getting your hair washed by big, calloused hands that are so damn gentle with you. working through every knot and every bit of tension sitting in your scalp after a long day. making sure don't get any shampoo in your eyes. forehead kisses and a hand in your nape to coax you out of the shower. getting bundled up in a big towel while also getting the side of your neck kissed. sitting on the bathroom floor between spread legs and having your hair dried with so much patience and care by someone who, no matter how tired, will never get tired of you–of taking care of you.
wc: 7800k (1900, 1700, 1100, 1350, 1750) this is so long i'm sorry
if you want to see any other character in this scenario, or any other scenario pls let me know! i'm open to any request or suggestion
Zoro
Shitty cook had poisoned him. He had put something on his meal. Zoro was sure of it.
Zoro had woken up just fine, he did his morning workout, had his breakfast, and took a nap. Everything was fine, just like any other day. Until it wasn't.
After lunch, Zoro felt like something hadn't sat right in his stomach. He felt sick, like he had never felt before. So of course, this had to be curly eyebrow's fault.
It's a shame that you didn't think the same.
"Of course, it's Sanji's fault, not the hundred cups of sake you had last night. Who could think such stupidity?" Zoro was laying on your bed. Head buried deep on your pillow. Whining like a baby about his hangover being caused by the delicious food Sanji had cooked.
Zoro wasn't appreciating the ironic tone in your voice, and if he was feeling just a little bit better, he would let you know it. However, the pounding on his head was only getting worse.
Your boyfriend was in a miserable state right now, and even though he was a dummy, you loved him enough to take pity on him. "I know you are big and strong, but you know, sometimes you have to take it easy on the alcohol."
Sitting on the bed by his side, you petted his hair, watching carefully as he laid his head on your lap. Now, his face was buried in your thighs.
"It's shitty cook's fault. Not the alcohol." He groaned under his breath. In response, you just rolled your eyes, deciding that this conversation wasn't worth the trouble.
Silence engulfed the room for some minutes. Zoro kept his head on your thigh focusing to sleep again, while you took your time tracing the features of his face, slowly massaging his scalp.
The sound of something breaking outside the room reminded you that you still had to do your tasks of the day.
"I have to go now, baby." You tried to slip out of his reach, but Zoro only tightened his grip on you, making it impossible to escape.
"Stay." His deep voice, full of sleep, reached your ears, causing you to smile at the vulnerability in his words.
You patted his back, signaling for him to move, and without another word (besides the groans), he moved to the other side of the bed.
"Promise that when I'm back, I'm going to cuddle you so hard your hangover will disappear." You whispered, hoping to get on his good side again.
Zoro went back to the pillow he was holding before your thighs came in the picture, gripping it harder than before. "It's not a hangover."
His voice was muffed by the pillow, making you laugh at his terrible state.
"I'll be right back, okay?" You left a kiss on his forehead before leaving the room to do your tasks. You promised to help Robin with organizing her books, and Ussop was bugging you to help him clean his workshop for a while now.
Stretching your limbs, you prepared yourself for the day ahead.
...
Helping Robin was easy. She knew exactly where she wanted her books to be placed, so you mostly just put them on the shelves where she indicated.
Ussop was the problem. He wasn't exactly a messy man, but when you got a closer look at his workshop, you guessed that he hadn't done any cleanup there for the last 2 months at least.
But the big mess didn't bother you at all. The awkward silence between the two of you was the real problem. Since you stepped a foot into the room, Ussop had been awfully quiet, going against his usual talkative persona.
Whenever you looked at him, you could see his shoulder get tense, like you were some kind of threat.
"Okay, spill the tea now." You said, tired from whatever was going on. "I know you are hiding something, so tell me, and we can end this silence."
You watched as Ussop swallowed his own spit.
"I have no idea of what you're talking about." If you weren't sure enough before, Ussop's awkward laugh made you sure.
He was hiding something.
Sighing loudly, you left the stool you were cleaning, heading to where the man was sitting.
"Come on, Ussop. We are friends, you can trust me." You nudged him with your shoulder.
"Sanji and I put a fruit that turns you into a woman in Zoro's food." He said it in a rush, scared from your reaction.
Your face frowned at his words, what was he talking about? "Zoro? A woman? What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Well, Chopper found this fruit at the last island we were in, and I brought it to the ship. I was going to give it to Luffy, but Sanji convinced me to put it in Zoro's food."
When he was finished, Ussop kept looking at you, waiting for your reaction. Honestly, he was waiting for you to scream at him.
You supposed you should be mad, but you thought this whole situation was kind of funny. You knew that Ussop didn't mean anything bad from it, so you were sure that the fruit wouldn't cause any real damage to Zoro.
Ussop was caught off guard when he heard you giggling. "So, did Sanji sneak it into Zoro's lunch today?"
"Yeah! Chopper said it takes some hours to make an effect, so I think Zoro must be a woman now." Realizing that you weren't mad at all, Ussop felt more at ease to talk to you again. "How do you think he is going to look?"
"Well, there is only one way to find it out." You said, raising from where you were sitting with Ussop.
...
Slowly you opened the door, carefully, to not make any sound that would startle Zoro. With his super instinct, he would, for sure, know that you entered the room, but you hoped that he would go back to sleep when he noticed it was you.
You stood by the closed door, and when Zoro didn't make any move to rise from his sleepy position, you walked closer to him.
Just like Ussop had said, Zoro was now a woman. You knew that. You walked into the room expecting to see him with a different body. But you couldn't help but be surprised by the sight in front of you.
Strands of green hair covered part of his face, and if he was sitting, you thought that the tips of his hair would be touching his shoulders.
His usual dry lips now shone, and you wanted to taste them so fucking bad.
Zoro was a beautiful man, but now with his features softened, he looked divine.
You let your eyes wander a bit on his body, but you quickly turned your gaze back to his face. For some reason, you were feeling shy.
"Why are you staring at me, woman?"
Oh, god. If you thought that this couldn't get any better, you were wrong. Zoro's voice was hoarse from his nap, and it sounded absolutely amazing. You wished that he continued talking.
However, Zoro kept looking at you, waiting for an answer. Apparently, he hadn't noticed the changes in his body, nor in his voice.
"You were right. Sanji did put something on your food."
You watched as Zoro's face went from sleepy, to confused, to angry.
"What the hell do you mean?" He asked, finally rising from the bed and giving you the perfect view of his chest and slim waist. You felt your face getting warm.
"Well, it was kind of Ussop's idea, but it's a long story. Don't worry about it. You will be better tomorrow."
Now Zoro was glaring at you. What do you mean by "don't worry"? Shitty cook had messed with his goddamn food! And what did Ussop have to do with this?
"I'm going to beat the shit out of those two." Zoro was getting up when he finally noticed the changes on him.
He froze.
Looking down at his hands, which should be big and calloused, now were small and soft.
He also felt his hair picking at his shoulder, and he was sure his boobs weren't big like this before.
"What the fuck is wrong with me?" The words came out through his clenched teeth, and for a moment you thought that Zoro was having a migraine.
You approached him slowly, waiting to see if he would be uncomfortable by your presence. When he did nothing, you touched his hands.
"Sooo, for the next 24 hours, you will be a woman." Zoro's eyes almost fell from his face. "We can have a girls' night if that makes you feel better."
You smiled at him, waiting for his next reaction. Contrary to what you expected, Zoro laughed. Really laughed. And you loved it.
After some minutes, Zoro was more relaxed with his temporary body. He even checked himself in the mirror.
"So, shitty cook wanted to see me as a woman?" From the smirk on his face, you knew that Zoro was planning something. You smiled, confirming with your head. "What a pervert."
You couldn't help but giggle a bit, In a way, Sanji did want to see Zoro as a woman. You were sure your boyfriend was planning to use this against the cook in the near future.
"How are you feeling?" You asked, sincerity showing in your voice. Even though you were having fun with the transformation, you didn't want Zoro to feel uncomfortable.
He exhaled slowly, like he was thinking on his next words. "It was weird in the first minutes, but curly brows wouldn't dare to damage me."
In the end, Sanji and Zoro were friends, even if both of them denied it. Now, it was your turn to exhale slowly, letting your body sink into the soft mattress.
You catch yourself sneaking glances at Zoro, who was displayed on your bed like a cat. He did look good, you couldn't blame Sanji.
"Now I'm wishing that the effect wasn't temporary. I wouldn't mind having you like this forever." You knew you were playing with his bottoms, but you couldn't hold yourself from having a little fun.
At your words, Zoro's brows immediately furrowed, and he turned his gaze to you. "I'm much better than her." He said, mad that you thought about replacing him.
You threw your head back laughing, seeing that he was upset.
"There is no 'her', Zo. It's all you."
Your words did not soften the sour expression on his face.
"She is not me! And she is clearly getting your attention." Zoro was getting frustrated now.
He didn't mind the situation at all, since he was getting back to his own body in some hours. He never thought that you could like this version of him more than the original.
Despite his grumpy expression, you were finding everything very alluring.
"Roronoa Zoro, don't tell me you're getting jealous of yourself?" Even though he wasn't seeing your face, Zoro knew that you were smirking at him.
"Shut it, woman."
He wasn't jealous, he just didn't want your attention on anyone besides himself. Even if it was another version of himself.
"Can't wait to tell Nami this."
Your smile was the last thing Zoro saw before closing his eyes to nap again.
Marco
Besides being the crew of the strongest man in the world, the Whitebeard's pirates were a bunch of kids. Literally brats.
At this point, you were used to almost everything that happened. Seeing naked men, random explosions, people getting thrown in the sea, Ace sleeping on top of his plate. All those things were part of your day, and you wouldn't trade it for anything else.
However, sometimes things got too intense, and you needed a safe spot to calm down. Marco was who you sought when you needed some peace.
As the rest of the crew, Marco had his moments of insanity, but whenever it was needed, he was the person who put things back in their place.
Sometimes, though, he couldn't help but be caught in the middle of the mess.
The Moby Dick was docked at some random island to get supplies, but as always, the crew took the chance to step on the land and have some fun while they could.
Marco, Tatch, Ace, and you wandered around for some time before Ace spotted a stall vending different kinds of fruits.
"HA! Let's get something from there!"
"Now, this is a surprise. Never seen Ace so eager to buy fruits." Tatch said.
The three of you stood watching until Ace called out, exclaiming he had a wonderful idea.
"I guess we gotta see it, yoi." Marco murmured to you. Grabbing your hand, he went after Ace.
The merchant, an old lady, was happy to receive the brothers at her stall. It had been a while since she saw a group of young men getting so excited over some fruits.
"I bet I can choose the sweetest fruit just by looking at it!" Ace exclaimed, looking expectantly at his brothers and gaining some looks from the people passing by.
Marco sighed loudly, sensing the mess this bet would turn into. "This is stupid. We are not doing that, yoi."
"Are you scared? I thought birds were supposed to know when fruits are ready to eat." Thatch joked, already picking up and inspecting the fruits on display to find the best one.
You laughed at them, happy to just be part of the atmosphere. While they bickered about the bet, you took your time analyzing the products displayed.
The fruits were unlike anything you'd seen before, some spiky, others smooth and plump, with colors ranging from bright oranges to deep purples.
After some minutes, the brothers were done, and you quirked your brow when you noticed that Marco had joined the bet after all.
"I thought this was stupid?" You looked inside the bag he was holding, trying to see which fruit he had chosen: a yellow one, also kind of spiky. If you looked quick enough, it could be mistaken as a pineapple. "Do you even know what fruit this is?"
"Dunno. But I'm sure it will be sweet." He said, closing the bag and holding your hand, ready to go back to the Moby Dick.
Lost in your chat with Marco, you didn't notice the mischievous smile on Ace's face.
Moments later, at the ship, you sat in horror watching Marco trying to swallow a piece bigger than his mouth of the unknown fruit.
Ace already had tasted the one he chose, and it was absolutely citric, while the one Tatch picked tasted incredibly sweet. Marco was the last one to taste the fruit he picked and the one who could defeat Tatch.
When he was finally able to swallow the piece he cut, Marco's face turned into a grimace, making a big smile stretch on Tatch's face.
"This one tastes like shit, yoi."
You and the few men around laughed. Tatch celebrated his victory, satisfied to show his talent around.
On the side, Ace held a pout on his lips. Obviously, he wasn't expecting to lose. You rolled your eyes at him. How did he expect to win against the crew's cook?
"It was fun while it lasted." Marco said when he got to your side. "But I think I need a nap now. Care to join?"
Before you could answer, the blonde was already passing his arms around your waist, throwing your body on his shoulder. Clearly, you didn't have a choice here.
The crew laughed at your surprised gasp, enjoying to see you struggle a bit.
You tried to get back on your feet for a couple of seconds before accepting your fate.
After running the whole morning trying to find the supplies you needed, you could use a nap, especially if your boyfriend was so eager to cuddle you a bit.
Marco found a good spot on the ship before sitting down, adjusting your body on the top of his bigger one.
You would complain that he couldn't just pick you up whenever he felt like it, but the warmth coming from his body against yours was too good to resist, so you decided to let him manhandle you for now.
...
Ace's laugh was loud. Loud enough to take you off from the dream you were having. Looking at the sun setting down in the horizon, you guessed that a couple of hours had passed.
Ready to ignore Ace's obnoxious laugh, you turned around, pressing your face against Marco's chest, only to feel him tense up.
Or you thought he was tensing up from the grip he had on your waist because you never made contact with his hard chest.
In a second, Marco was taking you off him, leaving your ass on the ground when he lifted. You quickly turned your face back to the man, ready to scold him for leaving you so brutally.
Instead of the broody figure you were used to, your eyes met a slim shape.
Shorter than Marco used to be, long blond hair, and a cute perked-up ass, the woman in front of you was definitely a sight for sore eyes. But she was wearing Marco's clothes, and she was holding you where Marco was supposed to be.
What the hell is happening?
The woman faced Ace, her hands closed in fists, clearly upset about something. She aimed to punch him, but he dodged, laughing at the poor attempt to hit him.
"Don't be such a dick, Marco." Ace was holding a smirk on his face, obviously enjoying the fury of the woman.
But wait, did he just call the strange-and-hot-look-alike-your-boyfriend woman Marco?
A hint of shyness hit Ace, making his face turn red, before he looked anywhere but in the woman's direction. "Also, don't move too much, your shirt is open, and I can almost see your boobs."
Apparently, this made the woman self-conscious, since she turned away from him, finally giving you the chance to look at her face. You couldn't be more surprised.
Her eyes were filled with anger, but you would recognize that lazy stare even if you hadn't seen it in a thousand years.
"When I go back to normal, I'm going to kill you, yoi." The woman said, tugging her shirt to cover her breasts.
Ace's shyness went away, and he laughed harder than before, gaining attention from the people who were passing by. They curiously looked in your direction, trying to see what was happening.
You gasped when you finally understood what had happened. You looked between Marco and Ace. The first one was trying to cover himself, and the other was trying to gain his breath after laughing.
A frown appeared on your face. "Get screwed, all of you!" You shouted to the men. All of them run away, knowing better than to piss you off.
Instinctively, you reached for Marco, tugging him (or her? You weren't sure anymore) under your embrace, protecting his new body from prying eyes. Especially Ace's eyes.
"I should have known that you wouldn't be so happy to see fruits." You said, pressing Marco closer to your body when Ace tried to get a closer look.
Ace dismissed your glaring. "Yeah, yeah, I fooled the two lovebirds, now let me show Tatch our new girl." He reached for Marco, but she (he?) was faster, using her devil fruit and kicking Ace right in his crotch.
"Show him your blue balls, yoi." Marco said, satisfied to see his brother kneeling down on the floor. "After the effect of this pass, you better run."
...
"Thanks for protecting me back there." Marcos said when you two reached his personal cabin.
He looked at himself in the mirror, the bored expression he usually held was now disturbed a bit, but you noticed that he was much more relaxed after knowing that the fruit's effect only lasted 24 hours.
You jumped onto his bed, making yourself comfortable before patting the spot beside you. "Don't worry, girls protect girls."
"I'm not a girl." He retorted, taking the spot you offered. "I'm a fully grown woman, yoi."
Now it was your turn to laugh. "You're right, I'm sorry."
A peaceful silence settled between you two, but you couldn't help but notice that Marco kept sneaking looks at his new self on the mirror.
Without even noticing what he was doing, Marco twisted his long hair around his finger, amused by the transformation. At the same time, though he found the situation awkward, he was also kind of fascinated by everything.
"Do you like what you see?" You asked, positioning yourself behind him.
You felt him jump a bit with the sudden contact, not expecting to feel you against his back.
Red spread across his cheeks, and you chuckled, amused to see the commander of the 1st division of the Whitebeard Pirates so shy about his appearance.
"I like it." You reassured. Putting your head on his shoulder, you kissed his jaw, making sure to let him know how much you loved him.
No matter what he looked like, he was still your Marco, and you loved him.
A mischievous smile appeared on your face as an idea popped into your mind, ready to let him know how much you adored him.
You looked at his reflection, sliding your hands down his arms. "So, do you want to put that mirror to good use?"
Maybe this situation wasn't so bad after all, Marco thought.
Mihawk
Mihawk was still looking at the strange fruit sitting on his kitchen counter. He wouldn't eat it, no matter the puppy eyes Perona was sending him behind the counter.
Earlier that night, Perona happily gifted him the weird fruit, proclaiming that she had bought it from the best farm on whatever island she had been on before. You instantly thanked her for her kind gesture, but Mihawk wasn't having any of it. The fruit looked awfully weird, and he definitely was not going to eat it, not by any chance.
Well, he didn't eat it for, like, five minutes, when you appeared from behind him and saw the pout on Perona's face.
"When someone gives you a present, you must accept it." You said before shoving the fruit closer to his direction.
How could he deny his darling wife?
Surprisingly, the taste wasn't as bad as it looks, and Mihawk was satisfied that in the end he did, in fact, eat the weird fruit (he would thank Perona later with a delicious homemade meal).
That night, he lay by your side on the bed, quietly hugging your body from behind, his stomach full of wine and the fruit you happily fed him.
Morning came as quick as always, the sunray slowly entering the big bedroom's window, gently waking you up from your slumber.
Not wanting to leave the bed just yet, you snuggled closer to your husband, feeling his hard chest on your back.
Or at least you were expecting to feel it. Instead, your back met some soft surface, startling you from your sleep. You groaned, wanting to feel your husband's warmth.
Expecting to grab the pillow between you and Mihawk, you extended your hand behind your head. However, your fingers grabbed some strands of hair.
"What are you doing, my love?"
Your groggy brain was late to catch the feminine voice, but when it did, you were quick to rise from the bed.
In the spot where your husband was supposed to be lying, was now a woman. A beautiful woman. A strange and beautiful woman.
"Why are you looking at me like that, my love?" Again, the strange woman was calling you "my love", just like your dear husband would.
Looking closer at the woman, you noticed that she kind of resembled Mihawk. Sharp eyes, dark and spiky hair, nice and smooth voice, and especially, the loving eyes she was giving you.
That woman couldn't be your husband, right?
"Mihawk?" You whispered, finally getting on the bed again.
"Yes, my love. Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?" The woman, or better, Mihawk, asked, extending his hand to you.
But wait, why did his hand look so... Feminine?
Mihawk raised his hands to his eyes, examining every part of them. His fingers were thin, and he definitely remembered his palm being way more rough.
"Okay, don't panic, but you are a woman now." You said, looking straight at his face, waiting for a reaction.
The woman-your-husband silently rose from the bed, walking to the mirror hanging on your wall, and examining herself. For some seconds, she kept looking at the reflection, turning around and touching herself.
You kept looking at Mihawk-woman's face, waiting to get some sort of reaction, but even in another body, your husband was still the same, no-expression person.
Without saying anything, Mihawk left the bedroom, leaving you behind. You kept still on your spot, one leg hanging off the bed and the other under the covers, inviting you to go back to sleep. You blinked slowly, looking at yourself in the mirror. Hopefully, all of this would be only a strange dream.
Perona's laugh snapped you out of your stupor, and you jumped out of the bed.
In the living room, Perona was lying on the couch, almost falling out of it from how much she was laughing. You wonder how she felt so comfortable when Mihawk was absolutely staring her down. You had seen people crying only from this stare, but here she was, laughing at the hawkeye and easily getting away with it.
"You did this." Mihawk wasn't asking, he was stating.
Suddenly, it hit you. The fruit. The way Perona was so eager to get Mihawk to taste it. Everything was planned from the beginning. You had been fooled by a little girl.
You couldn't hide the amusement on your face, and Perona only laughed more when she looked at you. In this situation, you couldn't help but let a giggle escape from your mouth.
Mihawk looked at you, his face clearly showing his disappointment—both at Perona for tricking him after everything he had done for her, and at you for convincing him to eat the damn fruit. At least Roronoa wasn't here anymore to see this betrayal.
Besides the grumpy expression, you could see the little sparkle in Mihawk's eyes, showing that he was, even if a little bit, having fun with the whole situation.
"Don't worry, the effect only lasts for 24 hours." Perona had finally gained enough breath to speak. "You will be back to your boring body in no time."
"You're with the kitchen and bathroom cleaning for a week." He said, turning back to your room.
"What??? No!!" Perona screamed, the smile she was holding finally falling from her face.
She looked expectantly at you, hoping that you would do something.
"Sorry, you should have seen this coming." You said before running after your husband. Or wife, for now.
...
"I think you look hot." You said, hugging your husband from behind. "Your boobs look great too, I felt them soft on my back."
You couldn't reach his chest before his delicate hands got your own. Mihawk turned to face you, finally leaving the mirror behind.
"This is also your fault." Before you could protest, he pinched your cheek. "For making me eat the fruit."
"Sorry, didn't know the kid had the fire to do such a thing." You said gnawing at his (her?) boobs. The open bottoms on the shirt kind of did the job.
Mihawk sighed loudly at your behavior. He couldn't deny that his ego felt good at your clear appreciation of his female version, but he was still mad at the whole situation.
"And what if I had to stay as a woman forever?"
You thought for a moment. Well, some things would have to change for sure, but you would still love him nonetheless. Man or not, it was your Mihawk, after all.
"I would miss your dick for sure, but-"
"Stop."
"Sorry."
Mihawk couldn't wait to go back to his own masculine body.
Crocodile
Buggy had a death wish, you knew it from the first time you met him. Even in his position at the Cross Guild, he still managed to piss off both Crocodile and Mihawk, leading to countless beatings.
You were sure that today he wanted to share his death wish with you because you couldn't see any other reason why he was proposing this right now.
The fruit in his palm looked appetizing enough, and if any other person were offering it to you, you would take it without a second glance, but since it was the clown's offer, you knew whatever it was, it meant trouble.
"Crocodile will kill both of us." You stated, turning your back to him. You wouldn't be part of his suicidal plan.
Buggy cried out loud, his upper body instantly appearing in front of you. "He won't even lay a finger on your ass, and you know this!" He said, grabbing your shoulder with his flying hands.
You shuddered at the feeling. Even after all these months with the clown, you still weren’t used to seeing his body split apart.
Well, Buggy wasn't wrong, in fact. Crocodile did have a soft spot for you, but you weren't sure where your relationship with him stood, and you weren't eager to find it out either.
"Why do you want to do this? Are you some kind of masochist?" Buggy would, for sure, get his ass beaten if Crocodile ever found out the clown was the one behind the plan.
The clown smirked, clearly proud of whatever he was doing. "A real man knows when to face a challenge."
Yep, he was very stupid.
But for a moment, you imagined: Mrs. Crocodile would be hot, you were sure.
You would regret this later, but right now, the thought of seeing Crocodile as a woman—and pissing him off in the process—was too tempting to resist.
"Let's do it then." You said, grabbing the fruit out of his hand.
...
You stood in front of Crocodile's door, silently waiting for his approval to enter his office. The bowl in your hands seemed heavier than before, and you cursed Buggy in your mind.
However, you didn't have time to regret your decisions, since Crocodile's voice interrupted your thoughts.
"Come in."
As usual, Crocodile was sitting on his expensive chair, behind his even more expensive desk. The bastard's smirk never left his face whenever he was with you.
"Brought you a little sweet treat, boss." You placed the fruit bowl on his desk and waited for his reaction.
You bringing him something to eat while he worked nonstop was nothing new. But the perfectly cut fruit and the nervous smile on your face? Now that was suspicious.
You weren't fool enough to trick him, were you?
"Why don't you feed it to me, then?" Crocodile demanded, spreading his legs to make just enough space for you to sit perfectly on his lap.
Slowly, you walked in his direction, carefully settled yourself on top of his thigh, adjusting your legs for a more comfortable position. Crocodile didn't wait for your approval to pass his arm around your waist, his hook dangerously close to you.
You smiled, lifting the fork to his mouth, waiting to feed him the first piece you chose from the bowl.
"You work too much, sir." You hummed, happy to see his lips closing around the fork.
Even if you had a plan to stick to, you couldn't deny that you loved these sweet moments with Crocodile.
Crocodile said nothing as he ate the fruit, letting the sweet flavor fill his mouth. While he chewed, you took your time admiring the face of the man you loved.
"Someone has to work." He said, probably referring to Mihawk, who spent all his time drinking wine and wandering around, and Buggy, who, well, was Buggy. "I'm lucky to have such a good assistant that is always willing to help me."
Crocodile went back to the papers on his desk, and you continued feeding him, appreciating the silence in the room. When you were finished, you left the office, ready to fulfill your tasks.
Hours had passed, and neither you nor Buggy had heard anything from Crocodile, making you both assume that the fruit had failed.
"I suppose it's for the best." You whispered to yourself.
In a way, you were relieved that Buggy's plan hasn't work, since you weren't sure how Crocodile would react. But you couldn't help but be a little disappointed, you really wanted to see Miss Crocodile.
Moments later, a presence behind you startled you from your peaceful thoughts.
"Sir Crocodile is looking for you." Daz sounded as calm as ever, but something in the way he was looking at you made you nervous. "If I were you, I wouldn't make him wait."
Without another word, he left.
Buggy definitely owed you a big one.
In your short walk to the office, you wondered if Crocodile had the nerve to actually kill you, but you pushed the idea away, not wanting to even think about it.
Your hand almost brushed the wood before the door swung open. At the same time, you felt sand covering your wrist, pulling you inside the room.
The sheer force of the action made you trip on your feet, but the same sand that dragged you inside quickly stabilized you so you wouldn't fall on the floor.
When you were free from the sand, you finally had time (and courage) to look at Crocodile. You were already expecting him to look like a woman, since it was your plan from the beginning, but still, nothing could ever prepare you for the sight in front of you.
Crocodile turned out to be a stunning woman. You felt heat creeping up your face and neck from just looking at her.
Black and silk hair falling on her shoulder, sharp purple eyes, plump and shiny lips. Everything was adding to the classy woman sitting on the chair.
Damn, the scar on her forehead was definitely making her way more sexy than it should.
Miss Crocodile was hot. Very hot.
You could also see a peak of her boobs from the neckline of the loose shirt.
Crocodile grunt took you out from your not-so-innocent thoughts.
"Am I in trouble?"
Sand reached both of your wrists again, pulling you towards the desk. "Take a guess."
"No?" You felt the sand grip tightening in your pulse, making you stumble onto the desk. Your hands were firmly pressed against the wood, pushing your front up so you could face the boss.
"Take another guess." Crocodile said before raising herself from the chair. Slowly, she walked around the desk, standing right behind you.
Unfortunately, the sand was still circling your wrists, so you couldn't turn around to face her.
"If this makes anything better, I think you look really hot." The cold of Crocodile's hook startled you, making you jump a bit. "I'm sorry, I was tricked into this."
"How so?" Crocodile seemed to be invested in the situation, and you knew that he liked seeing you in such a submissive position.
The sand grip that was pushing you onto the desk finally loosened a bit, allowing you to turn around to face the woman. However, the hook was still pressed around your neck.
"Buggy offered the fruit, and my brain thought that you would make a sexy woman, so, you know, I gave up in my primal urges." Even though the smile on your face was sweet and innocent, the look in your eyes revealed how much you were liking the current situation.
Crocodile finally took the hook off your neck before replacing it with his meat hand. From the angle she-he was now, you could see the silhouette of her body perfectly.
"Did I live up to your expectations?" Crocodile asked, pressing her body against yours.
"From what I'm seeing, yes, but I need to get a closer look at your ass to be sure."
Crocodile only looked at you before letting his maniac laugh out.
"Pretty please?" You begged.
After this, you would have to thank Buggy and his wonderful ideas.
Shanks
Red-haired Shanks, one of the four emperors of the sea, former member of the King of Pirates' crew. The man was many things and could go by a hundred names. But for you, Shanks was mostly stupid.
A stupid man. A stupid, drunken man.
Since you met him many years prior, when he had no name for himself, you knew that he meant trouble, but unfortunately for you and for your next generation, you fell completely in love with this stupid man.
On normal days, Shanks was already a problem, always giving you and Benn headaches when you both had to deal with the mess he created. You were okay with that, you loved his troublesome ass.
However, after many years of dealing with Shanks, you discovered the thing that pissed you off the most: drunk Shanks. Not the tipsy version of him (you loved when he got tipsy and needy for you), but the very drunk and wasted version.
Parties were common on the Red Force, and most of the time, Shanks drank until he got a good buzz. He swayed a bit when he walked, his laugh became louder than usual, and, your personal favorite, he got affectionate with everyone on board (or on land), especially with you.
You loved tipsy Shanks as much as you loved the sober Shanks.
Sometimes, though, Shanks drank like the world would end the next morning and this was his last night alive. You hated it.
Drunk Shanks was a pain in the ass. He couldn't stand on his own, he forced everyone to drink as much as he did, and worst of all, he got so clingy that you couldn’t even go to the bathroom without dealing with a crying baby Shanks.
And to seal the deal, over the past few months, drunk Shanks had developed a habit you were starting to despise as much as his clinginess: he ate anything and everything anyone gave to him. Whether it was edible or not.
A simple 'Eat this!' was enough to make him gulp down anything.
You were the one who had to deal with the aftermath of his gourmet culinary adventure.
Apparently, tonight is going to be one of the nights where drunk Shanks makes an appearance.
You looked around the bar, eyes searching for your husband. It wasn't hard to find him, since he was the loudest person in the room, his laugh could probably be heard from outside the establishment.
His hair was disheveled, like he had passed his hair on it too many times, and for some seconds you wished to tug the strands off his face.
The loving moment didn't last long, because Shanks' voice ringing in your ear made you remember why you were sitting on the stool near the bar counter and not by the table with your crew.
You were mad because Shanks was already completely drunk. And he had promised to stay sober for you!
"That bastard." You muttered under your breath.
"A coin for your thoughts." Beckman took the stool by your side, and just from the look on his face, you could see that he was getting a minute of peace from the drunk crew.
You swirled the beer mug on the counter, trying to hide your feelings from the vice-captain. "Thinking about the big bill we'll have to pay by the end of the night." You said, drinking from the mug. "Now you owe me a coin."
Beckman took a second examining your face, reading you like an open book. Damn, you hated the way he could see through you.
"Bennyyyy, stop." Begging and hiding your face from his prying eyes was the only thing you could do.
He laughed at your whining. "You should go easier on him, and mostly, on yourself. Just enjoy the night."
You were about to tell him that he had no right to say that to you. Heck, he was the one who was getting white hair from taking care of the captain, after all.
You were interrupted by a peculiar sentence.
"Come'on cap, eat this, huh?"
Benn was worried that you had broken your neck with the force you turned your head to the sound. Before he could say anything, you were already on your feet, marching in the crew's direction.
Drunk Shanks was even quicker than you when he ate the whole thing Yassop was offering to him. In. Only. One. Bite.
You were already pissed. But now, you were furious.
"Shanks, what the actual fuck?" You shouted, yanking the captain from his seat by his ear. "Yassop, really?"
The sniper raised his hands in defeat, but the damage was already done.
"It's just a fruit, I swear." Still with one of his hands raised, Yassop pointed to a basket full of fruits.
Shanks freed himself from the grip you had on his ear, looking at you with puppy eyes. That bastard, he knew that he was in trouble and was trying to get on your good side.
Benn's hand on your shoulder was probably the thing that made you calm down. As always, he was the one to mediate situations on the crew.
With a sigh, you decided to let things slide once more. Yassop looked guilty enough, and Shanks.... Well, he was the idiot you loved.
"If he got sick, you will deal with him." You said to anyone and everyone around the table. "If you like the show, you have to like the aftermath too."
You stomped off the bar, going back to the Red Force, precisely to the cabin you shared with Shanks.
However, you weren't far when drunken whines reached your ears.
"Don't leave me behind, I want to be with you."
Turning around, you saw him. Shanks was walking in your direction, stumbling a little on his own foot, but definitely better than what you expected.
"The party is not good without my handsome wife." He said, walking a little faster when he noticed your frozen figure.
You rolled your eyes at his cheesy words but did nothing when his arm laced your waist, pushing your body against his.
Red cheeks and the little pout on his lips made Shanks look cuter than what your mad mind could take, and you felt your heart soften.
"You're not my handsome husband right now. I'm mad at you." Despite your harsh words, you got closer to his body, bathing in his perfume.
"Sorry, I promise to make it up to you, darling."
"I know you will."
...
Shanks woke up the next day with a pounding head and a sore body. He had a hangover, no doubt.
Opening his eyes slowly, he tried to get used to the light entering through the window, but every time he blinked, the pounding in his head grew louder.
Ready to sleep again, he snuggled closer to your body, enjoying the warmth radiating from you. Shanks sprawled his fingers on your tummy, making you chuckle from the contact.
Noticing that you were awake now, Shanks tapped two fingers on your thigh, silently asking for you to turn around.
With a sleepy groan, you turned your body to face him, finally opening your eyes. The first thing on your vision was the scar on his face, which you traced with the tips of your fingers.
Next, you dragged your things to trace his lips. To your surprise, Shanks's lips were glossier than ever, and you wondered how he wasn't dehydrated from the drinking last night.
Finally, you reach for the stubble on his face, hoping to feel the sharpness on your hands. Only that you found nothing.
"Did you shave last night?"
Shanks laughed at your words, raising his hand to smooth the frown on your forehead. "Not even a good morning first?"
The feminine voice coming out from his mouth startled both of you, making you scream in horror and Shanks quickly sit up on the bed.
