#but I worry that I’m just way too set in my ways to ever have that now

[onlymurphy]

Worthy of You

SPOILERS: Through Whole Cake Island

First post on Tumblr, wow! Little Sanji angst for your evening.

Safely aboard the Sunny and sailing away from Sanji’s nightmare arranged marriage, you can’t help but worry that your husband has been pushed too far past his limit. Injured, tired, and unsure of himself, Sanji is nothing like the man that left you two weeks ago. Of all your years as friends, crew mates, and lovers, you’ve never seen Sanji so broken, and you worry that the Vinsmokes might be what’s taken him over the edge.

Sanji x fem!reader (no y/n)

Angst | Fluff | Smut

18+ MDNI

TW: Depiction of wounds, parental death, mentions of child abuse.

Cross-Posted on AO3

Request here

“Marry me.” 

You placed a hand on Sanji’s cheek, stroking the blushing skin with your thumb. He looked so sweet - eyes tired, face still tinged red with lust and love. 

“I want to” you whispered back. “We will, Ji.” 

He smiled. You could die happy if the last thing you saw was that beautiful smile.

“No, I mean marry me. I’m asking. I’m proposing, I guess.” 

Marry him. He’s asking.

Of all the things that could have come out of your mouth, you laughed. You didn’t want to laugh at your boyfriend’s vulnerability, his gentile and his romance, but there was no way you were receiving the thing you wanted most in the world on a random Tuesday night in bed. 

You weren’t worthy of being his wife yet. You still had so much you had to give him, so many wounds to heal and things to prove.

He couldn’t possibly want to marry imperfect, frustrating you.

You didn’t have any words for him. You just stared, jaw slack, nothing flowing into your brain. 

“My love?”

You shook your head a bit. “You want to get married?” You stammered. “To me? Now?”

“More than I want to breathe air.”

You had always imagined Sanji’s proposal being more grand than any royal kingdom in the Grand Line. Of course he had always bragged on and on about how he was going to go above and beyond to ensure you said yes. The thought of it had always made you a bit nervous. You weren’t exactly into pomp and circumstance the way Sanji was in public. You were always preferential to this Sanji, soft and squishy Sanji with no walls up between the two of you. Of course you would have said yes no matter how Sanji asked for your hand, but being asked in your bed, not even clothes between you, was a welcome surprise.  

In that moment, thoughts crashed down on your mind like a tidal wave. You saw yourself dressed in white, Sanji in a handsome suit as two of you joined hands and laughed your way through wedding vows. You saw a honeymoon on a crystal clear beach with good drinks and lovemaking. You saw the two of you growing old together, getting a home, having children.

For the first time, you saw a future that went deeper and further than just a few months. You saw forever, a forever you weren’t afraid of.

“Yes” you breathed before you had even realized what you were saying. “Yes. Yes, let’s get married.” 

His lips tore into the largest smile you’d ever seen on his face. He closed the distance between you, pressing his lips hard to yours and pulling you against him by your hips. Nothing was held back. Years of pining and waiting, sacrificing and learning to love one another seemed to burst out from just a single kiss. He lavished you with his lips, his tongue, his teeth, both hands roaming your naked back. It felt like he believed he’d never be able to kiss you again.

“My fiancée” he whispered, pulling back just enough to form the words on his lip. “You’ll be my wife.”

You giggled despite still being breathless from the kiss. “You’ll be my husband.” 

That set him off on a burst of  joy he didn’t appear able to contain. His lips were back on yours in an instant. He rolled you onto his chest, naked bodies pressed together in the already hot, humid room. His lips tasted like sweat and cigarettes, and you were addicted. 

You always had been.

Sanji reached down, grabbing your thighs and pulling them apart across his hips so you were straddling him. 

“Ji” you laughed, rubbing the tip of your nose on his. “We just had sex. You are impossible.” 

He smiled that million berry smile he used to capture your heart in the first place. “You’re my fiancée now” he breathed. “Gotta practice how I’ll make love to you on our wedding night. It has to be perfect.” 

You felt your skin heat up at his words. How was he still able to fluster you after all this time?

“It’s always perfect with you, Sanji.” 

He placed a quick, small kiss on your already swollen lips. “Do you remember the first time? After Drum Island when my back cramped and you had to spend the night waking me up so my back wouldn’t lock up?” 

You laughed out loud at the memory. Your first time being intimate together had been so perfect, sweet and cautious in Alabasta. In the midst of the emotional cries and loving touches, Sanji had cried out in pain, his back injury from Drum Island sending him into agony. Instead of spending the afterglow of sex cuddling and talking in bed, you had to massage his aching muscles and soothe him to sleep. 

It was odd and hilarious and awkward. It was perfectly you two. 

You tapped his nose. “If I have to massage knots out of your back on our wedding night, it will be the best night of my life.”

Sanji flinches away from you when you dab the antiseptic down on his swollen side.

You’ve hurt him. 

Again.  

It breaks you, but you can’t break. Sanji would surely be cut on the pieces trying to put you back together.

“I’m sorry” you breathe, trying to hold your voice steady as the tears that have welled in your eyes threaten to pour. “You’re doing so good, Sanji. Breathe for me.” 

He inhales -albeit shakily- as you press the cloth back down on the wound. No matter how gentle you are, not matter how desperately you try not to bring him anymore pain, it doesn’t matter. He simply can’t handle more.  

He cries out, face twisting in pain as his body slumps forward and tears drip into his hands. 

“Ji?” You begin, bringing an arm around the chair he’s in to help hold him up. “Sanji? Are you passing out?” 

He nods weakly. “My ears are ringing.  I can’t see.” 

You’re able to push him back into the chair enough to steady him before rising to your feet. 

“I’m going to get Chopper. I’m gonna get you in bed first” you tell him, reaching for him. 

He shakes his head. “No Chopper, I’m okay. I’m fine now. It was just the pain.” 

You hesitate. Any other day you’d let Sanji hold onto his pride, but the urge to run for more help is too strong within you. He has to hurt to get better, but you just can’t fucking stand to hurt him anymore. You can’t take it, but you have to.

You tear up the lump in your throat with your teeth and swallow it down.

“Are you positive?” 

He nods. “Keep going.”

You sigh, kneeling back down beside him to continue dressing a gruesome burn on his rib cage. It sickens you physically to look at the damn thing. It stirs something primal in you, something that wants to find everyone that’s ever laid a threatening finger on your Sanji and tear them open. 

“You said they burned you with a cattle prod?” You question. “I’m worried about this, Sanji.” 

“It was something like that, electric pole. Pierced my skin and shocked me.” 

The wound is absolutely hideous, pus covered and dripping a strange orange fluid. It’s been like this since the lot of you returned to the Sunny the day before. Sanji hasn’t told Chopper about it. The doctor is busy caring for other Strawhats that were injured by Big Mom’s crew, and Sanji keeps insisting to you that he’s already been too big a burden on them in the last few weeks. 

It makes you ache, hearing the love of your life call himself a burden.

You try to be gentler this time. You go back in at the wound, Sanji hissing when you do. The antiseptic makes the wound bubble a bit. It drips, blood and pus running down Sanji’s side. 

You’re quick to wipe it away, only to disturb more bruising on his fragile body. Sanji moans, burying his face in his hands. 

“You okay?” You wonder. “You’re almost done.” 

“Thank you, my love.” 

You grab the bandages from beside you, unraveling a large piece. “I’m just glad you’re home and you’re okay.” 

He turns his head to look at you as you spread the bandage over the wound. He looks more exhausted than you’ve ever seen him. Neither of you got any sleep last night, Sanji in too much pain while you fretted over his condition. Though he’d never mention it to the crew, he’s been terribly frightened. Small creaks of the Sunny make him stir. Approaching footsteps make him wrap an arm around you and act as though someone is coming to steal you away.

“You don’t sound like yourself. What’s the matter, my darling?” He asks you, retrieving you from your thoughts.

You don’t answer right away. The entirety of your week has been chewing on your mind since it began, and you still haven’t been able to unravel the entire mess. The image of your husband at the altar with another woman is burned into you brain. No matter how much you try to cover it with memories of the two of you together, you cannot. It’s like a parasite, consuming more and more of your mind the longer you allow it to linger.

“I missed you” you tell him simply. “I hated not knowing if you were dead or hurt. It was killing me.” 

You secure the bandage over his burn and stand up beside him. He frowns.

“I’m here” he promises you. “I’m home. I’m okay, my love.” 

You offer your hands to help him stand. He accepts, taking your hands and pulling himself to unsteady feet. 

“Thank you” he tells you again, his voice much softer now. “My love, I’m so, so, so sorry.”

You’re taken aback by your husband’s sudden shift in mood. His eyes are welling up once again, hands shaking in yours. 

You give him a weak smile. “Sanji, you have nothing to apologize for. You were protecting us and your dad. I understand.”

Despite himself, he gives a little smile when you refer to Zeff as his father. It isn’t a new thing for you. You’ve always felt that way about their relationship, but you’re glad that Sanji seems to finally be comfortable with the idea that Zeff is truly his father. The man surely deserves the title after years of putting up with the antics you and Sanji were able to pull in your youth. You never imagined that he’d be your father in law when you were just a little thing running around Baratie, but the joy of it has been one small bright spot in the last few days.

