Anime imagines

requests open

[sexydoffyman]

Hi!! May I request an age gap between top male reader(21-26) and Corazon(39, he survived!)? Where Rosi went back to work for the Marines, reader is also started working for them quite recently, and they have consensual fun (dry humping, teasing, anything you want but no penetration) sneaking around during company time! Could you make it detailed? No need for flowery language tho!

Thank you<3<3<3

SECRET AGENT HUH?

genre: smut

word count: 549

A/N: sorry it took so long!

It was twelve years since Rosinante joined the Navy again. Of course, he had to recover from all of his wounds and injuries. It was a fight for his life with how many bullets went through his body. But he achieved his goal. He saved the kid. Even though he did want to travel on adventures with him, something about the Navy was calling him back.

His brother was also imprisoned which left Rosinante feeling safe again. He didn't want to be in a high position, so he kept doing his job as a "secret agent." His job wasn't complicated and he had time to chill around the base during his work hours. What a life he had.

Nobody bothered him since he was really good at hiding from his supervisors. His devil fruit also helped him with avoiding arousing people's suspicion. When someone was looking for him, they would have no luck finding him. He was happy with his current position.

You knew all this. How? Well, you had the same job as him "secret agent." When you found out about him, your interest was peaked. You couldn't resist finding out more about him. He may have thought that he was invisible to everyone. He was wrong.

He saw you walking around the spot where he liked to hang out the most. He thought that he caught you off guard when he saw you sneaking around this place. That was your plan tho. You wanted him to be aware of your presence. His plan was to avoid you as he really didn't care.

"Why are you running away from me, pretty boy?" You asked your question which startled him, making him fall down the stairs. He quickly looked up to scold you since he knew you were younger than him. But he was met with the sight of an empty hallway. A person walking by him would think he was angry or annoyed because of his expression. That was not the fact tho.

He chuckled. You finally got his attention. Now he was trying to find you. And of course, he couldn't finds you. You were sly and clever. You really didn't expect the tall older man to pin you against a wall. He pushed his tongue into your mouth.

After a while of you letting him do whatever he wanted. You roughly dragged him into a random room that was used to store documents. He was surprised by your dominant personality. But he definitely enjoyed you having your way. You started to touch his crotch, which was already hard as a rock.

You were playing with him for a while. He was making sweet silent sounds. He needed to relieve himself, so he rubbed himself on your thigh. You let him enjoy all the pleasure he was in.

Then something unexpected happened. A person walked in on you two. You looked at them in horror as you realized that you were just caught slacking. To your surprise, the tall man laughed. "Young boys enjoying their time huh!" he laughed at both of you. It was Garp. You were glad it was him and not anyone else. Garp left laughing to himself.

You gave Rosinante a glance when both of you decided to just continue doing your thing.

[takes1]

heyy I must tell you all those tsukishima fics were so good😭 i used to literally log on to tumblr everyday just becausd of yoy😭 can I request a mattsun x oblivious reader?? Where he has tried multiple times to tell her thwt he likes her but something or the other happens and he can't and also thr reader has absolutely no idea that he likes her. Maybe in thr end he can be like do you not like me and stuff snd then she is so confused becsue she did not think thwt he'd like her back snd lmao they go out later

mattsun x oblivious!reader

the sheer quantity of tsukki lovers was a shock when i first started posting that old series lemme tell you. i rlly appreciate that!!

warnings. sfw, fluff

details. libero!reader / girls team!reader / mattsun fluff / aoba johsai fluff / oblivious!reader / platonic?cuddling / mattsun is always warm / giving you his jacket trope / rbf!mattsun / thinking he hates you trope / pda / 2k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. requests OPEN

There was only so much to be done about the bitter cold tonight. The Aoba Johsai teams had their joint biyearly dinner, but thanks to a last-minute close for renovation at your usual spot, you and at least fifteen others were stuck waiting for a reservation outside on the town square.

"Fuck-k!" Oikawa shuddered loudly, teeth chattering as he stepped out from the restaurant you were all barred from.

Somebody whined, "I just wanna sit down!"

Iwa trailed close behind, steam practically coming off of his head as he stared down at his phone. He kept his foot in the door for an older couple, sparing a passive-aggressive look at how easily they were seated.

"It'll be another 20 minutes at least," You overheard him, quiet but frothing with frustration, to your own team captain.

Only a few were properly dressed for the weather outside. It was getting darker fast, and the wind was picking up.

You were able to catch a glimpse of his phone screen. He had the estimated wait time from the restaurant's website; 5 groups were before you, but they were nowhere to be seen.

A harsh wind howled through the street and inspired you to jump behind the nearest body. You and the other liberos were lucky to have your faces protected by the gathered group of shoulders and chests, but that's where your blessings ended. Your cardigan could've been made of tissue paper, how thin it was.

The wind settled and you glanced to see who you had nestled up to- you jumped back with a muffled yelp. It went ignored because of the symphony of complaints, curses to the weather.

Matsukawa was glowering down at you. God, was he warm, but he was so mean.

He was the most unsettling member of the guys' team by far. You got along fine with everyone else, but there was some unspoken hatred in his eyes every time you had to interact with him.

He often tried to speak with you after practice, about receiving of all things, quizzing you about your methods from the games he watched or practices he caught. You didn't like how his questions were made to make you feel stupid, so you tended to keep it short with him and run away as soon as you could.

His stare was harsh and judgmental, his frown deep and unforgiving. It gave the impression that he was tearing you apart in his mind.

"Awww, (Y/n)," Your captain, whom you had backed into, put her arms around you at once.

She didn't offer as much heat as him, but it helped to make you feel safer, and wanted. You turned and pressed your face against her chest as she pulled her jacket around the both of you.

Most of the girls were huddled similarly, choice of attire more of an issue than the heavy-coated guys.

Matsukawa wore a thick, black work hoodie, nice thick pants, boots, and a utility jacket over that. You squinted, jealous and bitter, at how he wasn't shivering at all.

"Tw- t-twenty- minutes?" You shuddered against her, sniffling.

She hummed, her cold, dead fingers no help against your sides.

The wind was so strong that it stole your breath with every gust. Your ears were throbbing, your nose numb, even when another teammate joined the huddle.

Not only had you not dressed for the cold, but you didn't expect to be standing so much, so your heels were killing your feet. Another twenty minutes wasn't doable.

"Hey! There's some benches over here!" Somebody called from down the sidewalk and around the corner.

Those that knew it would take longer, especially in uncomfortable shoes, instantly started to migrate away from the door of the restaurant.

The benches were a little wet from the light drizzle earlier. It made most of your teammates hesitate to sit down, including you. You gave a dismal sniffle, completely exhausted from shivering, unable to get any colder or more glum. You peeled off your cardigan.

"Hey, wait wait-!"

"Noo!"

Your teammates gasped, grabbing at you, as you used it to wipe the bench dry.

You turned, offering them a seat, your ferocious shaking in direct contrast to the point you were trying to make.

"It- was-wasn't keeping me warm-- anyway," You struggled to declare.

The three of you sat down on the freezing metal. At least it was dry now. You stared, twitching hard, at the soggy ball in your numb fingers and tried to zone out.

Your eyes had been closed when someone big squeezed in next to you, at the end of the bench. It was too much energy to open them to see who it was.

But a heavy, warm, and cozy presence over you shocked you to open your eyes again.

"Put this on before you pass out," Matsukawa muttered, hands grabbing at the back of his own hoodie, too.

Your face would've felt warm if not for the conditions. It was already stinging, but it stung some more.

"Thank you," You shivered.

His lowered, studied stare at you as you struggled to put on his hoodie with numbed limbs made you feel like a dumbass. He probably thought you were an idiot.

His arm was so solid as he took his outer jacket back, to put it on over his long sleeve shirt. You quickly put up the plush hood and pulled the drawstrings, ears pounding at the relief of some heat.

Then his arm was back, around your shoulders, rubbing firm to get you warmed up faster.

"Thank you," You repeated, better now, and all you could possibly think to say.

When you glanced at him, you found him looking around. There was a protective air to him, like he was busy watching for something while he took care of you. He wore it well.

His hoodie smelled distinctly like him and you found that you did not mind it in the slightest. You were subtle, pulling it over your nose -breathing deep now that you weren't struggling to filter this icy cold air-, letting your body get wracked by his strong rubbing, your head steadied a little on the inside of his big shoulder. It slowly fell, heavier, on him as you learned to trust that he was being helpful.

The wind picked up again- this time you felt invulnerable to its brutality, but he squeezed his working arm into your waist and pulled you, shockingly easy, into his side with no space left between your bodies.

At this point, you were feeling guilty for enjoying it so much. There was no ounce of softness in his angry face to indicate he wanted to hold you. His nose crunched more at the wind, now that he had less layers to protect him. You could only assume he was just being chivalrous.

It made the remainder of the wait harder, in a different way.

"Oh," Iwa raised his brow at you as you passed him to go inside.

He didn't look at you for long, because he referred his gaze to Matsukawa and exchanged a smirk you couldn't see.

When you were all seated, nobody went to sit right next to you. The table was full except for the one seat while everyone filed in. At first, Watari pulled the chair out, but took one look at you and also said, "Ooh," before sitting elsewhere.

Matsukawa sat down without so much as a look at you.

Every guy at the table was looking at him, so you knew you were right about something. You just didn't know what, yet.

The whole evening, he was quiet and only spoke a few times when directly referred to. Otherwise, you felt the weight of his subtle, unwavering gaze anytime you mustered up the courage to contribute to the conversation at the table.

Surely he just wanted his hoodie back. He wore it so often, so it must have been how pitiful you looked outside to make him give it up like that.

Bellies full, bill paid, and a little more relaxed after a fun dinner out with friends despite his presence, you were all starting to leave to go home.

You stood still outside for a moment, sniffling but content, pulling up a route on your phone to walk back to the bus stop. It was a subtle way to wait for him to come out, so you could give him back his hoodie and brave the freezing journey back.

"You got somebody to walk you back?"

He leaned down to speak quietly, just to you. You watched his hand close the distance and rest on your shoulder. It made you stutter.

"Not- not officially."

Then he was walking you back to the bus stop, making a silent trek more difficult than it had to be if you had just gone by yourself. When you spared some meager glances at him, he had that same vibe about him- like he was preoccupied, displeased, and would be unpleasant if you tried to say anything.

It would be another five minutes for the bus.

He stood close to you, his arm against yours, because this bench was wet and you weren't going to repeat that mistake.

"Do you- uh," He rocked a little on his heels when you looked at him, "Do you not... like me?"

It was a staggering question. You held yourself, painfully aware that you were only standing because of his hoodie around you.

"Sure, I like you," You said in a stilted tone.

It wasn't enough and you knew it as it rolled off your tongue.

You cleared your throat. He looked away.

"I mean- I thought you hated me before today, so," You gave an empty laugh to help ease the tension.

"Hate you?" He turned towards you, hands in his pockets. It was the most emotion you had ever seen on his face.

Clearly, something was off. You squinted at him but only could hold it for a second, "Well, yeah, you're kinda... mean-,"

The shock on his face made you stumble over your words.

"But- uh, today you were so nice! Thank you, for your hoodie, that was very sweet-," You glanced around his face, confused, trailing off, "-of, you..."

He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, eyes closed, pained at your words. You felt astoundingly guilty, more cold than ever, in a way.

"I gave you my hoodie because I like you."

He put the hand back in his pocket, turning to face the street, watching the lamp posts with a forlorn air about him, "I've been tryin' to ask you out for months."

Your mouth hung open. You covered it, after a few seconds, with your hand.

Was that what all the looks meant? Was that seriously what he was getting at every time he spoke to you? Your face warmed- a welcome sensation.

"I... didn't know," You said simply, pressing up to his side.

It worked, thank god, and though it took him a second, he put a hefty arm around you.

"You were really that clueless?" He muttered, rubbing his warm face with his other hand.

The truth did feel pretty obvious in hindsight, but you reminded him, "You're more intimidating than you think."

In the quiet, the bus sighed around the corner.

"So... I can keep the hoodie?"

You looked up at him, excited at what you could see now as his nervousness. He pressed a hasty kiss to the top of your head as the bus rolled to a stop in front of you.

"Hell, yeah."

VIP

@integers @yuchacco

my masterlist. my request box.

[meo-eiru]

Since I'm busy working on a valentines day drawing I thought we could do something different until I'm done with that. Trivia night! I'll be writing what's basically a compilation of fun facts we've already established or haven't learned yet. We will also learn more about their backstories.

For tonight we have Silas

Silas has a mom and dad but isn't close with neither of them

As a child he was quite needy compared to other elven kids

Elves almost never stray too far away from the elven village but Silas liked to play in the depths of the forest

He learned about humans from a story book he found while playing in the forest

He was amazed by the colorful imagery and the familial relationship depicted in the book and wanted to have the same, which kickstarted his human hyperfixation

He's currently the most knowledgeable elf in humans within the village

His house is located quite far away from the village, he can still reach there by walking but it's not somewhere where the other elves can just stumble upon

He likes sweet things like fruits or honey but dislikes the taste of meat so doesn't feed it to you much as well

He, just like the other elves, while natural with most other living things, hates all demonic creatures

He's very nice and sweet with you but wouldn't glance twice at other forest creatures and is actively hostile towards demons

Of course he would never let you see him make that kind of face

He thought of using magic to make you live as long as he does but it feels like tempering with your humanity so if you die he's planning to die with you

He's actually not that good at magic compared to other elves, he just knows the basics and relies on books for the rest

He's average height for an elf

He doesn't like leaving bite marks or hickeys on your body because it feels like dirtying your perfect form

But he really likes it when you mark his skin, whether they are hickeys or wounds

While more compassionate than other elves, Silas does have a bit of a superiority complex like them

For example, unlike other elves he does see the intelligence of humans but would still say elves are smarter

He doesn't have any ill intentions with it, to him it's just like saying a unicorn is be better than a horse

He doesn't like eating carrots because he thinks they look like elf ears

He loves learning more about you but dislikes hearing about your family

He doesn't want you to have pets, only the two of you are allowed inside his house

He does have a bathroom in his house but it's just a replica of what he saw in books and isn't actually that functional

If you want to use the bathroom for your baths instead of the river like he does, he just carries the water from the river to his house then uses magic to make it rain on you like a shower head

Even if you don't allow him inside the bathroom he still watches from the window

He has a diary where he writes everything you do in a day, from what activities you did to how many times you blink on average

If you offered to live in a human city with him he would refuse, while he likes humans you are his utmost priority and it's better for you to be inside his house away from everyone's reach

[gav-san]

Cook Wanted, Crisis Found: 2/2

Main Masterlist Here

One Piece Masterlist

Pictures

2/2: Prime!Silvers Rayleigh x reader Length: 7 K+ Rating: 16+ (Language & Sexual content)

What started as teasing has escalated into full-blown domestic piracy. With weaponized cooking, seductive spice blends, and Rayleigh’s monogamy agenda in full swing, the galley is no longer safe. This isn’t just a kitchen—it’s a warzone of love. Roger is suffering.

Part One

Captain's Log: Subject: A Gaban vs. Rayleigh Passive-Aggressive Culinary Deathmatch

Status: Escalating. Send help.

Gaban leaned against the kitchen doorway, grinning like a man born to mischief. You were at the stove, sleeves rolled, brow furrowed as you stirred a pot with the kind of focus usually reserved for ancient rituals or controlled explosions. The aroma filled the galley like a promise.

“Need a hand, sweetheart?” Gaban asked, voice silk-drenched and dangerous, like he was fully prepared to flirt his way into being chopped into stew meat.

Rayleigh looked up from where he was polishing his sword. He didn’t say anything. Just stopped breathing.

You didn’t even blink. “I need people to stop touching things without washing their hands.”

“Ooh,” Gaban drawled, sauntering closer like a pirate version of temptation, “so demanding. I like that in a woman.”

Rayleigh, who had survived battlefields, volcanic eruptions, and one truly cursed drinking contest in the North Blue, promptly walked into a wall.

The thud was loud.

Everyone paused.

You turned to raise an eyebrow at him.

Rayleigh straightened, cleared his throat like the bulkhead had attacked him, and resumed cleaning his sword with the intensity of a man trying not to imagine homicide. Or cleavage. Or Gaban getting within ten feet of your ladle.

Gaban leaned in closer.

“So what’s cooking, gorgeous? Because I’m smelling something divine.”

Rayleigh’s hand clenched around the hilt of his blade.

You tossed a piece of ginger at Gaban’s forehead. “Chicken. And don’t call me gorgeous.”

He caught the ginger between two fingers with a wink. “Right. Sweetheart, then.”

Rayleigh stood up like he’d just been challenged to a duel.

You ignored them both, turning back to the pot.

Behind you, Roger peeked into the galley, took one look at the standoff, and quietly backed out again.

“Not it,” he muttered under his breath.

The culinary war had begun.

And no one was safe.

Captain's Log Con.: Round Two

You were kneading dough.

Peaceful. Serene. Covered in flour. Your hands moved with a practiced rhythm, the soft give of the dough folding beneath your palms as if it had secrets to tell. The morning light slanted through the galley windows, golden and warm, and for one blissful moment, it felt like the world had forgotten how to be chaotic.

Then Gaban leaned over your shoulder, breath far too close for anyone’s safety, and ruined it.

