for the exit.

As the rest of the boys filed out of the lair, they each stopped by you. Mikey getting a high five, you quickly cleaned Donnie’s glasses for him, and Raph, always last, ducked down for a quick hug when his brothers weren’t looking. Casey rushed ahead of them.

Master Splinter waved goodbye to his sons next to you. Once the boys had left, he informed you he was going to go meditate, and to come find him if you needed anything.

About 45 minutes later, you were casually watching YouTube videos on Donnie’s computer when a flashing red light appeared on the screen. It was indicating that Donnie’s program was intercepting a message from the Foot’s closed communication server. A message popped up on the screen, and you gasped.

“We have captured the turtles. Continue with the plan.”

Then a video feed loaded up on the main screen.

Your blood ran cold.

It looked like the feed from a security camera, depicting Leo, Mikey, and Donnie all locked in glass cages, restrained with thin tubes of red connected to their arms. They looked weak, they looked bad.

“What….? No… No, not this… please no…!”

Where was Raphael? He was nowhere to be seen. How did they get captured so fast…? They had barely been gone an hour!

Your mind was racing. You recognized those machines. Dr Stockman used them to take blood samples from Bebop and Rocksteady. If that was the case, there was no time to lose.

You made up your mind.

You snuck past the dojo and muttered a quick apology to Master Splinter. You knew Master Splinter wouldn’t let you go, so you kept quiet. Then you grabbed the handheld GPS device Donnie left on his work table. You entered the location on the map where the message was sent from.

The old Sacks Tower.

Time to move.

April arrived at the lair much later than expected. She and Casey had just finished speaking to the commissioner about police activities being leaked to the Foot. When they entered the living room, they were confused to only see Master Splinter waiting for them. The old rat was pacing and anxiously stroking his beard.

“Splinter? Where’s (y/n)?” April asked, confused.

Splinter shook his head.

“You don’t know where they are?” April became concerned, walking further into the lair.

“It appears, that our greatest fears have been realized.” His expression deeply troubled. Before April could ask, she noticed what Splinter was looking at.

Playing in a loop on Donatello’s monitor was old CCTV footage from when the turtles had been captured 10 years ago by Shredder and Mr Sacks. April breathed a sigh of relief, immediately recognizing the scene.

“Splinter, the turtles are safe. I spoke to Leo on the phone only 10 minutes ago. They’re staking out a warehouse in Queens. This is old footage.”

Splinter’s eyes widened and looked back to the screen. His expression turned contemplative.

“If that is so, then perhaps Miss (y/n) has made the same mistake.” He spoke gravely.

April had a look of shock. She quickly pulled out her phone and speed dialed Leo’s number.

Leo thankfully answered quickly. “Hey April, anything new?”

“Leo, is (y/n) with you?”

Leo paused a long moment and sent a look over to his brothers, getting their attention. “No…. Aren’t they at the lair?” All of his brother's eyes were suddenly on him. Leo turned the phone on speaker.

“No!! They’re gone. And there’s a video playing on Donnie’s computer. It’s a recording of you Mikey and Donnie locked up at Sacks’ estate from over 10 years ago… I think this is what (y/n) saw before they left.”

“They left?” Leo felt his heart drop into his stomach. “To go where, Sacks’ estate?” His brothers immediately started packing up their stakeout equipment to leave.

“No I don’t think so, the sender’s location was tracked, it’s still on the screen. It says it was sent from Sack Tower in Times Square.”

Donnie came over and joined in the call, typing furiously at the keyboard on his wrist. “Sacks Tower. That’s where they were spotted smuggling those stolen chemicals into the other day…! From my notifications, it appears that the message was sent through an older Foot Clan communication frequency approximately 43 minutes ago.”

“Donnie, how long will it take (y/n) to get to Sacks Tower.”

“From my calculations, if (y/n) left the lair heading to the Sacks building about 40 minutes ago, going by subway, they should arrive in about uhhh, approximately 8 minutes.”

“And how long will it take us to get there.” Raph asked.

“From where we are now, if we manage to hitch a ride on the next nonstop train to Times Square…… about 1 and a half hours.”

“Shit!”

Raph cursed loudly and turned away frustrated, and Mikey put his hands on his head. Donnie was typing away at the keypad on his arm, trying to find any kind of faster route and muttering about how stupid he was for not making you a shellcell.

“We don’t have a minute to waste. Let’s move out.”

That’s all they needed to hear. Everyone sprung into action and booked it for the closest subway station manhole cover.

“April, we are headed to Sacks Tower as fast as we can. And get ahold of the police commissioner again. Whoever gave us the information to come to this warehouse tonight was intentionally planted with misinformation. There was no sign of the Foot at the warehouse. …..It was most likely a diversion.”

“Right. I’ll get back to you soon.”