You scrambled behind your dad’s leg, clinging to the pants of his Marine uniform as you stared up at the man towering before you. No matter how many times you had met Chef Zeff, the former pirate never failed to make you a bit nervous. You were still trying to work out in your mind how you father -a powerful Marine- could be such close friends with a former pirate.

“Zeff” your father greeted politely, reaching out to shake the man’s hand. “How’s business? How’s your boy?” 

The man rolled his eyes. He never quite seemed as polite or cheery as your father. “Business is good. Sanji bit me yesterday.”

Your father’s gruff laughter sent a warm wave through your little chest. 

“Bit you?” You father questioned his friend. “Now why on earth would an eight-year-old bite you?” 

Zeff shrugged. “Kid’s scared of the dark. Patty put a pot on his head last night to tease ‘em and he was cryin’ and screamin’ so hard that he kicked me and bit me when I tried to pick ‘em up.” 

Sanji. Though you had never really met the little boy before, it was always a guarantee that you could catch him staring at you through a crack in the kitchen door. He’d peak his blond head out every few minutes while your family dined, and then dash away when you caught him. It always made your little heart sail, but he had never come out to say hello in the three months your family had been frequenting the Baratie. 

Your dad leaned to peak around his friend, so you did the same. Sure enough, there he was. Sanji stood with half of his face peering out from the double doors to the kitchen. When you spotted him, he nearly pealed from his skin as he turned tail and ran back into the kitchen. 

You dad frowned to Zeff. “Skittish little thing, isn’t he?” 

“Eh” Zeff began. “Wasn’t until a few months ago. Started havin’ nightmares and sleepwalking and all kinds of weird garbage. Odd kid.” 

Nightmares. You knew a thing or two about those.

“Go get the kid” your dad suggested. “This one here’s not exactly a social butterfly either.” 

He placed a hand atop your little head, ruffling your hair much to your discontent. 

Zeff looked unsure, but nodded despite himself. “He won’t come easy, little brat.”

With that, Zeff turned and headed toward the kitchen, leaving you standing in the now quiet restaurant with your dad. He looked down at you, nudging you slightly so you were standing in front of him. 

“Okay” he began, his eyes gentle and calm. “Sanji’s a little bit…different. Be nice.” 

You tilted your head. “I’m always nice, papa.” 

“I know” he assured you. “But Sanji can sometimes be not so nice, but it’s not his fault. You know how when you’re really, really scared at a scary story, and you scream without even thinking about doing it?” 

You nodded. 

“Well, sometimes when bad things happen to people, regular things can feel like hearing a really scary story. They might say things or be mean without realizing they’re doing it.” 

You didn’t quite understand. Bad thing? What bad thing possibly could have happened to such a little boy?

“Oi, Admiral” Zeff called from behind you, pulling you from the conversation with your father. “We got introductions to make.”

You turned, finding Zeff no longer alone. You’d never seen all of Sanji before, just his face. He was a skinny little thing, tall for his age with unkempt blond curls and a scowl on his face that looked permanent. It unsettled you a bit, but you didn’t want to show it. Boys back at home were apt to pick on you, and you weren’t about to let alone get the joy of doing so.

“Sanji” your dad greeted in the same voice he’d use with any other man. “How are you, buddy?” 

Sanji shrugged. That was the only response your father received. 

Zeff nudged the little boy in the back a bit, pointing at you now. 

“Oi, brat. There’s a lady. Say hello.” 

Sanji finally laid his eyes on you, blue and deep like the sea you’d sailed in on. He smiled at last. It was itty bitty, barely there and all deep dimples and cracked lips, but it was enough. Your heart damn near soared from your tiny little ribs. 

You were done for.

You reach up to push some of the hair from Sanji’s eyes. That same sea-blue gaze lands on you, and even though his dimples and freckles are lost to you now, you can picture the boyish face he once had in your mind. 

“I miss my dad” he says finally, breaking the silence that’s fallen over the two of you. “He’s probably burned down Baratie by now.”

For the first time in two weeks, you laugh. Some things just never change. No matter how much Sanji loves Zeff, he’ll never miss the opportunity to insult the man. 

“We haven’t seen him since our wedding” you remind your husband. “We should try to plan a trip home soon, or maybe get my dad to get Zeff to the Grand Line.”

Sanji finally finds it in himself to lower his body down your bed, sitting with a stiff back on the messy sheets. 

“He would never” he scoffs. “He’d make some half ass excuse that it’s our job to come visit an old man.” 

You take a seat next to him and place a gentle hand on his bare back. “We’ll make it work. We always do.” 

He appears to soothe back into your touch. His eyes flutter closed, a deep breath causing his bruised and battered chest to rise and fall. You don’t try to push him any further. Instead, you content yourself with lightly scratching his back.

After a few minutes of this soft silence, he turns his tired eyes to you. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. I love you” you tell him for probably the millionth time today. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do you? How’s your back?” 

You let your hand trail down to the long, straight scar in the curve of his low back. He hums when you run your fingers over it, a pleasant sound that reverberates in his his chest. 

“Sore” he admits. “It’s been sore for weeks.” 

You press two fingers into the muscles of his low back, pulling a low moan from his throat. 

“Fuck” he mutters. “Fuck that hurts.”

“Do you want me to stop?” 

He shakes his head. “Feels good, I think.”

He whines when you pull your hand away and lay it over his.  

“Come on, lay down. I’m gonna rub your back” you direct. “Tell me if it gets to be too much.” 

He does as he’s told, slowly climbing into bed and collapsing onto his front. 

His back has always been scarred, sore and rough. You’ve always been obsessed with ridding him of his shirt and massaging his muscles until he’s snoring away into the pillows. There’s a vulnerability to it, a sense of trust. He has enough faith in your love for him to turn his back on you, loosen his muscles, and let you touch the hurting skin.

You begin the massage the way you do every night. You start at his tight, aching shoulders. They’re a bit freckled, pale and soft when your thumbs begin to work into the muscle. He sighs into the sheets and immediately begins to loosen up beneath you. 

“Feel good?” 

“So fucking good.” 

You continue here for a few minutes before moving downward, careful not to upset the massive burn scar tissue between his shoulder blades. He always twitches and hisses a bit if you touch the marred skin too much. Of all the scars on his body, the ones left by Enel are the most sensitive. They never seem to fully heal. Today, the edges of the burn are raised and red as if it’s becoming irritated all these years later. You abandon the rough digging of your thumbs in favor of running your palms over the mark. 

“I assume you weren’t taking care of this while you were gone?” You hypothesize, running a finger along the burn. 

He shakes his head. “Couldn’t reach it.” 

“Tomorrow we’re taking a long bath and giving you a spa day” you tell him, leaning in to place the ghost of a kiss over the scar before moving your fingers further down his back. 

He snorts out a small laugh. “Spa day?” 

“You know” you begin. “My nice soaps, some lotion, a bath.” 

He rolls his head over on the pillow so you can see his eye. “You mean getting naked, wet, and rubbing each other with lotion?” 

“I hate you.” 

“Then why do you want me naked, wet, and slippery?” 

If he hadn’t had such a horrible time lately, you’d pinch him. He’s laughing beneath you at his own foul, odd words, and all you can do is blush as you laugh along with him. 

“Glad to see this mess hasn’t made you less of a perv” you tease him. 

He winks at you. “The most beautiful lady to ever grace the surface of the planet is on my back in her panties right now talking about sexy massages, and I’m the perv?” 

 “I never said the massage would be sexy.” 

“You could take those panties off and we could make it sexy.” 

Gods, he’s horrible, and Gods you missed him. 

The fun is cut short when your thumb strikes a bad chord in his lower back. He cries out loudly into his pillow, all the muscles in body locking into knots. 

“Sanji!” You gasp, scrambling off his back. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry, Ji. Are you okay?” 

He breathes heavily, exhaling loudly into the fabric. His hands are gripping the pillowcase so hard that his knuckles have gone white. 

“Sanji?”

He nods, but doesn’t speak. 

You can see the muscles in his back spasming a bit, the skin blushed and irritated with inflammation. 

“I’m going to get painkillers from Chopper” you inform him, finally putting your foot down. “You need them, Sanji.” 

He doesn’t argue with you. He just whines into the pillow as he seems to give in. 

You hate to leave him even for a moment, but you want him out of pain as soon as possible. 

The Thousand Sunny is quiet when you step out into the hall. It doesn’t shock you. No one was in particularly good spirits when you left Tatto, and no one wanted to get in the way of Sanji’s recovery. Everyone seemed like they just wanted to tend to their wounds and lie down in their beds. 

You make your way to the infirmary, only the sound of the ocean and your own footsteps to guide you. You’d find it peaceful if such a fresh hell hadn’t just bombarded your crew.

You give a soft knock when you reach the infirmary door. A bit of warmth flows through you when you hear the familiar sound of tiny little hooves clicking across the floor. 

You smile down at the little doctor when he opens the door. “Hey Chop.” 

He returns your joy. “Hi! What are you still doing awake?”