“Y’know,” he said casually, “I always thought I’d marry a woman who could kill me with breadsticks.”

“Then today’s your lucky day,” you muttered, elbowing him in the ribs with your rolling pin.

He wheezed and backed off, grinning like a man who considered pain a form of flirting.

Two paces behind, Rayleigh stood utterly still.

Like a jaguar.

A jaguar with excellent muscle control and the distinct look of someone seconds away from pouncing. His arms were crossed. His jaw was tight. His eye twitched just slightly.

“You’re very talkative lately, Gaban,” he said flatly.

Gaban shrugged with all the grace of a man who had never been punched hard enough. “I’m just admiring the culinary arts.”

Rayleigh’s gaze narrowed. “You’re admiring her ass.”

Gaban smirked. “Same difference.”

Rayleigh’s response was less verbal and more karmic.

Because in that exact moment, the ship pitched with a sudden gust of wind, and Gaban—who was too busy watching you bend over the dough like you were modeling for sin incarnate—forgot to watch literally anything else.

The boom arm swung across the deck and caught him square in the shoulder with a crack and a muffled oof. Rayleigh may have helped it along.

He stumbled sideways with a grunt, crashing into a crate, then sliding down it like a man questioning his life choices.

Up at the helm, Roger didn’t even blink.

He steered the ship with one hand and slapped Rayleigh on the back of the head with the other. “Eyes on the horizon, lover boy.”

From the galley, you didn’t look up.

“Deserved that,” you muttered, calmly dusting flour off your sleeves.

Rayleigh grinned.

Gaban groaned into the floorboards.

The dough rose. So did the tension.

Captain's Log Con.: Round Three

It started with a laugh.

You were mid-stir, wrist flicking through a pot of curry, when Gaban said something. Something dumb. Not even funny. A poorly timed pun or a secondhand joke. You didn’t remember. You were just being polite. Probably.

But you laughed anyway, soft and distracted, eyes crinkling as you leaned slightly toward him.

That was when he did it.

The audacity.

The sheer, unholy audacity to reach forward and tuck a stray bit of flour-dusted hair behind your ear, fingers brushing your skin like he had every right to be gentle. He smiled, lazy and smug.

“Careful, beautiful,” he murmured. “Don’t wanna burn that pretty face.”

From across the galley came a loud, distinct crack.

Rayleigh, seated at the corner table with a bowl of half-finished rice, was holding the shattered halves of a wooden spoon. He looked down at it slowly, as if surprised to find it in pieces.

No one said anything.

Even Gaban took a step back.

Gaban’s untimely death may have only been prevented by you immediately fawning over Rayleigh, concerned he had cut himself on the bowl.

Later that night, with the air cooler and the ship rocking gently on calm waters, you accidentally fell asleep in the hammock next to him.

You hadn’t meant to. You’d only sat down to rest your legs. Maybe just a minute or two, you told yourself, eyes heavy from the long day. The sea had been kind, and the crew, for once, quiet. And Rayleigh had been there. Reading. Half-listening. Not staring, for once.

You slipped into sleep before you even registered it.

Rayleigh didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe too loudly.

Didn’t sleep, either.

He lay there like a possessed statue. Eyes wide. Shoulders locked. Soul hovering somewhere, a few inches above the deck, spinning in silent agony.

He didn’t touch you. Not even accidentally.

He also didn’t blink for thirty minutes.

Roger passed by at some point, mid-drink, shirt half-buttoned, and paused at the sight.

He stared. Took a long sip.

“This,” he muttered to no one in particular, “was not in the hiring plan.”

Then he kept walking.

The stars wheeled overhead.

Rayleigh suffered in silence.

Captain's Log Con.: Truce

That night, beneath the sails and wrapped in the hush of a sleeping ship, Rayleigh cornered Gaban with the quiet fury of a man who had fought naval fleets, toppled regimes, and somehow come out crankier.

Gaban leaned casually against the mast, arms crossed, grin already in place. He didn’t flinch.

“You’ve had your fun,” Rayleigh said, voice low and even.

Gaban raised an eyebrow. “You jealous?”

Rayleigh didn’t answer.

He stepped forward instead. One slow pace, heavy with something colder than rage. Calm. Measured. Dangerous.

“Touch her again,” he said, almost gently, “and I will gut you with a butter knife and blame it on sea madness.”

Gaban blinked. “…Got it.”

“Good.”

They stood there for a moment, sails shifting above them in the wind, tension held between them like a knife suspended by a thread.

Then Gaban sighed. “You are going to tell her how you feel, right?”

Rayleigh exhaled. Long. Slow. Miserable.

“Eventually.”

Gaban gave a slow, pitying shake of his head. Then reached up and patted him on the shoulder like a man gently encouraging an exhausted horse not to die in the middle of a field.

“You better,” he said. “Because if I catch her making caramel again and you don’t, I’m proposing.”

Rayleigh didn’t even glare.

Just looked out over the sea like it had personally betrayed him.

Which, in a way, it had.

You met Captain Shakuyaku with a polite smile and a quietly sinking stomach.

She was beautiful. Elegant. Cool in the way only chain-smoking women with sharp cheekbones and unbothered auras could be. And when you saw her standing next to Rayleigh, laughing, exhaling smoke, bumping his shoulder like they’d done it for decades, your stomach did a full swan dive into your boots.

Of course, he had someone. Of course, she was radiant and confident and didn’t have flour in her hair or guilt in her heart.

You forced on your best friendly smile.

“Oh. Hi. You must be, um, his…”

Shakky raised an eyebrow. “His what?”

You immediately regretted every word you’d ever spoken.

“…Friend?”

There was a pause. A long, knowing drag of her cigarette. She exhaled directly into the vast cosmic void between you and your remaining dignity.

“Sugartits,” she said slowly, “if I’d slept with Rayleigh, I’d be dead. That man has the stamina of a sea god and the emotional maturity of a shipwreck. I’m cursed with his friendship. Not blessed by his… whatever.”

Rayleigh strolled by then, shirt half-open, holding two bottles of wine like a peace offering to chaos.

“Talking about me?”

“No,” Shakky said immediately. “Not in any way that concerns you.”

He winked. “Liar.”

You blinked. “Wait. You’re not—?”

Shakky made a face like you’d suggested she marry a goose. “He tried to flirt with me once. Once. I said no. And somehow, I’ve been babysitting him ever since.”

Rayleigh, passing again, called helpfully over his shoulder, “You said no with a knife.”

“Exactly,” she said, gesturing with her cigarette like a dagger. “And it was the start of a lifelong nightmare.”

You looked between them, wary. “So… you’re not together.”

Shakky laughed. Dry, amused, and just a little bit haunted.

“I love him like I love a particularly talented stray dog that keeps humping the couch. But no. I’m not with him. That would require therapy. Possibly divine intervention.”

Rayleigh, from somewhere below deck. “I heard that!”

“You were meant to,” she called back. “Stop pretending you’re not emotionally invested in someone who makes you stew.”

You flushed. “That’s not what’s happening.”

She gave you a long, slow look. A woman who had seen things. A woman who knew.

“You used his spice blend, didn’t you?”

You scowled. “It’s not his. It’s paprika and garlic salt.”

Shakky just smiled. Tired. All-knowing.

“He’s going to marry you with or without your consent. You might as well pick the flatware.”

Shakky didn’t need Haki. She didn’t need context. She didn’t need a single word.

She walked into the galley later, took one look at you making rice balls while Rayleigh leaned back in his chair like a smug, half-naked panther, and said: 

“What is this?”

You froze mid-roll. Completely still. Guilty as charged.

Rayleigh blinked. All feigned innocence. “Lunch?”

“No.” Shakky pointed her cigarette at him like a sanctified weapon. “That. That look. That pose. That shirtless domesticity you’re oozing like butter in the sun.”

Rayleigh smiled. Just a little too pleased with himself. “That’s just me being friendly.”

Shakky didn’t blink. “You’re planning her future wardrobe, and I can see it from here.”

You panicked. “I’m not with him. I’m just… cooking.”

Shakky, flat as a dead man’s pulse. “You’re cooking while he’s eye-fucking you with the intensity of a honeymoon slideshow.”

Rayleigh, still lounging like sin on vacation. “She makes a mean curry. I’m simply appreciating her craft.”

Shakky gave him a look that could peel the paint off a battleship. “You’re naming your future children in your head, Rayleigh. I can see the bad ideas in your eyes.”

Later, she dragged you aside. Arms crossed. Expression set to “you absolute fool.” One eyebrow raised so high it might leave orbit.

“You do know he’s already emotionally committed, right?”

You sputtered. “He hasn’t said anything!”

“That’s because he’s seducing you into long-term cohabitation through appreciation of your dinner service.”

“I’m not… this isn’t…” You flailed. “It’s not like that.”

Shakky smirked. “Then why’d you use his favorite seasoning blend and garnish his plate prettier than everyone else’s?”

You flinched. “…Shut up.”

Rayleigh, from across the deck, was watching you like you were the only star in the sky. “She’s not saying no.”

Shakky lit another cigarette. “She’s also doomed.”

In the end, she sipped her tea like a prophet watching a storm roll into port, unbothered and vaguely pitying.

Then she sighed. Long. Deep. Resigned.

“I give it a week,” she said. “Either you’ll be in his bed, or he’ll be on one knee. Possibly both.”

Rayleigh was shirtless.

Again.

You were wearing one of his shirts, the sleeves rolled, the hem hitting mid-thigh, the collar hanging just wide enough to declare war. Your laundry had been “in-wash” for three days, despite the suspicious lack of washing. The crew had collectively chosen to pretend this was fine.

They were coping.

Poorly.

Roger sat at the edge of the deck, sipping from his tankard with the slow, patient despair of a man who had asked the universe for a cook and been handed a slow-burning romance novel with flour on its pages and a half-naked first mate.

“I just wanted a cook,” he muttered. “Not whatever mating ritual is happening in my galley.”

Shanks passed by with a plate of your fried rice, grinning. “Yeah, but like… have you tasted her pork buns?”

Roger looked up slowly. One brow raised.

Shanks blinked.

Paused.

Processed.

“I meant the food. I meant—oh god, Rayleigh, put the gun down—!”

Rayleigh, who had materialized behind Shanks like a vengeful spirit, lowered the pistol with all the grace of a man who was one heartbeat away from declaring a duel over innuendo.

Shanks scampered off with his plate.

Roger sighed into his cup.

He watched the much bigger first mate return to the kitchen.

He glanced toward the galley, where you were leaning over the counter, giggling at something Rayleigh had whispered. Rayleigh, for his part, looked like he was the happiest he'd ever been.

Roger watched for a moment longer, eyes hollow.

“I brought a cooking goddess aboard,” he muttered. “And now my first mate has the libido of a teenager and the emotional maturity of a sea sponge.”

There was a long pause.

Then another bite of pork bun.

“…But the food is amazing.”

That night, the ship rocked gently beneath the stars, lanterns dimmed, crew tucked into hammocks or gambling below deck. Somewhere, a bottle clinked. The sea whispered against the hull.

And Rayleigh, warm and half-feral from a day of restraint, dragged you into his lap like he thought someone might physically steal you mid-sentence.

“Your chest is a war crime,” he muttered into your collarbone, arms tightening around your waist. “Do you have to wear things that make me homicidal?”

You smirked, settling against him with maddening ease, arms draped around his neck like silk. “Would you prefer I walk around in nothing at all?”

There was a pause.

Then a strangled, choked sort of noise.

“I—no—yes—but—” He groaned into your shoulder like a man defeated by his own fantasy. “You’re killing me.”

You kissed his cheek. Soft. Unbothered. Dangerous.

“Good,” you whispered. “Maybe you’ll finally stop threatening to duel every man who makes eye contact with my tits.”

Rayleigh didn’t flinch.

He pulled you closer.

Tighter.

Pressed his forehead to yours and said with deadly sincerity, “Never. They’re my tits. I paid for them in stress and restraint.”

You raised a brow. “That’s not how anatomy works.”

“Mine now.”

You laughed, quiet and delighted, the sound curling between you like heat.

Your chest might have been a gift to humanity.

Too bad Rayleigh had already declared it a nationally protected treasure, filed paperwork, and applied for exclusive docking rights.

And judging by the way his hand settled over your hip, thumb drawing lazy, possessive circles—his application had already been approved.

For Stability. Or Love. Or Both.

Private Thoughts: Rayleigh’s Brain on Fire

Her tits should be illegal.

What if I put her on the table and asked nicely?

No, she deserves softness. Rose petals. Pillows. A mortgage.

Is it unethical to marry someone because they make the best rice balls on the Grand Line?

I wonder if she’d kill me for saying the words ‘milk me, chef.’

Rayleigh blinked. Slowly. Thoughtfully. Dangerously.

You were chopping onions.

Unaware—or maybe just unwilling to acknowledge—that across the galley, one of the most feared pirates alive was actively losing his mind over the way your hips swayed when you stirred a pot.

You muttered under your breath, knuckles grazing garlic. “Listen. I don’t know what you think this is, but I’m trying to make food. Not babies.”

Rayleigh didn’t flinch.

“Bit of both, really,” he replied, entirely too pleased with himself.

You turned, knife in hand, and pointed it squarely at his chest. “Get out of my kitchen before I sauté your libido.”

He backed away with exaggerated care. Hands raised. Eyes shining.

Smug. Delighted. Completely unrepentant.

But you saw it.

The gleam in his eye.

The slow-burn planning. The silent promises. The very specific kind of madness that only possessed men who had already chosen you, body and soul, and was now simply waiting for the paperwork to catch up.

You sighed.

And salted the stew.

Because unfortunately?

You were a little curious what he’d do if you said yes.

You were just a cook. A rational woman. A working professional trying not to morally compromise themselves into the arms—and future—of a dangerous, golden-haired menace with the emotional restraint of a thunderstorm and a very sincere monogamy agenda.

A pirate in love with your food, your spine, your temper, and your entire face.

And he had no intention of being subtle about it.

You were just here to cook.

To feed hungry idiots. To make something edible on a ship where culinary standards hovered somewhere between “burned on purpose” and “technically still breathing.” You weren’t here to emotionally compromise yourself into a situationship with a legendary pirate who could dismantle a Navy fleet before breakfast and then look at you over tea and casually ask if you wanted kids by winter.

And yet, here you were.

In a sweltering galley.

Covered in flour.

Trying very, very hard not to get dicked into a lifelong commitment.

“I don’t do pirates,” you said aloud, more to the pot than to him. “I don’t do long-term. I don’t do emotionally magnetic older men with back muscles and dreamy forearms who call me ‘sweetheart’ like they invented the word.”

Rayleigh, leaning in like sin in linen, rested his arms on the counter with all the patience of a man who knew the ending to this story. “You do me,” he murmured. “Eventually.”

You chucked a skillet at his head.

He dodged. Barely.

“Get. Out.”

But Rayleigh’s brain was already halfway to a monogamy manifesto—a slideshow of cozy domesticity, vivid and completely unsolicited.

Rayleigh’s Mind, Actively on Fire:

We could build a little cottage. Near the sea.

She deserves a garden. And six knives. And two children, but I won’t argue if more happen.

Does she know her laugh makes me want to buy land?

If I die, she gets the ship.

Maybe I should stop flirting with danger and just flirt with her until she gives in.

He had, of course, already picked out your last name. He was keeping his. You’d just share it. Neatly. Romantically. Eternally.

Meanwhile, your internal monologue was turning into a slow, desperate spiral.

You, Mentally Screaming While Stirring Stew:

He’s dangerous.

He’s too smart.

He’s planning our future while I’m trying to make goddamn dumplings.

His hands should be illegal.

If I sleep with him once, I will be proposed to by breakfast.

I am one orgasm away from a life of domestic piracy and no escape.

Because Silvers Rayleigh wasn’t just hot, he was dangerous. He was charming. Loyal. Devastatingly good in a crisis. And already picking out plates for your future kitchen like a man planning your retirement before the first kiss.

You were just trying to make stew.

He was trying to make you his wife.

And unfortunately?

You were about three compliments and one shirtless smirk away from letting him.

You stared across the galley. He was shirtless. Glowing. Smug. Standing there like temptation given form, looking like a man who had seen some things, done some things, and probably ruined the morale of multiple women across multiple seas.

Rayleigh smiled at you.

The kind of smile that said I already know what you’re thinking. I agree. Let’s.

You gripped the ladle like a weapon. “Shouldn’t you have, like… fifteen girlfriends? A situationship with Shakky? A handful of loyal whores in various ports? At least one man named Daryl who cries when you leave?”

He blinked. Laughed. Stretched like a sin stretching its arms after a nap.

Then leaned in and dropped it like a hammer wrapped in honey.

“I’ve got a better idea,” he said. “My hands—”

You raised a finger. “Rayleigh—”

“—and your tits.”

Frozen. Offended. Intrigued.

“Rayleigh, what—what even is that sentence?”

He sipped his rum like he’d just said taxes are due and not committed a verbal felony. “A lifestyle. A commitment. A dream.”

You threw a towel at his head.

He caught it. One-handed. Smiling. Always smiling.

You paced the galley, waving your ladle like a holy relic. “I’m sorry, do you think because you’re hot, can cook half-decently, and look at me like I’m a warm bed on a cold sea, that you can just monogamy your way into my pants?!”