"What happened to my voice?" He said, touching his throat to check it.
You were frozen, your mouth opened in a perfect "O" while you stared at him.
Noticing how quiet you were, Shanks became even more worried.
"Oh my god, you have boobs now."
Shanks liked to sleep naked most times, proclaiming that he got too hot during the night, and now, this habit of his was giving you the privilege of seeing his perfect tits.
In pure horror, Shanks looked down at his own body. You were right, he had a nice pair of boobs, and looking under the covers, he had another thing where his dick was supposed to be.
"My dick is gone." He screamed, getting off the bed and running to check himself in the mirror. "I got a nice ass, though."
You slapped yourself mentally when you heard the obvious lust in his voice. His feminine voice.
"Really, Shank? This is where you got your mind?" You said, getting up from the bed and marching in his direction. "Stay here, I'm going to get Benn."
Shanks agreed happily. Honestly, he was more worried to look at himself in the mirror, noticing how hot he was now.
A couple of minutes later, you returned to the bedroom. Nothing could ever prepare you for the scene unfolding right in front of your eyes.
Shanks was dressed. In your clothes. Your husband, who was temporarily turned into a woman, was dressing in your clothes, without a care in the world for the situation he was in.
"Do you think I pulled this outfit?" He asked when he noticed you standing by the door.
Yes, you do. But this is not the point now.
"Aren't you worried that you'll be like this forever?" You questioned, really curious about his answers.
"Will you miss my dick that much?" Shanks said smirking.
This version of him was really hot, and something about the lazy smirk and the scar was giving girl Shanks a predatory look you weren't used to.
You recomposed yourself just in time to glare at him.
"I know my mates will find a way to solve this. And you probably already know how."
This bastard, how could he be so damn confident?
You hated when Shanks was right.
You were back on bed, adrenaline finally leaving your body. "The fruit Yassop gave you last night made this. You will be back in your own body in less than 24 hours."
Shanks lay by your side, still dressed in your clothes. "Can I show my boobies to the crew?"
☾ A/N: inspired by satoru nii's note on kaji getting his headphones as a gift also i am simply down bad
“How come he never takes that shit off?” Sakura mutters, mostly to himself, pausing on the uneven sidewalk to adjust the weight on his back. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows over the bustling street, the chatter of vendors and the hum of passing bikes filling the air.
“Hmmm?” The granny—Chiyoko, as she’s always insisting he call her but he can never bring himself to—leans slightly to peer over his shoulder, her sharp eyes following his line of sight. Her gray hair flutters in the gentle breeze, tickling his cheek.
Across the narrow street, past the stalls piled high with fresh produce, ones Sakura knows Umemiya likes to frequent, Kaji and his vice-captains are strolling down the sidewalk in their direction. Kaji's got his hands buried deep in his pockets, mouth set in its usual stern expression, a lollipop dangling lazily from between his lips. His white headphones sit snugly over his ears, their metallic sheen catching the light. They're always spotless, Sakura notes, as if Kaji takes painstaking care of them.
“His headphones!" Sakura grumbles. "He’ll go deaf at this rate.”
“Ah," Chiyoko muses, her voice laced with amusement, "but wouldn’t you also treasure something so precious to you? Young love...so sweet."
Sakura’s brows knit together. “The hell you mean ‘young love’?”
The granny fully ignores him. "I remember back in my day-"
"Hold on, the fuck you mean- sorry, I mean-"
Before Sakura can keep gracing Chiyoko with his colorful vocabulary, something cuts him off.
“Rennn!”
The sound of hurried footsteps and the unmistakable brightness in the voice snaps Sakura’s attention to the source. His head whirls around, and he freezes.
A girl.
You.
You're a pretty thing, pleated uniform skirt hiked up just a tad bit too short for school regulations. It flutters around your thighs, exposing an expanse of skin that has Sakura blushing right down to his toes. He quickly tears his gaze away.
Instead, he watches, stunned, as Kaji slows his pace and reaches up, fingers curling to hook his headphones down to his neck. He stands there, hands dropping to his sides, palms open as if he's expecting something.
And then...the most inexplicable thing happens.
You launch yourself forward, into the notoriously bad-tempered second-year’s arms, your own arms coming up to wrap around his neck.
“Ren! Missed you so much!”
“Huh?” Sakura whips his head around to gawk at Chiyoko to make sure she’s seeing the same thing he is. “Huuuh?”
The granny on his back just beams, eyes crinkling, like this is something she's seen happen a thousand times.
Kaji barely reacts to the impact of you. He plants his feet, arms coming around your waist, steady and sure. If there's one thing Sakura has learned, it’s that the blonde is deceptively strong. From his angle, Sakura can see the faintest hint of color rise to Kaji's cheeks, a subtle shift masked by the tilt of his head.
A soft jangling sound captures Sakura’s attention and he zeros in on the charm dangling from your backpack. It looks vaguely familiar and he squints, trying to place it. Then it hits him- he’s seen it before, a matching charm clipped to Kaji’s rarely-used bag. The trinket is small and undeniably cutesy, in sharp contrast to Kaji's abrasive personality, which is what had drawn Sakura's attention to it in the first place.
“Oi,” Kaji snaps, tightening his hold around your waist, but his voice lacks the usual bite Sakura has come to associate the blonde with. “Be careful.”
You pout, playful and unabashed. “Aw, but I knew you’d catch me.”
“Still.” Kaji eyes you. His fingers brush against the hem of your skirt, tugging it down slightly. “And this—”
You cut him off with a practiced ease, plucking the lollipop from his mouth and popping it into yours.
"Oi!"
“Yeah, yeah,” you say breezily, leaning your head against his shoulder. “It’s too short, other guys will mess with me, blah blah blah. But I’m not worried, because my big bad boyfriend will take care of any problems, won’t he?”
Kaji's lips twitch as though he wants to argue, but nothing comes out. Instead, what looks like the faintest smile slips onto them, though it’s gone in the blink of an eye.
“Hi, Kusumi-chan, Enomoto-chan!” you lean back slightly in Kaji's arms, tilting your head so you can see the other boys who have been smirking at each other the entire time. Sensing their silent amusement, Kaji snaps his head around, fixing them with a pointed glare. Their expressions transform immediately into pictures of innocence and they greet you enthusiastically, clearly charmed by you.
“Good t’see ya as always,” Takeshi grins broadly. “Still keepin’ our captain on his toes?”
“Someone has to,” you quip, swirling the lollipop stick between your fingers before slipping it from your lips. Kaji’s gaze flickers downward, tracking the motion, lingering a beat too long on your lips.
You tug at the headphones around Kaji's neck. “Still taking good care of these, huh? Never takes them off, does he, Enomoto-chan?”
“Well,” Takeshi says with a teasing grin, “they’re special. Given by someone even more special.”
“Shut up,” Kaji mutters, ears faintly pink, though he doesn’t refute it. He's still staring down at your lips, though his gaze flickers back up to meet yours when you reach a hand up.
“Aw," you smile sweetly at him, brushing a finger through the bangs covering his forehead, "I'm glad you're still putting them to good use."
"Tch." Kaji's gaze darts away but returns to you almost just as quickly.
Sakura sputters, completely thrown off by the revelation that the reason behind the permanent fixture on Kaji Ren’s head...is you. Dumbfounded, he watches you continue to shower Kaji—the same boy he's seen coldly pummel opponents to a pulp with the harshest of scowls—with affection. But none of that brutality is visible now. Instead, Kaji holds you with an unexpected tenderness, as if you’re something delicate, something precious to him.
You let out a long, almost aggrieved sigh, and Sakura can’t help but wonder if you’re starting to tire of giving without getting anything in return from the blonde.
“Why're you so handsome?” you pout, sliding a finger down the bridge of Kaji's nose until it rests gently over his lips. “It’s just so unfair.”
Sakura chokes on his own spit.
Kaji doesn’t reply to that at all. Perhaps he doesn’t know how to. The tips of his ears are an unmistakeable flaming red now.
And then, as if on instinct, he leans down. The movement is quick, almost imperceptible. But it's enough signal for you apparently, because you close the gap by pressing your lips to his, winding your arms around his neck tighter and relaxing into his hold.
Sakura feels his brain grind to a complete halt.
“As I said,” Chiyoko hums behind him with a knowing smile. Her short legs swing happily against Sakura's sides. “Young love.”
sum; After meeting you, the new dispatcher, Robert's good intentions of being friends and pillars for each other become blurred, the lines falling apart when robert begins to think differently, making things awkward and leading to a new tension that needs to be solved.
content; some build-up, maybe slow burn? it happens over the span of a few months, Robert is a bit of a softie for the reader, Robert and reader get into an argument and have jealous moments, tension in the office, reader has an insecurity mentioned (teeth/smile), Robert has a wet dream, switch!robert, unprotected sex, Robert gets a little rough, but he's ultimately really sweet, fingering, multiple rounds, tummy bulge,
wc; 12.9k
a/n; ROBERT 😛😛😛 just started watching Jacksepticeye play Dispatch, and I'm in LOVEVEVEVEEEEE with everyone. im NOT done yet, only at like ep4, so bare with any details that might be found after ep4! Invisigal or Malevola possibly coming soon after this 😼
Since joining SDN, Robert was dedicated to fixing shit around the Z-Team. He didn't play around or let bullshit in the way. And he sure as hell didn't get distracted.
Until you came along. A new girl at SDN—a new dispatcher who happened to take the spot right across from him. For the first two weeks, you only talked to one person—Chase. Oddly enough. It was only odd because of how vulgar Chase was, and how you seemed so opposite of him, but you still got along great because Chase was a big help for you and your confusion around the office. He even helped you through your first panic attack during a shift when you freaked out about possibly being the reason that one of your heroes got hurt.
Chase helped you through the ropes, and slowly introduced you to Royd. Royd definitely freaked you out at first, but he was a big sweetheart. Once you got into the flow of things, Chase introduced you properly to Robert.
How did he do that?
By leaving you to watch Beef while Chase pretended to be busy while Robert went out for lunch on his break and you stayed at the office, eating with Beef on the floor. You literally sat on the floor, talking with the fat chihuahua like he was a person who could talk back. Just as you slipped him a piece of salami from your sandwich, Robert came back and did that dumb voice for Beef, almost personifying the dog.
"Oh, wow, that's some good salami, thanks, stranger!" His hand covered his mouth, like he was doing a bad ventriloquist act, and his voice sounded like a goblin from a cartoon. You turned, cheeks slightly flushed at being caught talking to a dog, but you couldn't help laughing at Robert, your hand covering your mouth.
"Is that supposed to be him?" You giggled, moving to stand, but Robert was already sitting down to join you, a small smile on his eternally tired face as he reached out to pet Beef's head.
"Mhmm. That's Beef. Tell her, Beef." Robert lifted his hand again, covering his mouth.
"That's me, miss, I'm Beef!" Robert did the weird voice again, watching you erupt with a fit of laughter, hand still hovering over your mouth.
"I do hope he doesn't actually sound like that."
"Aren't I handsome enough to sound a little silly?" The goofy imitation continued, but Robert gave it a break as he chuckled and let Beef scramble into his lap.
"Very handsome, little dog," you finally dropped your hand once your laughter eased, a softer smile on your lips as you reached to pet the dog.
"So.. I'm Robert." He finally spoke in his normal voice, holding a hand out. "I've seen you around. Chase has told me about your work so far." He said.
"Oh, that so..?" You hummed, taking his hand to shake it lightly, a bit shocked at the firmness of his grip and the calloused nature of his palms.
"Mhmm. We're all pretty impressed. You've done great so far. I'm still relatively new myself, only been here a few weeks more than you, but I still didn't do as good as you. Hell, my team is still a pain." Robert joked, huffing a bit.
"Yeah, Chase and Royd have told me." You nodded, glancing up at him. "Sorry I haven't talked to you. I feel a little bad because we sit across from each other—I-i don't mean to be impolite—"
"It's not impolite. I really don't mind." He chuckled. "You're not obligated to talk to some loser ex-hero like me. You're not even obligated to talk to Chase—which is why I'm a little shocked. You don't seem the type to be friends with someone so vulgar." He observed, head tilting.
"Well, he's nice. Looks like a grandpa, but he's definitely nicer than others. Uhm, also, you're not a loser. I don't think? I mean, I know I don't know you, but Chase talks pretty highly of you, Robert Robertson the Third." You giggled again, biting at your lower lip like you were holding back the possibility of showing an open mouthed smile.
"Oh, God, he told you my full name?"
"Yeah. He did." You nodded.
"Well, I guess the embarrassing stuff is out of the way. Now you're stuck here. Can't let you get out with that info." He joked, glancing up at you with a smile that made you feel weirdly at ease.
From the headset resting on your neck, you jolted at the sound of two heroes screaming at each other through the system.
"Fuck—sorry—I have to go, but it was so good to finally meet you! And Beef!" You quickly gave Beef one more excess piece of salami before you rushed off to your desk, turning your headset down as you checked on your heroes statuses.
Robert stayed on the floor for a moment, letting Beef eat the meat before the dog crawled off his lap and returned to his bed, flopping onto his side. Robert sighed as he stood, returning to his desk.
Running into him like that eased you into morning greetings, afternoon lunch breaks together, and evening goodbyes over the next month and a half. You weren't exactly known around the office, so when Robert invited you to come along with him and Royd to a work thing that you didn't even know about, you were... rather excited.
It was just a small celebration at a bar for a jump in improvement for the heroes being dispatched. Your heroes included. It was funny how you and your heroes were part of the praise, yet you hadn't known about the celebration. It was at a bar downtown, and you couldn't bring yourself to press for conversation with anyone. Not even Royd as he talked to one of the other people from the office whom you hadn't met.
"Got room for one more?" Robert asked, clinking his shot glass with your water glass as he slid into the booth next to you.
"Oh. Yeah, sure, I.. don't see why not." You said, scooting over to give him room.
"You enjoying your own company over here?" He asked, raising a brow.
"Not really. But I don't want to intrude on conversations. Everyone is having so much fun." You shrugged, both hands wrapped around your glass as you tapped your ring at the cup anxiously.
"Well, I'm intruding on your silence. Let's talk." He insisted, downing his shot and cringing slightly before he nudged the small glass away.
"About what?" You asked, laughing quietly at his expression of disgust at the sour shot.
"About you. About work. About anything. Unless you prefer we sit in silence."
"Well—I almost got punched by Invisigal. She's not even on my team." You muttered, huffing slightly as you glanced away.
"Yeah. She's on mine. Definitely a character, isn't she?" He murmured, lips pursing in thought. "Why'd she try to hit you?"
"Because I told her she didn't have a right to tell my team how to do anything when she was barely taken off the bottom of the leaderboard and she's hardly moved since." You murmured, shame sinking in.
"You said that? To Invisigal?" Robert's jaw was practically on the ground.
"She told one of the heroes in my call that he was going to 'fuck shit up for others' because he froze on a mission that they crossed paths on. She pissed me off."
"I mean, freezing could've caused a big issue." Robert murmured.
"But the one that froze was new to the team—new and afraid because I had sent him on the wrong mission. It wasn't his fault, and now Invisigal is pissed off at me because I told her she was a nosey cunt."
"Wo-hooah!" Robert laughed, straightening up. "You called her that?"
"I-i didn't mean to! It just came out! And I tried to apologize because I dont think she's truly that bad. She and I just got off on the wrong foot!" You insisted, turning to face Robert with a pleading look on your face, visibly still shaken from how mean you'd been to the hero you'd barely knew.
"Woah—okay, breathe. She's not actually gonna hurt you—well, she might—but I'll talk to her. Or you could. She's probably open to talking if you approach her right. Uh.. offer her some candy in the break room, maybe." Robert explained, chuckling at your distress.
"Candy? Like what? A chocolate or a gummy?"
"Mm.. she looks like she likes sour."
"Sour patch kids?"
"Definitely." Robert nodded, watching you deflate slightly as you looked at your water with a sigh.
"You wanna come with me to grab a drink?" He asked, gesturing for you to join him as he slid out of the booth.
"I don't drink often, it's probably not a good idea.."
"It's okay. You're in good hands, I promise."
There was a pause. A debate in your head.
You held your pinky out.
Robert blinked, looking at you like some alien life form being newly discovered.
"Pinky promise or it doesn't count." You said, more serious than Robert expected.
"You got it. I pinky promise that you're in good hands. If you get too drunk, I'll get you home safe." He promised, wrapping his pinky with yours and letting you squeeze until you nearly broke it, which is when you pulled back. He let you laugh at it, watching as you covered your mouth and got up from the booth.
"Yeesh, you've got quite a grip."
"I make everyone pinky promise. If they pull away from the grip, they're lying." You said. "You didn't pull away. So you're not lying."
"That seems a bit..."
"It works. I've tested it." You said confidently.
"I'm sure it does." He mused.
You two reached the bar, and he leaned over it as you mulled over your options. He gently tapped your hand to get your attention.
"Got an idea what you want?" He asked softly.
"Uhm... something weak and sweet, please. I don't know, I'm not good with picking drinks."
"I got you, it'll be good." He nodded, catching the bartender. He ordered himself a regular beer and got you a french martini. The name alone made you question his choices, but upon tasting, you were conflicted.
"Mm. It's.. interesting."
"Do you want something else?" He asked.
"No, no, this is good, it's just.. the pineapple is interesting with the vodka. It's just a strong flavor, and it's probably a bad combo, so I'll need something less acidic next." You took another sip, humming lightly before Robert ordered you something a little less sweet but with a little less liquor.
"Here, try this one," He said, holding the drink out to you. Instead of taking it, you leaned forward and let him tilt the drink back so you could take a sip. It was definitely a little out of the ordinary, but Robert wasn't complaining one bit.
"Mmh! I like that one. It's not as sweet, but it's less harsh on the throat."
Robert choked on his own snickering, to which you blushed faintly at your own wording. You turned your head and impulsively slammed the rest of the first drink in the blink of an eye, coughing at the attack of harsh flavor.
"Woah, hey, you don't gotta drink like that!" He reached out to place a hand on your shoulder, stopping you from taking the second drink.
"I'd rather get drunk at this point." You admitted.
"Well, let's see how that first drink settles, okay? Don't need you getting yourself sick." He said, keeping a hand on the other drink before he ordered you a glass of room temp water.
"Why's it warm?" You asked, raising a brow.
"It's room temp. It's not cold because the room temp water is better for your stomach and throat. Cold water sends a bit of a shock to your stomach, the temperature difference can cause indigestion, and cold water in general can increase the chance of sore throats." Robert rambled, watching as you steadily sipped on your water.
"Didn't know that. You're kinda smart." You hummed, a small smile stretching over your lips.
"Glad to be of service." He mused, staring at you with a slightly softened look as he watched you start to relax. He could see it in the way you didn't cover your smile when it got a little wider, the way you let your shoulders slump to ease the tension at the base of your neck.
The bar's noise became a soft buzz to you as you felt the alcohol settle, but you didn't mind the feeling yet, so you reached for the second, more preferred drink, and began to sip on it as Robert told you about some silly stories from the Z-Team. Just like back at the office, Robert did more talking than you, but he got a good amount of giggles from you, likely thanks to the alcohol that was just barely buzzing through you.
Soon, now on your third drink, you were focused on the music, so when the bar started playing one of your favorite bands, you swayed and tapped your finger to the music, humming as Robert kept you company with his conversation.
"You like the music?"
"Yeah. 's a good band. Heard it tons as a kid, never got rid of it." You muttered, idly chewing on the plastic straw you'd gotten for your drink. Robert reached out, tapping your jaw.
"Don't chew on that. It's not good for your teeth." He warned softly.
"Oh. Right. Sorry." You straightened up, setting the drink down as you blinked through some fuzzy blotches in your vision. "I'm.. uh... gonna run to the bathroom. I'll be back." You said, scrambling from your stool to stand up, only to stumble.
"Hey, don't get up so fast." Robert reached out to catch you, concern etching his eternally sleepy eyes as he stood to help keep you upright.
"I-i'm fine, don't you worry about me." You tried to play it off and take another step, but your body swayed. In your head, you were doing just fine, stepping in a perfectly normal fashion, but that wasn't the case. Robert caught you again.
"Okay, I'll take you to the bathroom, just.. don't collapse, please?" He sighed, helping guide you through the crowded bar to the bathroom. He felt awkward going into the women's bathroom, but he did promise to take care of you. When you made it in, Robert let you stumble into the stall to deal with your business. A woman walked out of a different stall, giving him an odd look.
"I, uh, I'm waiting for a friend. She's.. in the stall. I swear." He tried to explain, but she just left, mumbling about how 'men will lie about anything these days.' He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply.
"Roberrrt?" You called out from the stall, the sound of you stumbling making him worry.
"You okay in there?" He asked.
"'m okay, just had to make sure y'stayed." You muttered. Robert pinched his nose harder and hung his head low in shame as another group of women passed through.
"Yeah, I'm waiting. Don't worry." He spoke up, trying to ignore the way the girls stared holes into him as they fixed their makeup and washed their hands. Once you were done, you came out and shuffled to the sink. While you were washing your hands, the tallest woman leaned over and asked you a question, to which you looked offended.
"Does he look like he would ever do that to a woman?" You drunkenly snapped back, flicking the water from your hands at the woman's face. Robert jolted, grabbing napkins and taking your hands to dry them before he looked at the women.
"She's had a lot. She's a lightweight. Her sister will be taking her home now, don't worry." He lied, offering an apologetic look to the woman you'd splashed. He guided you out of the bathroom, only to erupt into laughter when you were far enough away.
"What so funny?" You asked, frowning up at him.
"Nothing. It was just really funny to see you splash a random woman without reason." He said, his hand at your upper back at he guided you back to the bar to get down some water.
"She asked if you were 'bothering me'." You frowned, slouching against the bar.
"Why does that matter?"
"Because she said it like you were gonna hurt me or somethin'." You looked at him, once again chewing at your plastic straw.
"Do you think I'd do that?" He asked, gently reaching out to take the straw from your teeth. A gentle reminder without criticism.
You pulled back from the cup, shaking your head. "You seem nice. Chase talks to me about how nice you are once a stranger gets past that hard head of yours."
"Chase said that?" Robert asked quietly.
"Yeaaahh," you drawled lazily, leaning your cheek into your palm as your elbow rested on the bar top.
"That's nice of him. He calls me a little fucker and a bitch more than he says my name." He scoffed, but it was a fond sound, despite the impression given by the nicknames he spoke of.
You stared at him, eyes lazily dragging along his features. His stubbled chin—he definitely hasn't shaved in a few days—his sleepy eyes, the brightness of his coppery irises, the dryness of his slightly pale lips, and that odd little chip in his right ear. You wondered what it was from.
"What? Is there something on my face? Am I bleeding?" Robert asked, and you really noticed how deep his voice was, how it rumbled in his chest.
"No. I just like looking at you." You mumbled honestly.
Robert blinked. "Oh. Well, thanks? I suppose," he looked off to the side, his cheeks tinting a faint shade of pink. He didn't often feel bashful like this, so it was a little odd for him.
"You've got a nice face. Good shape." You muttered.
"Okay. I think I should get you home now, mumbler." He stood slowly, reaching out to help you from your seat.
Your only form of protest was how you reached out and downed the last half of the abandoned third drink you'd gotten earlier. Robert groaned.
"Come on, you're already saying silly things." He sighed, guiding you back to your original booth to retrieve your purse and jacket from Royd who'd been sweet enough to hold them for you.
"She okay?" Royd asked, raising a brow as you leaned into Robert. Robert definitely wasn't used to a pretty girl leaning on him so comfortably.
"She's alright, just had too much to drink. I promised her I'd get her home safely. Uhm... do you... know where she lives?" Robert asked, his voice hushed in subtle embarrassment that he didn't ask before you were too drunk to tell him yourself.
"Nah, man, you on your own." Royd rumbled with a laugh, patting Robert on the back as he draped your jacket over your shoulders and gave Robert your purse. "Maybe check her ID. See if it on there." Royd said, gesturing into your purse.
Robert only nodded, sighing and thanking Royd before he helped you out of the bar. "I really don't wanna go through your purse." He murmured to himself, looking at your purse as he helped you sit on the curb, letting you relax into his side as he reluctantly searched for your wallet.
He found it, only to mentally slap himself. You lived way too far to walk. And his broke ass didn't have a car. But his apartment sucked. He had literally nothing in there. So what did he do? He decided to cough up the money for a cab, even though he knew it was probably a little suspicious looking. He was barely buzzed, but he'd had enough water to look and feel sober.
He gave the driver your address before he took off. It was a quiet, awkward ride, filled in occasionally with your mumbles about how warm Robert felt like this. Robert wondered how often you let loose like this, and how often you really felt safe enough to let yourself fall into the hands of someone you still only knew so much. But he was honored that you trusted him.
Arriving at your apartment building, he handed the driver whatever was left in his wallet that barely covered the ride and a small tip. He helped you out of the car, thanking the driver before he looked at your wobbly legs. He hummed.
"Is it alright if I carry you? I don't want you tripping.." he asked quietly, brushing your hair from your face.
"Tha's fine, Robert," you muttered, straightening your posture. You felt steady enough, but with the way he dove in you catch you again, you were losing confidence in your balance. Robert hoisted you into his arms, carrying you princess style as he headed into the building. He found your keys in your purse, and luckily, your key had your apartment number engraved in it.
"Almost there, miss mumbles." He muttered, mentally cursing the elevator for not working. He got to the third floor when he finally reached your door. He unlocked both locks and carried you in, looking around in the dimly lit living room.
"'M home?" You looked around, squinting at the darkness.
"Hang on, looking for a light." Robert said, hand blindly pressing around the wall for a switch. When he found the switch, he flicked it up and let his eyes adjust to the brightness before he carried you over to the couch.
"You brought me home." You smiled sweetly at Robert, watching as he took your jacket to hang it up before he covered you with a blanket.
"Of course I did. I made a pinky promise, didn't I?"
"You did!" You giggled, smiling wider before you grabbed Robert by his cheeks.
"Wait—fuck—don't do—" Robert panicked, but he immediately shut up when you kissed the corner of his eye. He sighed in relief. It was still kinda not a good idea, but it was better than you kissing him properly.
"You've been so nice to me." You slurred lightly, hands dropping to your lap as Robert gently tugged the blanket around you, making sure you were warm and comfortable. He kneeled, reaching down to remove your shoes before he set them at the side of the couch.
"Just keeping a pretty lady safe. I used to be a hero, yknow? It's in my blood." He joked, sitting on the floor in front of you.
"Which hero were you?" You asked, leaning forward to look closer at him.
"Uh.. I'm not sure it's a good idea to say. It's kinda... embarrassing, I guess." He shook his head.
"Tha's okay." You shrugged, already moving to lie down as your eyes closed.
"Hey, do you want anything before I leave?" He asked, reaching out to gently get your hair out of your face.
"You're leaving?" You opened your eyes to look at him, frowning like a kicked puppy.
"I.. thought it'd be best. I don't think it's right for me to stay at your place like this. It feels like an intrusion." He explained quietly.
"I don't mind, Robbieee," you shifted closer, hoping to get him to stay as you reached toward him.
"Uh.. I.. suppose.." he swallowed lightly. He didn't want to leave you on the couch either way, so he stood up. "Where's your room?" He asked, lifting you up with a small huff as he cradled your head against his shoulder.
"Mmh.. right." You said, lazily gesturing down the hall. The apartment was small enough to where there was only 3 options, and one was on the right. So he headed to your room and carried you in, flicking the light on as he laid you on the bed.
"You comfy?" He asked, pulling your blanket over your body to let you get comfortable.
"Thank you." You mumbled, eyes already falling shut. He could tell that you needed a night like this.
What made him hesitate was when you reached out and took his hand. "Sit with me?" You blurted, squinting up at him. He didn't know if this was okay. Your clingy drunken state was definitely a shock to him.
He gave in, sitting down at the side of your bed as he let you hold his hand close to your chest, eyes falling shut once more. "Goodnight. I'll stay." He whispered, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles.
Thanks to the alcohol, and his company, you were asleep like a baby in less than ten minutes.
Robert waited about half an hour before he gently removed himself from your grasp, returning to the living room. He plopped himself onto your couch, sighing as he relaxed, kicking his shoes off finally. The couch was shockingly comfortable, so he was also asleep pretty fast, which was uncommon.
The next morning, Robert was shaken awake by the sound of vomiting. He slipped on the hardwood as he scrambled to the bathroom to find it wide open, you holding your own hair back to avoid getting vomit in your hair.
"Shit. Fuck." He hissed at the sight, kneeling beside you as you coughed and spit into the toilet before you fell back against your tub and closed the toilet to flush it. Robert reached for a rag and wet it in the sink before he brought it to your mouth, wiping gently before he folded the yuck to the inside of the rag.
"Sorry. I know this is so gross." You rasped lightly, throat hurt from the intensity of throwing up.
"I've seen worse. Much worse." He said, shaking his head before he looked around. He found a hair tie and reached around to tie your hair back. "You want some water? Crackers? Uh.. bread?" He asked, unsure of what your usual hangover throw up cure was.
"No. I'm okay. You.. really don't have to be here. I don't even know why you stayed." You gave a small laugh, sniffling slightly as you curled up on the floor, back against the tub.
"I stayed because you asked me to. And I promised I'd keep you safe. Safety also includes comfort." He said simply, shrugging a bit.
"I.. really appreciate it, but I'm not drunk now. I'm sure you have better things to do on your day off."
"Not really. But I'll go if you want me to." He said honestly.
"I think that's best. I already don't remember a lot of how I embarrassed myself last night." You laughed quietly, a sad, anxious sound.
"Then I'll go. But if you need me, I left a note on your dresser. Or, yknow, just come find me at work. I'm not picky." He slowly stood up, grunting at the soreness in his back.
"I really appreciate you following through with your promise. As much of a mess as I feel like, I really needed to just... be a little stupid for once." You looked up at him.
He gave a small thumbs up. "Anytime, miss mumbles." And with that, he walked out, returning to get his shoes. But while you were busy still recovering in the bathroom, Robert took it upon himself to find you a bottle of water and some crackers from your pantry, laying it out on your counter for easy access.
Your morning was spent nursing yourself before you found the note on your dresser, staring down at it. You sighed, flipping it over. You felt like an idiot. You didn't think Robert would dare to use it against you, but you knew you were a clingy and touchy drunk. Not inappropriately, but affectionate to the point that you worried if Robert was contemplating an HR report. You decided it was smart to just go about your day. You threw away the note, banishing it from your mind as you cleaned your apartment and powered through your headache and regret.
Five days you'd avoided Robert. You skipped out on your usual lunch break, insisting that Blonde Blazer had given you some extra work to help out the SDN. You hardly even gave him a wave and a nod as you passed his desk to sit at yours.
Robert, on the other hand, tried to keep things normal. He'd come to your desk during breaks, only to be shut down with a half-assed apology. He'd try to walk alongside you in the mornings, but he'd be left behind when you'd apologize and say, 'sorry, gotta run to catch Chase in the records room!' or 'i have to stop by the restroom, i'll catch you later.'
He was getting tired of it. So what did he do? He convinced Invisigal spy on you. Probably a bit of a weird thing, maybe a violation of privacy, but he wasn't getting any answers from you or Chase. He knew it seemed weird, considering he'd only known you for just under two months, but after the other night, he wasn't about to let you avoid him over some silly drunken behavior.
"Royd, I really don't wanna talk about it." You said, arms crossing as Royd ran into you in the break room and asked about what happened when Robert took you home.
"'Ey, what happen? He put his hands on you, or some?" Royd asked, accent prominent as ever as his mind snapped to the worst case scenario.
"Woah! No, no, he's.. too nice to do that. It was just embarrassing. I get clingy when I'm drunk, and Robert was being super sweet, and I think.. I think I remember trying to kiss him? But I kissed his eyebrow? But then he took me to bed and let me hold his hand while I fell asleep, and then the next morning, I was throwing up every bit of solid food I'd eaten in the last 24 hours, and then Robert tried to stay to help me, and he didn't even care that I smelled like vomit and alcohol and I was still in my work clothes from the day before." You rambled quickly, words coming out at 50 miles per minute, brows furrowing before you turned away and hit your head against the vending machine. "He's so nice to me. Even though he curses like a sailor and has such a mean sounding voice and he looks so tired all the time."
"You got it bad for him, girl." Royd chuckled, handing you a cup of coffee.
"Wha—no I don't!" You perked up, looking up at Royd with flushed cheeks.
"Why do you care so much then?" He asked, crossing his arms after you took the coffee.
"I.. I care because... h-he could make a complaint! I tried to kiss him! He saw me in a way that a coworker shouldn't see another coworker!" You complained.
Before Royd could ask more about your situation, Invisigal lost her breath and knocked a chair over as she tripped trying to run out of the break room. You stared at her as she ran out, eyes wide.
"Oh, I'm so screwed." You whined, falling back against the vending machine and sliding down to sit on the floor.
"Ay, you'll be jus' fine. Robert ain't gonna file nothin'." Royd reassured, patting your shoulder before he checked his watch. "I gotta go, but let me know what goes, yeah?" He said, offering that teddy bear smile of his before he left.
When you were alone, you just sat there, sighing at yourself as you waited for your watch to beep for your break to be over. And just what you needed least—Robert walked in—the damn guy was practically summoned. You didn't bother moving. Invisigal had 100% already told him, and you could tell by the way he sat on the floor with you.
"I'll report myself to HR. No need to have that talk with me." You mumbled.
"Well, miss mumbles, I actually came to clear you of your worries." Robert shrugged. "But if you'd rather go to HR and tell them a lie, go for it." He joked.
"A lie?" You looked at him, confused.
"You didn't try to kiss me. You'd only kissed right here," he pointed to the corner of his eye. "and it was you saying thank you for me keeping my promise. I'm not upset about it. You were merely expressing gratitude, and although you scared me shitless when you yanked my face, I'm not bothered."
"You... don't care? That I kissed your eye and wouldn't let you leave my side like some sickly child?"
"You didn't force me to stay. I stayed because I liked the company, and it.. it was nice to see that side of you. I know we haven't known each other very long, but.. even though you were drunk, seeing you relax and not hide your smile was pretty cool." He reassured, leaning his head back to look at you.
"Oh, now I really might let Waterboy drown me."