“Oh jeez” you begin, bringing your fingers up to massage the bridge of your nose. “Sanji’s hurting. Do you have a painkiller I can give him?” 

Chopper frowns. “Does he need me? I’m not busy!” 

You shake your head, reaching down to ruffle the doctor’s fur, his hat no where in sight. “I think he just needs some medicine and some rest. He’s grumpy.” 

Chopper’s face is covered in apprehension, but he doesn’t argue. “Come on in, I have stuff.” 

You follow the little reindeer into the room, placing yourself down on the bed as he begins to root through his drawers. 

“What kind of pain is he having?” He wonders, antlers knocking into things on his desk as he searches.

“His back” you reply. “From where Doctorine fixed it. He has a burn, too. It’s bad.” 

Chopper turns his head. “A burn? He didn’t show me a burn.”

“I think he would’ve hid everything from you if he’d been able to” you admit, a bit of guilt suddenly crawling up in your gut. “Something’s up with him. He’s going back and forth between being totally himself and being…odd.”

“Odd?”

“Yeah, like spaced out, I guess? I’m worried.” 

Chopper produces a little vial from his drawer, handing it over to you. “I’m no therapist, but it must have terrible to have to see all those awful people.” 

The green liquid in the vial unsettles you a bit, but you’re in no place to question your doctor. 

“Yeah” you mumble. “It’s so hard to get him to talk to me about stuff. He has this weird ‘men shouldn’t burden their women’ kind of thing.”

Chopper narrows his eyes, seeming to consider your words. 

“Hm” he ponders. “His dad said some pretty mean stuff about him, even just when we were leaving. Do you think they were mean to him about the kind of husband he is to you?” 

This little doctor, always so adorably wise. 

“I didn’t even think of that” you breathe. “You think?”

Chopper crawls up on the bed beside you, swinging his little legs off the ledge as he snuggles up to your side. “If they wanted him to marry the other lady, I don’t think they’d be very nice about you.” 

The thought of it makes your blood boil under your skin. You’ve spent the last decade trying to make Sanji feel like he’s worthy, like he can express himself and share his emotions. Even when you were just two young friends, Sanji could barely accept praise or appreciation. He viewed himself as a burden, and sometimes, it’s clear that he still does. The fact that Judge and those little monsters he made have stripped Sanji of all the progress he’s made is infuriating. 

You wrap your arm around Chopper then, giving the reindeer a tiny squeeze before rising to your feet. 

“Thank you, Chop” you tell him gently, smiling. “You could be a therapist, you know. You give great advice.”

His little hooves come together in a clap, his face pulling into a wide grin. “Stop! I’m just being silly! It’s not like I know anything about everything, ya know!” 

You would do just about anything for Chopper.

 “Love you, Chop” you say through a little laugh. “Night.” 

He waves goodbye, watching you go. You shuffle back to your room as quietly as you can, hoping not to have to explain Sanji’s state to any of the other Strawhats. You know that there’s going to be the eventual fallout from Sanji’s embarrassment over the crew seeing him breakdown. When he’s truly forced to face them again in a healthier state, you know it will be difficult for him.

You open your bedroom door slowly, hoping that Sanji has fallen asleep, but to no avail. Instead of resting as you told him to do, he’s back on his aching feet. He slowly makes his way around the room, grabbing up the bloody tissues and antiseptic bottle from the floor. 

“Sanji!” You snap, rushing to his side to pull the items from his hands. “You shouldn’t be bending and stretching. You need to lay down.” 

Despite the fact that he’s sweating, he waves you off. “I’m fine. The least I can do is help my beautiful lady clean up.” 

Fuck, it’s so hard to stand your ground and not allow that sugary sweet voice to lure you into his desires. You’re so used to him running about and doing things for you, tidying up and fixing you meals before you even realize you need to do it.

“Ji” you repeat. “Please. You’re gonna hurt yourself. Lie down.” 

His nose twitches a bit. 

Classic Sanji. He’s getting frustrated. 

He takes a deep breath and leaves that smile plastered on his face. “Love, I’m not helpless. I can pick up a few tissues and bottles.” 

It’s your turn to take some breaths, closing your eyes for a moment to try and steady yourself. You’re exhausted. You’ve been pushed to and far past your limits, but it isn’t Sanji’s fault. To him, he’s just trying to be a good husband.

“Ji” You begin again, slowly as if not to startle him. “The way you’re stretching is going to hurt that burn. If it reopens it might get infected. Please sit down for me.”

You can see his fist gripping the tissues in his hand, but he doesn’t show the building agitation on his face. He just speeds up his cleaning, hands quickly gathering things from the floor as he begins to shake. He looks almost like a child cleaning up his mess. It’s as if he thinks you’ll wake in the morning, see the disaster, and blame him for the mess. 

It burns you. 

“Sanji.”

You reach for him, but the instant your hand makes contact with his wrist, he pulls his arm away from you.

“I said I’m not helpless!”

The bottle of antiseptic in his hand is released upon his declaration, flying opposite the two of you across the room and shattering against the front of your dresser. 

Time stops. It’s as though neither of you is breathing, the room silent but for the waves slamming into the side of the Sunny. Antiseptic drips down to the floor. The drops of the liquid is hypnotic against your ears, pulling you into a swirling of panic that’s rising up in your chest like a fire. 

Never, not once in your life has Sanji been anything even close to violent at you. He’s refrains from even allowing you to see him when he fights or yells. He protects you from his rage. 

He protects you from himself.

You don’t speak as he looks away, walking over to where the bottle has shattered and bending down to begin picking up the shards of glass. He grunts when he makes it to the floor and reaches for his side for just a moment, but lets it pass as he cleans. 

You’re shaking. The ship suddenly feels cold, like all the good air has been sucked from it, leaving only an unbreathable weight. 

He didn’t mean to throw it. You know that much, but to see Sanji lose his cool with only you in the room is enough to send your heart breaking free from your ribs. It feels as though it’s already laid out before you on the floor, blood seeping in between the boards of your bedroom, poisoning the life you’ve made together before you can stop it.

In the midst of your own trembling, you hear Sanji’s voice from across the room.

“I’m sorry” he mumbles. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

His breathing is ragged now, heavy and quick as he cleans. Glass pieces slip form his fingers, hitting the floor again and breaking into even smaller shards. 

Crack.

Sanji curses under his breath, hands shaking as he roots through the fluid and glass.

Crack.

He goes down to one knee as his body is no longer able to hold him up. 

Crack.

He’s stopped cleaning. His hands fly to the front of the dresser to support his weight as his other knee gives, and a sob chokes up from somewhere deep in his chest.

He screams. He sits on his knees over the mess of broken glass beside your marital bed and screams. 

It’s visceral. It’s agonizing. It’s a sound you wish you could go back and never hear tear up from your husband’s throat.

You’re at his side in an instant. You collapse to your knees, wrapping your arms around him and allowing him to fall back into your chest. 

“I’m sorry” he weeps, hands clinging to your arm as if it’s the only thing holding him to the earth. “I’m sorry.” 

All you can think to do is hush him as you sit back on the floor. You pull the two of you away from the pile of broken glass, leaning against the bed so you can pull him against you. 

He’s broken. You’re now the one holding shattered glass in your hands. 

You can barely understand him when he begins to babble into your chest. 

“I almost hurt you” he frets. “I almost hurt you, and I hurt Luffy, and I hurt Nami, and I hurt Chopper. I hurt that poor fucking Charlotte girl and I hurt my sister and I made my mother sick.” 

He’s incoherent at the end. His hands pull at your shirt like he’s trying to sink into you, and you can only hold him. You can only rub his back and hush him until he calms from this indescribable pain. 

“My Sanji” you whisper, hands moving to stroke through his hair. “I scared you. You didn’t mean it. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” 

He doesn’t lift his face from the crook of your neck as he speaks. 

“Does it matter if I meant it?” He wonders. “Everything I do hurts someone whether I mean to or not.” 

“That’s not true” you assure him even though you know the words barely penetrate his panic. “Sanji, look at me.” 

He shakes his head against your neck. 

You bring a slow, gentle hand up to cradle his cheek, coaxing his tear-soaked face from your skin so you can meet his eyes. 

“Breathe” you direct him, hands holding him steady. “Breathe for me. In” -you take a long, slow inhale- “Out, okay?”

He follows, and though his breath is shaky, he’s able to catch it. You smile. 

“Good boy. Breathe slow. Count if you have to.” 

He does as he’s told. Over and over again, the two of you breathe together until his rhythm sounds human again. When you feel comfortable that he can once again breathe through his fear, you place a hand in his hair and slowly begin to stroke his scalp.

“You sacrificed yourself to save your father and your crew” you remind him. “That girl tried to shoot you, and you comforted her.”

He doesn’t reply, but appears to still be focused on slowing his breathing. You take the moment to continue on. 

“You take care of this crew. You feed us and rescue us and make sure that none of us ever want for anything you can give us.” 

He begins to gnaw at his bottom lip. “That doesn’t outweigh the amount of times I’ve screwed up” he counters. “You can’t tell me it does.”