Rayleigh didn’t even blink. “Yes.”

You stopped. “I hate you.”

He took a step closer, all sinful posture and pirate confidence. “You’ll love me eventually. I’m very patient.”

You opened your mouth. Nothing came out.

He tilted his head. “And extremely talented.”

Your voice cracked. “I HAVE BOUNDARIES.”

He nodded, completely unfazed. “Do they include my hands? Because I’m very hands-on.”

You stared at him.

He smiled.

And your spoon trembled.

The Den Den Mushi crackled to life beside the stove, its little snail eyes blinking as it adopted Shakky’s slow, amused cadence.

“Just say yes,” she said, exhaling smoke into the receiver on her end. “The man’s already mentally married you.”

You paused mid-chop, one brow twitching. “I’m trying to cook.”

Shakky laughed, low and warm. “Darling, I’ve been on that ship. You’re not cooking. You’re slow-dancing in flour and denial while he picks out curtains for your shared retirement cabin.”

“I’m not slow-dancing with Rayleigh.”

“You’re emotionally waltzing.”

“I am making dumplings.”

Shakky hummed. “In his shirt.”

“It’s comfortable!”

“It smells like him.”

“I’m hanging up.”

Behind you, soft as sin, Rayleigh leaned in like a curse at your back. You hadn’t even heard him approach—typical.

He bent close to your ear, voice barely a whisper. “Imagine cooking in my shirt.”

You froze.

The knife hovered above the cutting board.

The Den Den Mushi blinked in smug approval.

“I am cooking in your shirt,” you muttered, cheeks warm.

He chuckled, low and shameless. “No. Just my shirt.”

Your grip on the ladle tightened.

Shakky, still on the line, laughed again. “Call me when he finally breaks you. I’m bringing rum and a camera.”

You hung up.

Rayleigh was still behind you.

You didn’t turn.

You just stirred the pot with restrained fury and a heartbeat you couldn’t blame on the stove.

Because unfortunately?

You were imagining it.

The Breaking Point.

You were slicing fruit.

Calm. Focused. Sharp knife glinting in the afternoon light.

And Rayleigh was watching you again.

That look.

That look.

The stupid, soft, I’d-die-for-you-and-pay-your-taxes look. The one that made your stomach tighten, your hands slip, and your brain short-circuit in protest.

You tried to ignore it. You really did. But the weight of his gaze burned hotter than the stove. You could feel it crawling up your neck like heat, like tension, like affection with no place to go.

Finally, you snapped.

“Do you stare at everyone like that?”

Rayleigh didn’t flinch.

“No,” he said simply. He stepped closer, voice calm. “Just you.”

You set the knife down. Slowly. Carefully.

“Why?” you demanded, turning to face him fully. “Why me?”

He smiled.

Slow. Intentional.

The kind of smile that made bad decisions feel like destiny.

“Because I’d follow you into hell if you asked nicely,” he said. “And because I’d kill to wake up next to you until my bones give out.”

You blinked. Hard. Mouth half-open. Brain buffering.

Then he added, cheerfully, like he wasn’t detonating your entire life plan, “Also, your tits are amazing and I’m emotionally compromised.”

You stared at him.

He grinned.

You picked the knife back up and muttered, “I swear to the sea gods, if you say one more nice thing, I’m going to kiss you out of spite.”

Rayleigh leaned on the counter, chin in hand. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

And just like that, the fruit was forgotten.

And you were in trouble.

The problem isn’t that Rayleigh is hot.

That’s surface-level suffering. Manageable. You’ve met hot men before and survived them. Left them dazed and grateful in your wake.

The real problem is that he’s hot and protective. Sweet in a way that makes your knees buckle. Loyal to a degree that should qualify as a public safety concern.

He holds your hand like it’s sacred. Like the warmth of your palm matters more than the map to Laugh Tale.

He puts himself between you and danger without thinking, like you’re some kind of delicate porcelain. With boobs.

He remembers your spice preferences. Fixes things around your cabin before you even notice they’re broken.

Calls you ‘my love’ in the same voice he uses when pledging his loyalty to Roger.

And when some merchant at the market got too familiar, Rayleigh didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t posture.

He smiled and said,

“You’ve got two choices. Your fingers or your life. Pick one.”

He meant it.

You gritted your teeth while he carried the groceries. Calm. Helpful. Completely infuriating.

“Rayleigh, I can handle myself.”

“I know,” he said, utterly sincere. “I just like being useful.”

You wanted to scream. “That’s not fair.”

He leaned in close. Smelled like rum, salt, and heartbreak.

“Neither is how good you look when you’re flustered. But here we are.”

And it keeps getting worse.

Because he’s gentle.

Not the fake kind. Not the kind you’ve had before that fades after a week.

Rayleigh is the real kind. Quiet, dangerous, domestic.

He wraps your knuckles when you burn them.

He cleans your knife with his own damn shirt because he thinks yours is too nice.

He tucks your hair behind your ear with a hand that once slit a man’s throat, and now just wants to memorize the way your skin feels when you’re relaxed.

He sees you exhausted and says nothing. Just opens his arms and murmurs,

“Come here, sweetheart,” And then he holds you like nothing in the world can hurt you if he’s standing between it and you.

And the worst part?

He’s loyal.

Not pirate-loyal. Apocalypse-loyal.

Hide-the-body, start-a-war, I’d-rather-die-than-see-you-cry loyal.

He doesn’t flirt with anyone else. He doesn’t even look. Because to Silvers Rayleigh, you’re already it. The beginning. The end. The whole damn storm, and the safe shore after.

You spiral. You try to reason. You try to remind yourself of who you are.

“This was supposed to be a job.”

Rayleigh, halfway through sewing a patch with your name on it into his coat lining, doesn’t even blink.

“It still can be. As long as casual includes marriage, shared assets, and a retirement plan.”

You choke. “I am horny, not planning a joint will.”

He grins, smug and unbearably handsome. “Well. I was.”

You should run. You know that.

But you don’t.

Because this pirate, with god-tier biceps and murder in his smile, has somehow convinced you that you’re safe.

Captain’s Log: Rayleigh’s Attitude

He’s horny and strategic. That’s the problem. It’s not an impulse. It’s a plan.

He’s folding laundry with intent. He’s humming love songs in battle.

He’s got a five-step domestic conquest brewing, and I think step four involves babies. I’ve seen war. I’ve seen sea kings. Nothing prepared me for Rayleigh in love. I am tired. 

You thought he was just flirty. A little handsy. A lot smug. The kind of man who wore loose shirts like a threat and smiled like he had a secret about your body he hadn’t told you yet. A walking problem, sure, but one with good teeth and criminally decent posture. Manageable.

But no.

Rayleigh wasn’t just horny. He was horny with purpose. Horny with plans. The kind of calculated, long-game seduction that felt less like a fling and more like a siege. He didn’t flirt like a man looking to pass the time. He flirted like a man setting a trap.

And you, you poor naïve lamb, walked right into it like you’d packed snacks for the slaughter.

It started with the little things.

A hand guiding yours while you stirred the pot, his palm warm over your fingers. A gentle graze at your lower back when he passed behind you in the galley, like the cramped space left him no choice. His voice in your ear: quiet, intimate, dangerous.

“Careful now. Wouldn’t want you to burn those pretty fingers. I might need them later.”

You’d snorted and rolled your eyes. Told him to go swab the deck. He only grinned and backed off, whistling.

That was the first mistake.

Next came the false modesty. He’d laugh at his own behavior like it was harmless. Adjusted the tie of your apron with unhurried care, fingers brushing your hip like it was the most natural thing in the world. Reached around you for a pot he didn’t need, leaned in far too close, breath brushing the back of your neck.

“Oh, I’m just teasing,” he’d murmur, all fake innocence and wandering eyes. “Don’t get all worked up. Unless, of course… you want to be.”

You told yourself it wasn’t affecting you. That the heat on your face was from the stove. That your chest was tight from stirring too fast. That the tremble in your hands was not, absolutely not, because Rayleigh had perfected the art of the slow-burn ambush and was aiming it squarely at your self-control.

You told yourself you wouldn’t fall for it.

And then you did.

He waited.

Patiently. Politely. Hornily.

Through every bout of teasing, through every flirty aside you batted away with a glare or a hot spoon. Through the months where you told him, sternly and without blinking, “No tits without commitment, sir,” and thought that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t.

He committed. Emotionally. Domestically. Logistically.

He did the damn dishes. Cleaned the sink without being asked. Repaired the sticking drawer in your cabin. Quietly redirected Gaban mid-snoop when the man got a little too curious near the bath. And—miraculously—he stopped referring to your chest as “the twins” in front of other people.

It was practically a marriage proposal.

You were doing so well. So strong. So steadfast in your resistance. And then… it happened.

You were on his lap.

Probably by accident. (Absolutely not by accident.)

You’d been mid-argument, something about charts or spices or his repeated theft of your best ladle. You were making a point, dramatically and passionately waving your arms and rambling, calling him impossible, infuriating, and insufferable.

And he was just… sitting there. Nodding. Calm. Relaxed. Letting you rant.

Except he wasn’t listening.

Not really.

His eyes were locked. Fixed. Not on your face, not on your hands.

Lower.

He was staring down your shirt as if it held the secrets to the universe. With reverence. Like a man beholding a sunrise after months at sea. Like a priest before the altar.

You paused. Mid-sentence. Froze. Narrowed your eyes.

“Rayleigh.”

He blinked. Looked up. Voice silky. “Hmm?”

“You’re staring at my chest.”

The corner of his mouth curled, slow and wicked, like sin in linen. “Sweetheart,” he said, “I’ve been waiting for this exact view since the day you sautéed onions in that loose top and ruined my life.”

You glared. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

“Fine,” you muttered, more threat than permission.

He paused.

Then smiled.

And for once, it wasn’t smug or wicked or sharp like it usually was. It was stunned. Disbelieving.

“…Wait. Really?” His voice cracked halfway through the word, like he couldn’t trust his own ears.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not making it weird,” he said, already making it weird. “I just—I thought I was gonna have to wait until the heat death of the universe. Or bribe a minor god. Or fake my death and leave a really tragic letter.”

You crossed your arms, instantly regretting the decision because it only made his eyes drop, widen, and then—

“Oh my god,” he whispered. “It’s actually happening. I’ve dreamed of this. I trained for this. Mentally. Spiritually. Emotionally. I have a plan. I wrote speeches—multiple speeches.”

“Shut up,” you muttered.

He raised both hands like you were a priceless statue in a museum and he’d just been granted private access. Gently. Carefully. As if he were handling priceless artifacts in a sacred temple. And then, he cupped them. Both. Like he’d found the Holy Grail.

“Finally,” he whispered.

You didn’t slap him.

You didn’t push him away.

You just sighed. Exhausted. Flushed. Morally defeated.

“Are you done?” you asked, voice already betraying you.

Rayleigh didn’t even pretend to be sorry. “I haven’t even started.”

And then, with no shame, he gave them a gentle, deliberate squish.

Both hands. Full contact. Full commitment. Like he was testing fresh bread at a divine bakery and had waited years for this moment.

You gasped. “Did you just—squeeze them?”

He had the audacity to look euphoric. “Softest damn thing I’ve ever touched.”

Another squeeze. A reverent hum. “Like clouds. Better. Like consecrated clouds.”

“Rayleigh.”

“I’m being respectful.”

“You are squishing my tits.”

“Lovingly,” he argued, scandalized. “I’d never squish disrespectfully. These are national treasures. Possibly divine artifacts.”

Your head fell back with a groan as his thumbs moved in slow, circular appreciation.

“You are downright unbearable.”

He leaned forward, mouth brushing your chest like a sinner at the altar.

And somehow, you were breathless. Boneless. Shirtless, in a matter of heartbeats. With his hands still reverent, still steady, still treating you like treasure and miracle all in one.

He held you like you were something to be worshipped.

Like your body was his favorite story.

And then, softly—so softly you almost missed—he leaned in and whispered against your skin.

“So soft… all mine now, right?” A kiss. “Deserved a shrine, honestly.” Another. Lower. “Might buy a ring just for these.”

You groaned. “You are the worst.”

He kissed your sternum like a vow. “You love me.”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t need to.

Because, unfortunately, you did.

And now?

Now he had access to his final form.

Which meant you were never getting your bras back.

You thought giving him a little access would calm him down.

It did not.

He’s worse now. Affectionate. Bold. Comfortably domesticated like a very dangerous cat who found the warmest lap on the Grand Line and refuses to leave. He wanders your galley with bare feet and smug satisfaction, stealing slices of fruit and nudging your hip with his when he thinks you won’t notice. He helps you prep dinner, hums while chopping vegetables, and kisses your temple like it’s habit. Like it’s his right. Like he belongs there—and worse, he looks like he does.

The crew’s stopped asking questions. Gaban just sighs and walks the long way around the kitchen now. 

When Shakky visits, she lights a cigarette every time she sees Rayleigh shirtless in your apron and mutters something about emotional war crimes.

But the final straw? The laundry.

It started innocently enough. He’d show up with a neat stack of folded shirts, drop them on your bed, and leave with a wink. Then came the socks. Your skirts. Your sweaters. And then, your lingerie.

Which would be sweet. Thoughtful, even. If it weren’t for the commentary.

Because Rayleigh doesn’t just fold your bras. He cradles them. Studies them like they’re ancient relics holding the secrets of the sea. Holds them up to the light like a jeweler inspecting diamonds. He mutters under his breath like a man possessed, a lunatic in love with your underwire.

You caught him one morning, holding a black lace bra between his fingers with something close to reverence.

“You’ve got no idea how lucky this one is,” he said softly, thumb brushing the strap like it was made of moonlight.

You stared at him from across the room. “You are not talking to my underwear.”

He barely flinched. Just reached for another. The red one. The nice one. Held it against his cheek with the sigh of a man being reunited with a long-lost flame.

“This one’s called Salvation,” he said solemnly.

You dropped your spoon. “Rayleigh.”

“It saved me,” he murmured. “Emotionally. Spiritually.”

“You’re not naming my lingerie.”

“Too late,” he said, completely unrepentant, still holding it like it might purr. “This one knows what it did.”

You buried your face in your hands.

He’s nesting, you realized. This wasn’t flirtation anymore. This was premeditated emotional entrapment dressed up in curry, clean laundry, and fiery kisses. It was courtship disguised as convenience. A full-scale pirate siege on your willpower conducted via domestic warfare.

And just when you thought it couldn’t escalate further, he started offering back rubs.

Innocent, at first. Just a helpful pair of hands on your shoulders after a long day, thumbs easing the tension from your neck, as if he were doing a service to humanity. A friend. A crewmate. A considerate older man with a god-tier grip and suspiciously good timing.

But then his hands started to drift lower. Slower. More possessive. As if he were mapping territory he already intended to claim. His voice dropped with it, smooth as rum and just as dangerous.

“Gonna need a new map,” he murmured one evening, thumbs pressing into the small of your back, “because I just found heaven.”

You stiffened. “Rayleigh. That’s my spine.”

He leaned closer, breath warm against your neck. “Right above the gateway to paradise.”

You didn’t even think. You grabbed the nearest spoon and flung it at him.

He caught it with one hand. Smiling like you’d given him a gift. Like he’d just won a game you didn’t realize you were playing.

You glared. He winked. And somewhere deep inside, against all logic, against every warning bell clanging in your head like a bad alarm, you laughed.

That was the problem. Not the spoon catching. Not the ridiculous compliments or his relentless, well-timed presence. No, the real issue was that you’d stopped fighting it. Somewhere between the rice balls and the back rubs, you’d let him in. Let him hold the boobs, in private.

And Rayleigh?

Rayleigh didn’t grope. That would be too crude for him. Too simple. Rayleigh admired.

With patience. With reverence. With those dangerous, steady hands that had ended men without blinking, and now lifted the hem of your shirt like he was unveiling a masterpiece. He touched like a scholar. A worshipper. A man who had found something precious and was afraid it might vanish if handled too roughly.

His voice was worse. Low, soft, wicked with wonder.

“So perfect.”

“Better than treasure.”

“Can I put my face here for five to seven business days?”

You pretended to be unaffected. You rolled your eyes. You scoffed. You said things like “Get your face out of my cleavage before I smother you in your sleep.”

But you didn’t push him away. Not really.

You used to avoid flimsy shirts. Then you started wearing more of them. Or maybe less. You weren’t sure anymore. He’d scrambled your moral compass somewhere between dinner and disaster, and now you were floating somewhere between “this is a bad idea” and “God, what if he stops?”

You haven’t seen one of your bras in three days.

Rayleigh claims they’re being “laundered.” He has a laundry system now. You’ve never seen him run laundry before. You find one of your favorite ones tucked into his coat pocket, like a talisman.

You: “Rayleigh. What the hell.”

Rayleigh, sipping rum: “It brings me peace.”

You, scandalized: “It’s underwire!”

Rayleigh, serious: “So is fate.”

You lie awake at night and realize he’s won. By that point, it’s too late.

You’ve been fighting a losing battle for weeks. Months, maybe. Convincing yourself it’s just flirtation. Just proximity. Just a matter of nonsense and temporary insanity, disguised as emotional attachment and a laundry service.

But then, you trip.