"Wha—wait, why? Was that wrong to say?"
"No, not wrong, it's just..." You groaned, hands covering your face. "I don't like my smile, Robert. It's.. off, unless it's practiced." You muttered.
"I think it's cool. It's your own. It's you." Robert said bluntly, shifting to sit closer to you.
"You're just saying that."
"I promise—" He held his pinky out, a callback to the other night. "I promise that I mean it."
You stared at him, visibly stunned at the sweet reassurance. "You.. also remembered that." You looked down at his hand, a little embarrassed that he remembered one of your most childish habits.
"Well? Come on, mumbles," he wiggled his pinky at you. You stifled a snicker, reaching to accept the pinky promise. You both squeezed this time, and neither of you pulled away until Waterboy stumbled in, making you both stiffen.
"I-im sorry—apologies—I didn't mean to—didn't mean.." Waterboy stammered, only to watch Robert chuckle as you both stood up.
"It's alright, Waterboy. We have to get back to work, anyway." Robert said, letting you walk out first before he followed behind. Waterboy waved you two off, smiling apologetically at you two.
Things returned to normal. You stopped avoiding Robert, Robert eased up on being nosey, and you two resumed your work friend routine. Your fourth month hit, and by then, you'd become accustomed to having Friday nights with Robert to unwind, and Saturday to run errands together. Robert proposed the idea, secretly to feel a little less lonely, but he told you it was because 'Beef liked you and needed time outside of home and work,'
Tonight was one of those Fridays, and it was Roberts turn to make dinner, so you were relaxing on the couch, Beef sitting in your lap as you read some book you'd recently bought. The consistency of your weekly nights spent together made it feel like you were part time roommates, and you were a little shocked that Robert didn't move in by now.
"Hey, would you clear the coffee table for me?" He called from the kitchen, adding the final touches to his simple meal—just a nice beef stir fry with white rice.
"On it, Robs," you gave a thumbs up in his direction before you gently lifted Beef off of your lap, setting him at your side before you cleared the coffee table of your books and laptop. Robert came over with two plates, setting them down. He retreated, only to come back with four glasses—two glasses of water and two shots, and tucked under his arm was some vodka he'd been given by Chase.
"Dinner is served. Don't be afraid to send compliments to the chef, I quite enjoy the praise." He joked, sitting next to you as he handed you the shot glass.
"Really? You want to take shots?" You snickered.
"Come on, it's been a long week. You're stressed, I'm stressed—at least I'm not going to clubs and getting into fights." He huffed, setting your water down.
"I think I'll pass on the shots tonight. But help yourself." You shrugged, waving him off before he shamelessly downed both shots. He cringed after each one, but clearly had no regret.
"So, what's on the agenda for tonight? Dinner and TV? Card game? Uh... take Beef for a late night walk?" He asked, listing off lazy ideas before he leaned forward to take a bite off his plate.
"Mmh, I don't know. I need a shower tonight, so you'll be left alone for a bit. I also need to fold my laundry. And I should probably also do my dishes." You listed off your chores, bringing your plate to your lap as you took a bite of the food, humming in satisfaction.
"It's good, no?" He mused, mouth full with rice and broccoli.
"Really good." You returned the mouthful talk, nodding happily.
"Bet you didn't think a loser like me could cook so damn good." He joked, nudging your elbow with his.
"You're not a loser, Robert. You're just a doof." You smiled subconsciously, patting his leg as you paid attention to the food.
"Oh, that's so much better." He rolled his eyes. You plucked a piece of meat off of your plate and helped Beef onto the floor before you gave the dog the meat.
"That's cannibalism." Robert said plainly.
"Eh, he doesn't seem to mind. Beef likes beef." You laughed, watching the dog enjoy the small bit of treat he'd get whenever you had meat around him.
"You spoil him." Robert shook his head, feigning disapproval.
"Shut up and eat." You waved him off, handing Beef another piece of meat before you focused on eating your own food. Robert did the same, letting the silence ease between you two just like every other Friday.
Robert offered to deal with the dishes while you showered. From the bathroom, Robert heard you call for him, to which he was confused by.
"What's up?" He called back, listening through the bathroom door.
"Come in real quick!" You shouted.
Robert hesitated. He knew the glass of your shower door was frosted, and it hid details, and the steam probably barely let anything stay visible, but he kept his eyes closed as he entered.
"You need something?" He asked, a hand clamped over his eyes.
"Yeah, would you run to my room and grab me the new tube of face wash? It's blue, it's right next to my moisturizer." You spoke over the loud stream of water, peeking out from the crack you had in the door opening. He nodded.
"On it," he gave a thumbs up, turning around. When he turned around, he opened his eyes and stepped out. He left the door cracked as he retrieved the face wash from your dresser before he brought it back to you, eyes still clamped shut.
"Robert, you don't need to close your eyes. You can't see anything." You said bluntly, laughing at his refusal to look.
"Eh, I'm good to be blind for a minute." He said, unwilling to admit that if he saw you behind that foggy glass, he'd definitely lose his mind.
"Okay, well, thanks." You took the wash from him, and he left.
He rushed back to the living room and downed a couple more shots, groaning as he tried to wipe the perverted thoughts from his head. You were so careless around him, and he couldn't tell if that was a sign of trust and he should be appreciative or if he was going to really give a cause for an HR complaint.
Beef crawled into his lap, licking at his arm. "Ugh, she's gonna kill me, Beef." Robert sighed.
When he heard you emerge from the shower, he remained on the couch, waiting for you to return. Once you were dressed, you came to get him.
"You wanna stay here, or do you wanna sit with me while I do my laundry?" You asked. Robert turned, only to be momentarily stunned. He blinked.
You stood, leaning against the couch with a tight tank top and a pair of loose sweats that hung low on your hips. The cherry on top? He could see that you weren't wearing a bra—breast heavy and practically waiting, nipples faintly pressing into your tank top—, and much to his dismay, the sight had blood rushing down south.
"Uh.. I think I'm good out here. Probably gonna watch some... TV, I guess. Beef is already laying down." He gave a poor excuse, gesturing down to the dog in his lap that 'prevented' him from getting up.
"Okay, I'll be down the hall." You said, giving a thumbs up before you disappeared into your room. Robert was so fucked.
The vodka buzzed through him, and he sighed as he laid down, Beef still in his lap as he laid an arm over his eyes to shield them from the light. He yawned, relaxing into the couch.
Robert grunted, lower lip tucked between his teeth as he rutted his hips. His hands grasped onto the hips of the figure beneath him, the darkness consuming her features. "Fuckin' perfect. S-so good.. Fuck—fuck!" He hissed, nails digging into the skin of whoever was beneath him. He couldn't see her face, couldn't hear her words properly, but he could feel how good she felt. How good it felt to sink into the soaked warmth of her pussy, his hands roaming up her body to grope at her breasts. How good it felt to have her pull him in closer as his hips started to lose rhythm, keeping him deep inside of her as he choked on his own whimpers, cock twitching against her cervix as he spilled his cum into her. When he lifted his head from her shoulder, his eyes focused on her, hoping to praise her and thank her, the light hit her features finally. It was you. Gorgeous features looking up at him, dazed and satisfied, and even offering him that honest grin that you'd reserved just for him.
Robert woke with a jolt, sweat soaking into his t-shirt as he looked down at himself. He was hard. Like, damn near painful.
"Oh, shit." He cursed, a hand raking through his toasty brown hair as he yanked the blanket off and went to the bathroom.
You heard his frantic steps, making you stir from your slumber. The sun blinded you as you sat upright, eyes peeling open to get out of bed and see what Robert was doing up so early.
"Robs?" You called sleepily, knocking on the bathroom door.
"Shit—" He whispered. "Uh—yeah? What's up?" He cleared his throat.
"Y'alright?" You asked. "You sounded a little frantic." You muttered, barely audible to Robert.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Just... really had to go. Yknow how it is." He lied, swallowing harshly.
This was so wrong. So, so wrong. He had to will away his boner somehow because there was no way he was about to jerk off in your bathroom. So what did he do? He sat there. For half an hour. Pretending to be busy.
Until he finally willed away his boner. The issue now? Not picturing you underneath him. Because the moment he stepped out of the bathroom and found you draped over the couch, having fallen back asleep waiting for him, he had literal flashbacks to his dream.
Things were so good between you two! You were so close, he was so close to telling you more about his past regarding Mecha Man, and now he ruined it by his stupid wet dream.
He mentally berated himself, but he decided to let you sleep as he found himself something to eat. Just some cereal. He was beyond aggravated with himself, so to distract himself, he read the cereal box and chewed lazily.
"Robert?" You sat upright, squinting at him from the couch as you watched him glaring at the cereal box like it was the reason his dad died.
"Hm?" He perked up, looking over at you with wide eyes, cheeks full of cereal as he was in the middle of chewing.
"Make me a bowl?" You asked sleepily, eyes hardly even open as your head dropped against the back of the couch. Robert nodded. He made you a bowl of your favorite cereal before he brought it over to you, holding it in front of you as you took a bite and dropped the spoon back into the bowl.
"Tastes good?" He asked.
"Mhm. Sweet." You muttered, eyes still puffy from sleep as they remained faintly cracked open.
"You wanna take Beef with us when we go to the store later?"
"Mmh.. sure. You know where his leash is?"
"It's hung up in the hall closet."
"'Kay." You nodded, yawning loudly before you curled up on the couch and wrapped yourself in the blanket.
"Your cereal will get soggy, sleepyhead."
"Feed me," you mumbled, fully meant as a joke, but when you felt Robert press the spoon to your mouth, you opened your eyes fully and stared at him.
"Choo-choo." He said, his voice comedically monotone.
"I like whatever is wrong with you." You reached out and took the bowl and spoon from him, yawning one more time before you started to eat your cereal. Robert stood, returning to the kitchen to finish his own cereal.
Throughout the rest of the day, Robert was as tense as ever. It was like he was being puppeteered by a child who didn't know how to make the puppets have steady motions. He wouldn't stand too close, he wouldn't sit too close, he'd avoid making his usual flirtatious jokes, and he'd always seem to get a little warm in his cheeks when you'd lean too close.
You chalked it up to some bad sleep. You knew your couch wasn't always ideal, so you didn't bother to investigate further. Until you two went back to work on Monday, and Robert seemed like he couldn't be bothered with looking away from you across the office.
Talking with Chase, he had his gaze glued to you as you left the break room. You waved at him, offering your practiced smile before you went to your desk, only to stand up and peek over the wall that separated your desks.
"Robs, there's a new taco place down the street, do you wanna check it out for lunch?" You asked, chin propped on the wall.
"Mmh.. I-i have... lunch plans with Blonde Blazer. She said she needed to talk to me about my team." Robert lied, and at the mention of having lunch with Blonde Blazer, you seemed to deflate.
"That's okay, I'll take someone else." You waved it off, sitting back in your seat and staring at the computer like it'd offended you. Blonde Blazer was awesome, you knew she was, but something like jealousy burned in your chest, and you didn't understand why.
The next instance that week that made you jealous was seeing Invisigal walk so close to him in the office, giving him the kind of look that made you think she was undressing him with her eyes. The jealousy bubbled, and you felt like an asshole for being so jealous when you had no right to be jealous and protective of a man that you weren't romantically involved with.
It happened for a week straight before you took it upon yourself to try and distract yourself with someone else. Lucky for you, Waterboy was always willing to sit with you when he was in the office with time to spare.
Today, it was Robert who was pissed off. Jealous and pissy, staring at you as Royd tried to tell him something that Robert wasn't processing. He stared at you as Waterboy sat across from you, his gloved hands fidgeting anxiously as he sputtered about how he was so appreciative to you for sitting with him during lunch because you were usually so glued to Robert. Robert was snapped out of it when Royd tapped his shoulder, a brow raised.
"What?" Robert snapped unintentionally.
"Yeesh, you sound cranky." Royd frowned faintly.
Robert sighed, realizing his error. He set his coffee down. "Sorry. I'm not mad at you."
"Then who are you mad at?" Royd asked.
"I'm—no, I'm not mad, I'm just... a little frustrated. That's all. Maybe I just need to blow off some steam, or something, I don't know." He raked a hand through his hair, eyes falling shut.
"Maybe you should go home early. It's not good to be angry at everything around you. I'm sure Miss Blazer could find a replacement for you. We can't have you makin' bad choices for the team." Royd suggested, to which Robert shrugged.
"Sure. Maybe I'll check on that." He muttered.
"I'll catch you later, man." Royd gave a quick bump of his fist to Robert's shoulder before he walked off. Robert turned, looking at you and Waterboy.
Your back was turned to him, Waterboy across from you. Robert wasn't angry at Waterboy—he knew damn well Waterboy had no intention of having a thing for you—but boy, was he increasingly frustrated with you as you seemed to giggle and relax so freely with the hero. Without a word, Robert stormed off, grumbling about something you couldn't hear.
You jolted as the door slammed shut, and with that, Waterboy tensed. "I-i think—Robert isn't h-happ—he's upset—about s-something?"
"Yeah, I wonder what." You mumbled, picking at your food before you looked at Waterboy. "You okay if I run to check on him?" You asked.
"O-of course—sure," he nodded, gesturing for you to go and do what you needed.
"Thanks. I'll see you later." You gave him a quick wave as you shuffled to leave the room and go find Robert.
You found Robert back at his desk, and with him focused on his computer, you snuck up to lean against the edge of his desk. He swallowed harshly as his gaze flicked to your hips—another callback to his stupid dream that started all of his weird behavior. He looked up at you, brows furrowed subconsciously.
"Can I help you?" He asked, his voice rougher than usual.
"Actually, yes. You can start by telling me what's got you so pissed off." You said bluntly, arms crossed over your chest.
"I don't think you care as much as you're trying to." He scoffed faintly, looking back at his computer as he reached for his headset. You grabbed the headset, brows knitting together.
"Excuse me? You're the one who started ignoring me all week. Don't act like you didn't start avoiding me all of a sudden."
"I—mmm." Robert's mouth fell shut, knowing you were right.
"So, spit it out. Why are you ignoring me? And why are you so pissed off?"
"I'm not discussing this here." He said plainly, taking the headset back from you.
"Then you'll come over and you'll talk tonight."
"It's not Friday."
"You're coming over." You said firmly.
"And how are you going to make me?"
"You're coming over because I'm tired of you ignoring me and making me jealous because you've got chicks all over you in this damn office." You blurted out. "We're going to talk, whether you like it or not."
"Jealous? I'm not doing anything—"
"Yes, you are. You're ignoring me and you've got either Miss Blazer or Visi glued to you, and it's fucking infuriating, and I have no clue why." You snapped at him, keeping your voice as low as possible.
"Why don't you two fuckers get the fuck back to work and have your angry sex later?" Chase snapped over the cubicle wall, making both of you tense and blush wildly.
"Fuck off, Chase." Robert grumbled, turning away as you walked off to your desk.
Later that night, Robert found himself standing outside your apartment, without beef—who he left with Chase—, stuck on deciding whether or not he could be alone with you and not act like a damn fool.
His hand moved before he could think better, so he knocked louder than necessary, sighing lightly as he looked down at himself, fixing his shirt and adjusting his belt.
You opened the door just as his hands went to adjust his belt, and you paused. "You already taking your clothes off? Wow, maybe angry sex is the solution." You joked, arms crossed as you stepped aside to let him in.
"I'm not getting naked, and no, angry sex isn't the solution." He grumbled back, cheeks flushed as he stepped in and took his shoes off, shutting the door behind him before he looked at you.
"You sure? Or are you just saying that because you've got so many other girls to keep your dick wet?"
"Are you still on that? Why in gods name would I intentionally make you jealous?" Robert grumbled.
"I don't know! But you're doing it!" You frowned, padding over to the kitchen to grab two bottles of water.
"You think I'm so petty to go as far to ignore you and make you jealous?"
"Well, you've been ignoring me since we had dinner last time, and you've refused to be alone with me, to the point where you cancelled our last Friday hang out. So forgive me if I'm a little hurt by you randomly disappearing from my life when you pushed into it to begin with." You threw the bottle at him—harder than intended—and Robert caught it with a frown as you turned away to distract yourself to avoid staring at him.
"I've been ignoring you because I had a dream that we fucked." He admitted bluntly, tossing the bottle off to the couch as he stepped closer to you.
"You—what?!" You turned, eyes wide and brows furrowed.
"I had a dream." He repeated. "That we had sex."
"So you ignored me and startde canceling our routines and refusing to talk for more than two sentences? Come on, I know I ignored you after I got drunk that one time, but this lasted twice as long as that!"
"So, you're telling me, you'd rather know that I want to have sex with you?"
"Yes. I don't care how awkward it is. You're part of my life, and at this point, I'm starting to think that I might want more because a normal friendship doesn't involve the kind of jealousy that you pulled out of me." You blurted out, watching Robert's eyes go slightly wider.
"You what?" His voice came out quieter, almost softer.
"I'm starting to think that I want more out of this because you're a really good guy and I don't think a normal friend should be jealous if she sees her guy friend with another girl." You said, stepping closer to him.
"So, you want more. I want sex. I want you." Robert mumbled.
"Now what?"
"Do we fuck now, date later, or do we date now and fuck later?"
Both of you paused.
Fuck or have a nice dinner.
Robert wasn't standing that close, but he was close enough to see your breath hitch at his suggestions.
"I'd say dinner would be a great start.." you trailed off.
"But?" He prompted.
"But I don't think either of us will sit still that long like normal with our new... discoveries." You exhaled shakily as Robert stepped closer.
"I don't think so." He agreed quietly. "Maybe it's about time reenact that dream I had. Help you realize that I couldn't care less about the other women at work who you're so worked up about."
"I'm not worked u—"
Robert's lips were on yours in the blink of an eye, causing you to stumble back into the counter. His hands found your hips, lifting you onto the counter like you weighed nothing. Shocking, for a guy as small as him. He slotted himself between your legs, tugging you into him as your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his hips.
"Fuck—ow!" He hissed, yanking back as he felt you bite at his tongue when he tried to lick at your lower lip.
"What? You're not into biting?"
"Not biting my tongue," He grumbled, only to lean back in and press his lips to yours, trailing down toward your jawline and neck.
"So, you're into biting anywhere else?" You mused.
"Don't bite my dick." He said bluntly, only to nip at your collarbone as he reached to grab at the hem of your tank top.
"You think my mouth is going anywhere near your dick?" You joked faintly.
"I mean, if we're gonna really get into the dream, I'm hoping it will." He admitted, all shame tossed out the window. You went to speak, but he cut you off when he pulled back and took it upon himself to remove your top, tossing it somewhere in the kitchen. Neither of you cared to find out where.
"You're so fucking gross. Having a wet dream about your coworker." You huffed, letting him yank you closer as he slammed his lips to yours again—all teeth and tongue—like he'd die if he didn't get to keep his lips on you at all times.
"And you're letting me touch you. You're not much better." He argued, only to shut up when he felt you tug at his hair.
"Shut up and focus before I decide to change my mind." You threatened, and it worked, because he was already working on getting rid of his belt and tossing it aside before he lifted you to hold onto him as he rushed toward your bedroom. He kicked the door shut, pressing your back against the wall as he blindly reached for the light switch. Robert adjusted your position so he could press his bulge against you, eliciting a small gasp from you as he rolled his hips against yours. You tugged at his hair again, his head dropping to your shoulder as he bucked his hips.
"Fuck—shit, don't do that." He panted lightly, his hot breath fanning over your neck. You couldn't help but laugh quietly, the sound melting into a soft moan as you felt him grab your hips to grind you down into him.
"Don't tell me you're going to cum before you've even touched me." You huffed lightly, watching him lift his head as he panted, hips still pressed firm between yours.
"I wouldn't cum before you." He said confidently.
"Why don't you show me how you did that in your dream?" You leaned in and kissed him.
"Yes, ma'am." He muttered, carrying you over to the bed and laying you down before he settled between your thighs and went straight to kiss between your bra-clad breasts, his hands resting at the sides of your ribcage.
He reached under you, unclipping the band of the bra before he gently peeled it away and tossed it onto the floor before he dove back in, lips latching onto your nipple as his right hand moved to undo the button and zipper of your jeans. He looked up at you, a little discouraged by your lack of reaction despite how he could feel your breath hitch as your heart raced.
Deciding it was best to move on, he lifted his head to kiss you—softer, slower—his hands sliding your pants and panties down as he moved out of the way to let you kick them off. Once you were left fully revealed to him, completely exposed, he pulled back and looked down at you.
His staring made you feel a little awkward, so you looked off to the side and shifted around anxiously. "You look just like I dreamt of." He muttered finally, breath shuddering faintly as he reached down to spread your legs for him.
"You stare a lot." You observed.
"Only at you." He kissed you softly, letting one hand slide between your thighs before his fingers came in contact with your trimmed bush.
"Don't get sappy. This is supposed to be like your dream."
"This is better." He scoffed faintly, sliding his fingers down to your hole before he slid them back up between your folds, watching you shiver and whine slightly at the feeling of his cold fingertips sliding between your warm pussy lips.
"Jesus, your hands are so cold, Robs," you complained, a soft whine.
"Don't worry, they'll get warmer." He hummed, sitting upright between your thighs as he pressed his fingertip to your clit, pressing in a slow, experimental back and forth motion. You gasped lightly, body jolting at the sensation.
He switched his hands position to press his thumb against the nub, his fingers sliding back down to prod at the wetness of your hole. Before you processed the slow motions, he slid two fingers inside, watching closely as your body tensed, hands clutching at the sheets, jaw dropping slightly with a soft moan spilling from your lips. He kept his thumb nudged against your clit, his fingers pressing back and forth inside of you as he felt around for that sweet spot. It took him a second, but with the proper curl of his fingers, he had your thighs instinctively trying to shut around his hand. He used his free hand to keep one leg pressed into the mattress, staring down at you.
"Keep 'em open." He said, shifting closer and increasing the speed of his fingers.
"Fuck—oh, jesus—" you moaned, hips jolting away as you felt him press a third finger into your pussy, the stretch easing into a pleasurable burn.
"You still feel good?" He asked, a small groan leaving his lips as he felt you clench around his fingers, the sensation causing a rush of blood down to his cock, making it damn near painful to be untouched like this.
"F-feels good, mhmm." You nodded, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as your head fell back. Robert took his hand away from your thigh, using his knee to keep your leg from lifting to close as he brought his now free hand to find your clit, providing more focus on the bundle of nerves as he focused on letting his fingers stimulate the sweet spot he'd been abusing since he found it.
"That the right spot?" He asked, tilting his head at you.
You nodded, eyes rolling back as your eyes fluttered shut and you fully surrendered to the pleasure, letting Robert eat up every moan and gasp that you gave him, feeding his stupid ego. He leaned over you again.
"Move your hand, baby. Move it." He said quietly, voice soft and gentle, a contrast to the rough stimulation he was providing to encourage your pleasure. You moved your hand, looking up at him with your lips parted. Robert smirked lightly, enjoying how easily you gave into his soft demands.
He leaned in, lips finding yours in a sloppy kiss that you could barely return steadily. Your arms lifted to wrap around his neck again, keeping him close to you as he felt the tension in your lower belly become hotter and tighter, back arching into him. Your chest pressed against his, and he groaned at the feeling.
"Robert—Robs, oh!—'m gonna cum," you whimpered into the kiss. His only response was doubling his efforts and deepening the kiss, his hands focused with a kind of precision that almost made you wonder if Robert got more pussy than he looked like he did. You bit at his lower lip, a soft cry of pleasure leaving your throat as you dug your nails into his shoulders and pulled him as close as he could come, hips bucking impatiently against his hands. He felt you gush around the his fingers, his effort staying steady as he leaned down to kiss at your neck, letting you breathe as you slowly began to shift away, a nearly incoherent plea for a break making Robert slow his movements as he soothed you with soft kisses along your collarbone and neck. He retracted his hands, and without an ounce of shame, he held eye contact with you as he lifted his hand to lick his fingers clean.
Before he could even make a comment on how you'd lost your attitude just from a little amatuer fingering, he was flipped over onto his back. He grunted lightly as his back hit the bed, looking up at you like you'd just revealed some dirty secret.
"Don't give me that look." you panted slightly, still dazed from your first orgasm of the night,
"Would you rather me look at your tits?" He asked, eyes flitting down to your breasts as you straddled his hips and planted yourself firm against his untouched boner. "Oh—shit," Robert stuttered, his cock twitching in his pants at the sensation.
"You're really mean, yknow that?" You mumbled.
"Mean? I just fingered you—"
"Yeah, and I've been fully naked, completely exposed, and you've been enjoying the luxury and comfort of your stupid clothes."
"Then undress me." He huffed.
You rolled your eyes lightly, but you did just that. You yanked his t-shirt over his head, tossing it off to the foot of the bed before you shifted down and undid his slacks, tugging them down with his boxers. His cock sprung free, landing heavy against his lower belly, tip red and leaky.
"Y'know, for the size of the rest of your body, you hold a decent package." You looked up at him, watching that smug look form on his stupidly attractive face.
"I like to think I do, yeah."
There was a small pause as you situated yourself over him, and before you lifted his length to line him up, he reached out and paused.
"Are you okay with not using condoms? Unless you happen to have some..?" He asked quietly, like he was suddenly afraid of someone hearing the word 'condom'.
"I don't really care right now, Robert. We've gotten this far, so unless you're going to stop because of not having protection, I think I'm good to continue." You said, and Robert nodded.
"I'm fine. Just wanted to make sure you weren't gonna think about it later and freak out. Also, I'm clean, I promise."
"I wasn't worried about you being clean. You don't look like you get your dick wet too often nowadays." You snickered, earning a frown from him.
"I have sex every now and then."
"So you have sex every few months? Kind of sad for a guy like yourself." You teased, running your nail along the underside of his cock before you pressed your fingertip against his leaky tip, eliciting a whine from him.
"God—can't you just let me fuck you already?" He whined, hips bucking impatiently against your touch.
You listened, propping his length upright as you hovered over his length and lowered yourself to let his tip press just at your entrance before you eased yourself down his length until you were sitting fully on his cock, watching his hands twitch and shake at his sides as he fought his own self control, struggling between the choice of holding onto you and making you move or keeping his hands to himself and letting you do the work.
Slowly, you lifted your hips halfway, easing back down with a soft, breathy moan. Robert groaned lightly, his tip twitching inside of you as he subconsciously tried to buck his hips for more. "S-sorry, I'm sorry—don't rush—" he tried to apologize, the words getting caught between moans as he felt you find a slow, steady rhythm of lifting halfway and dropping back down.
To help with his twitchy hands, you reached out to take his hands, fingers tangling together as he grasped desperately, head falling back with a string of praise and pleas falling from his lips.
"Ho—ooly shit," he whimpered, hips bucking more freely now that you'd gotten comfortable and found a good pace. You leaned forward, pinning his hands down on the sides of his head against the pillow as you picked up the pace and found a better angle. With you leaning over him like this, your breasts were bouncing right in front of his face, and he almost came right then and there. He lifted his head and tried to latch onto your nipple, but when he couldn't due to your hands holding his down, he dropped back down with a whine, head falling back as he felt you squeeze around him.
"Mmh.. don't do that. Don't just pout because you can't touch me." You panted, face hovering over his as you stopped your hips for a moment, his tip barely inside of you. He choked out a groan, hips bucking upward to fuck into you.
"D-don't stop—not now, baby, please." He squeezed your hands, fucking himself up into you as he looked down where your bodies met.
"You know, you could—oh, shit—y-you could easily overpower me." You swallowed harshly.
"Don't want to. Just.. just want you." He looked up at you, and you'd never seen him look so wrecked. He really did just want you, however you'd give yourself to him, even if it meant letting you tease him and maybe humiliate himself a little bit.
"God, who knew you were so.. whiney?" You teased, finally dropping your hips back down and watching his chest heave with a cry of pleasure, eyes wide as he dug his nails into the back of your hands.
"Oh, fuck me," he breathed, his thighs trembling worse than yours, and he hadn't even finished yet.
"Yeah? You want that?" You shifted your knees propping yourself up properly before you practically sent him into a shock with how you started riding him again.
"Shit—fuck!" He cursed, his own back arching as he finally tore his hands away from yours, shooting to grab at your hips. You thought he was going to use that grasp to fuck into you at his preferred pace and rhythm, but he just wanted to hold onto you, and he didn't even try to take control other than the impatient bucking of his hips.
Much to your expectations, Robert was cumming before he could try to warn you, but lucky for his ego, you weren't far behind, and the feeling and sight of Robert coming undone only added to your pleasure as you stopped your movements and let him fuck into you from below, prolonging both of your orgasms before he went limp, chest heaving as his hands remained grasping your hips, keeping you from moving until he wanted you to.
"Holy shit." He breathed, slowly regaining his vision as he looked up at you when you fell forward onto his chest. His cock slowly slipped out of you, and you groaned in unison at the feeling of his cum spilling out of you and onto his softening cock in thick, seemingly endless globs.
"So, you definitely haven't touched yourself or had sex in a long time." You quipped, still panting as you lifted your head to kiss him.
"Mm-mm. Definitely not." He uttered, hands running along your ass and back, his hands now warmer and gentler than when this all started. You two relaxed for a moment, just kissing with a gross amount of tongue on Robert's end.
"You wanna go again?" He whispered against your lips, letting you roll off to lay next to him.
"Only if you're on top. Riding makes me really sore." You draped a leg over his, pulling his hips in closer to you. He hummed happily, a smirk forming over his lips as he rolled to trap you under him.
"Now this is where the dream comes into reality." He mumbled, mouthing down to your breasts as both of his hands groped and squeezed at your breasts, squishing them together as he licked and nipped at the skin.
"Ow! Don't bite so hard." You whined, swatting at his shoulder. In retaliation, he only bit harder. "Robert." You scolded quietly, kicking at his leg.
"Hush." He shushed, holding your legs down.
The switch of his behavior was a little shocking—from a whiney, gasping mess, now he was biting and holding you down to take what he wanted. It was a definitely hotter than you'd expected.
"Do you still think I have any unnecessary attention for other women?" He asked, sitting back on his haunches as he tugged your hips up, holding you so that your hips remained in the air.
"You haven't really proven that you're that dedicated." You mumbled, only half joking as you watched him reach down to press his length between your folds, his tip nudging against your clit as he spread your arousal around his length, allowing himself to finish recovering from the first round.
Robert lined himself up, lifting your hips a little higher before he eased into you, making you whine and drop your head against the pillow as you reached out to lay your hands over his as he kept his hands over your hips. Unlike his fingering and the first round, he started at a faster pace this time, tired of starting out slow. He knew you could take it now, so he was done hesitating. He pulled you back and forth, meeting his thrusts halfway as one hand slipped around to find your clit, using his thumb to press harder than earlier, feeling your walls tighten and flutter around his cock.
"O—oh shit." Robert choked. Even as he took on the dominant position, he wasn't immune to losing his mind when you'd clench around him. "You feel so fucking good." He breathed, picking up the pace as he thrusted harder to test it out.
Your back arched, thighs tensing and trembling slightly as your hips bucked into his thrusts. "R-robert," you reached to grab his wrists, but he didn't falter, only doubling his efforts to encourage your release. He finally tore his gaze from your face, looking down, and he moaned at the sight of a small bulge being evident in your lower belly with each harsh thrust into you, his tip just shy of meeting your cervix each time.
He lifted his hand away from your clit, allowing you to relax and savor the pleasure for a moment as he took one of your hands and pressed it flat over the reappearing bulge. With the gentle pressure against the bump, you whimpered, thighs squeezing around his hips.
"'m s-so full, Robs," you panted, looking up at him with a soft cry of pleasure as he pressed down a little harder, his thrusts harsher now.
"So fuckin' deep.. god, this is amazing." He groaned, brows knitting together, short hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat as he watched his cock disappear into your pussy, the sight alone nearly causing him to spiral. "shit, 'm not gonna last, baby," he lifted his gaze, looking at you through his dark lashes as he trailed his hand up your belly and found the plush of your breast, squeezing the warm flesh.
"please—ah! fuck, fuck!" you cried, thighs trembling wildly around his hips as your back arched and your head fell into the pillow. Your hands grasped at his arms, tugging him to lean over you. He looped one arm under your hips to keep your hips elevated, his other hand planted at the side of your head as he let your nails drag over his back and shoulders.
Much to Robert's pleasure, you caved before him, your core squeezing around him like a vice grip that made his thrusts falter. He watched, taking in the way you cried out from the pleasure, body trembling beneath his. You damn near saw stars from how good it was. Robert followed moments after, burying himself as deep as he could go as his cum spilled into your pussy, a sensation that still made you shiver.
Robert stayed above you, panting heavily as his head fell to your shoulder, skin sweaty and hot against your own. Slowly, he pulled out, rolling over to plop himself next to you. You two remained silent other than the heavy breathing and occasional shuffle of getting comfortable. The room smelled of sweat, sex, and neither of you had any doubt that Robert was stuck on you, and only you.
"You believe me yet?"
"You just busted inside of me twice after fingering me, and made me see stars two out of three times." You huffed, sitting up to look at him.
"Yeah? Mmh, I'm not sure I remember that. Maybe we should go again." Robert rasped, pulling you onto his chest for another kiss.
"You're funny." You hummed into the kiss, letting him enjoy himself before you bit down and made him jolt away with a scowl.
"Okay, damn," he lifted you off of him before he stood up, stretching his legs. "Where are your spare sheets?" He asked.
"Bottom dresser drawer." You pointed, rolling over to sit up and drag the blanket with you to cover yourself as you waited for Robert to change the bedding.
Robert changed the sheets and got a new blanket from the hall closet before he came back to stand with you.
"You think we should shower?" He asked.
"Yes. I'm not letting you into my clean bed with your sweaty ass." You said, reaching around to swat his butt before you dropped the blanket and ran to the bathroom, starting the shower.
You were in the middle of a mission when you received a call from your little girl's school. She has gotten sick and needed to be picked up at that moment. You didn't give any explanations to Robert, you just heard him in your ear warning you that leaving a mission would bring you problems. You didn't care, you had a 6 year old girl waiting for her mother.
Robert would be lying if he said that caught him all of a sudden. You were... probably the best one of the Z Team. The only one who didn't insult him every few minutes, who brought cookies once and matched his sense of humor. He didn't understand why would you risk your place on the team by leaving a mission.