You reach from him, wiping some of his tears away and tucking his ruffled bangs back. “Sanji, you were my friend when no one else wanted to be. I used to have a calendar in my room and I would count down the days until the next stupid fucking Marine Admiral dinner so I could see you at Baratie. When we’d go to school at home, I used to write your name and put little hearts around it so often that my mom would ask me if we were secretly dating when I was like, eleven.” 

He sniffs. “So?”

“So” you breathe, gently pulling him back in so he’s settled comfortably against your chest. “That was when we were eleven, and I’m still here. I knew you when you were eight and like, really weird, and when you were a teenager, and when we joined this crew. I can probably count on my hands the number of days I’ve gone without seeing you since we got here. I wouldn’t have married you if you were hurting people. I wouldn’t have stayed, but you make me feel safe.”

He doesn’t reply, but brings a hand up to begin tracing a finger over your collarbone. The repeated motion seems to soothe him, skilled hands brushing over your skin so lightly that you barely feel his presence. 

“I love you” you promise him. “I love you because you’re a good man. Everyone on this crew thinks so, and that’s why you’re here with us. That’s why we refused to leave there without you.” 

“I left a family behind” he whispers. 

“You left your abusers and an adult sister who thinks the world of you.” 

He takes a deep breath, removing his hand from your collarbone and finding your fingers that he can intertwine his with. 

“And” you begin, trying to keep your voice as soothing as you’ve ever made it. “You were five years old when your mom died, and she died to make you into exactly the man you are. She’d be so proud of you.” 

He grips your hand. “She’d love you.” 

You giggle a bit, pressing your lips to the top of his head. “Elegant genius Vinsmoke Sora would love a pirate that swears more than she showers?” 

He nods. “For being yourself. And for loving me.”

All you can think to do is hold him against you as your own tears flow. You’ve often wish that you would’ve gotten the chance to meet Sanji’s mother. You love her boy so dearly. From everything Sanji has told you about his past, you know that his mother probably died thinking he wouldn’t be cared for, wouldn’t be loved. You would give anything for the chance just to tell her that you’ll take care of him. 

After a few moments, you tap his back. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

You help him to rise to his feet, holding his beautiful hands in yours and even peppering kisses along them once you’re standing. Despite your affections, Sanji frowns. 

“Let me help you clean this mess up” he frets. “Please. I made it. It’s the least I can do, my love.”

You take his hand, pulling him back over to your bed and slowly helping him sit back down. “You are the sweetest, most delightful man in the world. Now get your ass in this bed and keep it there.” 

“My darling-“

You cut off his words with a kiss, leaning in and placing a gentle peck on his lips. He sighs, losing his resolve to tidy up and leans into your kiss. 

You separate from him, but keep your lips gently brushing his. 

“It’s very late” you whisper. “It’s time for bed.” 

He reaches up then, grabbing the collar of your t-shirt and pulling you back down into a kiss. It’s rough, strange for Sanji. He’s not one to touch you with any sort of ferocity, even sexually. He’s always been a gentle lover. He only touches you with vigor when he’s desperate, searching for some sort of security or reassurance. 

“Sanji” you gasp, pushing him away a bit. “My love, aren’t you tired? Aren’t you sore?” 

He shakes his head. “Just wanna kiss you for a bit, my beautiful.” 

His words are very much Sanji, but there’s still a sadness, a fear in his voice that you don’t like. It’s shaking, unsure. 

He’s insistent, though, so you don’t argue with him. He wraps an arm around your back, slowly lowering you down to the sheets. You do what you can to support your own weight on the way down, but he’s quiet eager. He sets you on your back and crawls over you with a strange look in his eyes. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, trying not to let your concern show. “Think you should take your pain meds first?” 

He replies by reconnecting your lips. He’s absolutely insatiable in this moment, gripping the sheets next to your head and forcing his tongue into your mouth. He hasn’t been like this in a while.

He sits up on his knees then, reaching to unbuckle his belt. It’s abandoned to the floor, and he wastes no time unbuttoning his jeans and flattening his body back over yours. 

You want so badly to ask if he’s okay, ask what more you can do for him, but he just tastes so good. His body feels right, comfortable over yours. His hardening length on your inner thigh is a familiar pressure. You want to touch him, pleasure him, but the image of him crying out in pain is stuck in your mind.

As if the universe is reading your thoughts, Sanji groans into your mouth, but not in the way you’d like him to. 

“Ji” you fret, pulling away. “Slow down. You’re really hurting.” 

He presses his forehead to yours. Tears drip from his eyes and onto your cheeks, rolling down your skin as if they are your own. 

“I’m sorry” he pants. “I missed you. I hated the thought of being someone else’s husband. I would’ve taken a thousand more punches and burns if it meant I didn’t have to marry someone else.” 

You reach up to cradle his bruised face in your hands. He’s hot, sweating. He nearly feels feverish. 

“I know you didn’t mean it” you promise him. “You’re mine. Now everyone else knows it too.” 

He kisses you and speaks against your lips. “Yours. It’s the best thing I am.”

You give him a soft, warm smile. “You should really get some sleep, Sanji. You’re in your own bed with your actual wife and your crew is right down the hall. It’s okay to rest.”

He shakes his head. This change in him has happened so quickly, like all the fear and desperation has materialized into the need to physically be released. He now craves touch, feeling, something to ground him in the moment. 

“I need you. I just need to touch you and make sure you’re really you” he breathes. “Please.”

Your heart burns for him. Anytime you and Sanji kiss or touch, he’s filled with joy. He smiles and laughs, places kisses all over you and showers you in praise. This need, this release of emotions is incredibly rare.

You place gentle hands on his shoulder, pushing him ever so softly to guide him down onto his back. He lets you, but is quick to wrap his arms around you again when you’re atop him to pull you close.

“Sanji” you begin in a whisper. “Talk to me. What do you need?” 

He looks as though he’s about to begin panicking again. God, he hasn’t gotten like this in so long. The nightmares, the panic attacks - it all began to slow when you got engaged. Before this mess, he was getting good sleep for the first time in ages and actually resting. 

He takes a deep, shaky breath, making your body rise and fall from where you straddle him. 

“I used to have nightmares that Judge would find you and torture you” he begins. “And then when I was there, he told me that if he got his hands on you, he’d kill you in front of me if I ever tried to leave.” 

If you ever see Vinsmoke Judge again, you’re going to kill him. 

“You won” you remind him. “We’re here together. We’re all safe. It’s okay.”

He shrugs. “I’ve had nightmares about all the ways he could kill you. I’m afraid to sleep.” 

There it is, the admission. It always takes you so long to coax Sanji’s true concerns. 

You brush his bangs out of his eyes, stroking your fingers down his bruised cheek. “Then let’s rest. I can hold you, or I can stay up for you. I can do whatever you want me to do.” 

He bats his eyes away, but reaches up to pull on the waistline of your panties. 

“I…can you…” he trails off, his cheeks going red, but you understand. 

You lean down to give him a quick kiss before reaching for the hem of your shirt. 

“What do you need?” You ask him again, a new weight to the question as you pull your shirt over your head and reveal your bare body to him. 

He reaches for you, letting his fingers slowly trace down the bumps of your vertebrae. “Anything you’re willing to give me.”

Willing to give him. It’s a terrible way to word it in your mind. You’re never ‘willing’ to give Sanji anything. You’re happy to give him everything. He already has everything. He’s the only man you’ve ever loved, the only man you’ve ever given yourself to. He has your heart, your soul, your body, and he treats all of it with such tender love. 

How can he not know that?

“Do you think that you have to earn love?” You ask him suddenly, climbing off of him to remove the rest of your underwear and begin work on his pants.

His eyes go wide. He doesn’t even have a reaction when you rid him of his dress pants and boxers, too focused on your face and your question to move a muscle. 

Only when you gingerly take him in your hand does he exhale softly, letting his eyes drift shut. 

“I do have to earn back your love” he tells you softly. “I left you.”

You sigh, but know your patience has to persevere. For Sanji, physical intimacy always brings about vulnerability. He’s emotional lover, open and feeling.  

“To save me” you counter.

He doesn’t argue, but instead grips your arm as your hand tightens around his length. 

You follow his lead and release him from your grip, earning a low whine as you crawl back over him. His skin is flushed and his eyes have grown glossy. 

“Listen to me” you begin, hovering so your face is just a breath from his. “Everything you’ve done since the moment I met you has made my life better, Sanji. You are such a sweet boy. You don’t have to keep driving yourself into the ground to earn love from the people around you.” 

He exhales, a tear finding its way down his cheek. 

“I saw you” he breathes, shaking his head. “I saw the look on your face when I told Luffy I didn’t want to come back.” 

You brush the tear away with your thumb. “And I was there when you begged us to let you come home. We’re not robots, Ji. We understand why you did everything you did.” 

He sighs. “I never want to hurt you” he whispers. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” 

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It’s chaste all things considered, your hand coming to cradle his aching cheek. 

“And I’m sorry that I didn’t get to you before they hurt you” you say to him, so quietly that you can barely hear your own words. “I promised I’d never let anyone hurt you.” 

So many times; so many times you’ve promised Sanji you’d never let anyone hurt him, and this week has been the ultimate betrayal of that promise. 