Not literally. Emotionally. Spiritually. Catastrophically.

It happens sometime after midnight, when the ship is quiet and the wind is soft, and you’re still in your kitchen clothes, standing over a mess of parchment, muttering to yourself about dried lentils and a miscounted barrel of potatoes. You’re overtired, overstimulated, and over it. Your hands are smudged with ink and flour, your braid’s falling out, and your brain is spinning in ten directions when the door creaks open behind you.

Not words, at first, just the quiet shift of a door in the dark. A hush of footfalls on creaking wood. The kind of silence that held its breath.

You didn’t turn to look. You didn’t need to.

The ship had been asleep for hours. The crew tucked away in hammocks, the stars overhead thick as spilled sugar. But you were still in the galley, still in your apron. Still hunched over sea charts and ration notes, muttering under your breath about root vegetables and projected supply burn.

Your feet ached. Your fingers trembled slightly as you adjusted the count for salt pork. Everything smelled like stew and frustration.

Then, warmth.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, slow and easy like he belonged there. Like this wasn’t new. One hand splayed across your stomach, the other curling around your hip like it had every right to settle there. He didn’t say your name. Just leaned in close, mouth brushing your temple, and spoke like a secret meant only for the bones of the night.

“You work too hard,” Rayleigh murmured. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

You froze.

He didn’t push. Just waited, breath warm against your skin, calm as the tide before a storm.

Your heart kicked once, then twice. You should have moved. Should have stepped away. You should have reminded him that you were tired, that you didn’t do pirates, and that this was temporary. That it didn’t mean anything.

But your mouth stayed shut. And your body—traitorous, exhausted, yearning—sank back into him like it had been waiting for this.

You let him turn you.

Let him guide you, gently, to sit in his lap like the entire world had narrowed to this exact moment.

His hands didn’t grope. They settled. One against the small of your back. The other cupping your jaw as he looked at you like he was memorizing something precious.

And then he kissed you.

Slow. Intentional. Unhurried. A kiss that said I’m here. A kiss that said finally. A kiss that ruined every last ounce of distance you’d spent months trying to build.

He whispered to you between touches, reverent and rough-edged. Told you how long he’d wanted this. How long he’d waited. Called you sweetheart like it was a vow. Called you mine like it was inevitable.

By the time his hands slid beneath your shirt, you weren’t thinking anymore.

You were only feeling.

The heat of his mouth on your collarbone. The scrape of his thumb across your ribs. The way he held you, like he could barely believe you were real. Like you were some treasure he’d stolen from the gods and planned to guard with his life.

You whimpered once, and he shushed you with a kiss just below your ear.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “That’s it, sweetheart—mine now.”

And just like that, you were.

No fight. No argument. No escape.

You had tripped into his orbit, into his arms, into the gravity of something too heavy to outrun. And as he murmured soft things into your skin—things like perfect and finally and home—you let yourself fall.

Not because you lost.

Because maybe you wanted to.

You wake up sore in the good way. Wrecked. Emotionally compromised. Possibly claimed. The sheets smell like him. Your skin smells like him. You’re wearing his shirt, and it’s somehow more damning than being naked.

You sit up with a groan. Somewhere in the hallway, a floorboard creaks. You consider escape.

Too late.

The door opens, and in comes Rayleigh, shirtless, smug, and carrying a breakfast tray like some overconfident husband in a domestic fantasy no one invited you to.

“Morning, darling,” he says, setting the tray on your lap. “How do you want your eggs? Scrambled… or fertilized?”

You throw a pillow at him. He catches it one-handed and grins like a man who will absolutely try again later.

You hate him. You hate that you like him. You hate that your knees still feel like jelly. You are, regrettably, still sore. And worse—he’s proud of it.

He kisses your temple before leaving. You eat the breakfast. You drink the tea.

You sigh.

You’re doomed.

The Real Horror

This wasn’t spontaneous. This wasn’t a surprise twist of fate or a reckless decision made under moonlight. No, this was calculated. Orchestrated. A long game, and you never stood a chance.

He had a plan.

You can see it now—every back rub, every casual brush of fingers, every time he folded your laundry and whispered to your bras like they were his war council. He’d been stacking kindling. Patiently. Lovingly. Like a man who knew exactly when to strike the match.

You were just horny. And tired. And dumb enough to believe you were in control.

Now you live here.

Not officially, of course. But your pillow is fluffed. Your apron is hanging on his hook. Your boots are by his bed. You’ve stopped returning to your cabin unless you’re mad.

And even then, he follows.

Conclusion

You were just a humble cook. A woman with trust issues, a sharp knife, and no patience for nonsense. You had dreams of freedom, of staying unattached, of feeding pirates without falling for one.

Rayleigh, meanwhile, had dreams of your shared home, your future garden, and whether your kids would inherit your sense of spice or his luck.

You blinked, and suddenly you were in his bed. In his arms. In his life.

And the worst part?

He’s winning.

With soup. With dimples. With bare feet padding into your galley like he owns it. With a smile that says he’d burn the world down just to make you laugh again.

He probably has a notebook titled Wife (Optional but Preferred) and a list of pirate-friendly baby names hidden in a drawer.

You should leave.

But he made breakfast.

And tea.

And he called you darling like it meant forever.

So you sigh, lean back into the pillows, and mutter, “Fine.”

Because you’re already his.

And somehow, you’re okay with that.

You’re okay with the way he tucks you in like you’re precious. With the way he steals your laundry just to mutter sweet nothings at your bras. With the way he kisses you like he’s got a lifetime of promises loaded behind his teeth.

Until the crew starts poking their noses in.

It begins with small, lingering glances and smug little grins. You catch Shakky counting down on her fingers, as if she had placed a bet. Someone starts a pool. You suspect Buggy. You know Gaban.

Then one quiet afternoon, Rayleigh walks into the kitchen while you’re elbow-deep in flour. You turn to greet him, still smiling, still unaware of your own doom. He comes close. You swipe a bit of flour across his chest just to be cheeky.

He kisses you.

Hard. Unapologetic. Thorough. Like a man reclaiming what was already his, like you’re some myth made flesh and he’s decided to worship openly now.

You’re halfway breathless when it ends. You blink up at him, dazed. A little stunned.

Outside the door, Gaban pumps his fist like he just won the lottery.

Someone cheers.

You groan. Rayleigh just chuckles and kisses your nose, already reaching for a mixing bowl like he hasn’t just detonated your dignity in front of half the crew.

He acts like nothing happened.

But that night? He sleeps next to you like a man smugly triumphant. And you lie awake wondering how many crew members are now naming your future children, on top of the betting pool.

Captain’s Log, Final Update: ‘Please No Babies, I’m Begging You’

—by Gol D. Roger, Pirate King and Witness to Domestic Terrorism

Look, I’m thrilled Rayleigh’s happy. I am. He deserves nice things. A strong drink, a quiet sea, maybe someone to warm his bed and bully him into emotional growth. Great. Wonderful. Good for him.

But if I hear him call the cook ‘sweetheart’ one more time while staring at her chest like she’s a fertility idol sculpted by the gods themselves, I’m throwing myself into the Calm Belt.

It started with the shirts. One day, he’s fully dressed. The next, he’s sauntering around half-buttoned like a smug jungle cat, and somehow her shirt has gone missing. She’s in one of his oversized, rumpled shirts, marked by the domestic smugness of a man who now says things like “our bunk” and “our weather barrel” like he owns it.

This is my ship. Mine.

Then came the nesting.

Not sharpening his blades. Not reorganizing battle strategy. No, Rayleigh began fixing things. The railing. A hammock just slightly smaller than average. A suspicious new pillow with lumbar support. He was spotted whispering to sea charts, mumbling about “calmer trade winds” and “less turbulence near the shallows.” I’m pretty sure I heard the words “baby’s first voyage.”

I watched it all happen. Helpless. Horrified.

Here are Documented Incidents:

Incident 1: Rayleigh’s hand lingered on her lower back. Too long. Too soft. There was intent.

Incident 2: They shared a peach. One peach. Didn’t break eye contact. I aged a year.

Incident 3: I caught him holding her hips while she stirred soup. He was swaying. I think he was imagining lullabies.

Incident 4: He said, “She’s glowing.” Like she was pregnant. And with hope or some other nightmare.

Incident 5: He rubbed her ankle after dinner and whispered, “Let me take care of you, darling, show you how good I can be.” I bit through my tankard.

The only tolerable thing is she still makes the best damn food in all of the Grand Line. And the tits, but don’t let Rayleigh catch you staring. 

@hiimhappysblog @cupc4keics

[heartkaji]

❥ the many times you & suna get caught making out at school.

i. case one : the bleachers, during practice.

suna rintarou makes eye contact with you in between each successful block.

you ignore it. or try to. but your thighs are squeezing & he’s licking lips & you’re mean with want so you decide you can’t wait any longer. kita calls for a water break & you call rintarou to the stands. dumb dog doesn’t even hesitate.

“what.”

you mouth a come here & he raises a brow, but his feet shuffle after you regardless. he helps you over when you’re just about to stumble under the bleachers, & before the poor boy can regain a balance of his own you’re shoving him against the wall like he’s sack wheat.

he grabs your thighs like it’s instinct.

sugar lips. sticky gloss. heavy palm that can’t decide between your back & your throat. you’re pulling him deeper by the collar & he’s tapping your inner thigh desperately as if to say ‘baby baby lemme breathe’

“where the hell is suna?!”

but his tongue is down your throat so you don’t hear kita’s yell. suna’s palming your hips & squeezing your waist & you’re gasping his name while thumbing his neck and—

“AYOOOO,”

atsumu’s pointing to both of you with gaping mouth & widened eyes. “kita i found them! they’re doing foreplay under the—!”

you’re mortified. suna on the other hand? doesn’t even bother to wipe your saliva dribbling down his chin. he stares at atsumu with twitching brows & twisted face.

“you’re so annoying,” / “and you’re so in trouble”

atsumu doubles over as kita comes in & drags suna out by the collar. you on the other hand shuffle out quietly, quick to sneak away before you can fall victim to further embarassment.

★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ STUDENT RECORD.

offense: EXPLICIT BEHAVIOR IN STUDENT GYM

punishment : banned from entering the gym for a week.

issued by: kita shinsuke, sports president.

‘y/n, i expect better from you. and suna, you’re on probation.’

ii. case two : rooftop roughhousing

you think you’re so intelligent.

lunch break & you’re on the school rooftop with a skip in your step. you dragged suna rintarou away from his teammates during lunch & now he trails behind you with hands in his pockets as you hop unto the railing.

thighs crossed. hair in the wind. lopsided grin with blood drenched cheeks & eyes star-achingly bright. “tell me you love me.”

he’s rolling his eyes but his palms find your thighs. “i love you.”

you pout. “say it like you mean it.”

he kisses your neck instead.

you squeal, dodging suna’s kisses as he chases your lips with a grin. he pulls away teasingly before you tug him in by the tie.

you don’t hear the door unlock behind you.

rintarou’s tongue licks your molars. you kiss at his teeth & his thumb grazes your inner thigh as you giggle between his lips. he mutters something about how your gloss tastes like home before a voice sends a jolt down your spine:

“OUT.”

the home room teacher with obnoxious clipboard in hand & outfit desperate to align with the office siren aesthetic. you cling to suna as he quickly lifts you off the railing, palm still gripping your skirt even when he sets you on the ground.

busted.

★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ STUDENT RECORD.

offense: INAPPROPRIATE RELATIONS IN RESTRICTED AREA

punishment: detention.

issued by: madam keqing, homeroom teacher.

‘such behavior is not tolerated on school grounds. should this happen again, parents will be notified immediately.’

iii. case three : security snitching

suna’s tapping your thighs like it’s morse code for ‘mine.’

5PM thursday / behind the school gym / your fingers & suna’s belt loop. the middle blocker’s especially hungry today. god knows that thursdays mean you don’t get to share a single class with the athlete; so on days like this when school is long closed & you think no one’s watching he kisses you like he can’t fucking breathe.

point of empasis: you think no one’s watching.

the security camera overhead gets a front row seat to your antics. suna says your gloss spoils in the heat so you lick him off your wrist like honey. he’s pressing you against the wall with teeth on your earlobe like if he bites a little more you’ll seep into his skin. you let him unbutton your shirt & kiss you till he’s love-drunk & bleary eyed.

friday morning starts off in the vice-principal’s office.

black & white images neatly printed on the desk, a fan that blows just loud enough to cover up your feet tapping. you’re mortified. suna’s fingers, however, drum on your thigh like he’s not in trouble for kissing you silly on a midsummer day.

“what do you have to say for yourselves?”

“crazy work.”

you pinch him under the table. you don’t miss the grin that tugs at his lips as he takes a good look at the photos.

“interesting response, mr.suna,” the vice-principal’s eyes narrow. without them leaving suna he continues, “and ms. l/n ? i expect better from you. both your parents will be notified.”

you’re about to apologize & plead on your behalves, but suna notices the worry in your eyes & beats you to the punch.

“wait,” he clears his throat. “i have an explanation.”

“yes?”

“we’re in love.”

he says it like it’s the cure to all your problems. you resist the urge to slap him (and yourself).

“thank you, you are both dismissed. and again, your parents will be notified.”

busted.

again.

★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ STUDENT RECORD.

offense: EXPLICIT BEHAVIOR ON SCHOOL PROPERTY

punishment: parent report issued, two-day detention and required report on student ethics.

issued by: mr. ayato, vice principal.

‘inarizaki high makes it a point to ensure student safety by strictly prohibiting sexual or explicit acts on the premises. we hope ms.l/n will heed our warnings, regardless of whether or not she is “in love.”

STUDENT CASE STATUS : CLOSED.

© HEARTKAJI 2O25 do not steal, edit, translate, or re-upload.

[writingoddess1125]

The old men of One Piece finding out they have a child with you. Pt. 3

THROWS OUT FRESH MEAT To YOU ALL "SUPPER IS HERE" Buy me a Ko-Fi ;3

Part 4 <- Click Here

Shanks, Buggy, Mihawk xFemreader

Healthy Mix of Angst and Fluff

Buggy

It had been a week since Buggy had given you the talk about taking a 'Vacation with the boys' aka himself taking time away to help you raise the twins-

At first you didn't expect him to actually stick to it- it was a heavy order for anyone especially a pirate. However you had seen him silently preparing for the time off, piles of paperwork how payouts to his crew, budgeting for the time away and more.

It filled your heart in ways you never expected. Feeling joyful at him being so willing to do this for you and the twins. Speaking of the twins, they had been extra rambunctious it seemed. Clearly having enjoyed Buggy's time and attention too much and now that he was working that ment that the crew was at the twins mercy-

You never thought you'd see the day that the crew would miss Buggy's presents especially against two pre-teen boys.

"Miss (Y/N) can you please- Please Take the children" Cabaji said, His eyes sunken in and tired as he held Dee in one Arm and Bee in another. It seemed both had gotten into a fight again and Cabaji was in the middle.

"Of course" You giggle and thank the poor man, Taking your twins in your arms and bring them inside. Scolding both for being brats and getting them washed and fed for the night.

That night a storm rolled in. Rocking the Big Top and its crew inside, You sat there brushing out your boys hair in the Captian's quarters where you lived. The storm had set in thick, rocking the ship and pelting the crew with hail and icy rain. Buggy out on the main deck at the wheel as he yelled over the storm.

"Mom- I don't like the storms..." Dee whispered. Leaning against you as the ship rocked once again- Bee didn't say anything but his body language saying the same.

"I know sweety, but it's part of-"

"ENEMY SHIP ENEMY SHIP! ALL HANDS ON DECK!!" The announcement started from the speakers, you rising to your feet quickly as you heard the battle started.

"Boys you stay here and hide, Understand me?" You order, the twins nod quickly and do as said and hide under the bed. You grab a sword quickly and rush out the room, Locking it behind you with the key Buggy had given you.

You hold the sword as you see the first face of the enemy pirates rush down to the Lower Deck, Slicing through them with ease and continued up to the Main Deck Locking the door of the Lower Deck and rushing forward as more pirates approached you, You quickly defended yourself as you tried to stay close to the main doors. The rain pelting your skin and making it hard to see, A larger man approached with a axe. Swinging down he almost struck you as you slipped and managed to move away just in time.

"(Y/N)!!!"

Buggy yelled as he released his arms launching blades into the man's chest and knocking him back. As his arms returned to him a massive wave hit- Sending ocean water over the main deck, you saw this as the crash swept Buggy from the wheel. Running forward you grabbed Buggy sleeve and pulled him before he could be claimed by the rough waters, holding the wheel to keep from slipping.

Once the ship started to lean you pulled Buggy closer. Feeling his cough and regain his breath against you before climbing back up to the wheel to steady the rocking ship.

You saw the other shop fire more canons but the waves making them miss and fall short of the ship- The crew of the rival pirates starting to creak and splinter as the waves crashed against it.

"Retreat!!" A call of a rival pirate yelled, the temaing of their men trying to flee to the ship as the waves hit it. As the Ropes connecting the ships ripped Buggy turned hard, The backside of the ship smacking its offender as he tried to ride down the waves to clearer waters. Another massive wave came up and knocked the ship to its side, The Big Top groaning at the hit as it rode down the mountain of waves desperately.