Until next day, when you appeared in the elevator door, suit neat and hair tied up. And a little girl grabbing your hand and hiding behind your legs. You hear a few whispers around the office but try to ignore them while walking straight to Blonde Blazer's office.
Robert lifts his head from his cubicle after hearing the murmurs and sees you wearing your signature armor and the little girl... wearing a Mecha Man's t-shirt?
You knocked once in Blazer's office and forgot to close the door behind you and your daughter. The blonde blinks twice at your daughter and then at you.
"What is happening right now?"
You cleared your throat. “Sorry for the… unconventional arrival. My nanny canceled last minute and the school needs proof she’s recovered. I’ll keep her out of everyone’s way.”
"I don't think this is the right place for a kid, Y/N. This isn't daycare—" Blazer said, keeping it as professional as she could, even though she didn't like telling you that. She knows the struggles.
Robert appeared behind you before she could build momentum. The man moved like someone who had spent his life punching asteroids but was trying very hard not to look like he had spent his life punching asteroids.
“It’s fine! he said, with this easy shrug. “I can keep an eye on her. Chase owes me a favor, he’ll help. No disruption.”
You spun toward him, incredulous. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.” His smile had a softness you had never seen during briefings or combat drills. “Besides, Chase loves kids. And your kid seems pretty awesome already.”
Your daughter peeked out at him at that exact moment, big eyes blinking slowly and not breaking eye contact. Robert drew a kind smile and was already holding the door for you to get out of the office with your daughter.
"Robert, you really don't have to. I don't want to put more pressure on you, and I'm pretty sure Chase doesn't love kids."
“You’re not putting pressure on me,” he said. “You’re being a parent. That’s it. Nothing heroic about it, nothing villainous either. Just human.”
Your daughter clung to your hand like a tiny barnacle, watching him with this shy suspicion that children reserve for adults who seem too cool to be real. The Mecha Man painted across her shirt practically glowed under the office lights, and Robert kept sneaking glances at it like it was a ghost from a past life waving at him.
“She’ll be fine,” he continued. “She’s already got half the office wrapped around her finger. Chase included. He pretends he hates kids, but he cries every time Beefs licks his shoe.”
You snorted once, then sighed. “Still… it feels like a lot.”
“It’s not,” he said. “Let us help.”
His certainty hit you harder than it should have. You crouched down to your daughter’s level, brushing a few rebellious hairs off her forehead.
“Sweetheart,” you murmured, “can you introduce yourself?”
She blinked up at you, then very slowly rotated toward Robert, as if turning to face a giant robot. “My name is Faye,” she whispered into her own collar.
Robert crouched down too, hands resting on his knees, smile wide and warm. “Hi, Faye. That’s a cool name. I'm Robert.”
Faye fidgeted, twisting her fingers in the hem of her shirt. Robert pointed gently at her chest.
“That is a fantastic Mecha Man shirt.”
It was like someone flipped a switch inside her. Her entire face brightened, all shyness melting instantly. “Do you know who he is?!”
“I might’ve heard of him once or twice,” he replied with an innocent shrug.
She beamed, absolutely radiant, and Robert looked like he’d just been handed a secret he didn’t know he missed.
You pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Alright, my brave girl. Listen to Robert. Behave. Be polite. And don’t touch anything that glows or hums.”
She nodded solemnly, the vow of a small warrior.
You straightened and exhaled. “Robert… thank you. Seriously. Thank you. I owe you, like, a thousand thank-yous.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “Just go do your job. We’ve got this.”
Faye slipped her hand into his without hesitation. The image of her tiny fingers curled around his large ones tugged at something deep in your chest.
You turned to head toward the mission floor, feeling lighter than you expected. Behind you, Faye’s excited chatter drifted through the hallway. Robert had pull a chair by his side for her to sit.
“Do you think Mecha Man likes apple juice?” Faye said dangling her legs.
Robert’s gentle laugh followed. “I have a feeling he does.”
Faye kept swinging her legs, tapping her heels lightly against the chair as if powering some invisible engine. Robert pulled his own chair a little closer to hers so she wouldn’t feel swallowed by the giant desk, and the two of them settled into this strangely natural orbit like they’d always been meant to share a corner of an office together.
“What else do you know about Mecha Man?” Robert asked, leaning his elbows on his knees. “You seem like an expert.”
Faye straightened her spine with a smirk. “He saved a whole city once. And he fought a giant flame guy. And he did it with only one booster fist because the other one was broken.”
Robert huffed a quiet laugh through his nose. “That was a rough day.”
She blinked. “You sound like you were there.”
“I… watch a lot of TV.”
That satisfied her completely.
She swung her legs again. “My mommy says he was the coolest hero ever. But I think he’s also the nicest.” Then she paused, thinking hard. “And I like how he doesn’t yell at anyone even when he’s mad.”
Robert couldn't hide his smile
“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I think he’d be very happy to hear that.”
Before she could reply, claws clicked against the polished floor. A snuffling sound. A sneeze. A thud.
Then a tiny but somehow wide dog barreled around the corner like a furry meteor.
“Beef!” Robert said, though his tone was more delighted than scolding.
Faye gasped so dramatically her entire torso lifted. “Dog!”
Beef trotted straight toward her, tail whipping so hard his whole back end wiggled. Faye dropped from the chair, landing on her knees, arms wide open.
Beef didn’t hesitate. He nudged his head right into her chest and licked her chin after deciding that she was perfect.
Faye squealed with joy and grabbed his face gently between her little hands. “Hi, Beef! You’re so fluffy!”
Chase arrived two seconds later, out of breath and annoyed in a very theatrical way.
“For the record,” he said, pointing at Beef, “he is supposed to stay in the lounge. He is not supposed to escape because he smelled ‘a new small human.’ His words. Not mine.”
Robert grinned. “Chase, meet Faye.”
Chase raised both eyebrows, then crouched down to her level. “So you’re the tiny chaos agent causing all this disruption.”
Faye blinked once.
Then narrowed her eyes.
Then delivered her judgment, very calmly: “You look like someone who takes naps at work.”
Robert choked.
Beef wagged harder, apparently approving of the burn.
Chase sputtered, hand over his chest. “I—what? Excuse me—”
Faye nodded, sealing the deal. “It’s okay. Old people get tired.”
Robert burst out laughing, loud enough that a few heads peeked over cubicles. Chase stood up, muttering something your daughter didn't catch while Beef sat proudly beside Faye like her loyal knight.
Faye hugged Beef again, burying her face in his fur. Robert watched the scene unfold, arms crossed loosely over his chest, eyes gentler than you had ever seen.
“You two are going to get along,” he murmured.
Faye popped her head up. “Robert? Can Beef sit next to me?”
“He already decided he’s your bodyguard,” Robert said. “You might as well make it official.”
Faye giggled, grabbed Beef’s ear, and began explaining (very seriously) the entire Mecha Man lore to both of them.
Robert listened too. Because hearing a child passionately recount his own adventures without knowing who he was? That was magic for him.
In the break, he took Faye to the vending machine and had to pick her up to let her choose whatever candy she preferred after promising that she wouldn't tell her mom. The bag with her lunch perfectly prepared was long forgotten.
"I want the twinkies!" She said with a bright smile, tapping the glass, then she added: "Please!"
"That's the best decision you could ever make, kiddo." Robert said, sitting Faye in the table while he pressed the buttons to take two packs of twinkies and a cup of coffee for him.
Then all of a sudden, Faye says: "My mommy called you a twink once."
She opened the plastic without any problems, staring at the letter of it. Faye didn’t say it with mischief. She said it with the same open sincerity she used to declare the sky blue or Beef fluffy.
Robert froze like someone had unplugged him.
“Uh,” he managed. “She… what now?”
“A twink.” Faye nodded gravely and shoved half a Twinkie into her mouth. “But she said it very nicely.”
Robert had faced down plasma cannons with more composure. His brain performed several regrettable somersaults. “Ha. Did she? Funny word to use... What else does she say about me?”
Faye swung her legs and examined the second Twinkie. “Mommy says you have twink energy. And that she likes your voice. And your arms.”
Robert’s soul left his body, filed for leave, and never returned.
“She—your mom? She said that? About my arms?” His voice cracked like a teenager bumping into their crush at a mall.
Faye nodded so hard her ponytail slapped her cheek. “She says you’re very polite. And she says you don’t talk too much but when you do, it makes her tummy feel funny.” Faye tapped her own belly like she was solving a medical mystery. “I think that means she likes you.”
Robert blinked slowly. “Does she. Huh. That’s… information.”
He sipped his coffee. Burned his tongue. Tried to pretend he hadn’t burned his tongue.
Faye continued, blessedly oblivious to the concept of emotional privacy: “Sometimes when she comes home from work she says, ‘Robert said the funniest thing today,’ and then she laughs and laughs even though I don’t know the joke because it’s about weird stuff.”
Robert set his coffee down a little too fast. “She laughs? I make her laugh?”
“Yep.” Faye took a dainty bite of Twinkie and spoke around the crumbs. “She smiles when she says your name.”
Robert attempted to gather his dignity and ended up gathering Beef instead, who had waddled over and pressed his snout into Robert’s knee like you okay, buddy? you need grounding? you spiraling?
Robert scratched Beef’s ears, eyes darting anywhere but Faye’s tiny truth-bomb face.
“Well… your mom’s pretty cool too,” he said, trying for casual. “She’s… brave. And kind. And she does this thing where she makes jokes under her breath that nobody else hears, but I hear. And she’s nice to me for some reason.”
“That’s ‘cause she likes you,” Faye said, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. She leaned forward. “Do you like her?”
Robert inhaled his coffee steam like that might help. “Uhh. I think your mom is… neat.”
Faye squinted like an old wise hermit. “Neat is a word mommy uses for socks.”
Robert winced. “Okay. Stronger than neat.”
Beef barked once, as if urging him on.
“Your mom is… great.” Robert rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s hilarious. And terrifying. And she’s smarter than everyone on the team. And she makes good cookies. And she leaves missions for you, which is kind of beautiful, actually.”
Faye tilted her head. “So you do like her.”
He exhaled in defeat. “Yeah, kiddo. I do.”
She grinned “I’m telling her.”
Robert nearly levitated off the break-room floor. “PLEASE do not tell her.”
Faye hopped off the table, hands on her hips. “You can’t stop me. I’m fast.”
Robert held up both hands, laughing helplessly. “Kid, listen. There’s a very complicated adult dance happening here, and your mom scares me in, like, a deeply attractive way.”
Faye gasped dramatically. “Mommy likes your arms and you like her scary!” She clapped. “You should get married.”
Robert paled. “We’re not getting married yet. Wow, Faye, that’s—ambitious.”
She shrugged. “Beef agrees.”
Beef barked again, absolutely supporting the union.
Robert buried his face in his hands. “I’m so fucked.”
"Fucked?" Faye tilts her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. The fear on Robert's face is instant.
"Oh, no. No, no, no. We don't say that word, Faye."
"You just said it."
"But that's because I'm dumb. People who are dumb say that word. You aren't dumb, right?"
"Nope!"
"Then don't say that word ever again."
Thank God, that was enough for her to not think about it anymore. Robert felt his chest smaller after the talk with the girl, or maybe it was just his heart getting bigger. He tried to not pay much attention to it, knowing that you kinda have a crush on him took him out a little.
Robert tried very hard to focus on anything except the emotional supernova blooming in his ribcage. He wiped a crumb off Faye’s cheek tenderly, then let her scamper back toward Beef, who immediately flopped over so she could rub his belly.
He watched her for a second. Kids are startling creatures, tiny engines of sincerity who toss truth around like confetti. And she had tossed a whole bucket at him.
He leaned back in the break-room chair and told himself to get it together. You liked him? That wasn’t supposed to be real. You were… well, you. The one who took disasters as lightly as he took paper cuts. The one who made terrible puns under your breath because you knew he’d hear. The one who had a daughter who loved Mecha Man without knowing she was sharing snacks with him.
He looked down at his hands and they were trembling. Just a little. Just enough.
The next hours of the shift were more relaxed, Faye was starting to get sleepy, dropping her head in Robert's shoulder with her little fists curling in Robert's shirt. He scooped her without any trouble, letting her sit comfortably on his lap and falling asleep almost instantly.
Robert sat very still, like if he breathed wrong, the spell would break.
And then the shift ended.
The elevator chimed.
You stepped out.
You froze.
Because there they were. Your daughter asleep in Robert’s lap, her cheek pressed directly against the broadest part of his chest, his hand resting gently on her back.
Robert looked up at the sound of your boots.
And for one heartbeat, the world went oddly quiet.
Something warm and ridiculous and enormous unfurled inside your chest, blooming like those butterflies people always talk about. But butterflies were too polite. This felt more like a whole migrating colony of cosmic moths slamming around in your ribs.
Robert opened his mouth, closed it, then spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, instinctively soft so she wouldn’t wake.
“She got tired,” he said quietly. “Didn’t want to say she was tired, obviously, because that would imply she’s mortal.”
You stepped closer, mindful of the moment’s fragile gentleness. “Yeah,” you whispered. “She does that. Fights sleep like it insulted her.”
He smiled, eyes flicking back to Faye asleep on him. “She’s… a really good kid.”
“She likes you,” you murmured.
The words slipped out without your usual protective quips. And you felt the heat crawl up your neck as soon as you’d said it.
Robert swallowed. Hard. His fingers twitched once against Faye’s shirt but didn’t move.
For a moment you just stood there. Close but not touching, both speaking softly.
“I should take her,” you whispered, stepping forward.
But Robert didn’t move, not out of reluctance, more like uncertainty. As though passing her over might feel like waking up from some strange dream he wasn’t ready to leave.
You reached out, gently lifting your daughter into your arms. She murmured and nestled into your neck, arms dangling loose with exhaustion.
Robert watched you with an intensity that almost ignited the air between you.
You adjusted Faye’s weight, then looked up at him. “Thank you… for all of this. I mean it.”
He leaned close enough you felt the heat of him, close enough the whisper brushed your ear.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
A pause.
Breathless honesty slipped into his tone. “I liked being around her. And I… like being around you.”
Your heart stuttered so violently you wondered if he could hear it.
You whispered back, “Did she told you anything?”
He huffed out a helpless laugh. “She told me just enough.”
Another pause. A charged one.
He looked down at his hands, then back at you.
Robert’s throat worked like he was swallowing gravel. Words hovered behind his eyes, trying to form, trying to gather the courage to jump the fence of his teeth. He wasn’t usually this skittish, you were a different kind of danger. The kind that could say no. The kind that could change everything.
His fingers flexed once, curling back into his palms. “There’s… something I should—”
Whatever he meant to say tangled itself into silence.
Your daughter’s sleepy weight in your arms, the faint warmth of her breath on your collarbone and the quiet hum of the building settling for the night. It all made the hallway feel like a snow globe of too-soft feelings.
You tilted your head just slightly. “Robert?”
The sound of his name seemed to shove him toward honesty. You watched him gather himself like someone preparing to leap across a very long, very uncertain gap.
“I was thinking,” he said, voice low and careful, “that maybe… sometime… maybe you and I could—”
He stopped again. Not because he changed his mind. Because fear punched him directly in the courage.
He cleared his throat. It didn’t help. “I mean, if you ever wanted to go somewhere. Not for work. Just… you know.”
You waited. Letting him work it out.
He squeezed his eyes shut once, like rebooting a very overwhelmed system, then tried again with a shaky exhale.
“I’d like to take you out.”
A beat.
“But if that makes you uncomfortable, or if it complicates things with Faye, or if you think it’s a terrible idea—”
“Robert.”
His mouth snapped shut.
Your eyes held his, steady in that dim hallway glow. He looked like a man braced for an explosion that might tear him in two.
You spoke gently. “You’re asking me out?”
He nodded with the smallest motion imaginable, as if anything bigger might spook his own resolve. “Yeah. I am.”
“I didn’t think you were capable of being this nervous,” you murmured.
He huffed something like a laugh, but it was shaky. “I’m terrible at this. Apparently asking you to dinner turns me into a malfunctioning vending machine.”
Your smile softened. “You didn’t malfunction.”
He gave a disbelieving snort. “I absolutely malfunctioned.”
“You tried,” you said. “You asked. That counts.”
A long breath left him, like he’d been holding it for twenty minutes.
“So… is that a yes?” he whispered, barely audible.
You shifted Faye in your arms and you stepped just one inch closer, letting the air between you warm.
“It’s a yes,” you said softly. “But we’re taking it slow. For her and for us.”
Relief hit him so visibly it softened the line of his shoulders, loosened something taut in his expression. A smile broke through the nerves.
“Slow is fine,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The elevator chimed again behind you, a polite reminder that the world still existed outside this moment.
You backed toward it, eyes still on his. “Goodnight, Robert.”
His voice followed you in a rough whisper that held far more than the words themselves.
“Goodnight.”
The doors slid closed and you had the dizzying sense that something had just begun like the first quiet click of a lock sliding open.
Content: 18+, MDNI, fluff, coffee shop au at the beginning, crushes, you and Robert both being awkward fucks, overworked and underfucked Robert, eventual smut, breast sucking, oral (f), Robert comes untouched (i like this tag), slight perv Robert, scar kissing, Beef shenanigans, Z team shenanigans, just random oneshotty scenes toward the end i wanted to add, happy ending (marriage)
Word count: 5k (lets gooo)
Robert was a tired man when you met him. Starting off as his personal barista. He's the first one in your little cafe every morning. You always greet him with a smile and friendly hello. Poor thing, he looks as if he gets 2 hours of sleep a night. “Name for the order, sir?”
“Robert.”
He's become a regular, and he seems awake enough for friendly banter. Your crush on him was harmless. Or so it seemed to you. You noticed him becoming more cheery as the days went on. He would talk about his work and make sarcastic, snarky comments about his coworkers that made you laugh.
You liked writing cute little messages or smiley faces on his cup. You scribble good luck surviving on his cup. He counters the next morning by sliding a folded receipt back across the counter with You’re doing great. Probably. Written in surprisingly neat handwriting. You keep it. You don’t know why you keep it. You just do.
Some mornings he looks better—less hollow under the eyes, shoulders not quite as tense. Other mornings he looks worse, jaw tight, knuckles white around the cup like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. Those days, you draw a little smiley face anyway. Those days, he stares at it longer before leaving.
“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he says once, nodding at the cup.
You shrug, light and easy. “Occupational hazard. Excessive cheerfulness.”
He snorts. Actually snorts. “Dangerous in small cafés.”
Whenever he's talking, you can't help but focus on those big brown eyes, his freckles that you're still trying to count, man he fills out that work shirt oh so nicely, and what's that odd chunk taken out of his ear that you haven't worked up the courage to ask him about yet, and—
What is he doing to you?
Ten minutes past his usual time turns into twenty. You keep glancing at the door like it’s going to explain itself. It doesn’t. You feel stupid for the disappointment curling in your chest. He’s just a customer. A regular. A man with tired eyes and freckles and an ear that looks like it’s been through something violent.
He does come in, later than usual, hair still damp like he showered in a rush. There’s a faint bruise blooming along his collarbone, half-hidden by his shirt.
“You look like hell,” you say before you can stop yourself.
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You should see the other guy.”
You laugh—too quickly—and slide his cup over. This time, instead of a smiley face, you write Be careful, okay?
His finger stills when he reads it.
.•*•.
The week after, he comes into the shop late again.
“Hey Robert, sleep in?”
“Yeah, shit…” He drags a hand down his face, then ruffles his hair like he’s trying to wake himself up.
“Want your usual?”
“I'm just kinda in a rush.”
“You know you can make instant coffee at home if you just need a fix,” you say lightly. “I won’t be offended.”
“Yeah…” He scratches the back of his head, hesitating. “I guess I wanted to stop in and see you, though.”
Heat rushes to your cheeks. “Is that so?” You lean over the counter, resting your chin in your hands.
“I don't think I'm just coming for the coffee anymore.”
Your heart flutters. Okay. This is it. Now’s your chance—shoot your shot.
“Well,” you say, trying to sound casual, “my shift ends at five, handsome.” You add a wink for good measure.
His face flushes, and for a split second you’re convinced you’ve misread everything. Maybe you imagined the tone in his voice. Maybe he just sees you as a friendly barista. Oh god, you’re spiraling.
Then, to your surprise, he smiles—soft, a little shy—and nods, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Great, I’ll see you then.”
.•*•.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. Time seems to drag and sprint all at once as you wait for five o’clock. Then he returns, looking a little worse for wear but happy to see you regardless.
“Hey, w-would you like anything before we leave?”
“No no, I'm fine; I think I've got all I need right here.”
“Robert…” You blush, feeling the heat creep up your neck. “What, um, would you like to do?”
“I imagine you're hungry after your shift.”
“I can make dinner!”
Robert lifts a brow, amusement now slipping into his voice. “I think it's highly unfair that the girl I ask to dinner, who also makes my coffee, would make me dinner.”
You laugh. “Well, what do you suggest?”
So there you are in your living room eating Chinese food with Robert Robertson. Yeah, you had a good laugh about that one. Conversation comes easily after that: work stories and shared venting about coworkers.
“I have some coolers in the fridge if you want,” you say after a while. “Unless you’re driving home soon.”
“I don’t live too far from here, actually,” he says. “And yeah—that’d be nice.”
You get up to grab the drinks, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that this is happening. When you come back, he’s standing a little awkwardly, hands shoved into his pockets.
“You're, uh, free to kick me out whenever. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable.” “Oh, don't worry about that. This is nice.”
He sits beside you, close but not touching, shoulders tense like he’s trying not to take up too much space. The TV hums softly in the background, forgotten. After a moment, he relaxes, leaning back into the cushions. Your knee brushes his. Neither of you move it away.
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
You don't quite know how it happens, but sometime within the past hour he falls asleep on your lap. His breathing is soft and even, with the occasional sleepy murmur slipping past his lips. It’s… cute. You don’t move, even when your leg starts to tingle. You just let him rest. After an hour he stirs. He blinks, unfocused, then stiffens when he realizes where he is. He sits up too quickly, mortified. You smile and giggle as he apologizes profusely.
“Oh fuck, shit—I'm sorry. This is embarrassing. Were you bored?”
You laugh gently. “No. I dozed off for a bit too, actually.” You shrug. “I think you needed the sleep."
He groans softly. “Yeah. Probably. Did I even get coffee today?”
“Nope.”
“Fantastic,” he mutters. “Maybe I should’ve. It’s been… kind of a day. And I fell asleep on you.” He winces. “Thanks for putting up with me.”
You reach over to rub at the bags under his eyes.
You reach out without thinking, thumb brushing the dark circles under his eyes. “It might’ve helped,” you say quietly. “Even just a little.”
Your hand lingers longer than necessary. He notices—of course he does.
“Uh,” he says, voice tentative, “something on my face?”
“Yeah,” you reply. “Freckles.”
He snorts. “Not much I can do about that.”
“Good,” you say. “They’re cute.”
His face goes pink instantly, heat creeping up his neck. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, suddenly very interested in the far wall. You pull your hand back, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you are. You both ultimately lose your nerve and awkwardly space out on the couch.
Robert clears his throat. “I'm gonna head home and feed my dog.”
“Yeah, for sure.”
“You working Monday?”
“Yep.”
“Great, see you bright and early.”
You regret not making a move that night and beat yourself up about it all weekend. But it wasn't a big deal; Robert did the same thing, losing sleep over it even, poor guy. He asks you out again on Monday.
.•*•.
Inevitably you end up inviting him back to your place. You're braver now (and even more desperate for his touch). You're on your couch, both anticipating each other's movements. But he beats you to it. He leans in slowly, kissing you with a gentleness that ignites all your senses. Your heart soars and falls all at once, and you lean into him, blissfully thoughtless.
The next kiss is more hungry, and it steals the air from your lungs. You laugh softly against his mouth, a breathless sound, and he smiles into the kiss. When you pull back, it’s only far enough to rest your forehead against his. The room feels smaller, warmer, like the world has folded itself neatly around the two of you.
“Wow, um, I really like you.”
You giggle. “I really like you too, Robert.”
“Do I need to take you out on another date, or can I ask you to go steady now?”
“Go steady? What are you, 80?” You laugh uncontrollably.
“Alright, alright.”
“I wish you'd do both.”
“Girlfriend, then another date? How does that sound?”
“I like that.” You're still laughing till he pulls your face back to his and you melt into him.
“I'm, uh, not the greatest at this kind of thing…”
You blink. “I think you're a great kisser, Robert.”
“I mean the whole dating thing. It's been a while, and I'm terrified of messing this up. I thought I ruined things with you after the first one.”
“Well, I'm in the same boat. I'm surprised you even asked me at all…” You take his hand. “So let's take it slow, yeah?”
He kisses you again, softer this time—like he’s sealing the promise instead of testing it. It’s slower, surer, his thumb brushing your jaw as if he’s committing the feeling to memory. When he pulls back, he exhales a quiet laugh. “Okay. Slow. I can do slow.”
“Good,” you say, smiling.
He shifts closer anyway, carefully, giving you space to stop him if you want to. You don’t. Instead, you tuck yourself against his side, your head fitting just under his chin like it’s always belonged there.
“Can I ask you something?” you say quietly.
“Anything.”
“Did you… want to kiss me the other night?” Your voice is tentative, like you already knew the answer but needed to hear it anyway.
He laughed softly. “So badly it was embarrassing.” He groans, tipping his head back against the couch. “I replayed that moment over in my head like a crime scene.”
“You fell asleep on me,” you tease.
“I felt comfortable, and I trusted you,” he says, mock-offended. Then softer: “I didn’t want to mess it up.”
You turn to face him, close enough now that your noses almost brush. “You didn’t.”
“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’d really like to keep doing this.”
“Me too.”
He kisses you again—carefree, affectionate, the kind of kiss that lingers even after it ends. When you finally pull away, you’re both smiling like idiots.
“So,” he says, resting his forehead against yours again. “Girlfriend?”
You grin. “Boyfriend.”
His smile is slow and stunned, like he’s afraid if he moves too fast it’ll vanish. He squeezes your hand gently.
“Okay,” he says. “Yeah. I like the sound of that.”
➽──────────────❥ ₊ ݁⟡ ♡
After a few dates, Robert is sure he can trust you and opens up a bit more. When he reveals that he's Mecha Man, you are honestly more shocked that he asked you to be his girlfriend.
“I figured something was up,” you say slowly. “Some mornings you walked into the café like you got into a bar fight.”
“Well,” Robert exhales, rubbing the back of his neck, “I probably did.”
You blink. Once. “You say that like it’s normal.”
“It’s… occupational,” he offers. “Technically.”
“Okay,” you say, holding up a finger. “Pause. Are we talking illegal underground fighting ring, or a vigilante with questionable sleep habits?”
He winces. “The second one. Definitely the second one.”
You stare at him. He stares back, jaw tight, braced like he’s waiting for impact.
“…You’re Mecha Man,” you repeat.
“Yes.”
“The one who throws cars.”
“Sometimes.”
“And punches villains.”
“Frequently.”
You sit back, processing. “Huh.”
“Huh?” he echoes, visibly confused. “That’s it?”
“What, were you expecting screaming? Tears? A dramatic exit?”
“I was prepared for pepper spray,” he admits.
You snort. “Relax. I dated a guy once who collected taxidermy squirrels. This barely cracks the top five weirdest revelations.”
That gets a laugh out of him—short, surprised, and real. Some of the tension drains from his shoulders.
“So,” you continue, tilting your head, “does this mean the ear thing?”
He instinctively touches the notch taken out of it. “Yeah. Explosion. Long story.”
“Figures,” you say. “I was guessing shark.”
He smiles, softer this time. Then it fades, seriousness creeping back in.
“I didn’t tell you because I wanted to impress you,” he says quietly. “I told you because… if this goes anywhere, you deserve to know what you’re signing up for.”
You meet his eyes. Those same big brown ones that looked half-dead over a coffee cup months ago.
“And what exactly am I signing up for?” you ask.
He swallows. “Late nights. Missed calls. Worry. Me coming home hurt and pretending I’m fine.”
You nod. “I already clocked that.”
“And danger,” he adds. “Real danger.”
You consider that for a moment, then shrug. “Robert, I work morning shifts. I live off caffeine and bad decisions. I think I’ll survive.”
That earns him a quiet laugh—but his gaze sharpens when you reach across the table and take his hand.
“I’m more concerned about something else,” you say.
“Yeah?”
“You told me you’re Mecha Man,” you say gently. “But you haven’t explained why you thought that was less scary than asking me to be your girlfriend.”
He freezes.
“…Because I’ve been punched by tanks,” he says after a beat. that was somehow still easier than risking you saying no.”
Your chest tightens.
“Well,” you say, squeezing his hand, “for the record—superhero secrets aside—that might be the bravest thing you’ve done.”
He looks at you like he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“So,” he says carefully, “you’re not… running?”
You smile. “No.”
“… You’re sure?”
“Robert,” you say, leaning in, voice soft but steady, “if I can handle you ordering boring black coffee every morning, I think I can handle you being Mecha Man.”
The first time you two have sex is a complete accident. Well… it's like your 6th date or something, and you couldn't keep your hands off each other after a heavy makeout session. His hand accidentally squeezes your boob, and he immediately retracts it.
“Fuck, sorry. Can I?” You frantically nod. “Thank you.” He enthusiastically fondles and squeezes. “Fuck, you're so soft.” You're pawing at each other's shirts, frantically pulling them off.
The moment he unclips your bra, his mouth latches onto your tit. Kissing, licking, sucking, and your moans only spur him on. You fall back onto the bed, and he's pulling off your pants and panties in one go. “Please let me—”
“Yes! Anything-! P-please!” Panting, begging him desperately.
He spreads your legs and, with a quick kiss to your inner thigh, buries his face in your pussy. He's messy and sloppy, and you don't know who's groaning louder. It doesn't matter. He eagerly licks at your sensitive bundle of nerves, coaxing out your sweetest moans.
“R-Robert! I can't!” Your head is spinning so fast you can't keep up with the feeling growing in your core. He pushes two fingers into you, and you come immediately. He cleans you up with his tongue and slurs. “I think I just found m’new favorite treat.” He says with a kiss to your thigh.
“Roberrrt,” you squirm. “Put it in, please—” you reach down to feel the spreading wet spot on his pants. “D-did you-”
“Oooh yeah. I—I just need a minute, please…” He sounds drunk. “Shit, I don't have a condom.”
“Forget it, I'm on the pill. I need you now.”
“F-fuck, ok.” He sits you up, letting you position yourself above him. You're both groaning, letting out a string of expletives as you sink onto him. His grip is bruising on your hip, but you don't care. You rock your hips, throwing back your head as you take him deeper.
Robert is babbling on about how you take him so well and look like an angel. He thrusts up into you and slams your hips down, lost in you. You're soaking his lap; you might even see some drool on the side of his mouth.
“M'close!” You cry out before Robert lets his thumb catch your clit, rubbing in quick succession till you seize up.
“Ah! Robert!” Your orgasm crashes over you, and you milk his cock, feeling him spill his hot seed into you. You drape over him, collapsing in his embrace.
“Fuck, that's not how I wanted that to go…” “Robert, I don't care. It was hot, and I loved it.” Sloppy, messy, passionate. He pulls out of you with a loud schlorp, and you leak everywhere. You lead him to the bathroom for a quick (not so quick) shower.
When you finally get around to going to Robert's place, you gasp audibly at the lack of well… everything.
A chair? A pillow for Beef to lay on? This boy needs some help.
You take him to the mattress store the next day and promise to help pay for it as long as you help him break it in. Suddenly, he's very enthusiastic about mattress buying and becomes a connoisseur.
“Nah, this one's too stiff... How does this one feel on your knees, baby?” You're fully blushing from head to toe when you ask for help from the sales assistant.
You also had to convince him to get a bed frame and slapped him silly after he said he was undeserving of one.
“Robert Robertson, you are not putting that new bed on the floor with no springboard or frame. Your apartment is already a peak male living space.”
“You just hate that I can live comfortably with less stuff than you.”
“Robert!”
He sighs. “Yes, ma'am, whatever you like, ma'am...” Beef gets treated to a bigger bed as well. And some doggy steps you occasionally push up to the bed so he can climb up while you three nap.
The room is quiet in that soft, late-night way. You’re half-draped over Robert, your hand sprawled across his chest like it belongs there. Warm skin. Solid. Familiar now. Your fingers move slowly, tracing lines you didn’t put there—raised scars, thin ones, thicker ones, and some that curve strangely like they changed direction mid-story.
You pause at one, just below his collarbone.
“Those must have hurt.”
Robert exhales, the sound more tired than pained. “Some of them did.”
Not dismissive. Just honest.
Your thumb follows the edge of another scar, lighter than the rest, almost faded. “And the others?”
He shrugs beneath you. “Adrenaline’s a hell of a thing. You don’t usually feel it until later.”
You don’t reply. Instead, you lean down and press a kiss to his chest—soft, lingering. Then another. And another. You map him with your mouth the same way you do with your hands, slow and careful, like you’re trying to memorize where he’s been.
He stiffens at first, instinctive, like he’s bracing for impact instead of affection.
“You don’t have to—” he starts.
“I know,” you murmur against his skin, kissing a scar that cuts diagonally over his ribs. “I want to.”
That quiets him.
Your fingers trail lower, tracing the story his body tells without words. Some scars are jagged, angry. Others are neat, surgical, like someone tried to put him back together after the fact. You linger on one near his side, smaller but deeper.
“This one,” you say softly. “This one scared me when I first noticed it.”
He swallows. “Yeah. That one scared me too. The cut was pretty deep, and I lost a lot of blood. It opened back up a few times and almost got infected.”
You look up at him then. His eyes are on the ceiling, jaw tight, but he doesn’t pull away. “This is me being vulnerable. Please appreciate how uncomfortable I am.”
You press your palm flat over his heart, grounding both of you.
“You’re alright, Robert. You’re still here,” you say. “That’s what matters.”
He finally looks at you. Really looks at you. There’s something unguarded there, something raw.
“No one’s ever…” He trails off, then gives a quiet huff. “No one’s ever looked at them like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like they don’t make me broken or weak.”
You lean up and kiss him—gentle, patient. “They don’t,” you say. “They mean you survived.”