So much is just flowing from your lips now. So much has built up in you since the moment you read Sanji’s letter that he was leaving the Strawhats. Anger, terror, guilt. Even now with Sanji in your arms, your stomach twists at the sight of his wounds. 

Sanji turns his head to place a kiss on the palm of your hand. “Do you think it’s a good thing that we’re bothered by each other’s pain?” 

“Maybe” you whisper, bringing your fingers to his lips to slowly trace his Cupid’s bow. “Are you still in pain?” 

“Only because you’re still so far away from me” he tells you. “I want more. I want you.”

You don’t keep him waiting. Instead of trying to sort through more words, instead of forcing your tired and confused mouth to babble out more nonsense, you bend forward to press your mouth on his. 

It’s most familiar thing in the word, the safest you’ve ever felt. He’s home. He’s the only person in the world that knows everything about every inch of you.

How did you manage to let him go? How in the world did you let someone hurt him?

You press yourself closer to his chest, bending so far that your behind slides back and brushes against his cock. 

He hums quietly into your mouth, gently taking your face and pulling back. 

“Let me sit up” he urges you. “You can sit in my lap. I know this isn’t good for your back.” 

His concern reminds you of the aching and burning that’s rushing up your spine. It’s been that way since you got here, the stress doing nothing to help your constantly sore muscles. 

You run a hand through his hand. “You sure? I’m more worried about your chest.” 

As if to prove to you that he’s fine, he arches back a bit, stretching out his long torso. His plan backfires when he winces and curls back up at the action. 

“Mmmm” he groans, desperately trying to keep his voice neutral. “I’ll be fine sitting up. It’s stretching that hurts.” 

You don’t quite believe him, but you want to appease him a bit this evening. Sanji lives to please. If he has the slightest idea that he can pleasure you, he’ll go through great lengths to do just that. 

You swing your legs over his narrow hips and offer him your hands. He accepts, using your strength to push himself up so he’s leaning against your headboard. You’re more than happy to quickly scramble back into his lap, his cock nestled against your stomach.

He’s still for a moment, content to lean his forehead against yours and take a few deep breaths. Typically, he’s raring to go the instant you get your clothes off. He’s always a gentleman of course, trembling as he asks to perform his every move and waiting to see how you respond before he proceeds. He is never, however, calm and silent. He’s a whiny, impatient darling. This slow and soft behavior is new. 

“You okay?” You wonder, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer.

 The friction brings that familiar moan from his throat, but he doesn’t pull away from you. 

“I really thought I’d never be with you like this again” he whispers. “I laid in bed every night and just tried to remember everything about you so I wouldn’t forget you.” 

That pain is back again, the one in the center of your chest that rears its ugly head whenever you think of Sanji’s suffering. There’s nothing more you can do, no closer you can hold him, and yet you still feel like you have to be better for him, be more. 

“What can I do?” You wonder. “ I wanna make this easier for you.” 

He kisses you gently, loosely, letting his lips stay on yours as he speaks. “You’re perfect” he tells you simply. “There’s nothing more you could possibly do for me than just being you, my darling.”

You kiss him again. He grabs your hips, pulling you against him in a slow, languid rolling motion. 

He devours the friction. His moans on your lips are delicious, deep and trembling as that usual impatience begins to creep into his movements. 

He pulls his lips from yours and buries his face into the crook of your neck. Wet, kiss-swollen lips lave at your skin. 

“I need you” he whispers, his voice shaking. “Please.” 

As much as you adore hearing Sanji beg, you know shouldn’t keep him on edge tonight. Physical touch, love-making, intimacy; all are things that have always been able to calm your lover’s racing mind. Knowing that your body is enough to set his mind at ease is a strange yet endearing feeling. 

You sit yourself up on your knees, taking his length in your hand and slowly -as if to savor it- sink your body down over his. 

His eyes slowly shut as a sigh leaves his body. Relief is written on his face, his head rolling back to settle against the wall. 

You let your fingers brush gently across his cheeks. “Sanji?” 

A hard swallow bobs his Adam’s apple in his throat, but he doesn’t look up to you. He just wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flush against his chest. 

The shift in his position inside you makes you shiver. You want so badly to grasp his face and kiss him until you can’t breathe, but you don’t want to rush him. He’s been through so much. He’s been so deprived of softness and care for all his life while working tirelessly to give it to others. 

He deserves your warmth. He deserves your patience.

After a minute of this odd peace, he raises his head and buries his face back into your neck. His hands raise you slowly on his hips, pumping his cock into you a few time before his grip tightens. 

“Is this okay?” He wonders, kissing your neck. “I hope I didn’t rush you.” 

You’re so lost in the delectable, burning stretch of taking him that you nearly miss his question. His face is shrouded in worry when you look up at him. 

You place your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. To qualm his worries, you press your hips down until he bottoms out, so deep that you tilt your head back to let out a quiet moan. He nearly whines as you grind forward, his entire length buried inside you. 

“Oh fuck” he breathes. “Fuck, I was made for you, darling.” 

His words, the sounds he makes; it’s all like fine wine to you. It spurs you on, knowing that the longer you have him whining and shaking beneath you, the closer you get to being drunk on his fucked out, spacey expression in the afterglow. 

You want to ravage him, bite down on his tender flesh and bounce your body on his cock, but you refrain. He’s too sweet with his face nuzzling your neck. His little whines are too soft.

“I love you” you assure him, running your fingers through his hair. “You’re so good to me.”

The praise makes him thrust his hips up to meet you. You can feel his cock throbbing, fingers digging into your hips to hold you down as he continues his slow pace. 

He attaches his lips to your neck and nips at the skin. “Can I lay you down? I want more.” 

You nod, urging his face from your neck so you could press a kiss to his lips. 

He wastes no time pulling your body even tighter against his and guiding you gently down into the sheets, being sure to cradle your head before softly letting it down on your pillow. 

You smile up at him, his cheeks blushed. 

“You know I basically helped fight the mob this weekend, yeah?” You remind him. “You’re being so gentle.” 

Your teasing doesn’t seem to get to him. His face is almost trance-like. He moves a piece of hair out of your face and exhales. 

“You deserve to be kept safe” he tells you. “Even from me.” 

There’s something heavy about the sentiment, something that weighs on your chest. He says it with such a kind and soft voice, but you hate every bit of it. There’s nothing about Sanji you’d ever need to be kept safe from, nothing in him that could hurt you. 

“Sanji” you breathe, aching hips crying out just a bit as he hooks your legs around his hips so he can sink back into you. 

You try to contain yourself as you arch close to him from the sensation. He feels perfect inside you, finally as close to you as possible where you can pleasure him with just a grind of your hips or a ghosting of your lips over skin. 

“Ji” you whine. “My love, there’s nothing about you I want to be safe from.” 

He replies by pressing his hips into yours, beginning to set a steady pace of his body on yours. It’s clear that he no longer wants so speak, but instead wants to chase his own high while pulling moans from your throat.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full of him. Every time your bodies meet, he feels deeper, closer than usual. It might be the unbearable longing you’ve had for him the last few weeks. It might be the way he’s clawing you closer, trying to press the space between the two of you away, but you don’t care. He’s finally here with you, exactly the way you’ve needed for so many nights. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to you, unable to help yourself as you gingerly sink your teeth into his shoulder. You’re nearly hungry for him. Even having his cock fucking deeper into you with every thrust isn’t close enough.

He cries out into your neck at the unexpected sting. You don’t let the pain linger for long, kitten licking the pink mark you left on his flesh. 

“My darling” he moans, lips still pressed against your neck. “More. Please.”

He continues to whine into your shoulder when his words are finished, his hips striking yours with and aching, newfound fervor. 

Your lips caress the teeth mark now throbbing before you. “You’re already bruised enough, my love. I don’t wanna leave anymore marks on you.” 

He reaches down to grab your thighs then, hiking them up further so he can press closer to you. The new angle is punishing. He slows his pace, but only so he can keep his cock buried inside you to repeatedly grind up into your g-spot. 

“Please” he pleads, huffing into your neck. “Please. I need more. It makes me feel human.”

His words tear you open down the middle. 

Make him feel human.

You tangle your fingers into his hair and give a pull. He moans, the deep sound spreading from his chest to yours as it vibrates through your ribs. 

Pain. That’s new for Sanji. 

“I don’t want to hurt you” you admit to him, releasing his hair and stroking it softly back over his head. 

He places a featherlight kiss on you neck. “I like it. I promise. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.” 

He’s never been one to ask you for things like this in bed. He’s all about pleasing you, giving you everything. Your ecstasy has always provided him with his own, so you’re a little thrown hearing him ask for something in such a desperate tone. 

You return the soft kiss on his cheek. “Okay. Let me know if you want me to tone it down.” 

He nods, sighing when you lock your ankles in the small of his back. 

Your bodies are pressed so closely that you can almost feel his heartbeat as his thrusts pick up again. He’s shaking, maybe from his injuries, maybe from the anticipation when your teeth graze against his neck. You test the waters by giving little nips to the sensitive skin.  

His breath hitches, his hips stuttering a bit. “Please. Baby, please.”