You looked back to see the other ship heading into the opposite direction, the waves swallowing it from your perspective.

It was another 30 minutes before the storm softened enough to not be in danger. The crew both exhausted from the battle and storm it seemed, bodies of friend and foe being tossed overboard as the spinkle of rain washed the blood.

"You did good (Y/N).. Thank you" Buggy said softly, looking to you from the wheel of the ship. He looked rough- Soskes to the bone with his makeup running down his face.

"Of course" You said softly and giving him a equally tired smile.

"Captian! They got into the lower deck while the fight was happening!" Cabaji yelled out- Taking note of the damage that had been done. Your blood ran cold- Rushing from Buggy's side you ran down the stairs to the lower level, looking and seeing blood of a few fallen crewmates in the hall. Rushing to the Captian's quarters were you saw the splintered wood of the broken door, tears running down your cheeks as you felt your heart actually break. You frantically looked around- Sword still in hand as you stood in the room, it was destroyed. Blade slices through the pillows, furniture turned over.

"No- No No NO!" You screamed loudly, the reality hitting your chest making you scream out a sob.

Buggy rushed downstairs, seeing the splintered door and you sitting on the destroyed bedroom floor sobbing loudly. He ran to your side as his eyes frantically searching the envirment with the same fear as you.

"They are gone!" You sobbed, Buggy face turning to stone as he stood up- Tossing around the broken furniture and items in the room desperate to find evidence of them.

"FUCK!" He roared, anger filling his soul. He turned to your sobbing form and grabbed you by your shoulders- He looked like he wanted to scream at you but instead pulled you to his chest.

"We'll find them- There isn't any blood so they are alive" He said, it sounded like he was speaking more to himself then you.

"We'll Find them"

Shanks

It seemed Shanks had not been in Times good Graces. Not at all- What had expected to be a 6 month long Mission had been extended- drastically.

7 Years- 7 Years has Shanks been out to sea. From being turned into a Emperor of a sea, seeing the future of pirating and the slow steady crumble of the Goverment. Shanks had been stuck- but that didn't matter.. It was over at least for now-

Shanks felt his heart jumping as he saw the coast of the small village.

You stare at him shocked, before your face fell in a mixture of anger, sadness and some relief.

"You're back..." Was all you could mutter, Shanks surprised by your coldness. Awkwardly shifting on his feet.

"Well yeah! Of course I am! I came here to see You and Vivian" He said enthusiastically, you winced at his words and sighed.

Shanks feeling off about your attitude towards him- You gestured for him to follow you which he obediently did. Sitting at the dining room table

"Shanks I'm going to be honest with you- Vivian is not going to be very welcoming to you"

Shanks felt like you had just dumped cold water on him at saying this.

"What? No of course she will! I know it's been a while but I love her (Y/N) and she was my little gir-"

"For a few weeks... but that was years ago.. when she was 4 years old- Shes 11 and sees you as the dad that just packed up and left-" You said bluntly which made him bristle at the harsh words.

Shanks was ready to start in to argue till he heard the door open.

"Mom I'm home!" The sweetest voice he had ever heard called out to him. His eyes widened at this standing from his seat as he watched Vi make a appearance. In her school clothes still she had her hair in a ponytail and looked a bit scrapped up like she had been playing outside.

"Vivian" Shanks said softly, She turned her gaze to him and froze. Looking him up and down at first in shock- before her face scrunched up in a angry scowl. Adjusting her backpack she walked upstairs ignoring Shanks open arms as he stood there frozen in place.

"What the hell was that!?" He cried in shock as he turned back to you, you shrugged.

"I told you-"

Shanks stared at you in shock st this, before dashing out the back door in lightning speed. After 30 minutes he returned with a armful of gifts and marched upstairs to drop them off at her door. You knowing this wasn't going to fair well and offered him the guest room just like before.

Shanks had bought every gift he could think of- Every toy, outfit and more. All were refused and left back on his guest bed, The most he received was a cold glare from Vivian before she left the house for school or to do something away from home.

It had been 3 weeks already of Vivian giving him the cold shoulder or just being angry at him- He sat at your dining room table staring at the glass of rum he had barely sipped. Watching the liquid just float.

"When did she start hating me?..." He muttered, Hearing you chopping vegetables for dinner. You paused for a brief moment and sighed

"3 years after you left..." You admit, sliding the cut up carrot into the pot. Shanks laid his head on the table and watched you quietly, Clearly wanting you to continue.

"She waited for you. Everyday for those three years sitting on the docks... watching the horizon for you to return- and you never did... I guess finally her spirit broke and she resented you" Shanks winced at your words and rotated his face towards the wood.

He was silent for a while, before shifting up to his feet. Trying to Shank off the coming depression.

"I'll be back" He said softly, dismissing himself. His mind was racing with everything he could do, what he should have down and more. Sighing heavily as he walked towards the main town, but the sound of children caught his ear.

Following the sound he turned a corner to see a group of kids- at first he assumed they were playing till he saw a hair for a red hair and a busted up face. There stood Vivian, Her lip busted and eye starting to swell as she tried to scrap back against 4 other kids at once.

"Your Mom's a pirate whore!" A purple haired boy shouted as he pushed Vivian again, Her back hitting a trees but she stood once more.

"Don't talk about my Mom!" She screamed before punching the boy in the nose, He yelled out in pain as the other 3 kids began to jump her once more.

But before contact could be made all three were hiked up in the air by the back of their clothes. A awful feeling washing through them as this heavy pressure began to weigh on them-

Vivian looked up, seeing the ringleader standing to the side looked terrified as his 3 lackys were held up-

He looked like a demon to them all, his eyes practically glowing as he glared at the four children.

"4 little shits- wanting to jump my little girl- So ill say this now... You all better Fuck Off" The kids instantly began to cry, rhe ringleader wetting his pants and running away from the group. Shanks dropped the three and watched them scramble and run away as well. Vivian sitting on the ground still staring up at her father in awe, before trying to snap back to her irritation from before- Shanks reaching down and helping her up. But she refused him and stood on her own- Shanks sighed at this.

"Vivian- I know you want to keep ignoring me. But we need to talk" He said calmly, finally putting his foot down it seemed.

"Vi-" He said calmly as he grabbed her arm quickly before she could leave. She tried to pull his hands off angrily, Angry tears already welling up in her eyes.

"There is nothing to talk about!" She protested but Shanks didn't release his grip.

"You're mad at me I was gone so l-" She glared up at him, now tears filling her gaze and spill from her cheeks.

"I'm mad you left me!! I finally got a dad and you left me! You didn't want me anymore so you forgot about me!!" She screamed up at him, Shanks gently releasing his hand from her as he watched her.

Shanks slowly moved his cloak to the side revealing his blade, carefully with one hand undoing the tattered green ribbon and holding it out to Vivian. Her eyes widening at seeing it, and how despite the years he had held on to the old thing.

"...I never forgot you.. And I swear I never wanted to leave you Baby girl..."

"But you did!" She sobbed, fat tears rolling down her cheek. He nodded, tears running down his own cheeks reached around her neck and pulling up a chain. It was the Coin of his Jolly Roger- hung around her neck this whole time. She crutched it in her fist angrily.

"I didn't want them to find you... to hurt you or your mother- S-So this was the best to protect you" He admitted through broken cries. Vivian stared at him Biting her lip in what was assumed in anger before she left forward and wrapped her arms around him.

Shanks sobbed in what could only be described as relief and fell to his knees. Wrapping his arm around her quickly, kissing the top of her head and face.

"I missed you so much- I thought of you everyday" He sobbed, holding his daughter close as she sobbed against him.

"Don't leave me again Dad... Please" She managed to choke out inbetween cries. Shanks nodding at her words as he held her tighter.

"I will never do it again... ever"

Mihawk

Mihawk had seemed to at least temporarily take residence in your tiny home for the past month. Having taken the couch to rest at night but spent quite a bit of time with both you and Alucare- you had grown uses to Mihawk presents in your home. It reminding you of a sort of family even if you and Mihawk weren't together.

You felt Mihawk gaze on you as you moved around the kitchen, he seemed to enjoy watching you. More precisely your hips- You felt warmth hit your cheeks as you continued to make breakfast. You open up the cabinets to grab the plates, which were a bit too high up for you. You jumped once but before you could do much else you felt a hand land on the small of your back and a presents behind you. Glancing up you see Mihawk grabbing the plates for you, you blush and accept the plates as he hands to you.

"Thank you Mihawk"

"No need to thank me (Y/N)" He said softly, a hint of a smile on his lips as he met your gaze. As you opened your mouth to say something sjddently a butterknife flew through the air and stuck in the wood 3 inches from Mihawk's face making both of you jump in surprise and you squeak out a hushed scream. Turning to see Alucare, still in his sleeping clothes hair a mess and sleep in his gaze staring at you two.

"Oops My hand slipped-"

You sighed at your son and place your hand on your hips walking towards him.

"We both know damn well that was no accident Alucare!" You scolded your son who stood there calming taking it, His eyes locked onto Mihawk who glared at the boy with vengeance.

After 30 minutes of being scolded you ordered Aluecare to get ready for the day as you finished breakfast. Mihawk instead going out to the grove of trees were he knew Alucare would come to train before heading to school- On cue Alucare made an appearance and smirked at the clearly grumpy man sharpening his sword.

"Blue Balls?-" Alucare chimed, earning another frightful glare from the Warlord.

"So you are doing it on purpose-" Mihawk grumbled, continuing to sharpen the blade and stare at his spawn.

"Doing what?" the teen chimed crossing his arms with a continued stoic face.

"She was a date of mine long before she was your mother-" Mihawk brought up, pointing a finger in the direction of the house were you where.

"Ah yes Im sure that alleyway is a great dating spot" He deadpanned which made Mihawk close his mouth in a firm line. Standing up and putting his sword away.

"If you keep this up lad- you will not like me"

"I barely tolerate you now-" Alucare said with a raised eyebrow and scoffed as Mihawk smirked at him. Standing up with a nod.

"I'm warning you now boy- My only warning" He said before dismissing himself back inside.

Alucare left for school then, still with Mihawks words in mind.

That day Mihawk accompanied you with your daily errands. Getting groceries, clothes and more. You and him talk throughout the day, Blushing at his flirtatious manner for the day.

Once returned back home Mihawk had his hand on your hip as you served him wine. A pink color to your cheeks as you felt his hand upon you.

"You look really lovely (Y/N)... I'm am pleased i-" He was cut off by a loud cough, turning to see Alucare there with his face wrinkled in absolute disgust.

Mihawk narrowed his eyes at Alucare who had just interrupted him-

"Aren't you suppose to be in school?" He started as he stared at the living clone of him. Watching Alucare cross his arms and swagger to the side. You looked to the side embrassed by being caught like this, dismissing yourself quickly upstairs.

"I finished early- Just like you" Alucare said with a sarcastic smirk clearly teasing him, The Warlord glaring at his own spawn for the quip at him.

"....Did your mother teach you this level of disrespect?-" Mihawk started, as he stood up from his seat.

"Call it an inherited skill" He said calmly, watching the Warlord walk to him and stand before him. Silence falling between the two before Mihawk dismissed himself to the livingroom.

The game was set it seemed.

Alucare kept his guard up for days afterwards, seeing how calm Mihawk had been since he had cockblocked him once again. Being incredibly respectful to you and damn near kind to Alucare, at first he had been incredibly suspicious however after day 4 he had grown used to it.. That was his mistake.

You had been cleaning up something in the livinroom, you had noticed Mihawks attitude had cooled with you quite a bit. Worried you may have offended him in some way however you choose not to dwell on such things.

As you cleaned you felt a presents come behind you- it didn't take a genius to guess who. Turning to see Mihawk, seemingly fresh from the shower as he was simply in trousers and warm from the water. You blushed and turned away once more, feeling his hands on the small of your back first.

"(Y/N).." He started, his other hand finding yours as he moved the two of you in a gently sway with your back against his chest. Your resolve utterly breaking at this point.

"I feel like, I've neglected you in some way" He says softly, his lips drifting down your neck as you. You feeling weak to the knees as he did this, his fingers finding their way to your waist pulling you closer.

It was an hour before Alucare returned home, bag slung over his shoulder as walking into his home, about to call out like he normally did till be saw it-

There laid you and Mihawk clearly naked under some of the thinnest goddammit blankets in the house on the livingroom couch.

"AH FUCKING HELL!"

You heard a yell and sat up from the couch with the blanket pulled up to your bust. Seeing Alucare with a look of what can only be described as pure horror on what he was seeing his parents like this-

"O-Oh gods honey! What are you doing back so early!" You scramble red in the face as Mihawk lays there under the blankets, looking right at his son with a low smirk.

"You prick!" Alucare yelled at his father as he walked out again, wishing to burn his eyes out from what he saw. Hearing the low chuckle from his father behind him and you frantically scolding Mihawk.

He had won-

TAG LIST-

@lunanight1021 @lolavegas20 @cuteastrash @thatcharmingmushroom @marsilis @thesadvampire @amecchii @zaphira-san @matronofthevoid @mothmans-left-nipple @hoe4fiction @manyimaginativemuses @alyholmes02 @arianyo @chaoticpercy-jacksonkid @lansy-4 @skeetyeetyote @untoldshortsofthefandoms @dank-memes19

[milaisreading]

hiii!! I've been reading your latest updates and I really loved your the toddler ones, can you please make one where the manager was with their nephew and the child looks like a mix of them and Sae, and Sae meet them while they were out and went with them throughout the day and even went to the zoo acting like the parents, and then came the paparazzi posting the news that their already married with a kid. I really want to see the boys reactions since their overseas

Author: Lmao the idea took me to out! LOVED IT! Here u go and I hope u like it! Thanks for the request 🩷

Warnings ⚠️: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open.

⚽️Blue lock belongs to:Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

One thing (Y/n) cherished a lot was her time off, not only will she have time to recharge and do whatever she wants, but also will have time to visit her older step-brother and his family. Ever since he left Japan to work in Portugal and got married there, (Y/n) only saw him during the holidays. They were pretty close growing up and it stayed that way to this day. So the 2 weeks break she got from the Bastard München team she used to fly out to Lisbon and spend her time with her brother, sister-in-law and her little nephew. Today (Y/n) took the little boy out and planned a zoo trip, some arcade games and dinner.

"Aunty! Can we please get ice cream after this?!" The red-haired boy asked (Y/n), who tightly held his hand as they walked through the crowd of people.

"Huh? Sure thing, Marc but you have to listen to me and not let my hand go, alright?" (Y/n) asked as the little boy nodded his head quickly. The older smiled at the redhead and finally got to the less crowded part of the sidewalk.

"Will we see lions there?"

"If course! A big, big family of lions!" (Y/n) grinned as Marc cheered. The girl smiled at the 4-year-olds reaction, but it was soon wiped off of her face as she felt someone grab her shoulder.

"What the?!" (Y/n) turned around and hid Marc behind herself as she looked at the person in front of her.

"Hey, sorry for scaring you. I didn't want to yell across the street and get unwanted attention."

Recognizing the voice, (Y/n) sighed in relief as Sae took of his mask and gave her a small nod.

"Sae-san, I didn't expect seeing you in Portugal of all places." The girl said, relaxing as Marc looked up at the redhead.

"Wah! You are Sae Itoshi! I am a huge fan!" The little boy exclaimed as he ran to hug Sae's leg.

"Marc, don't do that! It's rude to hug people out of nowhere." (Y/n) started scolding the boy, but Sae interrupted her as he crouched down to look the boy in the eyes.

"It's nice to meet you, Marc. Do you want to be a football player too?"

"Yeah! I want to play forward like you! My dad will enroll me in a club in two years!" Marc cheered, excited to that one of his idols was standing in front of him.

"Really? Do you have a favorite club?"

"Bastard München!" Marc said, causing Sae to raise his eyebrow.

"And why that?"

Marc grinned and grabbed (Y/n)'s leg while puffing out his chest.

"Because my aunty is their manager!" The said girl blushed a little and picked Marc up and Sae stood up straight.

"Ahh... that shouldn't really be your sole reason, Marc." (Y/n) told the redhead.

"Why? It's a good reason!" The boy pouted as Sae spoke up again.

"He is right, the reasoning is pretty good."

"What?" The girl wondered as Sae moved closer.

"I mean, you as a manager in Bastard is enough of a reason to like the club. I will tell you a secret, Marc. I am a fan of Bastard too, thanks to your aunty." Sae said, pretending to whisper it as Marc cheered. (Y/n) was meanwhile blushing a little from those words.

"A-ah... you flatter me too much, Sae-san."

"Not enough, in my opinion."

'Why is he so nonchalant?!' She thought as Marc waved her hand around, catching both of their attention.

"Can Sae-san please come with us today? Please, aunty." The boy gave the girl his usual puppy eyes and (Y/n) groaned.

"Marc, I am sure Sae-san has better things to do-"

"I really don't." Sae interrupted, getting the attention of the duo.

"I just finished an interview and am pretty much free for the rest of the day. Where are you two going?" Marc cheered at that, saying how they plan on going to the zoo.

"Are you sure we won't be a bother?" (Y/n) asked as Sae nodded his head.

"Yeah, let's go then. The zoo might get crowded again." The redhead told her calmly and she nodded her head. Putting Marc down, the boy hugged Sae's leg again. Before (Y/n) could scold him tho, the football player took the boy's hand.