His arm tightens around you, pulling you closer, like he needs the weight of you there to believe it. You rest your head on his chest again, listening to his heartbeat, steady and real.
Robert feels safe.
You really fall in love with beef. How could you not? He's just a big, fat, affectionate lump of love. “Oh Robert… that poor dog. Let me walk him. What kind of diet do you have him on?”
“See food diet.”
“What?”
“He sees food, and he eats it.” You glare at him threateningly.
Most times when you're holding Beef, you can feel the radiating glare from Robert across the room. “Are you jealous, Robertson?”
“Well, maybe if you spent more time with me instead of Beef.”
“Robert, come on, seriously?”
“I'm your family too.” He huffs.
“Of course you are.” You scruff up his hair. “I have two big babies to deal with now.”
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄
“You remember when I would come into the cafe first thing in the morning when it opened? And I would catch you dancing around the counter?”
“Yeah.” You raise your brow.
“I was definitely checking out your ass. Respectfully.”
“Oh, of course. Glad I could provide some entertainment.”
“A good cup of joe and a good JO.”
“Robert! You pervert!”
“I was a little ashamed. But you look reeeally cute in your cafe uniform.”
“Maybe I'll put it back on afterwards for some roleplay.”
“Okay.” He shrugs nonchalantly.
“Robert!”
“What?? You offered!”
“I'm going to punish you for being a perv.”
“I probably deserve it. But you reeeeally have a nice ass.”
“You can kiss it if you want.”
“I thought you said you wanted to punish me?”
“Fine, I'll wear a slick, sleek superhero suit instead.”
“Again, I'm failing to see the punishment aspect.”
“I know, I can't make up my mind... I think I just want to fuck you.”
“That can be arranged.”
.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.
Another horrified gasp escapes you when he tells you his “diet.” He may be going to the gym, but he's not getting any gains with ramen and Twinkies. You soon take over, becoming his personal chef. Going as far as to meal prep for the both of you and Beef too.
“Can you make me coffee?”
“I'm not your barista anymore, Robertson.”
“But it tastes better when you make it.”
“You only want like a drop of cream and sugar now.”
“And?”
“Ugh, give me a second.”
“Thank you, baby.”
You cook and clean for him? What did he ever do to deserve this? To deserve you?
.•*•.
You do try and get him to taste your coffee occasionally. “Come on, Robert, try it; it's soooo sweet.”
“I think that would be considered torture under the Geneva Convention.”
“This is one of the most delicious things in the world! You just can't appreciate it.”
“Aww, honey. You are really committed to being wrong. That's dedication.”
.•*•.•*•.•*•.
One thing you come to learn about Robert is that he has an off switch.
You're there scratching his back when he makes a low groan. Or a purr? “You sure you're not a cat, Robertson?”
“Mmh, keep going, please.”
“Careful, keep being cute like that and I'll bite a chunk out of your other ear.”
“Please don't.”
“You gonna stop me?”
“Not right now; I feel like I'm melting into your cute, scratchy fingertips.”
You successfully scratch him to sleep.
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
You also learn a few more things about Robert~
“What do you mean you never watched Star Wars?! Or Lord of the Rings?!”
“Never really had time to.”
You proceed to sit him down to binge both over the next week. Went as far as to dress Beef as Princess Leia with the hair buns and everything.
.•*•.•*•.
“Really, Robertson, clowns? You're scared of clowns.”
“You cannot look at that thing and tell me it's not creepy… Staring right through me with those creepy clown eyes.”
“Are you sure you're Mecha Man?”
He flips you the bird, making you laugh hysterically.
.•*•.•*•.•*•.
Robert really likes eating you out. He would go as far as to say it's his favorite foreplay. He calls you his little rockstar because he swears he gets a boost of energy every time he eats you out. Has to get you off a few with his tongue before he even thinks about sticking his dick in you. He’d stay there for hours if you'd let him. Feasting on you like the starved man he is. He's addicted to the way you taste. All of a sudden he doesn't need coffee anymore.
And it goes without saying that he loves your ass and your boobs. “Yep, I could die here.” Robert murmurs from between your breasts, sighing happily.
“Please don't.”
“I might.”
"I'll ban you."
"You wouldn't!" He gasps.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
You show up to SDN one day with his forgotten lunch and a kiss to his cheek; the team gawks at you.
“So did you uh, get a deal to pay an escort monthly or yearly?” Sonar looks you up and down.
“With this budget? Nah, Robert musta had-ta pull some strings.” Prism adds.
“Yeah, there's no way you pulled her, Bobby boy.” Sonar takes a bite out of his apple.
“First, this is my girlfriend, y/n; second of all, fuck you guys.” He pulls you to the side. “Honey, didn't we have a long conversation about never coming into the office?”
“Come on, Robert, we're not gonna bite her.” Malevola rolls her eyes.
“But you will scare her away, so leave.”
You smirk. “It's alright, baby. Besides, I had to bring you your lunch. When you don't eat right, you take it out on me in the bedroom, right? And I thought we could make love tonight for once.” You pout, swirling your finger around on his chest.
“Fack me, I like her.” Punch up adds.
“Yeah, I think she fits in just fine.” Flambae stated.
“Does this mean his dick is bigger than we think?” Invisigal sneers.
“Yeah, you definitely don't have a thing for micro peens, right y/n?” Sonar questions.
“Can't say I do, quite the opposite in fact.”
The team erupts into a howl of whistles and hollers, making Robert groan. He thanks you for the meal and gets Waterboy to show you out quickly in fear of an HR violation. He wishes you had waited until he brought you to work on his own but knew he was going to get teased either way. And when he gets home, he pounds you into the mattress anyway.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
“Beef has legs y’know. He's been walking fine.”
“I know, but he's just so cute. It's fun to carry him around. Besides, it'll be good practice if we ever have kids.”
Robert immediately does a spit take. “Sorry dear, I didn't mean to—i-is that something you want?”
“Well yeah sure, I think it would be nice. We’d make good parents-”
“Put the dog down, y/n.”
“Ooookay.” You do so, and the second you do, Robert pounces on you. Kissing you deeply.
“Do you want to practice making a kid- like right now?”
“Really? You'd want to?”
“Yes.”
“You sure you're thinking with the right head, Robertson?”
“Nah, not at all.”
Robert proceeds to pound you silly for the rest of the night.
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──
And even now he still doesn't know what he did to deserve you. Or why you'd even want him. But you do.
Robert has an album chock full of you and Beef sleeping together in your shared bed. Little does he know you have an album too, but it is mostly him and Beef sleeping and drooling. Like father, like furry son.
It truly doesn't get any better than this. He's thankful for you every day. You're cuddling in bed one night, going on about how he saved you. He saved you? Nah, you saved him—and that's something he tells you on your wedding day through blurry vision.
Both of your vows are less about grand promises and more about quiet truths. He says you saved him in all the ways that mattered. Not with heroics or fists or steel, but with coffee cups and patience. With staying. With seeing him when he didn’t know how to be seen without armor on. He thanks you for choosing him on the days he felt unchoosable.
You tell them he never needed saving—just someone who showed up. Someone to teach him how to rest. Someone who let himself be loved even when it scared him. You tell him he taught you what steady feels like. What safe feels like. What home feels like.
There’s laughter through the tears. There are pauses where neither of you can speak, and no one minds. When you finally kiss, it’s soft and familiar and full—like every night you ever fell asleep tangled together, like every morning coffee shared in quiet kitchens.
Later, when the room is empty and the day has finally caught up to you, you curl into him again. Same bed. Same warmth. Same man who once stumbled into your café half-awake and unknowingly walked into the rest of his life.
“You're a good man, Robertson.” “And you're a wonderful woman, Mrs. Robertson.” He says with a kiss pressed to your temple as you watched your grandchildren play. Robert was a tired man but happy and fulfilled nonetheless.
And it's then you both realize—neither of you were saved.
You were found.
Yeah, dating you? One of the best decisions he's ever made.
₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊
A/N: Ahhhhh I finally finished it. Been working on this one for a while. Thank you for reading! Hope yall enjoyed! Next fic will be Robert x Villain Reader. Happy New Year! Ps: thanks for all the likes and reblogs yall🥲🫶
— synopsis. reading rayne ames is impossible. that's why you don't get why he offers to take you out on a date after you've been stood up again.
— pairing. rayne ames x fem!reader
— genres. modern au, you and rayne are roommates, fluff, you’re so oblivious it hurts, rayne's most likely ooc towards the end but we do it for plot,
— warnings. one kys thrown in at the end but it’s not in a serious manner
— word count. 3.2k
— notes. in honor of triple liner rayne being animated. i have quite literally been waiting to see it animated for years. also hi.
you can never tell what rayne ames is thinking. he wears the same cold, uninterested glare on his face at all times of the day. he never speaks unless spoken to, never lets you know when he leaves the apartment, never does anything to show that he actually has emotions.
you're asked on the daily how you survive rooming with him, and in all honesty, it's really not that bad. he does his half of the chores, and he doesn't leave his shit all over the apartment. really, the guy's only problem is his lack of emotion. it drives you up the wall.
finn says not to take it to personally during the one day he visited his brother. apparently, he's like that with everyone, but he's still a good guy. it just takes time.
you would like to believe that, but rayne makes that extremely difficult to believe when he looks like he wants to kill every person who so happens to exist in his direction.
so naturally, seeing him so angered after finding out that you've been stood up is surprising. it's an even bigger shock when he offers to take you out on a date instead.
you don't know what compels you to agree. even if you hadn't accepted his offer, something tells you that rayne would've found a way to get you to leave with him so there's no use in trying to deny him in this matter.
that's why you allow him to drive all the way to marchétte street, where a night market is being held in full swing. the road has all sorts of stalls lined up one after the other, ranging from foods to clothes. but because the marchétte night market is ridiculously popular, the place is packed to the brim with people.
rayne offers his hand once he notices that you're daunted by the crowds. you stare at him with surprise. when you don't make a move to accept this action, rayne huffs before grabbing your hand. he interlocks his fingers with yours and drags you into marchétte street's traffic.
the first thing you note is that rayne's hands are surprisingly warm and soft. for someone so incapable of talking, his touch is strangely reassuring.
he drags you to a vendor selling takoyaki. and even as he orders, rayne doesn’t let go of your hand.
“what do you want?” he says into your ear so that he doesn’t have to yell over all the noise. the feeling of his breath fanning over your skin sends shivers down your spin. it's maddening.
“oh. uh-” your eyes quickly scan over the menu, and you blurt out the first item that you read. out of habit you reach for your wallet, but rayne is quick to shut you down.
“absolutely not.” he grumbles, letting your hand drop to your side so he can pull out his cash. rayne hands the amount to the girl at the register, and she hands back his change that he drops into the tip jar.
“thanks.” you say quietly, still so flustered about the entire situation.
rayne only studies you before humming in acknowledgement. “come on.” he guides his hand to your upper back, moving you out the way so you can wait on the side for your orders.
it’s during this time you really look at rayne as if that would provide you with the answers you need to understand him. you try to wrap your head around it. you draft up every possible explanation, but none of them seem to make sense.
unless… it couldn’t be… does rayne like you? you shake your head, dismissing the thought as soon as it crosses your mind. no, that’s absurd, the furthest thing from logical. this is rayne ames we’re talking about. in the five months that you’ve been living together, you two have never had a solid conversation. how could he ever like someone he’s barely talked to?
you're about to confront rayne about his intentions until your number order is called, and all the courage you built up crumbles away as rayne leaves you to go pick up your takoyaki.
still, whatever his reasons for doing this may be, this is a rare opportunity to come by, and that means that maybe rayne doesn't have to continue being a stranger. maybe you can get under those layers and find that good guy finn said was there.
"i never knew marchétte had a night market." you say, breaking the silence as the two of you walk side by side through the market.
"i didn't either." rayne admits, poking his fork into one of the octopus balls, and shoving the whole thing into his mouth.
"what?" your face scrunches in disbelief. "then how'd you find out?"
"i asked finn as we were going down to the garage." your date shares nonchalantly.
you turn to look at rayne with the intent of questioning him further, but the sight of his cheeks bulging with food makes you burst out in a fit of giggles.
"what?" rayne asks, narrowing his eyes at you. you bite your lip to contain your laughter. your gaze falls on a mixture of crumbs and sauce that sits on the corner of his mouth, only causing you to smile wider.
"you got a little something there." you gesture at his lips. rayne fumbles for a moment, swiping his fingers around various sections of his mouth, somehow only cleaning half of the mess up.
you shake your head, still grinning up at him. he tenses when your thumb grazes the edges of his lips. you can feel his eyes staring deep into you, and you have to ignore the way it makes your stomach flip.
"all done." you whisper, wiping the remainders on the napkin in your hand.
rayne doesn't say anything regarding what occurred, only urging you to follow him further down marchétte street.
you swear that you see the tips of his ears go red, and something about that makes you all fuzzy inside.
as the night progresses, you and rayne abide your time by visiting stalls. well, it's more like you choose which ones interest you the most, and rayne follows behind. you comment on certain items that look nice; sometimes, you ask for your roommate's opinions to decide on whether something will be worth your money or not. to your surprise, rayne's advice is solid, and you end up listening to him.
at some point, you convinced him to buy a pair of absurdly looking mugs for the apartment. he fought you hard on it, saying that a mug shaped like a fish is extremely inconvenient, but in the end, you won with insistent begging.
when the two of you both got bored of the market, you decide to take rayne to one of your favorite spots in the city.
"the park? really?" rayne gives you a dead stare.
"hey, don't judge." you pout. "i love this place."
"why? no offense, but i don't think parks are all that special."
"i feel like i can take a step back here and just a catch a break from everything," you answer honestly. "sometimes, i sit down and watch people as they live their lives, and something about that is strangely comforting. it makes me want to keep going."
rayne doesn't follow up on your words, but you can tell that he's really considering them, and that brings a smile onto your face.
"plus, i feel like it's a good place for when you want to talk to someone." you grab onto your roommate's wrist. "come on let's go to the swings."
you practically drag rayne to the playground, which is completely deserted, but that's to be expected when it's already 10p.m. no parent would be dumb enough to bring their kid out this late.
you force rayne onto the the swing next to you, and all he does is sit there, unwilling to indulge himself in such a simple joy. annoyed with him, you hop off your own set, coming behind him.
"what are you doing?" rayne whips his head around as your hands plant themselves firmly on his back.
"oh live a little." you huff, mustering up enough strength to push him. the swing rocks forwards and comes back. even as rayne complains and threatens you, you continue to push him, watching as he goes higher and higher. he may be masking it, but you can tell that he's enjoying it.
you finally give up when your arms grow sore and a layer of sweat coats your face. slumping back into the swing beside rayne, you breathe heavily. "man, that was a workout."
"i told you to stop." your date reminds you, shooting you a look.
"you can be honest, rayne. i know you liked it."
"i did not."
"yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that." you wave him off, laughing.
for a minute, neither of you say anything. you're the one who said that the park is a place where you can talk openly with someone, yet there's not a single topic that you can think to bring up.
luckily, rayne swoops in to save it. "can i ask you something?" your half-blonde roommate asks, something more serious laced in his voice. it makes you swallow a lump in your throat. an anxious feeling creeps into your body.
"of course you can."
"why did you bother giving that guy a chance?"
it's easy to know exactly who he's referring to. you shrug. "he's nice and has good energy."
"but he had stood you up two times in the past though. clearly he isn't as nice as you make him out to be. you seriously can't be that dumb to have fallen for it three times."
that statement in itself should get you mad (even though he would be right), but there's something peculiar in what he said that had you ignoring the jab altogether. "how'd you know he stood me up twice before? i never told you that."
at that, rayne freezes, eyes blowing wide open. it's so obvious that he's trying to find an excuse right now, but you push further.
"who told you that, rayne?" you lean closer, watching as his ears turn beet red. you're not even angry with him. it's mostly curiosity making you push him. not to mention that seeing him in a flustered state is entertaining and quite cute.
"max did." your roommate finally admits albeit quietly.
you pull your head back. "max? as in max land? how the hell does he know?"
"your dates happened to be at the restaurant he works at."
"why would he bother telling you that though?" you wonder. "up until tonight, i don't think it concerned you."
"it did though." the half-blonde mumbles, thinking you wouldn't hear, but you do anyway.
"what?" you press.
"forget it." rayne shakes his head, growing irritated.
"no. fuck that.." you seethe, annoyed at his unwillingness to be honest with you. rayne bites his tongue to hold back. you see it. "don't act like this. just tell me, or i swear to god i'll text max right now-"
"it's because i knew that i could treat you better." the words rush out of rayne's mouth as he snaps his head toward you. the fire in his eyes die as he locks his gaze onto you. the harsh emotion written across his features softens. you can feel your own exasperation slipping away like that of a retreating ocean tide. he grimaces in regret, knowing that he didn't mean to let that slip out, but he did anyway. it's out in the open, and now you knew.
surely, you're hearing things wrong. perhaps you're misunderstanding what he just said. how could that be misinterpreted though? it's such a painfully straightforward statement, yet it still doesn't make any sense.
rayne sighs. it's like he can already hear your thoughts and your confusion. the least he can do is clear the air and dump everything onto you while he can. "i didn't expect to feel like this," he begins to explain. "when i moved in, i just assumed you'd be another person i wouldn't pay attention to. i'm sure you know how i am. i don't bother getting to know people, but a lot of people feel the need to force themselves into my life, and shit like that pisses me off. but you didn't do that. you introduced yourself, explained the ground rules of the apartment, and then left me alone."
"so... you like the fact that i leave you alone?" you tilt your head.
"shut up. let me finish."
"okay."
"but yeah, that's part of it. you keep your distance, but you still try to show that you care. you don't do anything groundbreaking. it's just that the small things you do for me got to me. it may sound dumb to you, but it meant a lot to me."
suddenly, you're hit like a train because you know exactly what rayne means. you recall all the times you ensured that there was dinner for him, the times you moved his laundry into the dryer when he forgot to do it himself, and the times you restocked his favorite snacks when they ran out. you hadn't realized that you did any of that. it just came naturally, no hidden meaning behind it.
"oh." you breathe out, blinking.
rayne nods, continuing. you're honestly floored over the fact that he still has more to say. "you don't notice it. at least, i don't think you do, but at some point, i tried doing the same for you. i started paying more attention to you and what you liked and how you liked things done. i did it mostly to pay back your kindness, but over time i continued just 'cause i liked seeing your smile."
you have to process that for a minute, piecing together how certain events lined up until it finally clicks into place. "s-so the island vase-"
"i replace the flowers because you like them fresh."
"the key holder?"
"you always forgot to bring your keys until i installed it."
"when you put on movies-"
"i check your letterboxd and hope that you'll sit and watch them with me."
"when i put on movies-"
"i sit with you because i want to be near you."
your jaw falls open. never in a million years could you have expected this. you thought that rayne could care less about your existence, but the reality was that that was far from the truth. cold, aloof rayne was always doing things for you. all this time, you've been so oblivious.
still, there's more to the story so you stay quiet, letting him get his feelings off of his chest. "to be honest, i was never going to say anything. max tried convincing me to confess on multiple occasions, but i was dead set on letting it pass. i didn't think you liked me in the same way anyway.
"but then you came home today and you told me about your date and i just got so... angry," rayne clenches his fist around the chains of the swing. the whole situation infuriates him every time he thinks about it. "it just wasn't fair. you spent so much time into looking your best just for that asshole to go and waste your effort. you're so beautiful, so kind and understanding, and i fucking hate the fact that he's been taking advantage of that.
"i really wasn't thinking clear when i proposed this date to you, but god after tonight, i'd do it all over again. i wanted you to know what it's like to be with someone who does care about you. i wanted to see you smile. i wanted to hear stories. i want you so badly it's all i can think about sometimes.
"i know this is a lot, and i'm freaking you out right now. i'm sorry but you-"
"rayne." you interrupt with a big smile on your face. he was unaware to the fact that you had got up.
"for fucks sake, can you let me finish? this is already weird enough for me to talk about as is." he rolls his eyes, narrowing his gaze at you, blush splashed across his cheeks. still, without any resistance, you pull him up from his swing by his wrists.
"then don't." you whisper as you pull him in.
and the moment you crash your lips onto rayne's, the world stops. he instantly melts into you, the palms of his hands finding the soft skin on your cheeks. your hands tangle themselves into his hair. his lips are incredibly soft. a faint taste of matcha and sugar syrup dances on his tongue from the boba he drank earlier. a noise of approval vibrates down his throat, and you can't help but smile against his lips.
rayne wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he deepens the kiss. you get what he was talking about earlier. this kiss is all it takes to prove it to you. you feel his affection and desire all at once. every single bone in your body is so aware of how much rayne ames cares about you.
when you finally pull away for air, it's like a smile is permanently tugged onto your lips. rayne trains his eyes onto you, engraining every detail of this moment into his head.
a comfortable silence falls as each of you take your time to catch your breaths. your stare finds its way up, admiring the night sky. there are barely any stars out tonight. no, that part isn't remotely true, not fully anyway, because light pollution drowns out stars and their lights. the reality is that there are billions of stars hanging high out of reach; they just go unseen.
rayne is kinda like that you realize. finn was right. his brother is a good guy. there's a hidden light within him behind all those aloof layers of his. you just have to squint and maybe put on some prescription glasses is order to see it. it's a shame it took you five months to to really acknowledge it. but now that you've finally found a glimpse of it, you'll continue to clear past the fog. you want to know every part of rayne and see his light just as he did with you. you want him to be able to shine at his full brightness with no fear. you'll take rayne ames for all that he is.
"come on," you coo, a lovestruck look in your eyes as you slip your hand into rayne's. "let's go home."
bonus:
rayne: finn, give me a date spot quick
finn: are you actually going on a date?
rayne: stop asking questions
finn: there's a night market on marchétte street.
finn: are you seriously going on a date though?
finn: hello?
finn: rayne.
finn: stop leaving me on read.
finn: is it (y/n)?
finn: it is her, huh?
finn: asshole.
delisaster: hey sorry
delisaster: can we reschedule for next saturday?
y/n: kys
y/n: lol sorry that was my bf
delisaster: bruh what?
delisaster: did you have a bf this whole time?
*this message could not be sent*
delisaster: did you fucking block me?
*this message could not be sent*
synopsis. the boys' reactions to you kissing them and then running away.
author's note. that one panel where orter tells cell to bend over has never left my mind and i may have brought it over to these headcanons i'm (not) sorry. orter can bend me over anytime- AHEM ANYWAY LIVE LAUGH LOVE WIRTH HAHAHA
you, running away from MASH? given his inhuman speed and reflexes, that'll be impossible. even if your action is as harmless as a kiss to his cheek, the first-year would reflexively grab your wrist and pull you flush against his chest before you can take a step away from him.
you'd be subjected under his signature blank stare for a few seconds as he tries to process what just happened, and when he finally registers the feeling of your soft lips on his cheek, he tilts his head to the side in an adorable manner.
"can you do that again?" he asks, surprising you. mash can't explain it - but he likes the warm and fuzzy feeling that would bloom inside his chest when you kiss his cheek. your kiss feels like... a bed of cream puffs. (don't question his analogy)
oh, sweet summer child FINN. if you kiss him right on his freckles in front of his friends, he'd combust on the spot as a string of unintelligible words streams out of his mouth. a flush of embarrassment would rise to his cheeks and when he turns around to tell you off, you're already running away, leaving him to think of how he should get back at you.
he'd spend the entire afternoon attempting and failing to ambush you, with you giggling gleefully as you skip out of his reach. argh, why do you have to be so hard to catch?!
when supper rolls around, you sit next to a defeated looking finn with your tray of food. as you're eating, he points out that you've got some sauce around your mouth and before you can wipe it off, finn has already leaned over and licks the corner of your lips (with his cheeks burning). you drop your spoon in shock while dot gags loudly in the background.
"oh," is all LANCE says when your lips land on the corner of his mouth. his fingertips brush against the spot you shyly kissed and when he turns to face you, you're already gone. figuring that the embarrassment must have gotten to you, he presses a loose fist against his lips as he chuckles softly.
the following hours would be lance contributing further to that embarrassment. he'd kiss your cheek when you're in the middle of a conversation with your friends, and he makes sure that you won't be able to pull away by gripping your jaw. the kiss would last longer than necessary, causing an awkward silence to fall on the group.
if you confront him about it, he'd simply squish your cheeks in his palm as he taunts you for being unable to do anything. try to talk back, and he'll silence you with his lips.
DOT would short-circuit the second your lips make contact with his cheek, his face flushing as red as his hair. as you run away from him laughing, he'd hold his face like he just got slapped, gibberish spilling over his lips and unable to think straight. mash and finn would have to hold him up to stop him from collapsing.
once dot recomposes himself, he'd chase you in the hallways and it immediately becomes a game of tag... with him almost crashing into the walls as you deftly dodge his lunges.
when he finally catches you, there's no escaping from his onslaught of kisses as he wounds his arms around you tightly. your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips, your neck - he leaves no area untouched. when dot returns a favour, he returns it tenfold.
RAYNE would turn his head the moment he registers the lack of space between your bodies - and that unexpected action causes his lips to meet yours in a kiss. you immediately pull away from him with a loud gasp, and the perpetual frown on his countenance prompts you to run for the hills.
touching his lips, he'd wonder why you ran away after boldly kissing him, unaware that you weren't supposed to do that and that you had only intended to ask him about homework. it wouldn't take long for him to chase you as if you're a little rabbit being preyed on by the wolf of adler dorm. (finn watches with a slack jaw as his older brother terrorises your poor soul)
the moment rayne catches up to you, he'd cage you against the nearest wall with his arms on either side of your cowering form. he's at a loss to know how to respond to your profuse apologies, only wanting you to kiss him properly after that accidental kiss earlier. he eventually manages to silence you by gingerly planting his lips on the tip of your nose.
ABEL doesn't express much emotion in the first place, so it's no surprise that he didn't give much of a reaction to your kiss on his forehead. when you did it in the middle of his conversation with the magia lupus, he stops talking abruptly while the other members gawk at your boldness. with a quiet "teehee", you prance out of the room as he touches his forehead.
in class, in the hallway, in the cafeteria - abel would stare at you from afar like you've committed the highest degree of crimes. you think that you may have offended him by pulling what you did in front of the magia lupus, but that's not the case as you would come to find out later.
in the evening, abyss brings you to abel's room by the scruff of your shirt. you're wondering why the hell you got dragged out of bed, and it isn't until you noticed abel staring at you expectantly did you realise he wants you to give him a good night kiss like a mother would to her child.
ABYSS, who had never received physical affection from anyone before in his entire life, would be so flustered that his mind becomes a jumbled mess. he doesn't even realise that you've already fled from the scene by the time he can think coherently again (and he's disappointed).
the kiss you gave him would linger on his mind for hours, and he'd throw subtle glances at you - specifically your lips. the warmth that spread from the spot you kissed on his forehead is... comforting, reassuring even, and he doesn't think he can continue his day without getting another one from you.
eventually, abyss would work up the courage to approach you. when he shyly tugs your sleeve with his gaze averted, you immediately understand what he wants and lean in to plant a sweet kiss over his evil eye, causing red to dust his cheeks. he'd hug you on impulse, wanting to be as close to you as possible.
WIRTH doesn't appreciate having his study time interrupted, so if you try to break his concentration by kissing the side of his neck, he wouldn't give you the chance to run away by trapping your feet in mud. he'd then drag you over to sit on his lap, where you'll be forced to stay until he's done studying.
it doesn't matter if you're in the library or the common room, you'll just have to endure the embarrassment of being sandwiched between his body and the table. he doesn't even hide the fact that he's enjoying the way you're squirming uncomfortably on his lap - that's what you get for trying to distract him.
he'd pinch your side if your squirming starts to get annoying, and if you try to protest, he'd immediately shut you up with a kiss - with every contact between your lips lasting longer than the previous one. it eventually reaches the point where you're left breathless after his kisses, and he smirks at the debauched look he's able to paint on your countenance.
CARPACCIO would stare at your fleeing figure with the same stiff expression he wears every day; he'd internally question why you would run off after kissing him when he has no intentions of harming you.
since he can't feel pain, your affectionate gestures are the only other external stimuli he can feel. he registers the pleasant feeling in his chest when you first kissed him, and has become addicted to the feeling since then. so really, he'd just accept your surprise kisses.
although he won't go after you when you run away, he'd actively seek you out and splay himself across your lap like a cat. when that happens, it's your cue to shower him with the kisses he has grown to like. this frequently happens since he tends to stay up all night for his research, and the warm feeling of your lips helps him fall asleep.
ORTER won't admit it, but your kisses are capable of breaking his composure; so when your lips suddenly press against his jaw, he'd freeze up on the spot, giving you the opportunity to book it before he can catch you. once you're well out of his sight, he'd push his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the faintest hint of blush on his cheeks.
of course, no actions go without consequences - and you are no exception. to punish you for your little misdeed, orter would call your unsuspecting self into his office before bending you over his desk when you least expected it. he'd relish in your shocked expression and proceeds to intimidate you into submission, only stopping once he spots the teary beads in the corners of your eyes.
orter is not a cruel man. gently cupping your jaw, he presses a long kiss on your temple as a silent apology before letting you go.
another one who you won't have a chance to run from. KALDO can tell when you're about to attack him with a kiss and would pretend to be oblivious until you make a move. the moment you lean into his face, he quickly turns his head and places a hand at the back of your head to push your lips against his.
you're helpless in his grasp as he wraps an arm around your waist to press you against his body. if you just had a sweet snack, he would deepen the kiss and literally devour your lips, wanting to taste what you ate. when he finally pulls away, he'll try to guess the name of the snack while playfully smiling at your embarrassed expression.
kaldo treats it like a little game. if he can catch you before you kiss him and he happens to have some honey on hand, he gets your honey-flavoured lips as a reward and you'll be in for a long night.
His favorite place to fuck you, hands down, is the beach, bonus points if it’s at night and he’s had a few. Shanks lives to feel coarse sand and sea foam in all the wrong places, to smell the salty ocean air and seaweed while he’s in between your legs, to risk anyone seeing how excited you get when he tells you he's about to cum inside you. It’s uncomfortable and kind of gross, and he loves it. After he’s had his way with you, he’ll drag you into the surf to splash around and wash away the sand coating your skin after he pinned you down and fucked you so hard your knees wobble with each wave that hits.
Beckman:
He’s a simple man, and he likes his privacy. If you’re aboard the Red Force, he wants you in his office with the door locked, the one place the crew will leave him alone. It's by far his favorite place to go down on you, making you put your feet up on the desk and hold your own legs open while he laps leisurely at your folds. But he much prefers fucking you in your home, where he can stretch his legs a bit, and that means relaxing on the sofa while you ride him, bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking you dumb, and putting your legs over his broad shoulders while you call him daddy in your bed.
Mihawk:
His favorite place is anywhere on his home turf. He’ll chase you up the castle steps and ravage you on the staircase, he’ll bend you over a tower balcony, he’ll take you out on the water and tell you that you have to ride his cock without tipping over the boat, he’ll put you on all fours in the garden and pound into you, he’ll lay you down on the dining room table to lick your pussy (pointed tongue, fine strokes, he knows what he's doing). He always wants to make good use of the satin sheets on his bed, but the two of you rarely make it that far.
Crocodile:
Everyone thinks the sofa in his office is for him to relax on with a glass of whiskey in his hand as he puffs on a cigar and broods as he often does, but it’s actually there to fuck you dumb on. (Mr. 1 knows this and makes sure not to sit on it). Sir Crocodile is always calling you into his office because he has a raging hard on and can’t focus until he empties his balls in your tight little pussy, but his office chair isn’t quite the right size for him to stretch out while you ride him. Besides, the sofa allows him to get on top of you if he wants to, though if he’s bending you over, it won’t be over the arm or back of the sofa but rather over his desk.
Doflamingo:
His favorite place is by far his bedroom. It’s his turf, and all of those nasty toys he keeps to make playing with you all the more fun are within reach. He keeps his bed rigged so he can restrain you whenever the mood takes him (it often does), he purchased an especially large mirror just for kinky reasons, he has a box of vibrators, another of butt plugs, and yet another of ornate nipple clamps. But don’t take that to mean he values privacy. He loves nothing more than restraining you and inviting someone to use some of his toys on you or go down on you while he watches.
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Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!
sometimes, you don't even know why mihawk bothers dating someone as ordinary as you. but the thing is that, for him, you're everything - but not ordinary.
A/N: based on this request, ty i love writing for mihawk. the title is a ref to thermal reservoir in quantum physics, it was fitting the fic pretty well. have a good meal.☆
CW: f!reader, established relationship, virgin!reader, body worship, dirty talk (kinda), praises, oral sex, v sex, loss of virginity, slight mirror sex, soft dom, slight spanking, mihawk hates when you're cursing.
WC: 3,8k
one piece masterlists. ☆ my ko-fi
You never felt so ordinary. Standing awkwardly near the door, fidgeting with the dress, you don’t even dare to enter the bedroom, ready to sneak away and hide in the bathroom, but Mihawk’s voice echoes against the walls. “I can see you. Would you stop hiding?” You thought he was musing, too engrossed in his reading to notice your presence, but you were wrong.
Of course, you were wrong.
He takes a sip of his red wine, watching you from over the rim of his glass, taking in your nervous fidgeting. Lowering his glass softly, he uncrosses his legs and closes the newspaper, analyzing how you handle the expensive silk dress like it might burn you, how you keep your distance, like you’re scared to dirty it.
Defeated, you bite your lips, pushing the door of the bedroom. Calmly, face unreadable as always, Mihawk takes a look at your figure. The tailor-made dress is a masterpiece of dark, romantic elegance, crafted in sumptuous black velvet, with deep burgundy undertones. His eyes appreciate how the bodice is sculpted like a corset, adorned with intricate lace appliqués and delicate embroidery that bloom like crimson roses across the fabric. You feel his gaze flickering on the off-the-shoulder lace sleeves, extend into sheer gloves, black filigree embracing your arms with gothic grace. If only you could disappear into yourself. He doesn’t talk, it makes you feel even more awkward. As you play with the floor-length skirt and dramatic slit, velvet petals cascading down the gowns, all you want is to run away.
That dress was woven from midnight and passion itself. It’s opulent. Beautiful. Refined. Of course, Mihawk picked it. You're not good enough for such a dress, nor for Mihawk. “It looks bad, right?” You ask nervously.