You let your hands fall a bit from his hair, landing on his broad shoulders. Your teeth migrate down as well and bite down into his other shoulder. 

He thrusts so deeply into you that you scream into the bite, teeth sinking even further. 

“Oh. Oh fuck“ he moans. “Thank you baby. Fuck.” 

You remove your teeth, the taste of iron on your tongue. White hot terror sears through you when you see a small trail of blood trickle down his shoulder and drip onto your skin. You freeze, reaching for the wound. 

“Sanji-“ 

“Don’t apologize” he interjects quickly. “Feels so good.” 

He readjusts himself so he’s higher on your body, your knees nearly touching your shoulders. The position burns nearly every muscle in your body, but his cock is so deep that you can’t bring yourself to care.

“So full” you mumble, head lolling back into the pillows. “Fuck, Sanji. More for me, sweet boy.”

Sanji takes the opportunity to kiss your throat, drawing the tip of his tongue up until he can kiss at your chin, your cheeks. It clear that he’s eating the praise up, hips stuttering with each thrust after it leaves your lips. 

“I love you” he groans into your skin. “Fuck, I love you. So close.” 

You don’t know what’s coming over you, but you let your fingernails drag down Sanji’s back until your hands reach his behind. You’re desperate for him. You claw at his toned bum, hips, back. You know you’re leaving marks, but you’re too far gone now. His thrusts are deep and hard, his cock barely leaving your body as he chases his high.  

“So good, baby” you praise him, words pouring from your lips like honey. “So good, Sanji. Let go for me.” 

He whines into your neck. He’s trembling above you, body weight almost completely pressed down onto your as he nips and sucks at your neck. 

God, you’re both going to be marked up to hell tomorrow. You’ll never hear the end of it from Nami, but you don’t care.

You have your Sanji. He’s with you. He’s in you. You have everything you need. 

“Fuck” Sanji cries suddenly. “I can’t…I can’t, baby.” 

Contrary to the rest of the evening, you gently kiss his cheek. “Tell me what you need.”

He pulls his face away from you, but you’re stunned to find tears streaming down his face. 

“Sanji” you gasp, reaching up to wipe them away with your thumb. 

His eyes flutter closed as he continues to fuck into you. “I need…fuck, you. More. Anything.”

You cradle his face in your hands and bring his forehead down to meet yours. His tears dripping onto your cheeks is like a baptism, washing the horror, the pain, the terror of the last few days. The sins you engaged in to bring him back to you are cleaned from your soul when he buries himself into you and finally finds his peak. You’re right behind him, the heat of it all pushing you rapidly over the edge as you cling to him for some sort of balance. 

He cries your name in a broken, quiet voice as he lazily thrusts through his orgasm. You’re enamored by his huffing breath and quiet whines. It’s perfect. It’s Sanji. 

He’s with you. He’s safe.

You don’t know how much time passes after. Sanji rolls onto his back, holding you on top of him with a grip that almost feels fearful. You speak to him a hushed tone while you stroke his skin. 

“I’m here. No one’s gonna take me from you.”

“You’re safe. You’re home.” 

“I’m not letting you go again.” 

He continues to silently cry, but it feels almost like a release. His breathing slows and his heart calms as the tears flow, his muscles easing until the two of you are tangled together in a comfortable cuddle. 

After what seems like hours, you prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at him.

He smiles at you, a real smile despite his eyes still being swollen from his tears. 

“Hi” he whispers. 

You push his bangs out of his eyes. “Hi. I think I need a shower.” 

He pouts. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

The warmth in your heart from seeing your husband’s typical goofiness is indescribable.You’re no fool. You know it’s going to be awhile before he’s himself again, and you know that this experience is always going to be a shadow that gazes at the two of you every now again. But, if you can just hold onto him, hold him together when he begins to fray, you’re confident that the two of you can grin and bear it together. 

You lean down to kiss his nose. He can’t maintain the pout when you do, lips breaking into a smile. 

“You should check to see if Chopper is still awake” you urge him, knowing that night-owl doctor is surely still in his room mixing away with his medicines. “Have him take a look at that burn, and then we can go to sleep.” 

You know that it’s the post-sex brain fog that makes him give in, but a win is a win.

“Fine” he caves. “But hurry back. I never wanna sleep without my beauty again.” 

The two of you untangle your bodies and throw on whatever clothes you can find, but as sanji reaches for the doorknob, you stop him. 

“Ji?” You begin, walking up behind your husband and wrapping your arms around his waist. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything for my sweet.”

You hesitate, not wanting to upset him further, but knowing you won’t be able to rest with the question still lingering in your mind. 

“What did you mean when you said ‘it makes me feel human’?” You breathe, the question feeling sour on your lips. 

Sanji is quiet for a solid two minutes. You don’t rush him, but you do grow nervous when his grip on your hands tightens. 

Finally, he tangles his fingers with yours and sighs. 

“They’re barely human beings” he whispers. “My brothers, I mean. They don’t…they don’t feel anything.” 

You and Sanji had a conversation about his siblings in the hours after leaving Tatto, but he didn’t want to go too deeply into it. You stay quiet, waiting for him to be ready to speak. 

“It’s part of the reason I always have my hands all over you” he tells you, a small change in his voice making you lift your head a bit. “Besides, ya know, your stunning and indescribable beauty.” 

You tickle his belly a bit, earning a small laugh before he continues speaking. 

“I figure that if I can touch you and feel my heart beat faster, or see you naked and still get nervous, then I win. I can still feel.” 

You kiss his bare back. “I don’t want that to include hurting yourself or letting other people hurt you.”

“It doesn’t” he promises you. “But to let you bite me or scratch me and be able to trust that you won’t take it too far is about as vulnerable as I can get. I like trusting you. I like testing that boundary, if that makes any sort of sense. Every time I do, I get reassured that I’m loved.”

The tears are instant. Never, not a single time in your relationship has Sanji acknowledged that he is, in fact, incredibly loved. He always darts his eyes away and gives an awkward laugh when you remind him. 

‘I’m loved.’

It’s the most amazing thing he’s ever said you. 

“I fucking love you” you breathe. “I missed you, Sanji.” 

He sighs at the feeling of your lips tracing along the skin of his back. “I missed being able to trust someone around me. I love you.”

“I trust you” you assure him, bringing your kisses across his aching shoulders. “Do you trust me?” 

“With my soul.” 

#sanji #black leg sanji #one piece #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #angst #smut #fluff

[yoru-no-seiiki]

SERIOUSLY, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI, I WILL FUCK YOUR MOM WHILE YOU PLAY ROBLOX.

link to [part one] for those unfamiliar w/ my yan! cool kid works

@yuiiasathesilly both parents actually. these three come from a relatively affluent family. someone has to pay for all the hairdye yan! cool kid uses. in fact the both are them are kinda disappointed that the boys haven’t been using their resources as much as they want em to. cool kid has abused it the most, having an entire apartment ready for yan! reader to be kept in

@onyanjune mc does have backups! and good eye. the reason why they only deleted it in their phone is cause it’s what they have on them at all times. meaning that they’re giving our prez some leeway instead of immediate action in terms of blackmail.

in terms of their efforts, it’s purely cause they want their integration into the family to be smooth sailing. before yan! loser was an outcast he used to be pretty well known for his rich family, his brothers, and his high grades. yan! reader noticed that he usually kept to himself and suffered a little bit in terms of his siblings outshining him so much so they set out with that plan to make him completely reliant on them. it was mostly a backup that they had for yan! cool kid but he’s too above other people in general to care. same with yan! prez.

they aren’t trying to make their beloved jealous, hell they’d die if they ever accidentally hurt him in any way, shape, or form. yan! reader worships him too much. it’s more of side effect if anything. they do like to pretend as if they don’t think about him 24/7. which is frankly more annoying to yan! cool kid since he can’t exactly threaten/beat up his future spouse like he can with his brothers.

anyways off to our scenario (inspired by @carnivorousyandeere and i’s talk about sex positive/liberal parents lol)

“dad, i’m going to pursue someone from my class.” yan! cool kid leaned back and forth, rocking his dinner chair.

“oh? that’s great son. i was worried that someone as handsome as you wouldn’t put your face to good use.”

“yes yes, your father and i were worried that you weren’t bringing anybody home. all of our colleagues keep talking about how their children have been sleeping around but here we are with your monk of an eldest son and shut-in of a youngest.”

ouch.

“when i found out that all those condoms we bought you weren’t being used for sex i was devastated!”

“right son! and the lingerie sweetie! tell them about the lingerie!”

“mother, father! we’re eating!” yan! president yelled. he was already used to his parent’s lack of respect for privacy. it wasn’t their crude words that made him uncomfortable, it was the fact that his younger brother was coveting what was already his.

but his mother, as always, does not listen, “and we spent a lot of time getting those for you three to enjoy. and for what?”

“well, who is this lucky person?”

“they’re—“

“i’m full.” yan! loser stood up, wiping the food off his face and leaving. the door to the dining room slammed shut with a bang at his wake.

“as i was saying, they’re my classmate. the one whose house i went to before.”

“oh! the one whose pictures you have all over your room.”