"Shall we go?" Sae asked and (Y/n) nodded her head.

'I need to tell my manager to cancel those interviews for today.' Sae thought as he took his phone out.

'He is really good with kids and always so relaxed.' (Y/n) thought, smiling a little.

"I have unbelievable news! No sir, this is for the headliners!" The man who interviewed Sae just mere minutes ago said as he saw the interaction between the football player, (Y/n) and Marc.

"Yes, it's about THE Sae Itoshi. Listen, I will bring you the pictures and you will see what I mean." The man said, quickly following after them.

"Giraffes! Look!" Marc yelled excitedly as Sae lifted him up to get a better look at the animal. (Y/n) smiled and took a picture of the two, making sure the animal was in it too.

"They are really cute, Marc. There is even a baby over there." (Y/n) pointed excitedly as the boy turned to look at it.

"You want to take another picture?" Sae asked as (Y/n) shook her head.

"You probably had enough of that for the day-"

"I don't mind. Just take a picture." Sae said gently and she thought over it for a moment.

"Don't think too much about it, I am fine with you taking pictures."

"A-alright." (Y/n) answered, flustered with how he worded it. She took the picture and Sae put Marc down and she approached them.

"Do you want to see the lions next?" (Y/n) asked Marc and he nodded his head, grabbing the girl's hand.

"Let's go!"

Chuckling Sae followed after them, neither noticing the same reporter taking pictures of them. But aside from the reporter, a few football fans recognized Sae from the distance. Both shocked at the sight of the player with a redhaired kid and the Bastard München manager.

"Are they dating?"

"They could be married too. Look at the kid." The boy said to his friend, who inspected Marc's hair.

"Oh shit! It looks eerily similar to Sae's..."

"Maybe that dating rumor from a year ago had some truth to it..." The two said in sync.

"So, where do you want to go and eat?" Sae asked as they left the zoo while he held one of Marc's hand and (Y/n) held the other.

"I think there is a nice restaurant nearby, based on my research. They also have a cute playground for kids." Marc's eyes lightened up at that and Sae nodded his head.

"Did you have a weird feeling that we are being watched?" (Y/n) asked as Sae looked around in confusion, shaking his head.

"Not really. But enough of that, did you think about the offer?" (Y/n)'s breath hitched and she looked at Sae, who was sporting a serious expression.

"About that... I don't know..."

Sae sighed and nodded his head.

"Alright."

'I will wait, even if it takes years.'

"Say, I will be leaving for Madrid tomorrow evening. Want to meet up for breakfast?" Sae asked as (Y/n) thought the offer over and nodded her head.

"Sure. The hotel I am staying has a restaurant, the food is pretty good, we can meet up there." She suggested. The older Itoshi said nothing as he nodded his head, satisfied with how the day was ending.

The next day Sae arrived at the said hotel and immediately felt like something was off. Everyone at the reception was looking at him oddly and were whispering when (Y/n) joined him. While both were used to those things, due to their club connections, this was pretty off.

"Am I wearing my clothes the wrong way?" (Y/n) asked Sae as they waited for their meal. Sae took a sip from his coffee and shook his head.

"No, but it is weird how many people are looking at us..."

Just then, a waitress approached the two, clearly nervous as she held onto her phone.

"E-Excuse me..." She said.

"Yes?" (Y/n) said calmly, nudging Sae who still held his stoic look.

"Can... we were asked to take a picture of you two? It's not really everyday we have guests of your status here."

"Our status?" (Y/n) raised her eyebrow.

"Sure, but please make it quick." Sae sighed as the waitress quickly nodded her head and snapped 2 pictures.

"Thank you so much, Mr. and Mrs. Itoshi. By the way, you son is really adorable." The girl said as (Y/n) spat out her drink back into the cup. Flabbergasted, Sae watched the girl walk off and both were left to look at each other weirdly.

"What was that about?" Sae wondered as (Y/n)'s phone rang. Recovering from her shock she took the phone and looked down at the display.

'Ness? Why is he calling?' (Y/n) thought as she took the call.

"H-hello-"

"Where is he?! Where is the bastard unable to use a condom?!" Kaiser's loud yelling boomed through the phone and (Y/n) flinched a little.

"What? Who? And why are you using Ness' phone, Kaiser? Where is he?" Sae furrowed his eyebrows as he observed the scene.

"Ness is currently passed out thanks to your beloved hubby." Kasier growled.

"Hubby? Who? I didn't even have a boyfriend yet-"

"Ja ja, now where is he?"

"Who?"

Kaiser sighed from the other side and tried to speak up more calmly.

"Sae Itoshi, where is he?"

"Sae-san? He is here-"

"Give him the phone. And you will have a talk with the PR team for this once you come back."

"About what?" (Y/n)'s eyes widened and she nervously looked at Sae.

"You secretly marrying Sae and him not being able to control himself. Or better yet, wear a condom. The news about you two having a lovey-dovey time with your son yesterday is all over Germany." (Y/n) chocked on her spit and Sae got up from his seat to check on her.

"Are you alright? Give me the phone?" The redhead said.

"Kaiser, that was my nephew-"

"Is that Itoshi?! Give him to me!"

(Y/n) let out a groan as Sae took the phone from her and she put her head in her hands.

"Everything will be alright. Calm down." Sae said calmly as he kept on ignoring Kaiser's yelling.

Bastard München...

"Why is Kaiser yelling on the phone? And what even happened to Ness?" Isagi asked Noel, who was on the phone texting someone.

"Yukimiya, come help me lift him up." Kunigami called the brunette over.

"Kaiser is yelling at Sae right now and Ness passed out when we got a call from our PR team."

"What even happened? It can't be bad enough for Ness to pass out." Hiori comments as Kurona stared at Kaiser, who was switching from English to German.

"And what does Sae have to do with this?"

"Apparently Sae and (Y/n) are married and have a kid. A reporter in Portugal caught them yesterday." Noel explained as he showed Isagi an article. Kunigami and Yukimiya froze in their spots, causing Ness to fall on the ground again.

"What?!" The two exclaimed as Isagi went to grab Kaiser's phone and talk with Sae himself. Hiori and Kurona had completely opposite reactions. Kurona went completely numb while Hiori went to throw up in a nearby trash can.

"What's with all this yelling?" Gagamaru raised his eyebrow while walking into the locker room.

Barcha....

"Now... I know you two are mad..."  Lavinho said from the other side of the locked door, flinching as Otoya tried to kick it open again.

"We are not mad~" Bachira answered and Lavinho rolled his eyes.

"Listen, shit happens. So what if Sae married (Y/n) and they have a kid together-"

Lavinho cut himself off as Otoya kicked the door harder.

"At least he took responsibility-"

"He should have stayed away, simple." Otoya said back in malice, and Lavinho could only imagine the expression he had on his face.

"Please let us out, Lavinho. We won't do anything."

"Bachira... you went into rage and nearly kicked someone unconscious."

"So what?!"

Lavinho facepalmed, already knowing that the match between Barcha and Madrid will be even more hostile than needed to be.

Ubers...

"No Oliver, you can not drop kick Sae. I already told you that."  Snuffy said as he glared at his 4 Japanese players.

"Great, then I can-"

"No Baro, also not kick a ball to his face. Can you stop crying, Niko? So what if (Y/n) gave birth to Sae's kid-"

"Don't even finish that sentence! We are grieving!" Aryu said, now crying along with Niko. Snuffy rolled his eyes as Lorenzo kept Oliver and Baro from escaping.

"We should honestly forbid you 4 from leaving Italy." The coach commented.

"He touched our manager, we are allowed to beat him up for that!" Baro argued.

"Well, he didn't do anything illegal. Sae is her husband now-"

"Lorenzo, shut the hell up! Don't say such blasphemy!" Oliver cried out as he fell on the grass field.

Manshine...

"I am kind of offended they didn't tell us anything. Their child looks cute tho!" Chris grinned as Chigiri cried into the table.

"I agree with you, Chigiri. You think they will invite us to their anniversary? Oh, I have so many decoration ideas."

"I rather you break my right leg. What's the point of playing anymore? What's the point of living?" Chigiri cried out.

Meanwhile in the medical room Nagi was slowly waking up from his slumber while Reo was calling someone.

"What happened? What day is it? Did we win the World Cup?" Nagi asked as he sat up. Reo looked over at his friend and shook his head.

"Today is Friday, we didn't win the World Cup yet and an article came out of (Y/n) and Sae being married and having a child." Reo explained as Nagi nodded his head.

"(Y/n) and... Sae have a... child?" The albino asked as his eyes slowly widened. Reo nodded his head and watched as Nagi fainted again.

'This is like the 3rd time...' The purple-haired boy thought.

"Hello, Reo what did you need?" A woman's voice was heard from the other side.

"Hey mom, I have a question for you."

"What is it?" The woman yawned.

"How would you feel if I married a widow with a child?" Reo asked, sounding serious as ever.

"What?!"

"Just asking, hypothetically."

PXG...

"Shidou, give me my phone back!" Karasu sighed as he put his pants on, watching as the younger Itoshi chased Shidou around, who held his phone as he laughed.

'This is like kindergarten.' Karasu thought as the phone in question started ringing.

Shidou looked at the display and grinned.

"Oh! It's your mom, Rinnie!"

"Give me my phone, you imbecile!" Rin yelled as Shidou shook his head.

"Nah, this is what you get for not passing even one ball to me." The blonde sighed and answered the call, putting it on speaker.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

"What?! Rin, is that you?!" The boy bit back a groan and chose to answer as Karasu and Shidou watched the scene in amusement.

"Sorry mom, what did you need?" Rin asked.

"I need you to pick the next possible flight to Portugal!"

"Why Portugal?"

"We are going to meet your nephew and our grandson!" His mom's words nearly caused Shidou to drop the phone as all three stared at it in shock.

"Nephew?! Did Sae knock someone up?!" Rin asked as Karasu held back a gasp.

"Not someone! It turns out my baby got married without even telling us and has a child with the girl. Your father is trying to reach him but he isn't picking up."

"Married?! Who?!" Shidou yelled, quickly covering up his mouth after that.

"Who?!" Rin repeated.

"Remember your manager in Blue Lock, (L/n) (Y/n) was it? Well her! Oh! They look so adorable! And the child even has Sae's hair color!" His mom gushed as Karasu's jaw dropped along with Shidou's. Rin's body meanwhile shook with rage as he calmly took back his phone and went to take his stuff.

"Yeah... I am on my way there." Rin said as he held back a scream.

"Good! Give Sae a hug from us! We will be there as soon as possible too." With that his mom ended the call and he walked out of the locker room, leaving his two shocked teammates behind.

"I sure will... it will leave him breathless." Rin murmured, hitting a nearby wall.

[gojosatoruwifey]

ㅡYǒu yuán qiān lǐ lái xiāng huì

✑ s2 is announced and i can't wait anymore ♡(◕ᗜ◕✿)

✿ warning/s: suggestive , fluff , crack , making out , first time , hickeys , implications of doing nasty things (❦ ᴗ ❦ ✿) , mentions of insecurity and loneliness , mention of dual cultivation (◔◡◔✿) , sexual jokes , sexually frustrated chung myung is fun to tease , this was supposed to be smutty but oh well , tell me if i missed something!

✿ character/s: chung myung , brief appearance of mount hua sajaes and sahyungs

chung myung has always been weak to your touch.

he can’t even fathom where and when did it start. all he knows is that when your skin grazes at his, he instinctively exposes his vulnerabilities—one that he doesn’t dare to show to others, this is only reserved for you. this is what conclusion chung myung has arrived at—be it a touch of concern when the other is injured or properly correcting a stance when sparring, his heart is weak to you, and again, in this new body, things are the same, if not then, much worser.

chung myung can’t explain the flaming blush painting on his cheeks to his ears as you loom over him in the bed. top bare at your mercy and your wanton gaze. in the dim room where your lover is beautifully moon-litted, can one blame to admire such a masterpiece?

the silence was too much to bear and chung myung, who is getting impatient, grumpily says, “what? you’re staring too much.” 

he is getting insecure, his tight hold on your waist told you so, thoughts of ‘what if i don’t satisfy you as i used to?’ and you merely chuckled at his unsaid words and foolish thoughts twisting his reality and promises that you see in his eyes that is throwing daggers at you. with a kiss on his forehead, you assured him. “now, now. impatience will get you nowhere.”

“i am not being impatient. you’re taking too long–”

“i much prefer to take the deflowering slow–”

“stop talking. all that mouth does is spout nonsense.” once he realizes the words he spoke, chung myung knows he’ll be the subject of your teasing as you grinned at him. the erotic past surfaced in his memories causing him to be frustrated at his poor choice of words.

“oh?” you amusedly tilted your head. “i bet this mouth can also–” a pair of lips collides with yours as chung myung grabbed your nape closer to him, effectively shutting you up as you returned his kiss. “hm, i wonder who is the idiot suggested that we cultivate together and now getting shy because it’s his first time?”

chung myung groaned and buried his face in your neck as a sign of defeat. his arms caging you to him as he holds you tight. he will get his revenge, really. maybe not now but sooner or later, he’ll give you the taste of your medicine for making fun of him.

“can i see you?” he heard you softly ask. you moved yet it is proven hard when chung myung has not loosened his hold, instead, you successfully cupped his cheeks and he let you as he looks up at you, his eyes glaring. being the receiving end of his restlessness, you coax him with kisses showering him with affection. cheeks, temples, eyelids, nose, no part of his face left unmissed. what a baby.

to your delight, chung myung met your eyes and the anticipation got the both of you dazed as he captured your lips to a sensual kiss, making you lose track of time, his touch that you’re deprived of for hundred of years pushing you to feel him as if he is just a figment of your imagination, the loneliness eating you away that you endured and as chung myung’s calloused, warm hand caressing your thigh and the other one is on your lower back and you’re convinced that he is here and in your arms.

the remnants of the night are the inexcusable flowers blooming in your skin underneath your dark clothes and the strong urge to wipe the smug grin on chung myung’s face the next morning as he watches you struggling to lift your weak legs to wear your pants. in the midst of your walk, your legs had given up on you and now it’s your turn to hide your adorably pouting face on his chest as he carries you to the second floor where the breakfast is held, receiving left and right concerns from the sajaes and sahyungs. 

Yǒu yuán qiān lǐ lái xiāng huì - Fate brings together those that are a thousand miles apart.

[zeltqz]

HARD TO GET [4]

ran haitani has a reputation to uphold. yet it all comes crumbling down when his newest target has no interest in playing his little game. he’s now determined to add your heart to his collect— he is down to do anything

pairings. ran haitani x f!reader

tags. drinking, blackmail, angst, explicit sexual content, smoking, loss of virginity, bullying, introverted reader, misogyny, mental breakdowns, reader hurts ran’s pride & ego, slow burn

word count: 4.4k

notes: annoying smelly drunk mf tries to get on you so tw for that other than that enjoy horny ran ig

one , two , three , four , five , six

if you want to be tagged for this series : click here

The following day, Ran comes back to the bar along with a lanky dude with black hair and a yellow streak in the middle. You glare at the table not because Ran is there, but because they brought at least 4 girls with them.

Does that bother you? Yes. Should it bother you? No. Should you act like it doesn’t bother you but deep down you know it does? Yes.

After Ran texted you at 2am, you gave him the benefit of the doubt and texted him till the sun started to rise. It was surprisingly relaxing. Maybe it was because you couldn't hear his annoying voice through the text or see his annoyingly attractive face through the screen.

You’ve always been more comfortable texting people rather than talking face to face. Maybe that was the reason why you kind of enjoyed speaking to him. Yea, totally that.

It wasn’t till the natural morning sun hit your room that you finally went to bed, remembering that you had to start your shift in 5 hours. That’s also another reason why you’re in a bad mood. Having 3 hours of sleep-in total wasn’t something you were used to. Especially because Ran is the reason.

To be honest, you knew you were at fault, but blaming Ran was just better. Made you feel more at ease.

You actively try and avoid the table, hoping that Kaash will serve them instead. You deliberately walk directly towards Ran’s table, making him think you’re finally going to serve him just to serve the table directly behind him.

You tried your hardest to keep your poker face on as you smile and talk as sweetly as possible to the middle aged men whilst you wrote down their orders. As soon as you turn around to head back to behind the counter, a hand grabs yours. “Why are you ignoring me?” Ran asks which makes everybody at the table turn to face you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you admit and tug his hand off of your arm. It’s not long until he approaches you at the front whilst you’re talking to Kaash as you’re cutting up lemon and lime to serve with the men’s drinks.

“[Y/N], are you mad at me?”

“No.”

That was a lie and everybody could tell. Even Kaash silently observed as she took a sip of the glass she was holding before realising it was for a customer. She downed it anyways and grabbed another cup to make another drink whilst she listened in on the conversation.

“We were fine this morning, what happened?” Ran asks again, leaning against the counter as he tries to get an actual answer out of you.

“I’m fine.” You turn around to crush some ice into the drink before pouring the cocktail into the glass and placing the sliced lemon and lime on the rim of the glass.

When you turn back around, you saw the small frown on Ran’s face and you feel a little guilty. Damn your sympathy.

“Look, just drop it Ran. I’m not mad at you, I’m just running on 3 hours of sleep, so stop bothering me unless I do something I regret.”