Leo hung up the phone and jumped off the apartment building and dove down towards the street’s manhole cover.

Leo grit his teeth.

“Hold on (y/n).”

The halls of the building were eerily empty. This place made your skin crawl. The laboratory felt all too similar to the one you had been trapped in before. But this one had clearly been abandoned for a long time. Broken glass, graffiti, turned over chairs, scattered paper. But strangely the power was still on. You didn’t dare try to use the elevator in fear of giving away your position. But you were confused as to why you had yet to see any guards. This is where the message was sent from, the turtles had to be here, right?

You climbed the steps to another floor, but paused as you creaked open the door exiting the stairwell. This floor felt like a world apart from the previous ones. It was clean.

And the lights were on.

You kept low, and hyper vigilant. Steadying your breathing like Leo had taught you, you crept into the sterile white hallway. There were glass windows along the hall looking into different labs. One held chemistry equipment, another held big bulky medical equipment that clicked and beeped. Finally, the last room at the end of the hall, a room with no windows. You had a sinking feeling in your gut, but still you crept towards the door. Slowly and quietly you pulled open the heavy door, and revealed a large lit room with a high ceiling, and there you saw it.

“Guys….!”

There along the back wall were 4 glass boxes with 3 of the turtles strung up and being drained of blood. You had found them! Seeing no one else in the room, you rushed in.

“I’m going to get you out of here, just you wait!” You went to the first machine in front of Donnie and reached out to touch the screen-

Your hand passed right through.

“What…?” You tried to touch it again but there was nothing there.

The hologram distorted, and then the turtles disappeared. You gasped.

It was a trap.

You turned around to book it towards the exit, but the door was opening again. Bebop and Rocksteady squeezed through the small door one at a time, and blocked your exit. Then over an intercom you heard the familiar laugh that sent a shiver down your spine.

Stockman chuckled darkly. “Just how I planned it! Like catching a fly with honey. So predictable!”

You backed up slowly as Bebop and Rocksteady approached you.

“Did you miss us, little kitty?” Rocksteady sneered.

The intercom buzzed as Stockman spoke again. “Bebop, Rocksteady, keep them occupied until I arrive. I will be there momentarily. And let’s not have a repeat of last time, please!” There was a clicking sound and the intercom went quiet.

Bebop chuckled. “Hell yeah! It’s been so long since we last played! Let’s make the most of it.”

“That’s right! And we gotta pay you back for all the trouble you caused us! We missed you so much after you left. You wanna go first Beebs?”

“My man!” Bebop smiled at Rocksteady and clasped his hand, they both laughed.

You tried your best to steady your breathing like Leo taught you. Your hands were trembling. But you needed a way out. Bebop and Rocksteady were not fast, if you timed it right, maybe you can get past them to the door.

Bebop approached you. You stayed still and waited. Then when he got close enough, you ran right towards him, surprising Bebop. He reached out to grab you but you slid right between his legs, then jumped up behind him and tried to run past Rocksteady before he could react. He was still too close to you and managed to grab you from behind, but you were ready for him. Just like in training, you reached up and grabbed him around his neck, and taking a deep breath, you threw all your strength forward and down and managed to flip Rocksteady onto his back- stunning him. You quickly jumped over him and ran for the door, slamming into it fast and wretched the handle to pull it open.

Locked. (Warning for graphic depictions of torture ahead.)

“No…!” You felt a bruising grip close around your arm, and you were torn away from the door. “NO!!” You cried out as you were thrown hard onto the floor between the two oversized mutants.

“See? Now that’s your problem. You gotta go makin’ our job harder than it needs to be!” Bebop complained.

Rocksteady was picking himself back up, rubbing the back of his head tenderly. “Don’t let them get to ya Beebs, we’ll sort them out quick before Stockman gets here.” Bebop then reached into his pocket and pulled out an all too familiar black taser.

Rocksteady took the taser and chuckled. “Little kitty needs a check-up!”

You tried to get up and run, but Rocksteady stomped down hard on your left arm. There was a sickening snap and you screamed, writhing in pain. You were pinned.

“Tsk, tsk. You know what happens when kitty gets naughty!” The taser was flicked on, all you could do was close your eyes before a strong surge of electricity was shot into your ribcage and throughout your body. You convulsed as the shocks seized you, your shoulder getting dislocated from the spasms, then collapsed back on the floor.

“Just like good ol’ times!” Rocksteady passed the taser to Bebop.

Rocksteady laughed and removed his foot from your arm, then Bebop tased you in the ribs again. You yelped and rolled onto your stomach, tucking your very broken arm underneath you and tried to crawl away.

“Hey, where ya goin? We’re just getting STARTED!” Rocksteady punctuated his sentence by kicking you in the stomach hard enough to throw you across the room. You hit the ground and your body rolled another few feet until you stopped on your side and curled in on yourself, the air knocked out of your lungs.