“. . . yes.” yan! cool kid almost regurgitated out his drink from their nonchalant invasion of his room. his rebellious instincts told him to scream at them and question their behavior. but if he wanted to get their help he had to play into his role perfectly.

“oh son! just tell us what we have to do, we’ll support you all the way.”

bingo!

or not.

there was one thing yan! cool kid failed to factor into the equation. the fact that yan! president had been doing such a play since before the younger one even learned how to talk.

“what’s wrong, pumpkin?”

yan! president began his part with a gag. an expression of guilt, disgust and a hint of grief.

“it’s just that. . . i was planning on asking them out too.” and then, the tears. “they actually work as the secretary to the council and . . . no one else has been there for me like they have.”

“oh dear.” their mother looks at the two of them in worry. she already knew this was going to get messy quick.

“i’m sorry, dearest brother. i just can’t bear the thought of losing them.”

“you—“ yan! cool kid slammed his hands on the table. now at his full height which causes his chair to fall behind him. his fist pulled back, ready for impact and aimed squarely on the bridge of yan! president’s glasses.

“why don’t we all calm down, okay?” but their father manages to pull him back, overpowering the young man easily. with a smile he eases yan! cool kid away while their mother held yan! president in her arms. “we’ll think of a way for both of you boys to get what you want.“

“you. prepare a room for a new addition to our home.” their mother spoke, her fingers running through her son’s locks “we’re family we’ll get through this together.”

meanwhile under the cover of dark. . .

yan! loser pants, a hand in his pants as he pumped his cock to full mast. his meager, melodic moans muffled by one of your used pe uniforms covered in dried sweat and your scent. his eyes trained at the video of his eldest brother taking you.

he hated it. hated the way you seemed to be enjoying it (you weren’t). but since they looked alike it was the closest he could get to an image of you and him together. even if his brother couldn’t last a few rounds.

he moans one last time as he releases his spent into a condom, swiftly tying and throwing it to the rest of the pile that threatened to spill over from within the bin.

in his post masturbation haze, he wonders how all that liquid would look inside you instead and whines as he feels the blood rush back down there again.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere fic #yancore #yandere core #tw yandere #yandere imagine #yandere blog #yandere concept #yandere family #yandere harem #yandere reverse harem #male yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere scenario #yandere imagines #yandere cool kid #yandere president #yandere loser

[jezabelle9299]

Nightmare Cure S.R x Reader

Authors Notes: Exceedingly long rambles of a person with too much time on their hands. 2.5k words, reader does clerical work in the building, fluff, some angst, mentions of nightmares, loss of a parent (father) as a teenager, reader with hair long enough to braid, and Spencer with hair long enough to pull back (Jesus Reid save me), kind of mentions when he was carrying around hair ties all the time. Mutual pining, idiots in love, all that good stuff.

Working in the FBI building was interesting to say the least. You did clerical work, as far from the danger as possible, and that was how you liked it. Working on the same floor as the BAU, sometimes you got to chat when they were in the office. You liked all of them but you definitely had a favorite, Dr. Spencer Reid. You talked to him the most, and perhaps also pined for him in a totally casual, not at all weird way that you would never speak of, especially not to your lovely, and also very nosey coworkers. Something was different with him though. The dark circles around his eyes were larger, he was walking past your desk to get to the coffee maker far more frequently, and he just had this sullen look about him that made your heart break. 

One afternoon, when most of the others in the office had left early before the holiday weekend, you followed him to the kitchen as he passed your desk. 

“Spencer?”

“Hey. What’s up?’ He looked to you while blindly piling sugar into his coffee mug. 

“I was just wondering, are you ok? I mean as much as you can be?”

He was nervous and you worried you said the wrong thing, making things worse. Maybe he didn’t think you guys were that close? Before you could spiral, or make an attempt to retract your questions he sets down the sugar and clears his throat.

 “Oh-uh I’m ok, just trouble sleeping you know? Can’t really relax at night.”You knew he was talking about nightmares. They were common with the field agents, but no one ever talked about them openly. You’d had your share, although yours didn’t come from the job. 

“Oh. I had similar problems once, i-if you want I could kind of show you my routine that helped? I have a guest bedroom if you wanted to try. Only if you’re comfortable, of course.”

“That sounds nice, thank you y/n, really.” He was certain that anything that had helped you wouldn’t help him. If he couldn’t fall asleep in his own bed, a new place wouldn’t help. But he pined for you as you did for him, so he wasn’t going to turn down a chance to spend more time with you, especially at your house. He wanted to know everything about you, and he appreciated that you wanted to help him in the first place. 

Ok! If you want to come to my house at like 6:30, I’ll cook?”

“ I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He had a faint blush and you really hoped it was a good blush, not a scared one. He was so cute. You’d just finished your paperwork, and it was already 5 o’clock so you had to get ready. 

You stopped by the store to get the supplies for dinner, you really hoped he liked it. It was almost 6 by the time you put everything away so you cleaned up as much as possible, putting fresh sheets on the bed in the spare room and getting out everything that brought you comfort during your bout of nightmares. Yours came from the death of your father, that happened soon after the death of many of your grandparents. You couldn’t imagine his nightmares, with the things that he saw everyday, but you hoped these things would help him, at least a little bit. Soft blankets, lavender candies, and a candle you thought he might like, all stacked neatly on a chair in the corner of the room. The candle was supposed to smell like old books, and you’d light it soon, that way it’d already fill the room by the time he arrived. 

6 o’clock came and went so you started cooking, setting the table while everything got started. 6:30 on the dot his car pulled up in the driveway, and out came dr.Reid, with an overnight bag and-oh my god. He brought flowers, more specifically he brought your favorite flowers, even though you had never told him. You checked on dinner as he walked up the drive so that you wouldn’t forget as soon as you saw him. 

You opened the door and he just stared for a second. “Uh-sorry-hi, you look nice”

You were wearing a dress, but this one was much more casual, and with gym shoes instead of the heels you typically wore to the office since you were still buzzing around the kitchen. Because of the messiness of what you were cooking you had an apron tied around your waist. He was still dressed in his 3-piece suit he wore to the office today. 

“Oh, thank you, you do too-but I hope you brought something more comfortable in that bag.” When he looked back down at his back he remembered the flowers he was still holding.

These are for you! -You know as a thank you, for helping me. I asked Garcia for your favorite, I hope you like them.” He awkwardly grabbed them so he could hold them out to you, and you stifled a giggle at his flustered attempt to hand them to you as you accepted them. You started to turn as you opened the door wider, welcoming him in. 

“They’re perfect, thank you, Spencer. And please come in, the guest bedroom is the second on the left if you want to set your stuff down while I put these in some water and finish up dinner?” He gave a quick nod and a tight smile as he started down the hall, while you buzzed through the kitchen, first finishing seasoning the food, and then putting the flowers he got you in water. You still couldn’t believe he got you flowers. 

When he came back through the hall you discard the apron on its usual hook, and set the food on the table. As you eat you make small talk about your days, until he changes the subject. “You mentioned earlier you had the same problem, what was causing your nightmares?” Instantly you became uncomfortable, you were really hoping he wouldn’t ask, although you should’ve known better.

“Ah, Dr.Reid the profiler, I should have guessed you’d ask.” You made an attempt to laugh it off, but he only focused on you more. You cleared your throat, ready to get this over with. 

“When I was 17, a few days before my 18th birthday my father died. Heart attack, totally unexpected. It took a while for the nightmares to start, but once they did it took a long time to get rid of them. That’s why I developed this whole elaborate routine, anyway. They were mostly you know existential everyone I’ve ever loved will be ripped away from me without a chance to say goodbye kind of stuff. Super fun I know.” You made another attempt at laughing off the discussion and this time he got the message. He gave you a reassuring smile, and changed the subject. 

“What comes next in the amazing Y/N goodnight routine?” He got up from the table and ever the gentleman, he offered a hand to you to help you up from your seat. You got your excitement back instantly, beaming up at him, ready to get to the next thing, your favorite part.

“Oh get ready, it’s movie time!” He looked relieved at your smile coming back as you did a little wiggle, as though you just couldn’t contain your happiness anymore.

“Yeah? What are we watching?” He barely got out through his little laughs. It wasn’t a full laugh, but more of a shaky exhale he smiled all the way through. 

“Well when I started I watched Say Anything on a near repeat- but this is your night so I picked something I hope you’ll like. To get the full effect though these outfits aren’t going to work at all. Go get into your pajamas, and I’ll grab the movie.” You quickly cleared the dishes into the sink first, and then bounced down the hallway to your room with Spencer laughing as he trailed behind you. It felt so domestic, and if this was what it was like to be in a relationship with him, any girl he dated would be the luckiest girl in the world. 

You threw on a t-shirt and some striped pajama shorts, then went to your bookshelf and grabbed the dvd you thought he’d most like. When you were walking back to the living room, you set the dvd down on a small table lining the hall. You attempted to stop in the bathroom to grab a hair tie, but when you walked in Spencer was already standing at the sink. 

“Oh-Sorry!” You started stammering, even though he wasn’t doing anything. Just standing at the mirror, with his glasses on the sink trying to get out his contacts. 