“Bad?” He repeats, setting his wine glass down, eyes never leaving you as he rises from the armchair. “Bad?” He echoes again, this time with a hint of something deeper - disbelief. “You look like you stepped out of a dream.” His eyes never leave yours as you stand there, looking nervous yet so elegant, timeless, in that expensive dress. Mihawk examines how the fabric falls over your curves, like liquid shadow.
“A dream? Not so sure about this…” You mutter, crossing your arms to cover yourself. Mihawk walks closer, his expensive shoes clicking against the cold floor, closing the distance with silent, lethal grace. When he reaches out, he grabs your wrists firmly, pulling your arms away from crossing over your chest.
“Stop that,” he speaks, voice low and velvety like the silk of your dress. His hands then move to your shoulders, guiding you inside the bedroom, until you’re facing the full-length mirror. “Look,” he commands softly. “Look at yourself.” Mihawk’s reflection appears behind you, tall frame and sharp features contrasting with your smaller figure draped in luxurious tissues. “This dress was made for you. Do you really see an ordinary lady?”
“I… don’t know.” You admit quietly, embarrassed by Mihawk’s intense eyes admiring how the black and burgundy velvet blended with lace hugs your curves like it was made for you - which it was. The way your breasts push against the corset-style top, the lace sleeves framing your arms, how the skirt flows down your legs, high slit hinting at your thigh…
“This is not an ordinary dress. I ordered it just for you, I picked the fabrics, the colors, and your measurements. It was made for you. It’s not an ordinary dress because you’re not an ordinary lady.” Embarrassed, you clear your throat.
“You really like wasting money.”
His lips brush against your neck, kissing it, reaching your shoulder. “It’s not a waste. When you look this breathtaking in it, how could it be a waste?” He continues to press delicate kisses along your shoulders, his hands slowly sliding from your hips to your collarbone. The way he touches you makes you feel so weak. “You know what the best part is?” Teasingly, his fingers slip inside the top to trace the curve of your breasts, his gaze watching your eyes fluttering close, lips painted with burgundy lipsticks parting slightly. “The best part is that I get to take it off you later,” His voice is filled with unspoken promises and desires. “And underneath, you’ll be wearing nothing but silk stockings and those black lace gloves.” Shivers run down your spine as he keeps talking against your ear, one hand cupping your breast softly through the velvet fabric. “You know what else isn’t ordinary? The view right here…” His thumb brushes over your nipple briefly.
Brain half-mush, you lean against Mihawk’s chest, your knees buckling under both his touch and words. “Stop talking like this… it makes me feel… weak… just keep touching me…”
“I don’t know. If I touch again, will you admit it fits you?” With one thumb, he hovers millimeters away from your nipple. “Does it fit you?” The challenge in his tone is clear - but carries an order hidden behind a gentle question. You gasp, Mihawk’s hand tilting your chin up, forcing you to look at him in the mirror. “Say this dress fits you perfectly. And say it like you mean it if you want more of my touch.” His voice drops an octave.
Holding back a gasp, you challenge your own reflection in the mirror - the fabric and colors perfectly match your makeup, the tissues are perfectly tailored, enhancing the curves of your body. “It fits me,” you murmur, cheeks slightly flushed.
“Perfectly,” Mihawk corrects, voice firm.
“It fits me perfectly.”
“Good girl,” Mihawk turns your face towards him completely, capturing your mouth in a languid, slow kiss. The mirror reflects your shocked expression turning into pleasure as his tongue delicately pushes past your lips - the taste of his refined wine rolls on your tongue, it’s almost a torture when he breaks the kiss, talking close to your ear again. “If it fits you perfectly… maybe I shouldn’t take it off.” He teases, voice low, predatory, soft as silk.
Breathless, it takes you a moment to process what he just said. Mouth dry, mind hazy, you press your back against his chest. “Take it off. Please…” Against your neck, Mihawk inhales your scent, pleased with how you’re reacting - how the dress is filling its purpose, making you bolder, more confident.
“Such a pretty picture you make,” he murmurs, “Asking me to take it off like you actually want me to see you naked… Usually you’re hiding under blankets, too shy to let me look, always asking me to close my eyes.” His hands moves to the laces of your corset-style top, beginning to untie them slowly, deliberately teasing you with each tug of the lace. The fabric loosens gradually, revealing more and more of your skin inch by inch.
“It’s just that… I don’t feel worth the deal for you,” You confess, cheeks burning with desire and nervousness. “And you’re intimidating.”
Mihawk pauses in his untying, fingers stilling on the laces. He looks at your reflection in the mirror, hawk-eyes noticing everything - how your eyes are downcast, how you’re biting your lips nervously, how your shoulders are slightly hunched… how you’re trying to make yourself smaller, basically. “Intimidating. You think I’m intimidating? Or do you think you’re not good enough for me?”
“Both… your eyes are stressing me out. And I just feel too normal in front of you.” You admit quietly, heart thumping as Mihawk’s plays with the last set of lace.
“My eyes are intimidating?” He questions, locking his gaze to yours. With a controlled slowness, he pulls the last lace free, letting the corset fall open completely. The top half of the dress pools around your waist, leaving you completely exposed. “Can you really blame me for using my eyes to look at you when you’re that beautiful?”
“N-no…” You shutter, Mihawk’s thumbs pressing against your collarbones to keep you still. “Then stop calling my gaze intimidating and start seeing it for what it is,” He whispers, leaning in closer, lips almost touching your ear. “It’s admiration. It’s desire.” His fingers brush over your lower stomach. “And it’s hungry to see more of you.”
Someone needs to check your pulse right now. You don’t even know if you’re alive - your heart is missing so many beats. You drift slowly into Mihawk’s embrace, totally under his spell. Not a scary one, it’s soothing, ethereal, yet so sensual. His fingers caress the underside of your breasts and just linger there. “Still think you’re ordinary?”
Unable to take more of his edging, you shake your head ‘no’ in answer. “Touch me… please?” At last, his hands cup your breasts, your soft flesh filling his palms perfectly, his thumbs curling over your hard nipples, long fingers spreading out to fondle every single inch perfectly. “Always so shy, always hiding, but look at you now.” One hand moves up to wrap around your throat, tilting your head back against his shoulder to press a kiss on your temple and then to your exposed shoulder.
“More,” You beg and Mihawk’s hands become more adventurous, hand leaving your throat to trail down your stomach, reaching your navel, before moving lower, much lower. He breaks the contact with your shoulder to kiss a line down your neck, his breath ghosting over your skin as he starts to gather the fabric of the dress pooling around your waist, ready to unveil you. Overwhelmed, your eyes flutter close, the dress slowly falling on the ground. Mihawk’s hands follow the path of the falling fabric, caressing your hips, your thighs, until you’re almost naked except for your gloves, stockings and black lace panties. “Eyes open,”
His piercing gaze meets yours in the mirror, looking at you like if you were a masterpiece, a rare and precious being to be admired and savored. “So that’s what you were hiding. A work of art.” His words are reverent, but the setting overwhelming. Weakly, you turn around to nuzzle against Mihawk, running away from your own reflection. At this sight, Mihawk breath hitches - the mirror is giving him a magnificent view of your bottom barely covered by the black lace panties. One palm slides down to cup your ass cheeks through the lace, squeezing lightly. “You know what I see?”
“Tell me?”
“I see a masterpiece,” he says, his thumb pressing into the crease where your ass meets your thigh. “A body that was made to be worshiped, to be touched…” Feather-light touch tracing the waistband of your panties. “Thighs made for wrapping around my hips. And a lovely bottom that deserves to be spanked and then kissed better. I see curves that were designed for my hands…”
His words sink slowly into you, your panties so damp yet he barely touched you - his velvet tone whispering obscenity is lethal. A surprised gasp falls from your lips when he turns you around until you face your own reflection once more, his hands gripping your hips. “Look at me. I’m going to be gentle. But I’m also going to be… thorough.” Nothing can escape his hawk-eyes, he notices the dampness of your panties, his fingers brushes over the wet lace. “I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”
In the quiet bedroom, all you can hear is Mihawk’s soft breaths and your heart thumping so loud it echoes in your skull. “So… it’s the moment you lie me in the bed?” You ask, impatient to stop facing this mirror. It makes every breath hard to take.
Mihawk’s eyes smolder with desire, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Darling, I’m not going to just lie you down in the bed, I’m going to do much more.” Breathless, you barely have the time to blink, Mihawk’s hands slide down to your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly and carrying you towards the bed, laying you down on the silk sheets. Not in a hurry, he takes off his shoes, his hands then work on unbuttoning his shirt. You drink in the sight of his chiseled chest, toned abs, his necklace caressing your skin as he climbs on the bed, one hand above your head, his presence looming over yours.
“I’ll start there,” his voice is a low purr against your skin, his face hovering above your stomach. And then, his lips trail lower, your thighs instinctively spreading, your body eager for more of him. “You feel it?” He speaks against your lower stomach, his fingers playing with the lace edge of your panties. “How wet you are.”
Hypnotized, you arch your back, shivering when his fingers linger over your panties, feeling the heat and the damp through the fabric. Mihawk looks up at you from between your spread thighs. Without breaking eye contact, he leans in and presses an open-mouthed kiss, tongue pressing against your slit through the soaked fabric. He takes his time, inhaling your scent, savoring your taste. “Fuck,” you hiss. “Language,” Mihawk scowls disapprovingly against your panties. “Say please,” he adds, his hand coming up to press against your stomach, holding you down.
“Please…” You breathe out, cheeks burning red, desperate for more. You can’t think straight anymore, sinking into a steamy, hot ocean of desire, endless degree of freedom - renewal - soothing waters washing away your insecurities, giving you the right to be you, truly, totally, entirely you.
He rewards you with a slow, deliberate lick along your slit through your panties. “Good girl,” Mihawk continues his torturous licking and sucking, his tongue pressing against your clit, his fingers finally starting to pull at the edge of your panties, ready to peel them away from your skin. “Lift.”
You comply in a blink and he pulls your panties down, his movements deliberate and teasing letting the lace drag against your sensitive skin. Once they’re off, without breaking eye contact, he licks the damp spot of your panties, making you blush so hard you might explode. “Don’t do this!” You wail, totally flustered.
“Don’t do what?” He asks innocently, licking your panties again. “You mean this?” He licks again, savoring your taste as if it was the finest wine. “Or this?” He inhales your scent deeply.
“By the… fuck!” His hand comes down your ass. “Language.” The spank is not hard enough to truly hurt, but still strong enough to sting. Breathing heavily, you have no choice but to watch this obscene show of Mihawk licking your panties clean before tossing them aside.
“Use that mouth of yours and ask nicely. Without cursing.” He commands, his hands playing with the hem of your black silk stocking. “Sorry…. Please…” You breathe out, dying to melt through the feeling of his divine mouth eating you out.
At your words, automatically, his tongue licks your slit, his eyes filled with lust and hunger never leaving yours as he presses a soft clit on your clit, his tongue flicking around. “F-So good…” A soft hum of approval sends a vibration of pleasure through your own body. “Good. No cursing.” Shamelessly, mouth full of you, he looks up at you again, tongue working your clit. “You taste so sweet.”
Blushing from neck to ears, you grip the sheets tightly. “More… please…”
“So impatient…” Mihawk teases, his fingers spreading your folds apart, exposing you to his piercing gaze. “Let me enjoy this first.” He wants to admire how your legs shake as his tongue presses flat against your clit, before flicking around, sucking lightly, his fingers holding you open as he feasts on your pussy. The fancy bedroom is filled with the wet sound of his mouth working between your legs. “Look at me,” he commands, lifting his head to meet your gaze - he sees the shock and arousal in your eyes, taking in the sight of his impeccable face now messy with your wetness.
“Don’t look away.” It’s so hard to maintain eye contact when his fingers trace patterns on your wet folds, not allowing you to relieve the building tension. “Tell me what you want. Use your words.” Fighting against your shyness, you sink deeper into those infinite baths. “I want… your fingers.” Your voice is so weak, so shaky, but Mihawk is merciless. “Where?”
“Fuck, you-‘re a-sorry! Inside me…”
“How many? One? Two? Three?” His voice is low and gentle, coaxing you shy desires out into the open even though he literally just spanked you again, heating the flesh of your ass. “I don’t know… stop playing with me!”
Mihawk studies you for a few seconds before finally pushing one finger into you slowly, one phalanx at first. “I’m not playing,” he replies sternly, looking up at you. “I’m just helping you to explore what you want.” His finger pushes deeper, curving up slightly to find your sweet spot. “Fuck… it feels g_-,” your whole body jolt when his palm spanks your ass again. But he doesn’t stop the slow, deliberate motion of his finger. “I think we’ve found something you like.” He adds a second finger, stretching you wider, his thumb finding your clit, circling lightly.
It’s like drowning and diving in an endless infinite bath of desire, radiant heat, and lust - transformation, transfiguration. Soothing water cleans all your insecurities like a purifying rain. Mihawk savors how you drown in sensation. “I… need…” You start, trailing off. His eyes gleam with intensity, knowing exactly what you’re trying to say. “You.”
His lips curve slightly. “I know.” His voice is smooth as silk, eyes dark with desire and something softer, more tender. Not in a hurry - never - he pulls out his fingers, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. “Are you sure?”
“If it’s with you… I’m sure.” The kiss on your forehead is so soft you could melt and die right now, right there. Metal tingles as he unbuckles his belt, never breaking eye contact, undressing with a calculated softness, the bedroom filled with the soft sounds of fabric rustling until he unveils himself fully, his long, hard cock springing free. He gives it slow pumps, admiring how your body looks even more appealing, wearing nothing but stockings and lace gloves. Mihawk kisses and bites along your collarbone and shoulder, his hand gripping your hair, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access to your neck, he nibbles on the flesh, leaving delicate hickeys, digging his teeth lightly to leave a gentle mark. “Spread your legs wider,” he instructs against your skin, lifting up to reach for the nightstand.
Everything feels so real, you don’t know if you’re sinking, drowning, or floating.
Mihawk doesn’t miss any single detail - shivering thighs, closed eyes, slightly parted lips, body spread out on his silk sheets, breasts rising and falling with your nervous breaths. How stressed out you are right now. “You’re overthinking,” he tears open the condom wrapper. “You’re not supposed to be scared. Not with me.” His voice drops softer and you force your eyes open.
“I know… I’m fine. Not scared. Just… nervous.”
Flushed, you watch him rolling the condom onto his hard length, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Look at me,” he commands the second your gaze flickers downwards. “Keep looking at me,” He spreads lube on his cock. “Eyes on me.” Trembling, you feel him positioning himself between your thighs, one hand reaching for your wrists, pinning them above your head, reaching for your fingers, anchoring you as if it could save you from drowning. “Breathe,” he whispers against your mouth before slowly pushing forward with a gentle but firm thrust. You gasp into his kiss, nails digging into his hand. Mihawk captures all your moans, holding you close as he buries himself to the hilt inside you in one smooth, steady, long motion.
For a second, you think you’re drowning.
But the waves aren’t dragging you down. It’s warm and soothing, not as painful as what you were thinking. Mihawk stays completely still inside you, in control, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks, your nose, your lips - anywhere he can reach without moving his hips. “See? I’ve got you. You’re always safe with me.”
The way he’s looking at you… Raw passion, tenderness, desire, love. He grounds you, giving you shallow thrusts matching the trust in your gaze. “You’re finally looking at me for real,” he comments calmly, voice thick with restrained lust, his strokes slow, measured, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in a controlled motion.
“I just noticed your gaze wasn’t that intimidating.”
“What is it then?” He asks, hips rolling gently yet intentional, filling you completely, his tip brushing your sweet spot so nicely your eyes roll back. “You’re looking at me… like if I was anything but not ordinary.”
In his gaze, you see your reflection - you see how he sees you. As a whole, heavenly divine, criminally fine. His look could kill, but right now, the spiral pattern as hypnotic as the sound of waves crushing against the rocks. His fingers are holding you tight, diving you into his embrace without letting you drown.
Infinite baths melting the particle of your heart, dissolving you, transfiguring you - continuum, endless, a perfect diving into bliss.
“Fuck… making me feel so good,” You moan against his lips as his hops move faster but still controlled. “Language,” Mihawk scolds, but he knows you’re lost in pleasure, so he just bites your lower lips slowly before pulling back to look into your eyes again - especially now that you’re not breaking eye contact. Each thrust is reaching your sweet spot so nicely you gasp, legs trembling around his waist, more curses spilling out your mouth.
“I’ll forgive your language this time. But only because you’re too confused to speak properly.” You barely listen to what he’s saying, he’s driving you closer to the edge. You look at him through half-lidded eyes, hissing, cheeks flushed. “Fuck… right there.”
“There?” He asks softly, hitting your sweet spot again. “Or there?” He hits it even deeper, making you arch your back off the bed. Clenching around him like a vice, rising tide spreading through your whole body, your eyes keep rolling back, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure.
Mihawk was right. He’s so… thorough. Making your brain melt, turning you into an incoherent, moaning mess, drowning in an overwhelming heat. “You’re getting there,” he murmurs encouragingly, chasing your own orgasm. “Let go.”
Weakly, you stutter, eyes fluttering close, consumed by the pleasure exploding in your stomach. Pure ecstasy written all over your face, you hold Mihawk as if he was your anchor and he rides out your orgasm, fucking you through it. “That’s it, darling, take what you need from me.”
Your body continues to shake, draining out all your energy, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes until your dizzy mind gives up, your limbs going totally limp. Your heart beats so slowly - you never felt so real, yourself.
Calmness wash over you.
Infinite baths.
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ please, reblog, like, comment if you like my work.
A/N: This is very indulgent because I needed desperate and needy Mihawk to exist and this prompt tumbled right on into that to sate me 🤡 (at the airport hoping no one is looking over my shoulder rn too LOL)
Word Count: ~2.5k
Warnings: afab!reader, NSFW, p in v, forceful undertones towards beginning, desk sex, creampie, begging, praise, lots of the pet name "love", Mihawk is like super needy he moans "please" dude, he's also very in love, and trying sUPER hard not to finish first by the end 💀, stress relief before Cross Guild meeting, brief moment shit-talking the other two lol turns real sweet at the end cuz I couldn’t help myself
Please enjoy this man being as close to a mess as I think I can convincingly get him ╰(▔∀▔)╯
~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~
Mihawk is usually the type of man to fully take his time enjoying every inch of you.
Usually.
“I know, love, I know,” his voice is full of panting desperation, worn to a fluster by his pressing need and his frantic firm thrusts into you. “I’ll make it up to you later, I just -nnhah- just gotta fuck you now -nnnhg fuck- don’t wanna think about anything but how fucking good it feels inside you.”
When Mihawk came to your study not thirty minutes before the next Cross Guild meeting, this was the last thing you were expecting. Though, it did fly right to the top of the list when you saw the intensity of his shining gold eyes on you and the rigidness of his figure, all coiled muscle waiting to pounce and gritted teeth waiting to tear. You’d barely been able to get just his jacket over his shoulders before he was on you, speaking his need and hunger with persistent lips and hands. He was so set on getting his fill that he simply let his prized coat be dragged down his arms and thrown to the floor. Somehow, his hat survived the rush of his motions and the beloved closeness necessary for his demanding kisses.
Though they were rare, you loved the times he was like this, using you for his pleasure, clinging to you and taking you like nothing else in the world would ever suffice in sating him. You got just as much out of these times as he did, but you played it as a favor, partly for the delicious flavor it added to the dynamic to hear him apologize, beg, and thank as much as the stalwart Dracule Mihawk can and partly to earn the long and worshipful treatment he’d reward you with later. You’re not sure how he hasn’t caught onto you yet. Seeing the meticulously controlled man lose himself in his desire for you has you dripping, shown in the wet slap on each strong thrust. It was surely enough to give your abundant eagerness away.
Beyond that, you are just as ravenous for him, thighs clamped around his sides, hands gripping tightly to his tense forearms as he fucks you on your desk. You feel the jump of each muscle from their work sinking a bruising grip into your hips, manhandling them forward and back opposite the motion of his hips to fuck you just like he wants - like you’re a lifeline and if he just digs as deeply as he can into your sweet cunt as quickly as he can then he can finally breathe again.
Your heels pull him in on each quick thrust, the clench of your legs and abs for the motion helping a rhythmic pulse stroke at every inch of your walls and further firm your swollen lips and clit to absorb each delicious impact of Mihawk’s hips. The soft, sweat-damp skin of his back and sides teases your sensitive inner thighs and calves as he fucks you, his obliques dancing especially sinfully against your flesh. You loved admiring the look of his chiseled figure but absolutely nothing compared to the bliss of him using it against you.
The urge Mihawk has to collapse down over you and continuously drag you as close as possible is strong, but it is beat out by the erotic sight of watching the slap of his hips bounce your body. It lets you have a beautiful sight too; Mihawk backlit and looming over you, muscles fully displaying their strength and tone with the lack of his jacket, his curled hair and the feather on his cap swaying in time with him fucking into you. The hat still resting on his head only makes you feel smaller captured under him; he always looks impressive with it on and it makes the shadow he casts over you that much larger.
Mihawk uses an iron grip to throw one of your bare legs to hook over his shoulder. He uses his other hand to grip the inside of the other and shove it to the side, flat on your desk, trapping it down by putting his weight into his hold on your thigh. It forces your hips to turn on their side, giving him a new angle to work you open on his thick cock. The change has each forceful drag of his cock in you feel new again, recharging your nerves in their pleasant screaming. You tell him their call through whiny panting, chants of his name, and streams of “yes! like that, so good, fuck me harder, need it, need you so bad-”
There’s a firm thump and rattle of your desk as his hand plants next to your head to keep from collapsing over you. It leaves him crouching over you like a predator, but the hazy need in his eyes begging you to let him keep feeling this forever betrays the fact that he’s as deeply in your clutches as he tries to snatch you into his. The thickness of your thigh trapped between you helps keep him up as well as his other hand still pressing your leg down. His fingers that are sunk into your thigh dig deeper and tremble with his pleasure and overwhelm.
“Gods, love, you’re perfect, want to live between your thighs,” Mihawk groans, so close you can feel his panting breath cool the sweat on your face. He’s fighting his eyes to stay open, needing to see the pleasure scrunching your brow, loosening your jaw, fogging your eyes. The fluttering of his lids catches your eyes and swells your heart, shooting arousal through you from knowing he’s feeling so desperately good from fucking you. The amber of his eyes is so bright trained on you that it seems to glow through the shadows haunting his face. It makes him look all the more feral as he grips, spreads, bends, and fucks you like he wants to eat you whole. “Just -hahn- need some more from you, can you -nngaaah- do that for me, little love?”
You sob out a moan as you snap your eyes shut against the onslaught of sensation. The soreness his weight is pressing through your thigh and the tender stretch from your other leg being folded to your shoulder add more buzzing chaos to the sensations swirling their way through your body to flood your brain. The way he holds you open lets your clit take a soft impact every time he shoves his whole length into your plush pussy, giving the bud more little teases with how your body reverberates from the impact.
“Look at me while I fuck you,” Mihawk snarls, but there’s desperation bleeding through the growl in his voice. You want to whine back at his request but you want to please him even more. You blink your eyes open and the raw need in them has Mihawk collapse just a bit more over you, feeling the want you and your pleasures ravage through his body begin to burn him alive. The brim of his hat taps lightly on your forehead from his closeness while he pants and moans to you, “Like that, love, fuck you’re so good for me.”
Meeting your gaze is a double edged sword; his arousal magnifies, his soul lights up, and his cock twitches hard but it also throws him to feeling right on the precipice of cumming and he’s not ready to stop feeling you. The siren song of the wet slapping of your hips, the slick sound of your pussy gushing around him and trying to keep him sucked as deep as he can reach, and your panting breaths carrying high moans and pleads and praises all tempt him to let the torrent of pleasure rush over him, promise him it would feel like endless blissful sin. It is all the harder to resist because he knows exactly how delicious it feels to sheathe himself from root to tip in you and pump stream after stream of hot cum into your welcoming walls while your cunt clings to him almost as tightly and desperately as his hands cling to you.
“Love, need you to cum,” Mihawk rushes out. He palms the hand on your thigh up so he can rub circles over your swollen clit. Your moans gain even more volume, filling the air in your office almost as thickly as the sweet, musky scent of sex.
“Need it, please,” he whispers breathlessly, “Need to feel you -nnnnhhah- love, love, need to feel your cunt sque-heeze me.”
His vision begins blurring from the strain of staying right on the edge of cumming, barely holding back the powerful orgasm built from the burning in his muscles, the tingling in his fingers, the swirling in his head, and the throbbing of his cock. Giving up on trying to refocus them, he scrunches his eyes shut and lets his forehead fall down to rest on your temple, finally bumping his hat to fall onto the desk next to you. His closed eyes allow him to focus in better on all the other ways you are filling his senses, latching especially to your open mouth serenading him with needy babbling and fucked out moans.
“Can you be -ghahh- good and do that for me?” Mihawk pleads against your cheek. “Can you cum for me?”
“Y-yes, please, wanna be -mmmngh- good for you,” you whine back to him. His hips stutter at the tone and you feel his lips pull up around gritting teeth, an airy “fuck” sneaking past them.
“You are, sweetness, you are sooooo good for me,” Mihawk praises, swirling his thumb more insistently across your slick clit. The increase and pressure and perfect timing with his firm thrusts has your core tightening in threat of bursting. Your thighs had already been shaking in warning of your coming orgasm, but now the trembling is seating itself in every clench of your walls around Mihawk’s thick cock, wringing tighter and longer on each pulse. Your nerves sparkle and buzz more with each clamp down, the blazing rub of his throbbing dick and its bulging veins whiting out your mind. “Now come on, love -nngh- cum on my cock -fuuck please- let me feel you, make me cum -nnnghah- need to fuck you full.”
With a sob of his name, you finally fall over the edge. It feels as overwhelming as you had been expecting since he first stormed in and threw you over the desk. Your hands and cunt cling to him in need of a tether and in need of more; while your body is trembling with the bliss of your orgasm a tiny piece in the back of your mind is waiting for the final thing that will melt your whole body into a honey drip of heaven.
Mihawk doesn’t leave you waiting long; he is only able to feel your pussy milk him a handful of times before he can hold his end off no longer. With slurring groans of endearments and praises, he is overtaken by pleasure and can think of nothing beyond the relief of pumping you full of his cum with his twitching cock and grinding hips. The force of it has his thighs quake and numb out, making his weight crumble over you as he can no longer hold himself up. He nuzzles his face down the side of yours until he’s tucked panting against your neck, forehead pressed snuggly against your racing pulse.
You welcome his weight with open arms, one dragging him ever tighter to your heaving chest and the other winding its hand into his thick dark hair to ensure he never leaves. Both of you are still gasping for breath, your pressed chests rubbing and shaking against each other much like your greedy hips do as they ring out the endless pulsing beats of your orgasms. Your cunt and core continue to massage down on him and wring every bit of tight and bubbling bliss from his still hard and pumping cock that they can get.
The feeling of being not only filled with his large and achingly hard cock but also the swelling heat of his cum makes your eyes roll back. He’s filled you full to bursting, now leaking out of you on every grind and the warm sticky sensation and sound matched with his pelvis massaging small sweeps across your clit prolongs your peak. You get to spend a long time suspended in the feeling of your body bursting with heat and joy and relief and electricity, all shoving your soul right out of your skin only for Mihawk’s presence to trap you right back into the storm raging in your nerves.
Mihawk begins to feel foggy and a bit delirious as he finally releases his pent up need in you, finally sates his ferocious hunger for your delicious touch, finally finds his comfort and peace stuck as close to you as he can possibly get. He makes a halfhearted attempt to bring his mind back to his body but is happily distracted by the aftershocks that jolt your body and flutter your cunt. They pull extra little spurts and groans from him each time and he’s defenseless to the contentment he feels following their slowing pace into the warm hover of affection that always envelops him after sharing bodies with you.
It takes a long time for either of you to actually come back to yourselves. The whole time you are afloat, you guide each other with trailing touches from limp but loving hands, quick kisses stolen between smoothing out your breath, and gentle squeezes in the embrace you keep on each other, needing those little moments where it's even more of a hug than a hold. Mihawk chases the touches that tease across the dips of his lower back or scratch up the back of his neck and across his scalp just a little bit more than the others. You feel too boneless to lean into almost any touch at the moment, but you do manage to roll your head to the side so you can gaze at your grandfather clock in the corner.
“I don’t think there’s time to make you presentable for them,” you sigh out with no real remorse. Mihawk is of a similar mind.
“Not my fault if those two don’t have anyone to take care of their needs,” Mihawk mumbles dryly. “Also not my problem if they’re mad I’ve had mine met.”
The laugh you give at his attitude earns you one of your favorite prizes: Mihawk’s lips making the slow curl then spread into a real smile. It is only topped when they close again to press a kiss in the shape of that smile on their resting place against your skin with enough love to reach straight through that skin and nurture every beat of your heart.
SYNOPSIS: Your arranged marriage is something you are unable to fight. Accepting your fate, you are surprised when your new husband just wants to treat you kindly.
A collection of moments following your marriage with Yamada Asaemon Shion.
CONTENT: Minors DO NOT interact! Female reader, arranged/forced marriage, physical and emotional abuse are mentioned/hinted at within reader's family, falling in love, two idiots in love, pining, food, alcohol (reader gets tipsy), poetry, blood, canon-typical violence, some angst, miscommunications, masturbation (male), kissing, smut, hand job, fingering, penetration, first time together, domesticity, humor, some banter, there are some notes at the end of this regarding the poems/stories used, as well as some translations!
WORD COUNT: ~ 16.8 k
NOTES: Thank you so much for your patience! This is not my best work writing-wise but it is definitely one that I will be coming back to. I hope you can find some joy in reading this fanfic! This works as a prequel for the couple from this fanfic!
Your name is something you should not give to a stranger. There is a distance to be kept when it comes to men. Suspicious people should be avoided at all costs.
As much as the boy in front of you fits the description of someone you should not interact with, you don’t turn away. His clothes are dirty and worn, he looks a little sickly and the scars that marr his face are prominent. He’s probably around your age, maybe a little older. You’ve just turned seven a few weeks ago.
“Do they hurt?”
He turns his head towards you, wary now. You wonder how he turned so accurately, facing you despite his eyes being closed. His hearing must be very good.
It’s dark outside already and you really should not be out here, sitting in front of the door like this but you felt caged in. You needed some fresh air and some sort of distraction. The gods seem to be kind to you tonight.
“Your scars, I mean,” trying again, you don’t feel upset over his obvious lack of desire to talk to you. No one really talks to the daimyō’s daughter, unless they mean trouble.
“No,” he murmurs, as he turns his head towards the trash you found him digging through just now when you decided to sit down in front of the house. Tentatively he turns his attention back to you. Is he embarrassed? Or perhaps is he asking for permission?
“Here,” you offer, stretching out a hand. The boy tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. His cheeks are a little sunken in and he looks exhausted but there is some sort of pull you feel towards him. A sort of quiet resilience that has found its home in the downturn of his pouty lips and carved its existence into the lines of his face.
A sigh of frustration leaves you and you tell him to come closer. When he obliges, you pull on his arm. He flinches and instinctively tries to free himself from your grasp but you’re stubborn as you put the small fruit in his hand.
“Eat some. I brought enough here with me since I had to sneak through the garden. There is nothing in the trash and it’s dirty,” you explain as you pat the space next to you on the little stone wall.
The boy holds the small fruit in his hand as he examines it with his fingers. “What is this?”
“A plum,” you tell him simply. “I pulled the stone out for you. You can just eat it.”
Hesitation cannot win over the feeling of his stomach twisting with hunger and he quickly puts it in his mouth to eat it. He squeezes his eyes shut even more than they’re already closed and there’s a frown on his face now.
“That’s sour!”
For a moment, you’re stunned. With just two words, he suddenly seemed his age and you can’t help but laugh at his reaction. “I like it when they’re still a bit sour. If you come back after some weeks have passed, then they’ll be a lot sweeter,” you explain, plopping half a plum into your mouth.
It’s not often that you get to talk to someone your age and maybe it’s not the most clever thing to invite a beggar back to your home but that doesn’t deter you the slightest bit. “What’s your name?” you ask the boy while you eat another plum, offering your name before waiting for his answer.
He takes a moment to think before he replies, “My name is Shion and you should be more careful out here alone.” There is almost a tinge of worry to his tone and the frown on his face makes you grin. Saying something like that makes him sound like a nagging old man.
With a kind of bitter sarcasm that is utterly unbefitting of someone so young, lacing your voice, you tell him, “It’s probably more dangerous for you, right here in front of my house, you know? You never know when-”
And as if you’d summoned trouble, you hear shuffling inside the house and the voice of your father echoes inside, the door not doing much to hide his anger. Quickly, you hand the small basket filled with plums to the boy and forcibly turn him around.
“You have to go - Hurry! I need to go inside before my father gets even more mad at me. Take these with you, boy! I will see you around!”
With that, you turn around and hurry off to the other side of the house. The boy is left on the street, looking dumbfounded.
There’s a tinge of sweetness within the aftertaste of the plum you had given to him just now.
It is a warm summer day when your father whispers harshly, telling you to keep your back straight. The past few days have passed by like a whirlwind. Talks of marriage have never been unfamiliar business to you - the only daughter of a prestigious daimyō. Your father, a friend of the shogun, as close as friendship within such a hierarchy gets, has always received his favor.
So it was only a matter of time until you’d get wed off to someone the shogun trusts, in hopes of strengthening this friendship.
It’s more of a business relationship, really, but you are not in a position to criticize this bond of theirs.
When the sliding door opens, your forehead is already pressed against the tatami flooring. The servants lead the Yamada Asaemon into the room and your father moves to stand up but the rustling next to you settles as soon as it begins and he bows as he kneels next to you. Not quite as deep as you do and not for as long either.
He is a man after all.
You don’t doubt that even if your father was the poorest farmer in this country, his pride would still stiffen his back so that he could bow no lower than 45°. Respect only goes one to that man, unless the shogun is involved.
The Yamada Asaemon must have signaled for him to stay seated, or else your father would have at least had the courtesy to get up and puff out his chest as he does. The soft thumping on the other side of the table lets you know that he has taken a seat himself.