Bebop took his time strolling over to you, and grabbed you by the hair to lift you up. You coughed and gasped for air, grabbing at his hand and tried to pry his fingers off of his grip.

“Think you can just up and leave whenever you want, do ya?” He growled in your ear, then dropped you down haphazardly to the floor. You were on your knees, buckled forward and holding your left shoulder, when suddenly Bebop’s foot stomped down on your right ankle and you heard a loud crunch.

You shrieked.

Exhausted and riddled with unbearable pain, you crippled to the floor. It took everything you had just to pull breath.

“Alright, I’m back! How is our lovely patient doing?” Came the cheerful sing-song voice of Dr Stockman entering the room through the locked door, Karai tailing behind him.

“Hey boss! Uhhh, we were just warming them up for ya! See? They can’t run away no more.” Bebop nudged your side with his foot, knocking you onto your side so Stockman could see the pain riddled on your face. You were barely conscious by this point.

“Excellent! Bring them to me.” Stockman ordered.

Bebop picked you up by your good arm and carried you over to where Dr Stockman was walking to in the back of the room. Karai stepped in Bebop’s way for a moment, taking in your beaten appearance, and back-handed your face hard for good measure, leaving a shiny bruise and angry red gash across your cheek. That woke you up a bit.

Just enough to retaliate.

You took a deep breath and tore your arm out of Bebop’s grasp and punched Karai in the stomach, hard enough to throw her into a large display screen next to where Stockman was standing. Stockman squawked in surprise. She rolled onto the floor, and pushed herself up onto her side. Spitting a bit of blood onto the ground and wiping away at her lip.

You tried to stand on your good leg but you were too weak and collapsed back to the floor. Bebop and Rocksteady grabbed you by each of your arms and brought you in front of Stockman.

He was looking at you in awe, and reached out tentatively to swipe at the blood on your cheek. He rushed over to his desk, jumping a bit in excitement. He put a drop of your blood onto a slide, and observed it under his microscope.

“Ha…! HA HA…! YES!!” Stockman shouted in excitement and did a little dance. Bebop and Rocksteady exchanged a confused look and Karai stood up and walked over to Stockman, eyeing you angrily and rolling her shoulder.

“What does this mean?” She questioned him.

“It means that the mutation was a SUCCESS!!! Those stupid turtles must have triggered it somehow. And now we can finally proceed with the plan!!!” He grabbed something off his desk and skipped over to the stairs leading up to the circular titanium base in the middle of the room. “Bring them here!!” He called over, waving his hand to Bebop and Rocksteady.

They dragged you over to Stockman, and were deposited on the round podium that sat under a large glass tube. Stockman started to pull down long rubber tubes from above, and attached large thick needles to the ends. You tried once again to crawl away with your good arm, as Bebop and Rocksteady retreated.

But Stockman approached you from behind. In a quick jab, he stabbed the two needled tubes deep into your back. You grunted and groaned in pain, but could do nothing, collapsing on the podium. Beaten, bruised, and bleeding.

When Dr Stockman was finished, he descended the stairs and rushed over to his computer, giggling excitedly he typed in a command and the glass tube descended over you until it clicked into place at the sturdy titanium base. Locking you inside.

“They’ll be placed in suspended animation. Once the tank is completely filled with the preservation fluid, they’ll become nothing more than a convenient blood bag, supplying an endless supply of mutagen for our mutant army.” Stockman rubbed his hands together evilly.

“And what about the turtles?” Karai asked.

“It is already too late for them to stop us. Even if they manage to get through your guards, they will be unable to free them from this tank. Once I start the filtration process, I will delete the programmed command to empty or release the containment cylinder. They won’t be able to free them without my help!” Stockman typed away quickly at his computer.

One of the tubes connected to your back began to pull blood from your body, leading up through a small opening in the top of the cylinder then down into a canister at the base. Then from the second tube, a white milky substance full of liquid nutrients began to filter through and down into your body. It did nothing to numb the pain you felt as you laid there in a state of half consciousness.

Suddenly, the loud banging of gunshots could be heard somewhere outside the door.

“We’re not ready yet! Hold them back!” Stockman ordered Bebop and Rocksteady, who positioned themselves between Stockman and the door.

The door suddenly blew wide open, and the four turtles rushed into the room, angry and weapons at the ready.

“Where’s (y/n).”

Part 7

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel @blackrockshooter780 @l-n-g-t @peachesdabunny @silverwatergalaxy @willy-the-witch @caeliasaida @veri-varily @xnorthstar3x

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

#tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt 2014 x reader #tmnt 2016 x reader #tmnt imagines #tmnt fanfic #bayverse donatello #bayverse raphael #bayverse leonardo #bayverse michelangelo

128 notes · View notes