Rans frown fades and his signature smile is back. “Did baby not get her full nights rest?”

“Baby—, I will spit in your drink if you ever call me that again.” You say as Ran leans in closer. “Empty threat.”

You press your lips together, taking a deep breath before gripping the tray with the cocktails on tight and walking around Ran, heading towards the order table.

Ran turns and watches you hand them their drink, “What’s her problem?” he asks Kaash who just shrugs and continues to mix the drinks together. “By the way, I’m Kaash and [Y/N] told me earlier that I’ll be serving you today along with Kiyomi, our other co-worker.”

At this, he whips his head to face her, “What? Why?”

“Tony said she’s doing good upfront but he wants to see how she works behind the scenes, so she will be working in the back with the other workers tonight.”

“Oh.”

The hours go by and Ran hasn’t bothered you all day surprisingly. That was one problem dealt with. But now Kaash wouldn’t shut the fuck up every time she entered the backroom about how her crush was here. She dragged you towards the window which had access to the whole bar and she pointed over at Ran’s table.

“Ran is your crush?” You ask and she shakes her head.

“No! The other dude!” Her finger reaches out and points at the dude with black and yellow hair. “He’s in my business class!” The two of you watched as he stood up from the table and walked off somewhere, displaying all 6 feet 2. Kaash almost fainted seeing how tall he is. Legs wobbling as she found a bench to sit on to catch her breath. “I can’t go out there like this.”

“Breathe Kaash,” Kiyomi says as he rubs her back to soothe her.

You look back through the window, seeing one of the girls intentionally spill cream down their chin. You cringe as you watch her lean towards Ran asking him to remove it for her.

Is she a child?

Ran brings his thumb out and wipes along her chin. He’s about to grab a tissue to remove the cream from his thumb but she leans down and takes the tip of his thumb in her mouth.

EW....

“Fucking whores,” you grumble to yourself, looking away from the window and turning back to your cutting station.

“She’s been doing that all damn day,” Kaash says as she sees your reaction to the PDA going on at that table. “She tried to do the same to Shuji because he had something on his face but I stepped in and wiped it for him.” Her voice drifted off into a dreamy like state as she thought back to the scene. Shuji’s deep voice thanked her as she wiped the corner of his mouth with some tissue.

“Cute,” you say, looking back to the table, seeing Ran’s arm around the girl and your smile dropped instantly. Kiyomi saw your reaction and stepped forward, looking through the window as she examined the scene. “Oh.... I see what’s going on,”

“What? What’s going on?” Kaash stands up and squeezes between the two of you. Her eyes dart around the room until her eyes land on the scene.

She puts your reaction + the visual right in front of her together before gasping. “YOU LIKE HIM!”

You jolt, startled from her screaming so suddenly until her words actually process in your head. “What? Ew, no!”

They both look at you, clearly not believing you. “I’m serious, I don’t .”

They send each other a look.

“I DONT !” You groan before you decide the best thing is to ignore them and focus on cutting these damn limes. “It’s okay if you do, he’s fucking ho—,”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Kaash is about to open her mouth until you cut her off. “Kaash, I will shove this raw lime down your throat if you do not shut up.”

“Hot.”

You raise your hand ready to squirt lime juice in her eyes until Kiyomi steps in between the two of you. “Guys, stop fooling around.” She speaks gently and carefully removes the lime from your hand before you can blind Kaash.

“As much as I’d love to see lime in her eyes—,”

Kaash gasps loudly in betrayal.

“—we still have to work. More people have came in so let’s go.”

***

When Emi and Tony told you there would be a party next weekend at the bar, you had no clue it was the party that Ran was referring to was here at the bar.

You were aware that Emi got invited to a party, but you just assumed it was on campus in someone’s dorm or something. Kaash spent the entire week training you on the do’s and dont’s of tonight and you were feeling very confident that you would do well, but Ran’s appearance threw you off completely.

Especially the way you could feel his stare burning into the back of your head as this random tipsy guy is all over you.

“Excuse me, I have to do my job.” You say, trying not to aggravate the man just as Kaash told you to. Being rude will only upset them and they tend to get violent.

“Let me but you a drink, yeah? I got cash.” He speaks a little too close to your face and you scrunch your nose, the smell of alcohol and beer is so strong and disgusting.

“I work here, I don’t need you to buy me a drink,” you state the obvious, “but thank you for the offer. I’m pretty sure there’s other girls you can buy drinks for.” You try and remove his hand that’s resting on the curve of your hip but instead he just leans in closer and you start to panic.

His hand just isn’t budging.

“I don’t want to buy another girls a drink,” he says, pausing for a moment to burp, “I want youuu~”

A look of panic washes over your face as you desperately try and look around for any of your coworkers, but the bar is filled with so many people that it’s difficult for you to find any. That’s when you lock eyes with Ran.

You look away quickly, back at the man in front of you who keeps on leaning closer with his whiskey scented breath. “Sir, please. I need to do my job.” You bring your hands to his chest and try physically shove him off you.

Instead he just leans towards your ear, whispering, “I’ll tip you extra if you do some special services for me.”

Gross.

“I’m not a prostitue sir. This isn’t the kind of bar for that stuff, please get off me.” You try and stay calm and polite and try and shove at his chest again until the man actually backs away this time.

But it’s not cause of you.

Ran basically lifts the man off the ground by the hold he has on his shirt. “Didn’t she say no? Run along now.”

“W-who are you? Put me down!” The man tries to grab at Ran but fails miserably so he resorts to violence. Clenching his hands into fists and punches Ran straight in the nose.

The impact doesn’t even look like it hurt, looked more like a slap than a punch, Ran didn’t even budge. Except there was blood running down his nose which he wiped away. A breathy laugh escapes his lips as he reaches inside his pocket.

Your eyes dart down and see him pulling out a shiny black metal object. “Ran, I don’t think that’s a good idea-,” you try and stop him but Ran just ignores you and gently pushes you aside. “Ran—,”

The man starts to get scared as he sees a fucking baton tight in Ran’s hold. “Hey, wait— I was just joking, man. It was a joke—,”

“Didn’t find it very funny.” Ran says as he backs the man into a corner. You grab onto Ran’s arm, trying to stop him from hitting the man because he will get kicked out for violence.

“Ran it’s not worth it, just ignore him.” You say as you tug on his jacket sleeve. “Just put it down.”

Ran turns and faces you, seeing the initial look of fear fade from your face, now a small smile resting on your face as you try your hardest to persuade him.

Ran sighs, stuffing his baton back into his pocket. “You got lucky,” Ran turns to face the man who’s backed against the wall, “but if I ever see your face again, I’ll—,”

“Ran.” You say sternly and he shuts up. You notice something dripping down from his nose. “Is that?” You step closer, getting on your tiptoes as you inspect his face. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s whatever.” He shrugs and you roll your eyes. “Come here.” You grab onto his hand and lead him towards the back room where the ice is kept. “Sit down there,” you point to the counter and he obeys, sitting by the edge.

He watches as you grab a paper towel and wet it under the sink before folding it into a ball. You step towards him, standing between his legs as you gently wipe the blood that’s dripping down. Holding the toilet paper down on his nose, you flick your eyes to his face. “Sorry you got hurt cause of me.”

Ran shrugs, “it’s nothing.”

You still can’t help but look guilty. If only you would have pushed him off you sooner this wouldn’t have happened. Ran notices you don’t say anything and examines your face, seeing the way your inner eyebrows are raised and your gaze is fixed downwards.

“You’re cute when you smile,” he says as he lifts your gaze back to his face by your chin. Your lips twitch into a small genuine smile at his words and you feel his thumb run across your bottom lip. “So cute,” he says so quietly you almost don’t hear it.

You flick your gaze to his lips, only to find out there’s a small cut on his lip. You stare at it intensely but Ran misinterprets your gaze. He leans in and presses his lips to yours. Your first initial reaction was shock cause what the actual fuck is going on—

The kiss was only a peck until he pulls away. He rests both of his hands on your hips, holding you to ensure that you can’t run and ruin this moment before leaning back in, this time using his tongue to run across your bottom lip. You squirm in place as your body feels tingly from all this attention, dropping the wet tissue and bring your hands up to his face as you try and control the kiss but fail miserably.

Ran notices and chuckles against your mouth, pulling away as he leaves a trail of kisses down your jawline to your throat, keeping his fingers under your chin to keep your head tilted upwards to give him access.

The door suddenly bursts open and you part from him so quickly, pretending to look for ice in the freezer. Kaash watches with open eyes, blinking fast as you start pulling ice bags out from the freezer.

“What did I just witness—,”

“Nothing.” You say, not making eye contact with Ran or Kaash, just digging in the freezer for more ice even though you have more than enough at this point.

“Ok, got my ice, bye!” You struggle to hold the 5 bags of ice in your hands but manage to make it out of the door, slamming it with your foot behind you.

“She’s a fucking mess,” Kaash says before turning back to Ran. “Soooo, you and [Y/N] huh?”

“What about it?” Ran licks his bottom lip. The taste of you still fresh, lingering on his lips. This was just a teaser, he wants more. No. He needs more.

“If I didn’t burst in here in time, would you two have fucked in here?”

Ran shakes his head, “way too early for that. I plan on taking my time with her. She’s special.”

“Special, huh?” A grin forms on her face that Ran doesn’t like. “Wonder how she will react if she finds out you think she’s special.”

“You won’t dare.” Ran can see what she’s hinting at, knowing that she’s going to open her big mouth and tell you and ruin his chances completely.

“I will,” she says, “unless you do something for me…” she trails off and Ran raises his brow.

“Get Shuji to dance with me. Please?”

“That’s it?” Ran questions and she nods. “Alright, I’ll do my best.” He hops off the counter and heads for the door, “What’s your name?”

“I served you earlier! You know my name!”

Ran made an oops look with his face, trying to remember. “Whatever, it’s Kaash, oh and tell him like I’m sexy and stuff so he can fall for me.”

“No promises,” Ran says as he shuts the door behind him.

You spend the next hour avoiding Ran. You hate this effect he has on you. It’s not right. It’s not you. You’re watching everybody in their own little groups as they talk and dance to the music blasting out of the speakers. The lights in the room shifting from blue to red as if it was setting a mood.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to see who it is. “Dance with me.” Ran phrases it like a command not a suggestion.

“I don’t dance.”

“I can teach you,” he holds his hand for you to take it. You look at it, then back at his face. His stupid hot sexy fucking face that you just want to slap for making your body react to him in a lustful way.

“Fine, only cause I’m bored.” You say as you take his hand. You both know that you’re lying.

Reaching the middle of the floor, Ran presses your back flush against his chest, “just do this, okay?” His fingers trail their way down from your waist to your hips, holding them firm as he controls the movement of your body against his.

Everything seems like a blur. Whenever the two of your bodies make contact, you feel a tingling sensation deep inside you. Ran presses up against you even more. At this point, there’s no gap between the two of you.

You lock eyes with Kaash who’s also dancing with a guy. He lifts his head from her neck and you notice it’s Shuji. She actually managed to dance with him. You mouth the words ‘congratulations’ and she winks at you, mouthing ‘you too’ as she points to Ran who’s behind you right now, hands firm your hips.

You suddenly feel hot and very aware of the situation. Watching the way Kaash turns around facing Shuji, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Am I supposed to be doing that? You question as you look around the room, seeing everybody doing similar actions. You decide to take her lead, turning around and facing Ran which startles him a little.

He preferred the other position because could hide the heat creeping up on his face easier. But now the two of you facing each other, eye to eye, he feels vulnerable.

You wrap your arms around his neck and his grip on you tightens as you press your face into his chest, taking in his scent from his shirt. It makes you feel excited. Almost forgetting who you were dancing with.

Ran can’t take the vulnerability anymore and spins you around, back to the first position. That’s when you feel it, something poking hard against your ass. “You drive me fuckin’ insane,” he pulls you flush against his crotch, “feel what you’re doing to me”

He’s so close to you. You can feel his breath against your ear as he hides his face in the crook of your neck, planting kisses down your shoulder. His hands still controlling the movement and direction of your hips. Every roll of your hips, you come into contact with his hard on.

Ran’s fingers tighten and pulls you even more impossibly closer. You lean your head back, resting against his chest to give him more access. You feel the tickle of his braids on your cheek when his mouth latches onto your exposed skin, sucking hard enough he’s sure there’s going to be a mark.

Everything feels hot that you lose control of your body, listening to your pussy instead. You start to press up against him harder for feel more of him. This wasn’t enough. You needed more.

This was so bad. Code red to be frank. You were getting addicted. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. The longer you stayed, pressed up against him, the more you were aware of his touch. The press of his soft lips along your neck, tongue darting out and licking along your skin. His fingers trailing down your hips, sliding up to wrap around your waist, like he was trapping you between him.

You feel embarrassed, doing such lewd wanton things in public, till you remember where exactly you are. Your eyes dart around the room seeing everybody doing equally lewd things and you’re surprised to see that nobody stripped down and started fucking raw on the floor yet.

You’re brought back to the scene with Ran when you feel the wetness of Ran’s lips make a slow heated path up to your chin. He removes his hands from your waist and tilts your face back to meet his gaze.

Similar to the stare off the two of you had in the back room not that long ago, his eyes drop down to your lips and you sink your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Ran! It’s my turn to dance now,” an annoying voice squeaks out from behind Ran, startling you.

“Later,” he says as he drops his head back down to your neck, his grip on your body practically squeezing you as he tries to drown out the noise of the girl behind him.

“You promised me!” You can hear the pout in her voice. Ran rolls his eyes and he’s so tempted to pick you up and drag you back to the back room so he can have some privacy but you gently remove his hands from your body.

“I have to go do my job, I got distracted,” you apologise to the girl for the distraction. The moment you step away from him, his entire body feels cold. As if your body was the only source of heat within a 10 mile radius.

“Great! Thank you ma’am,” the girl slides into your spot and instantly latches onto his body, trying to replicate the position Ran had you in before.

You watch from behind the bar as she’s all up on him and you can’t help but feel a little jealous. Not jealous, sad actually. The girl was pretty and had a beautiful body and she seemed really into him. You tried to rip your gaze away from the two but it was damn near impossible, your mind subconsciously flicking your eyes down to where there two bodies were connected.

“How’s the party?“ You turn to the voice and see Hotaro who is sitting on the barstool in front of you.

“It’s okay, I guess.” You pour some water into a cup and down it, trying to cool your body down. You look around and see that everybody has drinks and are satisfied so you no longer need to wait and serve people.

“You thirsty?” You ask him and he shakes his head.

Ran eventually gets annoyed with the girl and he rips her off him like she stuck adhesive glue onto her dress and clung to him. His eyes find the table with his friends and leaves the girl alone on the floor as he sits down next to his brother.

“What’s wrong?” Rindou asks the moment his brother sits. “Nothing.” Ran says, grabbing the first drink on the table and downing it, not caring who it belongs to.

“That chick was fucking hot!” Hanma slumps down next to Ran as he approaches the table. “Thanks for telling me about her by the way.”

Ran nods, twirling the glass in his hand, deep in thought. His eyes flick upwards to the bar, seeing you converse with Hotaro and he grips the glass tight when he watches what happens next.

Hotaro cups your cheek as you stare at him through beneath your lashes. Ran can’t make out what he’s saying, but his lips are moving and you smile, similar to the one that you gave him in the back room.

“You’re so pretty. Did I ever mention that?” Hotaro says as he examines your face. You shake your head and he smiles, biting his lip considering whether he should just go for it.

“Can I kiss you?”

No Hotaro you can’t😒

Decided yn needed to stop being a pussy and get some action🐐

[fyodorslave]

JJK| no nut november

all characters are aged-up || minors dni

gojo, megumi, itadori, getou

gojo

- loses on November 1st 9:07 PM (a kinnie moment fr)

- doesn't believe in limiting himself

- woke up and though "naw fuck this😒"

- his trigger was waking up next to you and seeing you sleeping next to him, mouth slightly agape, tank top not doing it's job at covering you as you softly snore innocently

- woke you up at 9:03 am, took 4 minutes convincing you to have sex with him first thing in the morning

- less convincing, more touching

- but who wouldn't say yes to this fine ass man🤞🏽

- tells everyone he still hasn't lost, smirks at you while doing so knowing damn well he fucks you dumb every night

itadori

- lasted two weeks

- definitely tried hard, and was weirdly determined

- saw somewhere online that if you win, the first nut in december is so good, you'll see heaven

- avoided touching you as much, stopped hugging you form the back knowing that if your ass is all up on his dick, he wouldn't be able to control himself

- lost when you accidentally rubbed your hand on his crotch, got hard instantly and swears he was about to come right then and there

- excused himself to go to the bathroom to deal with it, let you come in after you heard his soft grunts from outside

- you helped him get off but it soon ended with him bending you over the bathroom sink and fucking you silly

- would go many rounds, what would you expect? baby has been so touch starved

- told todo and todo took it personally, told yuuji he can't participate in destroy dick december because he's a disgrace

- goddamn

megumi

- mf won 💯

- lets get this clear, he has a high sex drive i just KNOW IT

- there were many times all he wanted to do was shove his cock in your mouth

- like the time you took him clothes shopping and put on an outfit which revealed more than necessary

- wanted to push you against a wall and fuck some sense into you

- but he controlled himself, he has good self control or whatever

- wasn't really interested in this challenge until you teased him, won just to shut you up.