Raising your head, you make sure to keep your gaze cast to the floor, your vision barely reaching toward the white fabric of his pants. His work attire - how official. A show of respect? Or perhaps an intimidation tactic?
“Had I been informed of your acceptance of my offer, I would have brought the lady a present from my travels. I apologize,” the man speaks up and the deep tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine and it makes your fingers feel numb.
The chance to answer is taken from you, as your father laughs, “It is forthcoming enough of you to come by so quickly right after your mission even after we took so much time to answer. I apologize. I hope the shogun was not offended by my leisure.”
When his hand settles on your shoulder, you feel as if someone put a heavy boulder on top of it. Its warmth feels uncomfortable through the already too-warm layers of your expensive kimono.
“We wanted to make sure that my daughter understands just how much of an honor this truly is,” he explains and it takes every ounce of patience you have to not grimace when he sends you a disapproving look.
They had ridiculed you. Made fun of you for being wed off to a man with a permanent ailment and your father had nearly beaten you senseless, as if it was your fault the shogun had set up the blind executioner with you. In your father’s eyes, this was a failure that was indeed caused by your lacking persona. He’d told you how this reflected poorly upon his relationship with the shogun.
“Do you know what this means? What this says about how much he values me? My daughter is worth nothing more than a crippled man!”
A crippled man who could cut you down this instant - is what you think to yourself. While you have never met the man face to face, he was the Yamada Asaemon who was assigned to your part of the town, protecting it from criminals. Daimyōs like your father would claim themselves to be the peacekeepers, while all they did was send their men to a certain death while filling their own stomachs with more food than the pigs they feed on could eat.
Thankfully, the voice inside your head is loud and clear. You can yell and scream and insult the man who had taken part in your birth as eloquently as you wished to. It is the only comfort you have. The only humor you can possibly find in such a predicament.
They exchange pleasantries, one man clearly far more genuine than the other, until your father nudges your side. “Go take a walk with your husband and then lead him back for some tea. We will have some things to discuss, which I shall prepare for this instant.”
Monetary things, surely. It seems your life as an entertainer continues from here on out, but your crowd seems to slowly shift. How miserable.
Getting up, you’re proud of how you manage not to stumble over the layers of fabric that seem to be draped endlessly over your body. “Let me lead you through the garden,” you speak demurely, still keeping your gaze low out of respect.
It is when you’re outside, the door shut behind you, and a few steps into the garden, that he speaks up. This time, it’s directed at you. For the first time today.
“Are you alright?”
It’s a simple question and the answer lays heavy on your tongue but you swallow it down. “Of course.”
“Would you look at me then?”
You stop walking, keeping your gaze no higher than his chest, “I am not sure if that is alright, my Lord.”
His tone now is much more mild and something in his tone tells you he is smiling. “You can drop the odd honorifics and titles. I am going to be your husband soon, am I not?” The rough pads of his fingers are gentle as he tugs you closer by the sleeve of your kimono, ever so slightly. Like a child asking for an adult’s attention.
“Or do you wish to annul the marriage? Perhaps, you have taken me into the garden so you could reject me dramatically, with a more illustrious scenery to fit the moment? Although I must admit, the visual aspects of such endeavors are usually lost on me,” the man tells you and when a soft gasp leaves your lips, you tilt your head up only to be met with a smile that makes your cheeks burn.
“Such jokes seem a little…of ill taste.”
“Even if I am the one making them? It is my ailment after all. Am I not allowed to make light of it?”
There is nothing clever you can quip back but your desire to do so anyway surprises you. Usually, you do well on holding back any snide comments but he makes it easy to let go of that control.
A defeated breath leaves your lips as you look at him. Carefully, his fingers travel along the end of your sleeve, grabbing your hand gently. His hand is warm, a little rough - from his sword, you assume - but the way it holds yours is very gentle.
“I hope you can forgive me for being this casual but I need you to know that I mean well with you. I know this arrangement isn’t ideal for you-”
You wonder if it is ideal for him.
“-and while I don’t know the exact circumstances of your life here…,” he tilts his head towards the main house, where your father must still be sitting inside, “I can at least promise that I will treat you as my equal. That is also all I wish for in return.”
He seems to know a lot about your family, even the parts that aren’t privy to the general public. Narrowing your eyes at him, you step a little closer, inquiring, “Why would you offer me this so selflessly? What do you gain from this arrangement?”
The man in front of you crosses his arms and a thoughtful expression crosses his face. He frowns slightly as he collects his thoughts and you think to yourself that he is quite handsome. On top of that, he seems to be as well-behaved as the ladies your mother would bring over would whisper to each other.
How ironic that you’d roll your eyes at their daydreams about the man and yet here you are, about to be married off to him.
“I think,” his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, “You are someone who I wish to treat well.”
The wind blows softly, moving the fabric of your kimono ever so slightly and conducting a symphony of leaves as it slips through the bushes and trees of the garden. Taken aback, you blink up at him for a few moments. You take a deep breath, lick your lips, and then open your mouth slightly.
Only to close it again.
Shion suppresses a laugh and you gape up at him, heat licking its way up your spine as he squeezes your hands gently. “I did step forward when the shogun offered this arrangement. Just as you have inevitably heard a lot about me, I have also heard a lot about the lady in return.”
He lets go of your hands but the warmth of his touch lingers on your skin and you almost feel saddened by the loss of physical contact. “I know the members of your family are the ones who are responsible for the uniforms of the Yamada Asaemon, as well as the clothing for the shogun, no?” he asks with a tilt of his head and you notice that he does this a lot. It’s cute and makes him seem a lot more approachable, coupled with that soft smile.
“The previous shogun took a liking to the work of my grandmother and appointed her as his personal seamstress. My mother takes care of the current shogun’s robes and I take care of the ones that all of the Yamada Asaemon wear,” you explain, despite your feeling that he might already know that.
Shion nods and smiles, “You were the one who sent me my uniform without the bell attached. I took the liberty to ask who was considerate enough to do such a thing.”
“So you decided to marry me because I didn’t attach a bell to your uniform?” you ask him, still lost on his motives. What a strange man.
It is then, that the peaceful conversation and the prospect of a proper reply is shattered by the voice of your father. It is almost impressive how the man manages to sound as if he had woven five layers of suppressed anger into his voice. You flinch and Shion’s expression falls slightly as he notices your change in posture.
With a soft sigh, he puts a guiding hand on your upper back for a short moment, redirecting you back towards the house as the both of you walk back. It’s quiet for a moment, the air thick with tension before he dispells it easily once more.
“I accepted the offer because I was curious if I could be a considerate husband towards such a kind person. Perhaps I also simply feel like I have a favor to return.”
A husband in return for a change in uniform design might be the oddest deal you have struck thus far.
You’re sitting across from your husband for the first time since your wedding. Right after the small ceremony, work had pulled him from your now shared home and you did not get the chance to spend any time with him.
Perhaps it was for the better. His absence had given you the chance to make yourself familiar with this house you’d be calling your home from now on. You’d wandered the corridors, made your feet familiar with the grass of the garden until it got too cold to do so, and listened to the way the empty branches danced with the wind as they parted from a few of their leaves. You wondered if they’ve held fruit this year. The trees seem familiar but you cannot put a name to them.
In those moments you had to yourself, it had been peaceful. This house feels more like a home than the grand estate of the daimyō - your father - ever did. Now you share this home with the man sitting across from you.
Your hands lay on top of the small table, your tea untouched.
Shion clears his throat and your head snaps up so you can face him, ready to listen to whatever he’s going to say.
“I am sorry for how uncomfortable this must be for you,” he says, sounding a little resigned. In turn, it makes you feel a little sorry.
“It’s not your fault!” you hurry to speak, your hand instinctively reaching out to offer some comfort but you’re unsure if he’d be okay with you touching his hand, so you drop it softly, letting it rest on the table again. “I am just not too sure what to say. This is my first time being married.”
Your words cause him to hold back a laugh and you feel heat climb into your cheeks. That was a dumb thing to say.
“What a coincidence,” he tells you and the lines at the corners of his eyes become more pronounced when he smiles, “It’s my first time being married as well.”
His joke eases the tension you’re feeling and you feel your shoulders loosen up a little. There is something very comforting about his smile and the lines of his face almost carry a sense of familiarity but you struggle to put your finger on the reason for it.
“How was your work today?” you ask, grabbing a hold of your cup and drinking your tea. Finally. It’s only lukewarm now but that doesn’t matter too much.
Shion looks amused. “Do you really wish to know? My work isn’t the best topic for a lighthearted conversation between newlyweds… Unless you are harboring a sadistic side I was not made aware of?”
You grimace. “Never mind then. Apologies for asking, you’re right.”
A low chuckle leaves his lips as he brings his cup to his lips. Your gaze is drawn to the lines of his throat as he drinks and your ears feel a little warm.
After he puts it down again, he speaks once more, “I have a student who is going to be appointed as one of the Yamada Asaemon soon. Today, I spent most of the day training with him. No violent business.”
A strange sense of relief settles in your chest and you nod. “That sounds nice… Is it difficult to be a teacher to somebody else? I tried teaching one of the other daimyōs’ daughters how to sew once but I fear I lack the patience to offer guidance of any sort.”
“So you’re the impatient type?”
“It depends,” you defend yourself quickly, “I can be patient if I want to be. Are you going to answer my question?”
“There it is - your patience,” Shion retorts and you feel irked, breathing in deeply, causing him to laugh.
“Anyway, it’s not so much that it is difficult, it just requires a willingness to understand the other. When teaching, you cannot apply the same words and actions to every pupil you teach. Not everybody is receptive to my ways of teaching.”
Humming in reply, you think out loud, “Are you a strict teacher?”
“I can be.”
“I cannot imagine that. Put on a frown for me, please. To stimulate my fantasy,” you plead, a little too excitedly before you cough and clear your throat, reining it in again.
His eyebrows pull together and yeah - he does look a little intimidating but soon enough a smile tugs on his lips and the muscles of his face fail him. He breaks the strict facial expression in favor of a charming, slightly awkward smile.
“Did that stimulate your fantasy?” he asks with raised brows and your teeth sink into your lower lip, as you’re trying to hold back your grin.
“Plenty. Thank you,” you reply, drinking the rest of your tea before getting up and grabbing a hold of his empty cup, carrying both of them to the kitchen before returning once more.
Instead of sitting down, you decide to walk towards the shelf that covers the entire wall on one side of the living room, standing in front of it as you have done plenty of times during the first few days here.
“Perhaps I can get someone to do the household chores soon-” Shion begins but you cut him off.
“There is no need. I enjoy playing house. My cooking may not be up to par but I fear you will just have to show me some of that patience of yours in that regard,” you smile. “We may have had servants at home but to be honest, that kind of lifestyle has never suited me much.”
“What kind of lifestyle suits you then?” Genuine curiosity resounds in his question and you hum softly in response.
“Perhaps we will just have to find out together,” you offer, reaching out to run a hand over the back of a little booklet. A scroll lays on top of it so you carefully pull it out.
“I apologize if this is an improper question to ask but why do you collect so much poetry and so many stories when you cannot read them by yourself?”
After offering up this question, you turn towards him again, slowly unraveling the scroll as you wait for his reply. Unsure, your eyes flit towards his form again before settling back on the calligraphy displayed on the scroll.
“Whenever I go out to the market, I stop by the place where they sell poetry. The vendors read it to me and I buy it if it appeals to me. It’s a simple explanation, really,” Shion explains. “Surely, you buy things you’re fond of a lot too, right? Even if they aren’t necessarily something you’re able to use a lot.”
"Even if it were something of the past,
With each day the white snow falls,
My love for you grows stronger,
Surpassing all that came before."
Your eyes wander over the words on the scroll carefully while you answer him absentmindedly, “I wasn’t allowed to buy what I desired. However, sometimes I would receive fabrics as a present, from a dear aunt of mine. That would be my personal little luxury.”
Shion frowns, “The daimyō is quite the strict man, isn’t he?”
“Imagine dealing with the shogun and then multiply that by twenty. Perhaps then you’ll get close to just how difficult he is to deal with.” Your eyes flit towards his face and you wonder, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m not looking at you,” he refutes and you stay quiet for a moment.
“You are quite fond of these kinds of jokes, aren’t you?”
“I find them incredibly amusing,” he replies, smiling in a terribly boyish manner. Adorable, is what you think it is but you would not dare to say that out loud.
Clearing your throat, you read the poem on the scroll out loud in the way you were taught to do it - with an elegant tone and yet, carrying a tempo that commands attention. Your literary criticism is immediate, “This is a little sad, is it not? Why would one yearn for something that’s in the past… Wouldn’t that just break your heart?”
Shion thinks about your words for a moment before smiling softly. “Something from the past might just return to become a part of your present, no? Also, I do think it’s important to cherish beloved memories.”
His words hang in the room between the both of you and for a faint moment you get the feeling that he is waiting for something else but then he gets up before you can ask any further questions.
“Come on. Let’s go out and get some fresh air. We can continue our talks about the depths of feelings of the past outside,” Shion invites you and you huff, before following him.
“Don’t pour him sake,” Shion tells you and you sigh, switching over to pour sake into your own cup. It’s clear that you have had too much to drink tonight and Tenza is finding great humor in it.
He whisper-shouts your name, pulling on your kimono sleeve excitedly. “And then? What did Sensei say?”
Right. You were in the middle of your retelling of an uncomfortable encounter with a man on the street before you decided to be nice and pour Tenza some of the sake as well. It’s the first time you've had a drink like this. Before, you were not allowed to drink any alcohol but tonight, Shion brought out some sake for you two to share. Tenza decided to join, in search of some entertainment.
“He said ‘I suggest you keep your hands off my wife’ and looked at the guy all scary. Like this,” you giggle, leaning onto your hand, your elbow propped up onto the table as you try to imitate Shion’s expression from back then. It doesn’t look anything like any of his expressions at all and the grimace you’re pulling is so ridiculous, that Tenza snorts loudly.
The tips of Shion’s ears are a little flushed and he shifts awkwardly. His voice is gentle yet firm. “I could not let someone harass you,” he mumbles, drinking from his cup.
“I knew sensei was a protective person but love really does change-oof!” Tenza groans and reaches down to rub his shin, right where Shion just kicked him under the small desk.
“Training tomorrow will begin an hour earlier than usual. Go get some sleep,” Shion urges the young man with a voice so kind that his words almost seem harmless. Tenza’s mouth is caught in a permanent gasp now, at the consequences of his nosy actions. While his mentor can be a little strict, he was not used to him practically throwing him out of his home.
Grumbling, he gets up and bows to you, foregoing his bow towards his mentor. “Good night. Please prepare more stories of sensei’s gallant acts for the next time I come over,” he tells you, a grin pulling on his lips.
With a grin of your own, you reach out and ruffle his hair, breaking into a fit of giggles when he groans about you ruining it.
The world spins and you decide to rest your head on the table. You don’t know how much time passes as Shion leads Tenza back to the entrance to bid him goodbye. Their voices are far away and you close your eyes, feeling a little dizzy.
Cool fingers touch your forehead. “You had too much to drink,” your husband tells you gently, sounding a little amused. Still, there is a hint of worried care underlying his words.
“No such thing happened…,” you mumble and Shion huffs softly, sitting down next to you. Slowly, he traces his fingertips over your face, running them over the apples of your cheeks, along your brow bone before following the lines of your lips.
“Don’t touch my face,” comes your complaint, slurred and hard to understand with your cheek pressed against the table.
Your husband merely smiles but you don’t see it, your eyes still closed. “I am looking at you,” he says in a tone that is so tender that it causes you to take a peek at him. The smile on his lips is a sweet one, so gentle that it pulls on your heartstrings. His brows are drawn together as his fingers draw shapes over your face and it makes him look painfully emotional.
The thought of him not knowing what you look like twists something inside your chest and your throat feels as if you’ve tried to swallow a small rock.
“I am looking at you as well,” you tell him and it would have made for an intimate moment, were it not for how jumbled your words sound due to the alcohol. He laughs softly and cups your cheeks with his hands to turn your face towards him better. His hands are warm, the skin a little rough from the regular use of his sword but they offer a comfort and now something you dare to call familiarity, that you wish to hold onto.
“You look at me a lot.”
“Because you’re handsome,” you shoot back and he looks a little taken aback, the tips of his ears flushing red. With newfound bravery, generously sponsored by the alcohol coursing through your bloodstream, you reach out and cup his face in return. Running your thumb over his ear, you giggle.
“You’re pretty drunk. Let me help you get to bed,” with that he gently tugs your hand away from his face and you pout as he helps you up. Shion wraps his arm around you, helping you to get to your room.
Your hands hold onto the fabric of his kimono. There is something about the way he looked at you when you told him he’s handsome. You decide that you don’t like it. “I really think you are handsome. It’s not the sake,” you promise, tugging on the fabric of his robes.
He pulls you along gently, opening the door to your bedroom before entering with you. Shion helps you get ready for bed, as much as is appropriate. When you change into your clothes for the night, he even turns to face away from you. Watching his broad back, you snort.
“It’s not like you can see me, even if I were to be entirely naked,” you tell him. The tips of his ears are red again and he huffs, shuffling in place.
“It feels inappropriate,” he mumbles, keeping his back turned towards you. “Did you get dressed already?” It’s quiet for a moment and he clears his throat, “If it’s alright, I will turn around-”
Your fingers find the back of his robes, tugging him closer gently… Or are you the one moving closer to him? Shion isn’t sure and his feet feel heavy, yet oddly light, as if he doesn’t have any in the first place. Your arms are warm as they wrap around his middle. As far as he can tell, they’re bare.
“Now, this is inappropriate.”
“We are married,” you tell him, leaning against his back, your cheek rubbing against the spot between his shoulder blades fondly. He’d compare you to a cat if your proximity didn’t toss his thoughts into a big, disorganized pile inside his mind.
“It’s cold. You should get dressed,” he tells you, his hands clenched into fists by his sides. His breath is heavy and his tongue feels restless inside his mouth. It’s too hot and his body is yelling at him to simply take a step forward and a way from your body against his back.
He doesn’t.
You remove yourself from his back and he hears the rustling of fabric, coupled with your clumsy steps. “Don’t trip. Be careful,” he tells you and you simply hum, pulling on your robes to sleep in.
“I was wearing my kosode,” you tell him when he turns around and he nods, guiding you to your futon and helping you lay down as he sits by your side. “I wouldn’t hug you if I was indecent. Not even if it was because of the alcohol.”
With a sigh, he nods again and when he tries to stand up after having made sure you’re safe and sound in bed, you grab onto his clothes again. As he regards you with a raised brow, you feel odd. You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or this strange tension that hangs in the air between you. Maybe that is due to the alcohol too. Perhaps, this is why your parents never let you drink before.
“Stay. I can read to you if you stay with me for a while longer,” you whisper and Shion faces you for a moment, quietly. It’s a little cheeky to offer such a thing this late at night - to ask someone to stay a while longer already has its implications but something like that, to him at least-
A smile tugs on his lips and he reaches forward, gently rubbing his thumb between your brows, chasing away the frown that he finds with such accuracy, that you truly wonder as to how easy he finds it to understand you without needing to see.
“What if the letters start dancing across the scroll?” he teases you for your tipsy state as he gets up to grab one of his poem collections for you to read out loud to him.
“Then we’ll just have to dance with them,” is all you offer and he huffs before leaving the room for a moment.
You hear him chuckling on his way down the hall to the living room.
“The old pond.
A frog leaps in -
The sound of the water.”
“So…the frog jumps into the pond?”
“You’re quite quick with your deductions, aren’t you?” Shion teases, and you raise your brow at him, pursing your lips in a dissatisfied pout.
“And you have bad taste in poetry. Why did you buy this? If you are in search of obvious retellings of natural happenings, I can be your source for that kind of information for the rest of your days,” you mumble, looking back at the scroll again as you lay on your tummy.
One of you visiting the other’s room with poetry or stories in hand has become a habit. You’ve been spending the past weeks reading to him - faithfully, every single evening. Both of you seem to regard this as an essential part of your days despite not talking about it. Just like how you avoid putting a name to the feelings that have blossomed in your chest.
Shion feels his chest tighten at your casual promise of a life together. The teasing lilt of his voice turns into a warm and comforting one as his hand reaches out to gently cup your cheek. His thumb strokes over your protruding lower lip until you stop pouting. “But can you be as picturesque with your words?” he asks and you grumble.
“How would you even rate that?”
It slips out before you can do anything about it, hours of frustration from trying to work your way around clever plays on kanji, as well as the haikus of Basho taking a toll on you.
“I am so sorry,” you say, trying to get up but your husband tugs on your yukata, urging you to stay on the comfortable futon.
“The old pond has always been peaceful. Quiet and undisturbed,” he speaks, undeterred by your antics and your little joke at his expense but you can tell that he is fighting off a smile. You being comfortable enough to join in on his neverending jokes about his ailment is causing him to feel a warmth that makes him feel unsure whether he wants to share it with you or lock it away inside himself for colder times.
“And then, a little frog comes along. It’s cheeky and doesn’t care about the current ways of the pond. So, mischievous as it is, it jumps into the calm little pond, causing a commotion. A big splash, a loud noise,” Shion murmurs softly, his fingers moving down your arm as he reaches for your hand.
Almost naturally, he laces his fingers between yours and concludes, “Ripples move all over the place as the frog breaks the surface of the water. The calm pond is no more.”
Shion’s attention is entirely on you now and you look up at him as he sits next to you on the futon. You take a moment to process his words, wiggling your fingers between his while you are deep in your thoughts.
“Is that kind of disturbance really that bad? Surely, for a pond that has never experienced anything, aside from its boring quiet life, something like that must be quite exciting, no?”
Amused, Shion lifts your hand to his lips, pressing gentle kisses against the tips of your fingers, one by one before he replies, “It’s quite exhilarating.”
A grin tugs on your lips. “So you’re the pond now?”
“Indeed, and you’re the cheeky little thing that decided to shake my life up a little.”
Pricks of warmth climb their way up to your neck and you suppress a shiver. “Is that so…,” you mumble quietly, feeling a little flustered at how happy he sounds about your presence in his life. It grows quiet once more as you return to the poem. Your husband keeps your hand in his and runs his thumb over the side of your finger.
A soft yawn escapes your lips and you blink tiredly, finally noticing how heavy your eyelids feel.
“The kanji for ‘frog’ can be read as ‘to return’,” Shion tells you and you look up at him for a moment, mulling over his words. His attention is fully on you and when he notices that you are lacking a reply, he almost seems a little…disappointed?
“Which also means, the little frog needs to return to her room for tonight,” he concludes and you sigh. With a nod, you get up and as per usual, he accompanies you to your bedroom. Despite how it is almost right next to his own; only a few steps away.
Leaning down, he kisses your forehead ever so gently before bidding you good night and returning to his room.
Your forehead feels warm throughout the entire night as your hand rests on top of it in an attempt to preserve the feeling of his lips against your skin for a moment longer.
Crimson stains your vision on a cold winter day, breaking the abundance of pure white that your eyes have gotten used to.
“Just help me get him inside. Quick!” Tenza all but shouts and you comply, your movements almost mechanical as you open the door fully, closing it behind him and leading him to the bedroom.
The smell of iron stings deep inside your nose and your ears feel as if they have been filled with cotton. When you part your lips to speak, nothing escapes your dry throat and you force yourself to swallow before trying anew, “W-What-”
“Shouldn’t we call a doctor?” you ask, your hands anxiously grabbing onto the fabric of your kimono. You want to reach out and help but you are afraid of hurting your husband even more. You’re not even sure where he is hurting. All you see is how his clothes are stained a deep red.
Nausea climbs its way up your throat but you force it down. Carefully, you help Tenza sit him down. The young man seems unsure what to do himself, sweat beading on his forehead. He’s in distress but he is trying to keep it together.
You feel pathetic.
The wound is on his back and once you know this, it seems clear as day. The back of his clothes is dripping blood and you wince. “I sent for the medic, he should be-”
“Go wait for him outside. Someone needs to guide him here. I will take care of Shion until then.”
Tenza hesitates, shuffling a little before he springs up and into action, leaving the room. Carefully, you brace Shion against your body, unsure of how to lay him down, so this seems like the best option.
“I wanted to see you,” he rasps and you think you misheard. Shifting, you hold him in your embrace, his chest pressed against yours as you grab the thick blanket by your side. Pushing his uniform off his shoulders, you try not to react to the cut on his back. Using the blanket, you apply pressure on his wound. It doesn’t work too well.
“It’ll be okay…” you mumble, not sure whether you are trying to comfort him or reassure yourself. His head is resting on top of your shoulder, his fingers twisting into the fabric of your kimono. You had put on the purple one with the intricate patterns that could be felt by his curious hands. The fondness he expressed over this kimono did not escape you.
You had put it on for when you’d welcome him back. If you had hugged him, would he have been surprised? Would he have hugged you back, delighted by your affection? How long would it have taken him to realize what you’re wearing? Your husband has a sharp mind - you doubt it would have taken long.
Now the soft purple is ruined, stained murky red. Like an overripe plum thrown to the ground and stepped on until there was only a puddle of mush and juice left.
A wave of nausea hits you again, your hands pressing against his back with firmness, ignoring the wetness against your fingertips.
Tenza’s voice cuts through the deafening, high-pitched sound that has crawled its way into your ears as it chases away any and all thoughts, and relief floods you as your eyes lock onto the doctor he brings in tow. The older man seems calm enough at the sight of the wound, once you remove the bedsheet, that you feel a bit of it seeping into you as well.
It would be okay.
The doctor redirects your attention to the task of making sure that Shion stays awake as he works on cleaning the wound and stitching it up. Tenza scurries about the place, grabbing water and supplies from all over the place and he seems glad not to have to sit there in silence.
His replies are sluggish, his head heavy on your shoulder but he answers, despite how strained he sounds. You try your best to not look at the stitches.
You hold onto Shion, asking him questions about his trip - What did he eat? How was the weather? Did he find something exciting and new?
Pushing those thoughts away, you carefully lay him down on his front, not daring to put any strain on his back. The doctor informs you about the things you should be aware of, instructing you on how to clean the wound and how to aid in his recovery. Tenza gets up to guide him out and when he sends a questioning look filled with worry your way, you simply shake your head and wave your hand to shoo him away.
Once it’s done and finished, Tenza helps you change Shion into a comfortable kimono and your eyes find no joy in roaming over his body. All those little scars littering his body cause your thoughts to spiral. How much has he endured in the past? How much would he have to endure in the future?
The young man has had enough of a strenuous day as is.
“You can go home for today. I can handle the rest,” you tell him, still holding your husband in your arms. The look he gives you is not one that screams that he believes you much but his fatigue wins over his desire to help you and a mere nod ends up being his reply to your words.
“I will return after I finish reporting this to the others,” he tells you before he leaves and the moment he closes the door, it’s as if he’s sealed you inside a vacuum. You don’t know how you maneuver Shion onto the futon on his stomach but by the time you’ve snapped back into reality, he’s situated comfortably on it, pillows cushioning the parts of him that need it.
—
It takes a few days for him to get back into a condition where you don’t fear that his fever might turn his brain into charcoal. The snow has settled outside but the cold that seeps into your body every night as you lay next to him, waiting for him to wake up, is not due to the cold weather outside.
Your relief is endless when you enter his room in the morning to see him sitting up on his futon. He looks a little tired and a touch more pale than he usually does but he seems to not be waiting in front of death’s door anymore.
Quickly, you hurry to his side, kneeling next to him. Your hands hover over his body, unsure where to hold onto, the desire to help him in any way you can thrumming within your limbs. “How are you feeling?” you ask carefully, your hands moving to busy themselves by smoothing out the sleeves of his robe.
Your fingertips burn with a desire to touch him, to make sure this is real.
Shifting a little, he carefully rolls his shoulders back, hissing at the hot flash of pain. Immediately, one of your hands lands on his back, gently resting below the injury and offering support. “Don’t move too much. The injury is still not fully closed up.”
A raspy sigh leaves his lips. “I am sorry for causing you trouble,” he mutters, his voice strained from days of not talking. His brows are furrowed and his breathing is still a little heavy. A frown that mirrors his own makes its home on your expression.
“You are my husband. There is no such thing as causing me trouble,” you utter, gently flicking your finger against his forehead. He could easily move out of the way but he takes it in stride, the frown on his face giving way to a softer expression.
“Then allow me to rephrase that: Thank you for taking care of me,” he tells you and you smile gently. Your hand stays on his lower back, your thumb rubbing back and forth over his skin.
“I was a little afraid that you wouldn’t wake up again. It’s silly and I know that but…,” Withdrawing your hands from his body, you fix the blanket over his legs. “That day I thought you’d bleed out in my arms, Shion. I am not a doctor, so coming to me first - in that kind of state…”
The only thing that hangs in the air between the both of you is silence before his hand moves to take one of your own, gently untangling the blanket from your fingers. You didn’t notice that you had been grasping onto the fabric way too tightly. His hand holds yours firmly enough to reassure you of his presence.
“I wouldn’t leave you alone like that,” he tells you quietly, squeezing gently. When you look back up at him again, he smiles warmly, His fingers move to tease your palm softly, tickling you, as he asks, “Who else would explain all of those poems to you?”
Slowly, your frown slowly melts into an amused expression and you shake your head. “They don’t make sense. Trust me, I have spent enough time complaining about them while you were resting.”
Shion’s eyebrows quirk up at that. “Did you read to me while I was asleep?”
For a moment, there is no reply from you. He’s left in the dark and the only thing that reminds him of your presence is the weight of your hand in his.
You clear your throat, “I thought it would be rude to just stop reading to you.” Anxiously, your fingers press into his hand ever so slightly. “I wanted you to know that you’re not alone.”
You don’t notice that he has gotten closer to you until his forehead bumps against your temple softly, and his hand finds the back of your neck. “Thank you. I don’t deserve you, my lovely wife,” he whispers tenderly.
Turning your face towards him a little more, you sigh softly, your forehead pressed against his as your breaths intermingle. “You need to be more careful from now on. This house is too big for me to live in by myself,” you complain and he laughs softly. His lips are so close to yours that you feel your cheeks heat up beyond a level you consider comfortable.
“I need a bath,” he mutters, scrunching up his nose. These past few days you’d wipe him down but for someone who is as clean and as thorough about his hygiene as he is, this must be a nightmare. There is no way he can go by himself though. Not with how hurt he is.
You shift and move away slightly. He seems reluctant about letting you go but does so regardless. Cleaning up the supplies that you have kept around his futon, you watch how he shifts in discomfort. “Are you alright?”
“I will help you wash up,” you announce and the grimace he pulls makes you laugh. Firmly, you grab onto his upper arm where he is not hurt, carefully helping him up onto his feet. On the way to the bath, you support his weight, thankful for the fact that the houses of the Yamada Asaemon all have their own private baths. Helping him wash up in a public bath would have proven to be very complicated.
“It’s healing up nicely,” you answer calmly, feeling a little emotionally detached whenever you look at it. The nausea that would take over whenever you’d look at it, left after the fourth day of taking care of him. There were more important things to deal with and it had faded into the background.
Steam envelops you merely a few minutes later. Your husband is sitting on a wooden stool in front of you, only covered by a simple tenugui. Carefully, you remove the bandages on top of his injury. With bated breath, Shion waits for a reaction but it never comes. Tentatively he asks, “Is it bad?”
The thought of you getting used to violence like that in any way deeply aggravates Shion. He feels a little helpless and it seems to show. Your wet fingers meet his face when you tilt his head back so gently that it fills him with the desire to reward every single one of your fingertips that have bestowed such a tender touch upon him.
“Are you alright?” you ask, your fingers moving to gently trace over his eyebrows, fixing them in place before following along the lines of his scars. There is something about them that makes you feel weirdly nostalgic in a way that causes something to stir in your chest but you pour water on that warmth, preventing the spark that might offset something.
The way you are right now is alright.
“It just feels a little unfamiliar to be this exposed in front of you,” he tells you, his breath warm against your face and it is only then that you realize that you have been leaning down to be closer to his face.
The way his lashes brush against the top of his cheeks makes you want to lean even closer but you clear your throat, straightening your back again before allowing him to tilt his head forward once more.
“You’re covered up. I wouldn’t mind either way. We are married and eventually, we’d come into contact with each other like this,” stating this firmly, you move on to wash his hair. His ears are flushed a soft red but the bath is warm so you pay it no mind.
Surprised at his hair’s softness, you find yourself taking much more time than necessary to run your fingers through the tufts of silvery white, separating the strands before pushing them back together again. Your fingertips push into his scalp in a gentle massage.
When your nails join in on the fun and you tug on his hair a little, a sharp intake of breath echoes through the little room and your fingers leave his scalp.
Turning away, you grab a hold of the little bucket and scoop water into it. Once you turn back, your husband’s ears are still decorated with that healthy flush that now spreads to his shoulders.
“I would like to let you soak in the tub for a bit but it seems your fever is coming back,” you mumble, washing his body clean with water before helping him dry himself off with a soft towel.
Handing him his robe, you turn away to let him get dressed once more, albeit you tell him to not pull the upper part of the robe up. Instead, Shion leaves it down, the garment tied around his waist securely as the both of you walk back to his room. It’s cold and the way he shivers ever so slightly pushes you to walk a bit quicker.
Once you arrive, he settles on his futon and you get to work. With practiced movements, you put the ointment on his wound before dressing it carefully to ensure that nothing would be able to mess with the healing process.
It’s an action you don’t think about at all when you lean forward to press a kiss on top of the bandage. Shion startles slightly, turning his head towards you. You realize and freeze. “Don’t look at me,” you mumble, feeling a sudden sense of embarrassment flood your body.
He turns around to face you, your embarrassment no hindrance to him as he pulls you into a hug. “I am not looking at you,” he mumbles back cheekily, his hands pressing you closer against his body. His upper body is warm against you and very naked but the need for comfort outweighs your bashfulness and you carefully wrap your arms around him, mindful of his injury.
Something as simple as a hug shouldn’t cause you to feel a feeling as bittersweet as the one that pulses within your chest right now but you don’t remember the last time someone had held you like this.
You don’t think anyone ever has.
He sighs. “I am sorry for being reckless.”
If Shion can feel the way your shoulders tremble and how your wet lashes brush against his skin, he does a good job not commenting on it. All he does is hold you tightly as he whispers, mere inches away from your ear, “I am really happy that I got to return to you. While I was gone, I was really anxious about how you were doing back home.”
Pressing his lips against the top of your head, he sighs softly, confessing, “I missed you.”
Your breath is warm against his shoulder as you stay like this for a while. He holds you until the trembling subsides and you part with a shaky exhale. With care, you reach out to pull up his yukata, helping him get his arms inside the sleeves before draping it over his shoulders.
It’s late. The darkness slowly settles outside as stars creep out of their homes and show themselves in the night sky. Shion gets comfortable on his futon, laying on his stomach as per your orders while you go ahead and grab something to read to him.
You return with a new story for him - no poetry this time - wanting to have an excuse to spend more time with him. Rationally, you know you don’t need an excuse to spend time with your husband who is more than generous enough to let you waste all of his free time but still, this is the method of your choosing, your very own way of circling around your feelings.
It’s easier to push them aside if you don’t verbalize them - if they don’t hang in the air between you and make it difficult to breathe. Suddenly those silly poems make a little more sense and the longing described feels more palpable.
The cold doesn’t seem to be a problem to you anymore. You feel too warm.
You discard the haori that you had worn over your kimono all day long to shield you from the cold. Instead of putting it away, you carefully cover Shion’s back and shoulders with it, mantling his body with it like a blanket.
Bemusedly, he pulls it closer around himself. “It smells like lavender, just like you do,” he breathes out, sounding a little exhausted as he settles, laying his head atop his pillow. Snickering at how docile he looks, you settle on his futon as well, right next to him on your tummy.
Your fingers move to comb back a particularly messy patch of hair right at the top of his forehead, your eyes surrounded by tiny folds as deep as your affection for the sweet man as you smile fondly. Absent-mindedly, your fingers make their way through his hair, over the nape of his neck, and down his arm until they find his fingers, and then they travel back up to his shoulder.
Today, it’s difficult to keep your hands to yourself but he seems to be alright with that. So you don’t, and simply continue touching him, while you begin to read.
“The days and months are travelers of eternity, just like the years that come and go. For those who pass their lives afloat on boats, or face old age leading horses tight by the bridle, their journeying is life, their journeying is home.”
Shion listens to you, letting out a soft hum of acknowledgement here and there. His face twitches in reaction to the words every now and then when he scrunches up his nose at some of the details, or when he smiles at how you dramatize certain passages.
By the time you reach the end of the book, your voice is lower than usual, much more intimate and quiet. The way your fingers casually trace over the nape of his neck, right where his hair meets his skin, has his skin burning. Flipping his pillow over, he buries one side of his face against the cool material in hopes of bringing comfort to the heat that wells up inside him.
Swiftly, you move in to press a lingering kiss against the top of his head, before whispering a quick “Good night”. With that, you’re off and once the door is closed, a soft sigh leaves Shion.
Intrigued by his antics, you turn your head towards him once you finish the book, putting it away. Leaning closer, you pout as your fingers rub at his neck gently. “You must be tired, hm? Let me head off for tonight.”
As he shifts to get more comfortable, he notices that you’ve left your haori with him. Brows furrowed, he presses the soft fabric closer to his nose, breathing in deeply. It doesn’t just smell of lavender but it smells of you.
It makes him feel an intense sense of yearning and his tongue presses against the roof of his mouth. His hips feel restless as the minutes pass by and his fingers tighten their hold on the haori while his other hand moves a little lower along the front of his body as he leans more onto his side.
The sting of his injury causes him to take in a sharp breath - or rather, it’s the feeling of his hand pressing against the mortifying hardness that is slowly arising underneath his yukata as he hastily pushes the fabric aside. He wishes the pain were more severe. It might have prevented such a shameful situation.
Perhaps the mix of pain and desperation can wash away the shame that threatens to burn his ears as your voice still seems to echo within them, contorting in ways his mind conjures up. You have never made the kind of sounds that plague him at this very moment, that urge him to move his hand and his hips in an attempt to ease this ache. Shion is troubled by this sudden revelation of his mind's creativity.
He wonders what you’d sound like if he worshiped at your feet. If he showed proof of his gratitude, right between your legs. Over and over again, until your cries die out and turn into soft murmurs, until your skin is warmed by his reverence.
Shion returns your haori a few days later in a hurried manner, his face turned away from yours as he hands it to you rather passively before leaving. It’s freshly cleaned and the smell of lavender is nowhere to be found.
It smells like nothing.
It is when the leaves start turning green again and you get to describe the various shades of the flowers blooming in your garden to your husband, that you feel the desire for there to be more within this. How much closer can one really get when they’re married?
Shion treats you well. Not once has he gone back on his promises and you have more than you could wish for. Not only are you well-fed and warm, but you are also free to do what you want and he treats you kindly.
Yet, every kind word of his leaves you with a deep ache.
It is also during that same spring that Shion starts to avoid you.
At first, it’s just the small things. He flinches away from your casual touches. You chalk it up to a miscalculation on your side. Perhaps he is not that comfortable with it after all.
Within your presence, he starts to look increasingly uncomfortable. He is in deep thought most of the time around you, and he doesn’t realize you’ve been calling his name many times in a row, trying to grab his attention.
And then, he blatantly begins to avoid you. The hours you’d spend reading his beloved poetry and long-winded stories to him dwindle down to the smallest fraction of an hour until he tells you that he’s too tired for your shared reading time.
Long pages remain unread, the new stories you’d bought stay hidden within the beautiful fabric you had wrapped them up in to surprise him with, and your nights feel a little colder now, despite the weather warming up.
It is on a warm spring day, that Tenza refuses to leave until you promise him to visit the sakura matsuri later that week. It feels like only yesterday when the plum blossoms in your garden had started to bloom and yet, it was already cherry blossom season. “Bring Shion-sensei with you!” is the last thing he tells you.
It’s not that easy.
Frustration sinks its claws deep into your heart. It’s not as if he doesn’t talk to you anymore or as if he is unkind. He shares with you the same kindness as he did when you got married but that is precisely what irks you.
Back then, you barely knew each other. Back then, you were just happy to have gotten out of that household, away from your father. Back then, you did not harbor this many difficult feelings for this man and it is only when your eyes sting and your lower lip begins to tremble, that you get up.
Distance is not a wall, it can be minimized, one step at a time. Even if it were a wall - you didn’t climb over the manor walls when you were younger for nothing. You’d climb over any wall he would build.
Your feet carry you to his room, a route you’re awfully familiar with by now. Softly, you knock as you take a deep breath. Once your husband bids you inside, you enter.
“Did he phrase it like that when asking for our presence? How cheeky,” Shion mumbles, his hands working to polish his sword with an uchiko ball. There is no humor in his tone like there used to be and the straight, confident posture you put up falters ever so slightly.
“Tenza asked for us to go watch the cherry blossoms with him.”
“I want to go,” you tell him and he nods, still not stopping his work, not turning towards you either.
“Together,” you add and he stops, carefully putting down his katana as he finally turns towards you. You continue, “Please, come along. It will be fun. I have been working on a kimono recently and it would be a good opportunity to wear it.”
“You are free to do so. You know you needn’t ask me for permission, as long as there is someone to keep you safe.”
Shion looks like he might deny you, his brows furrowed, his expression stuck in that internal conflict that has nestled somewhere inside his mind. You wish you had the courage to talk about it, to pester him more whenever he tells you that it’s nothing.
The shuffling of your feet as your toes grow restless against the tatami mats is loud enough for him to relent. A night out might also distract you a little and lift your spirits. Recently, you have been rather quiet and it makes him feel guilty.
He wouldn’t dare pinpoint himself as the cause of the shift in your behavior but he is aware that his recent changes have made you… Uncomfortable, perhaps. Shion doesn’t know what exactly you are feeling but he doesn’t dare to ask. He doesn’t have the right to do so.
With a nod, he complies, “Alright. We can head out together then. It’s at the end of the week, right?”
You didn’t notice that you had been holding your breath, so the first breath you take after his reply feels exhilarating. “Yes! I will ask Tenza where he wants to meet up that day and I will also take care of the rest. Thank you!”
As you hurry out of his room, Shion smiles gently, the pitter-patter of your feet against the floor accompanying him as he picks his tools back up.
—
When the day arrives and he is washing his face as you wander about, getting ready, he is reminded of a poem the old lady at the market has read to him once.
"Even though we may be apart,
if I am to hear that you pine for me
as the Inaba mountain pines,
I shall return to you."
Reaching up, he ruffles up his hair, frustrated by the resurgence of this memory. It is ridiculous to think that you have seemed so excited for him to join because it is him in particular.
The more, the merrier - that is what you’d say whenever you’d invite the other Yamada Asaemon over for dinner, or whenever you’d tell Tenza to tag along for your walks together. Futile, is what it is, to hope and pray and spend his day interpreting your awkward shifting when he’d sent you away that first night, telling you that he was too tired to have you read to him.
Futile, to search for meaning in the way your tone has changed around him. It is especially futile to think about how you’d react if he were to reach out and claim your lips.
His face feels warm.
Your hand is cold as it touches the nape of his neck and he flinches. Dumbstruck, you stand there for a moment. He’s never been one to be surprised by your presence. He had chalked it up to his heightened senses, due to his lack of vision and you’d thought it a good enough explanation. On top of that, he was a seasoned fighter.
“You’re warm… And you seem a little out of it,” you mumble gently, the awkwardness of the past few weeks forgotten in light of the possibility of him being sick. “Are you coming down with a fever?”
“I am alright,” he tells you, sounding a little flustered. Ever so softly, you reach out to lay the back of your hand against his forehead. It doesn’t seem to be a fever but his skin is a little warmer than you’re used to.
With a soft sigh, you let him know, “If you are feeling unwell, we can stay at home, you know?” You take your hand off his forehead but he grabs a hold of it mid-air, tugging it towards his lips. Pressing a gentle kiss against where you had just touched his skin, he breathes deeply.
“I want to go together.”
A tingling sensation spreads over your skin and you smile. “Alright. Let me go grab your kimono.”
“I can get it myself. My closet is right there,” Shion points towards the closet in his room but you huff in reply, pulling your hand out of his hold.
“Now, don’t tell me I spent all week hurrying to finish your kimono, just for you to want to wear one of your old ones. How terribly unkind.” You’re pouting and it weaves itself into your manner of speech in a way that Shion finds so charming that it tugs on the corners of his lips.
“The kimono you were referring to a few days ago when you told me about this…was mine?”
“I have plenty of my own that I have made over the years. Since we have gotten married I have made even more. On top of that, you make sure to gift me fancy fabrics every time we go out, so I wanted to repay that favor,” you tell him, the end of it sounding a little flustered, and he smiles warmly.
“I will gladly wear it then,” he tells you and you smile, content now as you go to retrieve it. You leave most of the work to him, your back turned to him as a way of giving him privacy. It is only the details that you busy yourself with, helping him fix up the obi in a nice way, as well as smoothing out the odd wrinkle or two.
A happy smile tugs on your lips. “Is it comfortable?”
Shion runs his hand over the sleeves, his brows furrowing ever so slightly. “This is incredibly soft,” he mumbles softly, almost in awe. You smile triumphantly.
“I found this fabric the other day when I was out with Tenza. I wanted to make sure you get to enjoy the clothes you wear. Just for your knowledge, the color is really pretty too. A dark blue. It reminded me of the night sky so I just had to take it with me,” you explain proudly and he smiles.
“Thank you,” is all he replies but it’s filled with enough tenderness to make up for the lack of colorful words.
You feel at ease, for the first time in weeks, as the both of you walk towards the designated spot for your meeting with Tenza. Once you meet up with him and some of the other Yamada Asaemon, you feel the rest of your awkwardness dissipate.
It was fine this way. Shion could spend his evening with his colleagues and you could just stay with Sagiri and Tenza, trying out the different foods Tenza would carry over from the stalls to the blanket you were sitting on.
So that is what you do for the entire duration of the little festival. Your hand rests on Sagiri’s arm as the both of you move from one food stall to the next. She doesn’t ask any questions, seemingly knowing that there is something going on which must be solved between you and your husband.
She offers you a gentle squeeze as she rests her hand on top of yours, trying to comfort you. You smile at her but it looks awkward and wrong. The way Shion seemed more approachable again today worries you. If you return home and he ends up going back to his avoidant behavior, you don’t think you’ll know what to do.
You walk back to where the others are sitting.
It is only when everybody is knocked out from either the alcohol, too much food, or long-winded talks, that your group goes silent. Only soft conversations happen here and there. You’re seated on a soft blanket, the cherry trees blossoming around you, their petals illuminated by the moon as they drift onto the grass.
“The plum blossoms in our garden are this pretty too,” you murmur softly. Shion, who is sitting next to you, hums in reply.
“They are almost the same color, right? Both are popular topics for poetry after all.”
“I think plum blossoms are prettier,” you tell him firmly and he huffs softly. His fingers bump into yours on top of the blanket but neither of you move to change anything about that. Turning your head to look his way, you’re startled by how close his face is to yours. It’s quiet for a moment and you feel awkward.
Behind you, Tenza and Sagiri are eagerly mumbling. You catch a few words such as “kiss” and “romantic”, and heat flares up inside your chest. It feels as if Shion is playing pretend in front of everybody tonight. As if everything is alright.
But it’s not.
Getting up quickly, you dust yourself off. “We should head home. It’s late,” you declare, your tone tinged with a sense of detachment that causes Shion to purse his lips but he nods, following suit regardless. He gets up, grabbing what little you had brought along before bidding everybody goodbye and following you.
Brisk is the pace you set, your geta clacking against the floor rhythmically. Shion follows you, two steps behind you as he keeps his attention on you regardless of any distance between you. It’s noticeable and only upsets you more.
Shion tries to strike up a conversation twice. Once, by bringing up the sweets you had tried with Sagiri and the second time by asking about the view. Both times, your replies are curt and to the point, your desire to not talk to him evident.
He doesn’t say anything else.
You step inside the house first, discarding your geta and getting ready to head to your room for tonight. Your endeavor is cut short when you’re pulled back into your husband’s arms, your back against his chest.
“I am sorry if I upset you.” His words are met with silence from you and his arms tighten their hold around you in response as he whispers, “Talk to me. Please.”
“I don’t want to,” is all you reply, grabbing a firm hold of his arms and freeing yourself from his hold. Never one to get overly physical, he lets go of you easily but is persistent regardless when he follows you through the house.
When you open the door to your room, step inside, and turn around to close it, he’s quick to nudge his foot between the sliding door and the frame. Neither of you anticipates just how much power you put into sliding the door shut.
A gasp leaves you when he hisses and pulls his foot away. Immediately, you open the door and pull him inside. “Sit down and let me take a look,” you mumble, guiding him towards your futon. “I am so sorry, I really didn’t mean to. I just wanted to-”
“To shut your stupid husband out. I know,” Shion replies as he sits down, a gentle smile tugging on his lips. Regarding him with furrowed brows, you sigh softly as you sit down and grab his foot, squeezing gently.
“Does it hurt?”
“Tenza would stomp on my foot with more force than that during training back when he started. I will be fine,” he reassures you, allowing you to drop his foot on the soft futon. “I am sorry for upsetting you. That was not my intention.”
“Then what was your intention?” It’s a fair question and Shion knows this but despite his desire to tell you everything, he keeps quiet.
“I don’t mind if you aren’t by my side at all times,” you continue, “I was content just being your wife in name but when you go ahead and build up my hopes, treat me with so much care, and familiarity, just to turn around and avoid me-”
Shion feels his heart sink when your words are interrupted by a choked sob and his hands move to cup your cheeks. A Yamada Asaemon’s hands never tremble, for it would be detrimental to the techniques they use for their executions. He swings his blade with firmness, confident in the path he has chosen to tread in this life.
All of his confidence is washed away by the teardrops that run down your cheeks, his thumbs trembling as they wipe them away. Apologies are all that he manages to utter before he pulls you in for a hug.
He breathes in deeply as he holds you. “I was unaware that keeping my distance would affect you so,” leaning down, he buries his face against the side of your neck. “I suffer whenever you aren’t close but when you are close to me I suffer twice as bad. I love you deeply and I have loved you since I can remember.”
Pursing your lips, you sniffle, finding comfort in rubbing your damp cheek against the soft material of his kimono. Allowing for his words to sink in for a moment, you ask, “Is that why you were avoiding me?”
“I wasn’t avoiding you,” he murmurs softly and your breath hitches when you feel his lips against your throat. Shion takes a deep breath, “I was enduring.”
A wry smile tugs on his lips, hidden away from your sight. He huffs, finding humor in his suffering and you tremble when his warm breath washes over your skin. “The self-control I take such pride in seems to crumble so easily when you’re around me.”
His hands find your waist and his fingertips press into the fabric of your kimono with such desperation and yet, he holds back. As always. “That night…when you read to me and forgot your haori…,” he continues, going lower until his lips are just shy of touching the bit of collarbone that presents itself to him.
“It smelled so much like you that I felt intoxicated by it. Your voice kept ringing in my ears and I was aching to touch you but I couldn’t.” His voice gives way to a shuddering breath when your hands cup his cheeks.
“But you can,” you tell him, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. If this was a man’s desire - no, your husband’s desire for you, then you wish for it to swallow you whole and mold you anew.
“I’ve yearned for you to touch me,” you whisper and your breath hitches when you feel attention fully on you as he leans back from your embrace.
“I know,” comes your reply. He doesn’t fault you and neither do you blame him in any way.
“You should have told me.”
“I will make up for the lost time,” Shion promises, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead, “I will leave no inch of you untouched. You won’t ever have to ache for me the way I do for you.”
When you lean forward to press your lips against his - not in that tentative and careful way you used to, whenever you’d kiss his cheek but ardently, with a need that shakes him to his core - only then do you feel his hesitance disappear.
His hands find your waist with a firmness that you have grown familiar with and you smile against his lips, your breathing still stilted by your earlier tears. Shion notices and leans back to kiss your cheeks, right where your tears are drying.
“I love you,” he tells you again, “I love how your voice sounds in the late hours of the night whenever you read to me. The way you smell makes me feel weak, especially when the smell of your favorite sweet treats lingers on you. Whenever I am away from you, I find myself thinking about you endlessly until I come back home.”
Grabbing a gentle hold of your hand, he pulls it up to his lips, leaving a kiss on each fingertip. “I adore these hands that cause my skin to burn beneath their touch.”
“I wouldn’t want to burn you,” you whisper bemused. A smile tugs on his lips and he lets go of your hand in favor of pulling you close.
“I wish you’d burn me terribly. The pain might distract me from my longing,” Shion whispers, his breath warm against your lips. His voice is quiet and you don’t dare to breathe in fear of sending it away with the wind. “May I kiss you?”
With a soft laugh, you pull him closer, your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss. Gently exploring the other, your lips move together, falling into a comfortable, warm rhythm. You’re both a little clumsy, inexperienced, and hurried by your need but it’s sweet nonetheless and it fills the empty cup in your heart ever so slightly.
But a sip like that would not quell your thirst. Not anymore.
Your hands find the obi that they had neatly tied to hold his kimono earlier. Shion lets out a soft breath at the feeling of it untying and your hands diving beneath the fabric of his kimono. “We don’t have to-”
“I can share my affections with you but this is a bit…,” he mumbles, his cheeks red and you cup his cheeks.
“I want to touch you,” you urge, firmly and in a way that won’t allow for him to question if you are doing this out of your own desire. “Don’t you think you’ve denied me your affections long enough?”
Leaning forward, you press a gentle kiss against his lips before telling him, “If this is too hasty for you, I am willing to wait. I love you.”
The expression on his face is barely visible to you through the little moonlight that shines into your room. It’s one you haven’t seen on him before and you don’t get to decipher it for long before he moves forward to kiss you once more.
This time, he dives in to taste you, his tongue exploring yours as you engage in a heated kiss. His body presses into yours and you don’t know when it is that your back meets the futon underneath you but you don’t care enough to spend another second wondering about it.
Traveling lower, his lips find your jaw, then your throat, and your collarbone right after. The trail of kisses he leaves is hot against your skin and you find yourself feeling entirely too warm in your intricate kimono. Relief floods you when you feel his hands settle on your obi and your own hands move to help him out with the complicated bow.
Once the bow is untied and the belt is discarded, his hands move to glide over your shoulders, parting the fabric from your skin.
To his chagrin, his palms slide over another layer of fabric. A frustrated sound leaves him and you huff, amused by his antics. “Please tell me there aren’t any more layers to this. I wasn’t aware that my wife’s real identity was that of an onion.”
“Your wife likes to stay atop the latest fashion trends. There is no way I’d compromise my comfort and wear a kosode on top of my hadajuban. I’d be sweating way too much,” you explain, slipping your arms out of the fabric of your kimono and letting it fall down around you.
You could clean it later.
“Unfortunately, I think you’ll be working up a sweat regardless,” Shion teases as his hands work to untie your inner robes with such dexterity that it almost makes you feel impressed.
Your hands move to rid him of his robes and once the both of you are entirely bare, with no fabric between you to separate your bodies, you feel shyness creep up inside you. Hesitantly, your hand reaches out to brush over his chest and the way he shudders causes your touch to be firmer - more explorative and sure in its approach.
Your other hand moves to settle on his shoulder as he kneels between your legs and he allows you to acquaint yourself with his body. His own hands are resting on your thighs, balled into fists.
“You can touch me too,” you whisper, leaning forward to kiss him for a short moment, feeling as if your chest would burst if you didn’t release all of this pent-up affection. Moving your hands to his, your fingers gently uncurl his fingers from their firsts, leading them to your waist. They settle on your naked skin and he shudders visibly. A soft laugh leaves you.
An embarrassed smile finds its place on his lips and he leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. “I am sorry but now that I get to touch you, it feels a little overwhelming,” comes his soft explanation and you smile.
Your breath gets caught in your throat when his hands slide over the curves of your waist, tracing your skin up to your chest. Carefully, his thumbs brush over your nipples, circling the sensitive nubs until they perk up under his attention. The rise of his chest speaks for his delightment and he leans lower, still hovering over you but moving lower to take your nipple into his mouth.
It’s an unfamiliar sensation, different compared to your touch. His mouth is hot, his tongue wet and soft when it licks over and around your nipple before there’s a slight sucking sensation. It sends a hot tingle down your stomach and you gasp softly, your hand finding purchase on his shoulder while the other settles on the back of his head.
Strands of silver slip between your fingers and you tug gently while his lips leave your chest, the cool air of the room brushing against your wet nipple and sending a shudder through your body. You think you can feel him smiling against your tummy as he works his way lower, down to your pelvis.
His hands are gentle as they explore your curves. Sliding along your hips before grabbing a hold of your thighs, squeezing to feel your flesh between his fingers. You wonder how all of this feels for him.
Settling on his knees between your legs, he leans back over you. Meeting him halfway, you lean up to kiss him again. The initial eagerness has died out and what you are left with is a warm simmer between your legs. One of his hands slides between your thighs, his fingers exploring eagerly. A soft gasp tears itself free from your lips and Shion asks, in a whisper, if you are alright with what he is doing.
You nod and pull him a little closer until his lips rest against your collarbone once more. His breath is heavy as he slides his fingers over your folds, cupping your mound before dipping between your lips. There’s a stutter in his breathing once he gathers some of your wetness.
A smile tugs on your lips. “What? Surprised?” you tease, moving your hips a little so that his fingers glide back and forth between your folds. He follows your motions, thankful for the bit of guidance you seem to be offering.
“Just new to this,” he murmurs, playfully nipping at your throat. “It’s a little difficult to really get a feeling for it unless you indulge in the real thing. The few drunken words of others can only provide so much information.”
Your soft laugh reaches his ears and he moves upwards until his lips meet yours once more. “So you’ve been receiving private lessons, hm?” you tease and he chuckles, his thumb finding your clit and circling the swollen nub slowly, applying gentle pressure. Meanwhile, two of his fingers dip between your folds, finding you unbearably warm and wet for him as he slides them in and then out again steadily.
The soft gasp that leaves you sends a tingling sensation up Shion’s spine and he gulps.
“They were rather unpleasant lessons, although the knowledge I have gained seems to be proving useful,” your husband shoots back with more wit than you wish he’d have right now.
A little impatient, despite your desire to take your time, your hand moves to wander across his chest, tracing the defined lines of his abs. The muscles move under your fingertips, taut and firm as you continue lower until you reach his cock.
The way your husband bucks his hips into your touch and the way his breath hitches in his throat when your fingers wrap around him diffuses your anxieties. He has half the heart to tell you that you don’t have to touch him, that this is about you but you manage to chase all of those thoughts out of his mind once you begin to stroke him.
A little too slow for his liking and a little too gentle. Even so, he doesn’t stop you or complain. His hand wraps around yours and he squeezes it gently. “A little more firmly,” he tells you and his words are so airy that it knocks the wind out of you. All you manage is a slow nod as you follow his instructions, picking up on how he seems to like it. His hands rest on your hips, one of them still wet with your desire.
You wonder if he’d touch himself like this when thinking of you - if his breath felt as hot against his pillow as it does on your skin, and if his thighs trembled ever so slightly, just as they do now.
Tugging on your wrists, he coaxes you to let go of him. Reluctantly, you follow along, immediately missing the weight of him in your hands. Was it that unpleasant for him?
As if he’s read your mind, he presses a kiss against your temple and explains, “I want you to feel good too.” Breathing out softly, you shake your head. You were ready to protest but how could you, when he says something like that?
Shifting on top of you, he moves his lips lower along your body but you stop him in this endeavor, cupping his cheeks as you pull him back up to kiss you once more. “Please,” his voice comes in such a deep, parched tone that seems to rumble inside his chest; you find it hard to focus on what he is saying. “Let me have a taste.”
And as much as you want to give in - the fantasy of his lips caressing places you wouldn’t dare ask him to kiss making you feel a heat unlike anything else - you simply wrap your legs around his hips, keeping him right where he is.
“There will be time for that later,” you tell him, and the way he swallows at that, the movement of his adam’s apple faintly visible under the light that the moon provides, tugs on the corners of your lips and makes you pull him a little closer.
“You’re terrible,” Shion mumbles, his lips finding their home on your face, over and over again, wandering from your cheek to your temple, and then up to your forehead, “Have I not waited long enough?”
Pushing his hips right up against yours, you shudder at the warm weight of his cock that settles on top of your tummy. “I think there are more pressing matters,” you argue, shifting to change the angle of your hips. A soft sigh falls from your lips when he pulls back a little before sliding back, the underside of his cock rubbing back and forth over your clit as he slides it through your folds.
His chest is pressed against yours, the weight on top of you comfortable as it presses you deeper into the sheets. Warm lips find yours once more and you have lost count of how many kisses you have shared tonight. It doesn’t matter since there will be too many to count soon anyway. You’d make sure of that.
When he finally sinks into you, it’s not as violent of a sensation as you expected it to be. Not as harsh and unrelenting as the women in your life would whisper when the men were gone.
It’s warm, almost unendurably so and yet, you wish to cling onto this warmth. The stretch isn’t painful - a bit uncomfortable at most. You’re more focused on how he feels inside you and how you find it difficult to tell which heartbeat belongs to you, his heart thrumming in his chest that is right up against yours.
Bottoming out inside you, Shion lets out a soft groan. His forehead meets yours and your breaths intermingle. “I love you,” he sighs, relieved to finally be able to say it freely and you smile up at him fondly, cupping his cheeks.
“I love you,” comes your echo to his confession before your back arches and you push up against him more when he finally moves. The drag of his length inside you burns in a way which your fingers could never hope to replicate and your toes flex, your heels arching off the futon.
A choked sound of Shion’s has your head tipping back, your eyes fluttering shut at how good and right he feels buried inside you. Your eyes burn behind your eyelids and you’re only aware of the tears that escape the corners of your eyes when Shion kisses them away.
“Are you hurting? Should we stop?” he asks, his tone ever so gentle but it’s a little strained and you think you see his cheeks flushed with such a beautiful color that you make a mental note to explore this particular hue in the morning hours, accompanied by the light of the morning sun.
The shake of your head is immediate and you whisper a soft “No”. Putting your hand on top of his that is cupping your cheek, you turn your head to press a kiss to his palm and you get to watch as the firm, upright man on top of you melts, his expression twisting into one that you finally understand.
A suppressed chuckle leaves you in the form of a shaky breath and it’s wobbly as your lips tremble. “Feels good,” is all you manage to speak and he smiles down at you fondly, prompting you to return his smile. Your cheeks hurt.
The need for conversation subsides as he begins to rock his hips into yours again, pushing himself deeper with each thrust. Your thighs begin to tremble when one of his hands slips between your bodies to find your clit, circling it once more with his thumb to help push you over the edge.
Moans, heavy breathing, and the sounds of his skin meeting yours over and over again fill the room, echoing inside your four walls in a way that would usually make your ears burn with shame. Right now, you’re freed from any sort of feeling of that sort.
Your nails dig into his back, pulling him closer as his hips move insistently and his lips lavish your throat with soft bites that he caresses with his tongue to soothe the pain. All it takes is a particular grind of his hips and his name leaves you as a choked sound, your vision turning white as you close your eyes.
It feels like all the air leaves your lungs and you feel dizzy, your walls pulsing around his shaft as your body trembles in his hold, the soft tremors continuing until he removes his thumb from you and stops the onslaught of his mouth on your body. Shaky breaths are all that leave your lips for a few moments as you finally fill your lungs greedily.
Forehead bumping against his shoulder, you keep Shion close, the quick rhythmic up and down of his chest soothing your quivering body. The man above you is breathing heavily, way more out of breath than he’d be after one of those training sessions you were allowed to watch.
A breathless chuckle leaves him as he presses a little closer and it is only then, when you feel the wet sensation between your thighs that drips down your folds and onto the sheets, accompanied by a squelching sound that shoots heat into your cheeks, that you realize he has spilled himself inside you.
“You are beautiful,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks with a tenderness that has never before been yours to claim from anyone. The way the folds around his eyes join in on his expression of joy as his cheeks push up against them while he smiles has you feeling a warmth that you wish to never miss again.
Blurry is your vision as you watch him pull out of you, making do by wiping the excess of your combined essence with the corner of his futon’s cover, before he lays down next to you. Your sniffling reaches his ears and he laughs joyfully, pulling you closer. “Cry as much as you wish to. I will be right here to wipe your tears,” he promises, chasing your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Although I do prefer you smiling and laughing.”
Wrapping your arms around him, you move as close as possible, resting your head against his chest. It’s quiet for a while; comfortable. Your breath evens out and you relax against him as his fingers trace shapes into the skin of your back. You’re too tired to decipher what kind of shapes they are.
After a while, you speak up and laugh softly at the way Shion startles ever so slightly. He must have thought you were already asleep.
“Does this mean I can come to your room and read to you again?” you ask mischievously, looking up at him with an unbearably cheesy smile pulling on your lips. You’re glad he can’t see it.
Shion smiles down at you warmly before pressing his lips against your forehead. Lingering there, he whispers,
“You may read to me in our room. Every single evening, for as long as you wish to stay with me. Every poem or story that piques your interest.”
“It could never be long enough.”
“For as long as I wish to stay?” you ask teasingly, shifting to press your lips against his jaw. “That is going to be a long time.”
A few months later it’s still warm, despite the late hour.
Too warm to stay inside, which is why you are sitting outside on the engawa, humming softly as you try not to spill the juicy goodness of your fruits onto your yukata.
“Don’t eat too quickly or you might not be able to sleep.”
Tilting your head back, you look up to see your husband hovering over you as he stands right behind you. There’s a teasing smile on his lips and the light of the setting sun illuminates his skin nicely. He looks warm.
“Oh, come on now. I am not eating that quickly,” you shoot back, opening up another plum to remove its stone, just to throw it into one of the bushes. A product of nature returning to nature. No harm done.
He chuckles, sitting down next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “Couldn’t find any shut-eye inside? I could give you a few tips.”
You snort inelegantly.
“It’s too stuffy and warm inside the house,” you explain, munching away on your plums. Resting one hand on the wood of the engawa, you lean back onto it. Autumn is around the corner but it’s still very warm. The ongoing heat rewards you with sweet plums so it’s a little easier to forgive the weather for now.
“You know, when I was a child I used to steal plums from my father’s trees.”
Shion tilts his head at you in a way that compels you to reach out and pinch his cheek but you hold back. “I know,” and the smile he gives you with that reply tugs your expression into one of cautious confusion.
“Did I tell you about that before?” comes your question, which your husband denies with a shake of his head. He holds a hand out to you, palm facing up. Removing the stone from a plum, you hand it to him.
“I got to eat them as well,” he explains and you look at him for a few moments, your gaze tracing the scars on his face and the way he eats the plum. Brows furrowing, he sticks out his tongue and mumbles that it’s sour and it is only then that you finally realize.
Putting your head in your hands you laugh, dumbstruck. Shion raises a brow at you, feeling a little anxious about how you’re feeling. While he did poke fun at you just now, he’s not sure if it’s all that funny to you. Maybe you’d feel differently about him now, or perhaps you’d-
“It’s not sour,” you tell him and he laughs at how you sound as if he knocked the wind out of you with one simple statement. Your shoulder bumps into his as you lean closer, grabbing a hold of his hand that rests on his lap. He intertwines his fingers with yours, bringing your hands up to his lips to press a soft kiss against your fingertips.
“You’re right. It’s sweet.”
NOTES:
Tenugui - a type of traditional Japanese towel
Hadajuban - traditional sort of underwearn, worn underneath kimono
Kosode - the direct predecessor of the kimono, short sleeved and worn underneath intricate kimono in some places when the switch from kosode to kimono happened
Engawa - A wooden terrace
—
The first poem is by Ariwara no Narihira, taken out of the KOKINSHŪ.
Frog poem is by Matsuo Bashō
“蛙 (kawazu) - Frog can also be read as (kaeru) which can be translated as “to return”, meaning that Shion was joking here about himself being the pond and the reader being the frog. She returned to him after their initial meeting
The story the reader reads to Shion is “The Narrow Road to the Deep North” written by Matsuo Bashō.
The poem where Shion is getting ready for the festival is by Ariwara no Yukihira from Hyakunin Isshu: Poem 16.