- also made shut you up by making up for a whole month of not having sex

- cancelled plans just so he could show you just how much he missed your pussy

- doesn't matter how overstimulated you are, he will get his months worth + more, i mean why can't he? you missed his cock just as much as he missed you ♡

getou

- can't lose if you never start mentality

- does not give two shits about this challenge

- doesn't believe in no not november, only believes in non-stop nutting november

- infact, he'd use this month as an excuse to fuck you MORE

- who's gonna stop him from fucking his parter? not a damn trend thats for sure.

- would fuck you harder if he knows gojo is next door. like i said he doesn't care about the no nut novemeber craze, but that doesn't mean he won't take advantage of the thin walls to make his best friend lose.

- if you were to participate in this trend, he would do everything in his power to make you lose

- would successfully win, call yourself a gojo kinnie by the way you'd also lose on november 1st 9:07 am.

i made this at night and tumblr deleted everything so i had to rewrite it

[mochiswifey]

HOOKED

Bonten Ran X Just Not Falling For Him Reader

CW: * Drugs * Alcohol * Strippers * Mention of smut * Asshole Ran * Savage Y/N

When Mr. Gets everything he wants suddenly meets Ms. Nope Not Me.

Ran Haitani. A man who's famously known to be a manslut like Haruchiyo Akashi.... Maybe even worst? You see. Unlike Haru he showers his one night stands sweet promising words only for them to see him with a new woman the next day. It breaks their hearts and a very nasty scene will always follow after the woman he slept with the day before sees him with a new woman the next. It's very horrible to see gorgeous women fight for an asshole like him.

But to Ran, it's all humor and a very fun way to spend his free time.

What a fucking asshole.

It's always been like that and not once did he cared. Until he met you. To him it was just a normal night. Girls fighting to be with him. Alcohol, drugs, strippers, and you?

The way you sway your hips side to side. The way your hair bounce as you dance. It was all too perfect.

He could only focus to you. The girls, the loud music, and the blinding neon lights became nothing.

It was just you.

A smirk appeared on his face and not long after that, you two were all over each other almost tripping on your way inside the hotel room. Ran thought it'll be like any other day.

But oh, fucking boy. He was so goddamn wrong.

You were too fucking addictive. The way you taste. The way your eyes shows nothing but lust. The way you let him fuck you and the way you pushed him down and fucked him. It was so goddamn memorable.

4:30 am

Ran's eyes always open in that exact time. And it was the same with you the only thing different from the usual routine of his is, you were already gone before he could even leave.

Not only did it hurt his ego but your bold act of leaving him without giving your phone number intrigued him to the point where he ordered his men to search for your location.

He was overjoyed when he found out you were working nearby Bonten's HQ. He immediately paid you a visit. He was so excited to see your reaction of him visiting you at your work.

He expected you to smile, be flattered. And maybe gave him a kiss. But to his disappointment.

You did nothing of what he had expected.

"Welcome, how may I help you?"

Was all you said. His eyes twiched because his expectation wasn't met and he stared at you for a good minute.

"If you're not ordering anything please step aside-"

"We fucked last night."

You squint your eyes and simply shrugged totally unbothered by his words.

"Okay.... So, how may I help you?"

WASTED flashed into his mind as your expression shows him that you didn't really care if you fucked him last night. Your expression even gave him the impression that you didn't remember him instantly KOing his goddamn inflated ego and narcissist self.

"I-I I'm taking you out on a date." His voice came out weak at first totally shock that he's asking you out. He never asked girls out. But he tried finishing it strong by making it a demand.

"Bruh, you're in a goddamn bakery if you're not gonna order get the hell out."

His eyes widen and he was totally done. "I'M RAN HAITANI YOU SHOULD BE ON YOUR KNEES THANKING ME FOR ASKING YOU OUT!" He yelled and you looked at him like he's some lunatic. (He is.)

"Well, I'm Y/N daughter of SpongeBob. Mother of Patrick. Ruler of the seven kingdoms and I'm asking you to get the hell out of my line."

You were pissed and frankly contemplating on throwing coffee on his face. You know you fucked someone last night but it was just one night stand. No strings attached.

But to the all mighty son of a goddamn whore Ran Haitani? You're now his new favorite girl. A very rare one. Not many girls have got him hooked before. Matter of fact you're the first one to have gotten him so hooked.

He sees you as a girl perfectly made for him but the tables have turn because you see him as a manslut nothing more nothing less. Your face shows utter disgust whenever he shows up to your work and maybe that's one of the reason he got so hooked.

And now, he's chasing after you. That's so unlike of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading. Reblogs and Replies are greatly appreciated.

Don't copy.

A/N Going back to studying?It's too fucking stressful so I wrote something about Ran.

[akira627]

Adepti of Wangshu Inn [Xiao x Male! Adeptus! Reader]

MASTERLIST

Notes: I’m going to be hiatus for a while so please wait for me around 4 or 5 weeks something like that so yeah :)

Oh yeah, even so

Thank you so much for 200 followers! 

Fun fact: Today is my birthday 〇(＞∀＜)〇 so, Happy Birthday to me!  (･ω<)☆

(ノ°∀°)ノ⌒･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

Keep reading

[4ut0p5y]

Can u do a taehoon fic where he trys to confess to the reader <3 off topic but ur pfp is so cute

Pairing; Seong Taehoon x GN!Reader

Warnings; None, a tiny bit of angst if you squint.

A/N; Eheheheh thanks lol. i got dramatic so this got kinda lengthy, the ending is a little rushed but anything for this evil ginger man fr. Enjoy </3.

Seong Taehoon is a man of many, albeit, harsh words, his arrogance radiated from his entire being and he commands attention no matter the circumstance. But most of all, the walls he so meticulously built for himself were meant to last. They were his solace, and he felt the need to be protected from vulnerability at all costs. Especially after what happened in the past. Yet, then he met you.

You were the bane of his existence. The very moment Hobin company introduced you two, he scoffed, your beauty hadn’t gone unnoticed by brunette, and the reddening of his ears and the shakiness of his voice was not ignored. His gaze downcast as you tried your best to be friendly. Fingertips grazing his arm as you introduced yourself to him personally. He was done for from the start.

Your relationship blossomed from there. All the late nights at the company felt more, personal, when it was just the two of you. His gruff voice would always echo through your ears as you nodded off. You’d often be found ‘affectionately’ scolding his bad habits and even indulging in his antics on occasion, it was perfect. You, were perfect and he was terrified. The mere thought of you brought him joy, and he hated it.

He hated your sweet smiles, your soft skin, but most of all, he hated the anxiety that ate him up inside— He couldn’t lose you, he didn’t want to lose you as he had lost before. So, he effectively distanced himself from you. The time spent together diminished, the longing gazes were little to none, even your messages and calls were left unanswered. You couldn’t stay deterred for long. The boy you had met was all scrapes and bruises. But under all that armor, he liked to be led, to be taken by the hand and treated with care. He was caring and protective, even as he was pompous and aloof. You knew him and in your time spent together you knew he couldn’t couldn’t stay away from you.

He felt out of place with sweaty palms and jumbled thoughts. Your door was only a few feet away, but he couldn’t bring himself to knock yet. He missed you just as much as you had missed him. So, after many patronizing conversations with Rumi and Gaeul, he pieced together the words. His confession was planned carefully, he was well aware of his behavior and how running away wasn’t doing him much good. Even his father gave him a swift kick in the right direction.

As a soft knock rang throughout your home, you begrudgingly got up, you had abandoned wallowing in self-pity for more distracting hobbies. Like the dramatic monologuing the author is doing, and as you came face to face with Taehoon, he nearly walked off out of pride. The two of you share uncertain glances before you close the door behind you, crossing your arms over your chest and softly pouting up at him.

“This better be good,” you voice, sounding more upset than you’d like.

“Shut up— fuck, sorry.” He groaned, his hand rubbing the nape of his neck awkwardly. “I am, sorry. Okay?”

You stifled a giggle, quickly turning your head in a weak attempt to ease his embarrassment. Even as he caged you against the nearest wall you carefully guarded his pride. Becoming acutely aware of your position, you couldn’t help but flush a little. He shoots you a playful glare before speaking again.

“Oh, come on, I didn’t even get to the good part, I practiced and everything!” You freely laughed now, taking his hand in yours, you gave a reassuring nod as you joked. “Go on, I bet Gaeul made you do all kinds of evil shit, like practice basic empathy.”

His eyes flickered down to your intertwined hands before darting back to you, he cleared his throat as he leaned down against your ear. “You know, I think I like you a lot more than I'd like to admit. You got some nerve weaseling your way into my head like this, and, I want you to be mine.”

“Hmm, five out of ten. I personally think you could’ve added more enthusiasm—“

A squeak erupted from your throat as he pulled you flush against his chest. Lips smashing against yours, effectively silencing your taunts, as he felt you melt into the kiss, he knew he wouldn’t leave you alone ever again.

[4ut0p5y]

Helloo! If it’s fine with you, can I please ask for nsfw Taehoon Seong and Ji Yeonwoo(seperate) who have a male bottom who has really cute moans? Pls take your time in doing this, no rush!! HAVE A GOOD DAYYY

Pairings; Seong Taehoon x Male!Reader, Ji Yeonwoo x Male!Reader,

Warnings; MDNI, Explicit Smut, Groping, Semi-public sex, Implied unprotected sex, Overstimulation, Taehoon, Yeonwoo favoritism, + Anything else I missed.

A/N; Hdjaisgeuajsh, all I have to say is I had to google “symptoms for moans”. ANYWAYS— NSFW under the cut, hope you enjoy <3.

Taehoon Seong

This menace lmaooo—

He lives for your moans, always teasing and toying with your body until you give in.

Maybe he’ll drag his rough hands down your sides and grope your waist, soft lips pressed against your neck as he leaves bites and hickeys. Straining his own neck to groan into your ear about how pretty you sound just for him.

Or, he’ll shove you into an isolated corner of his favorite arcade. It’s late at night and reasonably empty as the neon lights glare down on the two of you. As he grinds his leg between your thighs, he can’t help but roll his eyes at you when you try hiding away your cute little whines. He almost had to flex his upper thigh and swiftly rock your cock against it until you finally relent, your soft mewls echoing against the walls.

His favorite moments are when he’s stuffed deep inside of you. His strong arms wrapped around your middle as he softly ruts against your prostate. You just feel so good wrapped around him like this. Your incoherent babbling mixed with his guttural groans when you’re both nearing a shared release.

Yeonwoo Ji

Yeonwoo, the loml, my little meow meow—

He finds your moans just adorable. His glasses fogged as his bandaged hands are shoved down your pants. He ghosts his fingers against your boxers until he drags those sweet sounds from your open mouth. You’d think he’s the embarrassed one with the way he flushes. He’s nearly whimpering into the crook of your neck about how he wants to hear you again and again.

Maybe he’s all sweaty from training. He leads you into the shower, your bodies quickly tangling together in the small space, your arms sling around his shoulders as he lifts you against the wall with ease. You can’t help but let out soft sobs as he fucks into you, adrenaline still running through his veins and bloodied knuckles stinging under the hot water. He needs to hear you, when he’s buried balls deep inside of you, the world simply disappears around him. Love-sick eyes boring into yours as he ignores the rapid bangs against the bathroom door.

Yeonwoo, is a curious one. A near sadistic glint in his eyes as he snaps his hips against your own, brown hair clinging to his damp skin and hands in a bruising grip. His glasses were long forgotten somewhere on the bed but, the muscle memory is so precise. His cock twitches with each keen, and your overstimulated body shakes underneath him as he presses his front against your back. “So, so, so— pretty. And, all for me, right? Come on, you can say it, go on.“

[operatorsdime]

Ryuhei Realizing he Has a Crush on You

Warnings: NSFW, male masturbation, mention of blowjobs, sexual tension, Ryuhei

Keep reading

[fvckme-sir]

Good mornin every, y’all know what’s heavy on my mind right now?

Loser Eren who daydreams about the pretty preppy guy who sits in front of him in class. He’s constantly bullying you though, because he doesn’t know what else to do. He drops his pencil next to you and he taps your arm, a little harder than necessary and goes “pick that up for me princess?”

When you lean down to get it he can’t help but get a halfie when your head leans down and it’s bobbing a bit as you try to get the pencil without standing before givin you a nice little push outta your seat, making all the materials on your desk fall too. You get yelled at by the teacher for making a disturbance, but all you can think about was the bully’s hand on your lower back.

Or, Loser Eren who just steals your shit all together and makes it obvious to you and only you but then proceeding to play dumb about it. until one day you two were asked to run an errand and Eren yanked the envelope of of the teachers hand, despite them handing it to you. Once you’re out of the classroom you greet passerby’s on the way and you can here him snicker until you finally snap.

You grab the shoulders of his hoodie and slam him against the wall, it making a loud thud.

“What is your fucking problem?”

“Oh, is princess losin face?”

What did i do to make you just despise me so.”

“Nothin.”

“So, in other words, you’re fucking pathetic.”

He lets out a load moan and other lewd noises as he goes “degrade me more!” Which, he wasn’t completely lying.

When he doesn’t stop you slam your palm over his mouth to shut him up and when he’s finally quiet, you realize just how close the two of you are. Once he realizes it too, he takes his chance. He locks his fingers into the belt loop of your pants and spins you, his own arms and larger body pin you between the wall and him.

He leans down so your hand is hovering over your lips before he takes a moment closes his eyes, and kisses it like he’d kiss your mouth, and he’s thought about how he would for a long time.

You didn’t have the heart to pull your hand away, until you did. Jaeger fuckin broke you. You move your hand and wrap your arms around his neck before tugging him down to you in a deep kiss, and that’s when eren finally snaps for himself.

He kisses you hard, lips dominant and warm against your own, both of your cocks hard and grinding against each other’s through your jeans. His tongue lapping at yours and spit being swapped. After a solid 5 minutes, you hear a teacher go “Ahem.” Behind you, and she doesn’t look happy. “Mr Jaeger, Mr (name), office, now.”

You don’t care though, you’re too high on the kiss, feeling like your feet aren’t even touching the ground. As you and Eren walk down you pull out your phone, open up a contact, and hand Eren your phone.

“Let’s finish this later, jaeger.”

[reallyromealone]

Smiley x Haitani!male reader part 2

Im on a roll rn, also how are all of you? Have you eaten?

Warning: big bros big mad and swearing

-------

Ran and rindou were p i s s e d.

Their little brother, the baby of the family was out doing god knows what with fucking Nihoya god damn Kawata! One half of the bane of their existence.

"Oh hes so fucking grounded when I get my hands on him" Ran gritted out as the two hunted the teen down with a rage like no other, violet eyes filled with a fiery rage.

The two lovers eventually made it to a 24 hour convenience store, slushies in hands as Nihoya leaned on his bike, spare hand looping around his boyfriends belt loops as they kissed sweetly in the parking lot, mixing blue and red on their tongues as the sound of two engines rang in the background and the yell of the youngest Haitani's name pulled the two away.

"(NAME) I SWEAR TO GOD YOU GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM!" Ran yelled as the two brothers got off their bikes "seriously (Name)? Him?" Rindou said with a face that could only be described as a mix of disgust and anger as Ran pulled his beloved baby brother behind him "but hes so dreamy! Please don't fight!" (name) said while tugging on his brothers arm, worry bubbling in his chest at the thought of the 3 people he deeply cared about fighting.

"(Name) you could date anyone! Yet you choose literally one of the two worst option--what the f u c k is on your neck" the lot became deathy silent as Ran looked at the reddish purple marks scattered along his brothers neck along with a few bite marks.

"Uuuuuhhh"

"Their called hickeys dumbass" Smiley said with a shit eating grin as he got off his bike, drinks long abandoned and gave the eldest Haitani his signature grin.

"Oh you son of a bitch"

And that's how ran and Nahoya began duking it out in a convenience store parking lot as (Name) was held back by Rindou.

"Seriously (Name), why him?" Rindou asked as they watched the two beat the shit out of each other "he makes me feel all fluttery and like im the only boy in the world! Please don't be mad" (Name) begged his older brother and Rindou was a bit weaker to his baby brother than Ran who had experience to not fall for the puppy eyes.

"Awe babe! Fuckin' adorable!" Nahoya said cheerfully as he socked Ran in the jaw "can you guys stop! Seriously, its getting out of hand! I can date who I want!" (Name) finally yelled as he broke out of his brothers grip and pushed the two battered men apart with a huff "Ran, I really like him! He treats me well and I really like dating him, please don't be mad" (Name) said looking up at his giant of a brother with sad eyes before turning to his boyfriend "I know you guys dont get along but can you please not fight because of me?"

Tears started to build at his eyes and Ran felt his heart crack a bit at his baby brother, and with an angry groan he asked "really (Name) him??" Only to receive a nod from the baby brother who held the smirking pink haired man in his arms like he was a puppy and not his brothers enemy. "I can't believe I'm saying this but f i n e, oh my god I'm going to regret this" ran mumbled as he watched his baby brother cheer.

"Even if you said no I would have still snuck him out again--""I swear to god don't make me beat your ass again".

-------

:)