“Oh it’s ok, I just wanted to get my contacts out before we started. I know it freaks some people out. It’s Ommetaphobia, fear of things touching the eyes. It’s pretty common and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No-I don’t mind, I just needed to grab a hair tie, I didn’t mean to get in your space.” You reached past him to grab two from the counter next to his glasses and then quickly put them on your wrist and separated your hair. He watched you in the mirror as you started to braid, until you finished the first one. You let yourself take in what he was wearing, a blue star trek t-shirt, and some black doctor who pajama pants. They were so wonderfully him. As you tied it off the braid, his eyes snapped back to his own in the mirror and he quickly swapped his contacts for glasses, looking away from the mirror as he removed them, as he wasn’t completely sure that it wouldn’t bother you. As you tied off the second braid your eyes followed him in the mirror. He had his glasses on, a look you loved but hardly ever saw. 

He looked back at you and smiled, before turning back and grabbing a hair tie from his own wrist and in possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, pulled his own hair back, into a small ponytail as he walked back into the hall.

When you made your way back to the living room Spencer was already there, looking at all of your books like they were the most interesting thing in the world. When he looked back at you, you made a big show of holding up the dvd. It was called Forbidden Planet, it was sci-fi and even if it was extremely old and the effects were outdated you hoped he liked it. His face lit up as soon as he saw it, and you knew you made the right choice. 

“That was my favorite movie when I was a kid-I’d watch it all the time, How did you-? It’s almost impossible to find.” Tears were welling up in his eyes and your heart broke. He was going home with that dvd. You wanted to tell him how you thought of him, and hold him, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Not tonight, this was about him. You settled for a “I hoped you’d like it” and a gesture for him to sit while you set it up. 

While you watched the movie he told you everything, and if he was anyone else you’d think he couldn’t possibly be paying attention at the same time. He told you about how it was made, how it affected the sci-fi genre, and every other fun fact he could think of. You were happy to listen. When the credits rolled the clock on your phone read 10pm-a little early, but you knew he needed the sleep.

“Party’s over doctor, it’s time to get ready for bed.” He gave an overdramatic pout, but got up. You stood together while brushing your teeth, only having one bathroom forcing domestic bliss. You continued talking to him while you turned off lights and made sure the door was locked.

 “I swear if you need anything let me know, my door is literally always open, I can’t sleep with it closed.” You turned away from the hall, away from the bedroom he was standing in as he put his work phone on the charger from his bag. You put on a record of classical piano quietly to help you both sleep as you remembered the pile of stuff for him on the chair. “I almost forgot- on that chair in the corner, there’s some stuff for you if you want it- if you’re still having trouble I mean, the lavender is supposed to help you sleep. I read this thing that said it produces these chemical compounds that act essentially as sedatives, figured it was worth a try. 

He knew. He already read articles on different theories for helping insomniacs sleep. But something about how you said it, how you set things out you thought he’d like, how you took care of him. It was too much for him. He was glad you weren’t in there, that you couldn’t see him. He didn’t want you to see him cry, and if you looked at him with that sweet smile, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from asking for what he really wanted. He wanted to tell you how he felt, to tell you what this meant to him, to hold you while you slept.

But you were too good. Too sweet. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, he knew even if he overstepped you were too nice to tell him, especially at this hour. You had a tendency to do that- putting others before yourself to ungodly degrees, and he wanted you to feel more comfortable than that. In the morning he would tell you. When you could ask him to leave without sending him away in the dark, because he was sure that you wouldn’t like someone like him. You were perfect. 

But tonight was enough. He got to see what it was like, if he had been someone you loved. You both said a quick goodnight, with a promise to see each other in the morning. For the first night in months he slept peacefully. Maybe all the ritual and routine helped, but it was mostly just you. You cared, and he got to have you as the last face he saw at night. He got to fall asleep in a bed that smelled like you, with your books on the walls and your music playing, and it was perfect. He loved you, and he just had to get up the courage to say it. 

That was the first of many nights Spencer stayed with you, and the last one he slept in the guest bedroom. He still had nightmares- sometimes, but you were always there to comfort him with a reassuring touch. Most nights he had dreams, and he dreamt about you the most. 

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader

[chilapis]

Last post before I crash and no-one hears from me until I return from my first final the morrow’s eve (a changed man no doubt) but there’ll never be anything funnier to me than consistently being viewed as a composed and calm saviour by peers while I’m, actively and uncontrollably losing it.

#not said sarcastically or as a vent by the way I genuinely find it so terribly amusing. you think I have it together ? aw <3 you fool. #i’ve been pacing around my room like a starving lion since the past week in whatever free time i’ve had. #and i keep getting people in my messages begging me for last minute help ? which is endearing but. i’m hanging on for dear life myself #helping isn’t foreign to me; i have 4 (?) people in my class who almost exclusively refer to me as ma’am and even refer to me as a teacher. #but helping last minute is so. deeply chaotic. #and I have this issue with me where having others around me makes me immediately drop into a ‘role’ of sorts? #i’ll be freaking out but then someone else starts freaking out around me and my immediate response is to just. #hey. we are going to make it out of this. it’s easy as pie. do you see me worried? no right? <- on the verge of hyperventilating #there’s this one guy in particular who got so excited to find out we have the exact same examination set-up tomorrow. #i gave him like basic pointers and i don’t think i’ve ever been thanked so earnestly and desperately in my life. #i remember during mocks my friends would message me what I wrote in questions and then they’d immediately go oh thank Fuck. #they’d literally just act like they’re absolutely going to pass now just because we had points ​in common. #as if i’m some sort of fucked up correct answer sheet incarnate. #it’s genuinely really sweet to me though; like i’m not posting this ranting or such. #having so much faith in another to the point that you can put yourself completely at ease says. alot i think. #and i’m glad i can be that person for so many. #and I feel like it helps me in a way too because i become so concerned with others that I forget to drown myself in my worries. #i forget that I’m worried because there are others to care about and console and help. so i suppose they help me in a way as well. #but also who is going to be that person for ME. who is going to console ME. im going fucking neurotic /jest #<- woman with ego issues & control issues who would rather die than accept help. #sigh. oh well. I’m sure we’ll do just fine. cannot wait #🥀🍷 — colloquy.

[francesderwent]

it’s not that I think I’m never going to get married. it’s that I am never going to get married the way I thought I would. I am not going to fall in love with a nice young man, get married in a whirlwind of youth and optimism, and have ten kids. I am not going to learn who I am as an adult as part of a team, with my partner by my side. that story is currently going on with my college friends who are celebrating fifth anniversaries and having second kids, but I missed the start of that timeline and it went on without me. I am not going to have that story, I cannot. I am not young and naive enough. I have already grown into who I’m going to be by myself, figured out adulthood and built my own habits without a partner. I cannot have ten kids, I literally don’t have enough years of fertility left. and there’s no conveniently single male friend waiting, Gilbert Blythe-like, in the wings of my life who could turn things around quickly so that I could even begin to catch up. my story will be something else - might be meeting someone in my thirties or forties, probably falling in love slowly because of the trust issues, and maybe having two or three kids, maybe adopting more. it’s a fine story. it could probably make me very happy. but it’s not at all the story I thought I’d have. I always wanted my mom’s life, and I am not going to have it.

#a version of this has been in my drafts for something like three years #I’m posting it because it’s why the movie made me so sad #and because maybe other people are weighed down under this today too #idk my sister and her husband and daughter have been staying with us for a couple weeks #and I love seeing them #but I worry that I’m just way too set in my ways to ever have that now #I worry that I am so used to being by myself and doing what I want to do #that there’s too much selfishness in me now #that the same self-assured independent qualities which make it hard to fall in love #would actually make me a bad wife and mother #and that’s what I’ve been thinking about for the last two weeks! #happy birthday to me #in which cate tells stories #discount chocolate day

[heybaetae]

.

#okay so. #i’ve started working on my first big comp set of the year #and i’m pretty excited about it because i think it’s gonna be really cool #it’s the most complicated and detailed thing i’ve ever made #with lots of planning and research going into it #to the point where i might have to make a separate post explaining some of the details #because if i’m gonna put this much time into something i want people to understand every part of it you know #but i also have to remember not everyone will care that deeply either!!!! which is fine #anyway it’s gonna take me a few weeks to finish #and i’m trying to remind myself that i’m only tackling this thing as a challenge for myself and for fun #and not worry too much about how well it’ll be received in terms of notes bc let’s face it…it won’t get what it’ll deserve #so i have to be okay with that and accept that now before i continue working on it #and keep that in mind til the end #i hope to see it all the way through without giving up! #it’s hard! it’s really hard and nobody asked for it but i think it’s gonna look cool!!!!!! #i’ll never make anything this big again so let’s just start the year with it lmao #please look forward to it 🫶🏻

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND OFFERS TO TEACH YOU HOW TO LOVE, HOW CAN YOU SAY NO ?? ❞

✧ pairing: college student!yuji itadori x f!reader

✧ summary: yuji itadori has been your best friend since you were kids, and when he offers you to teach you how to fuck, you don't expect him to be able to find his way into your heart too.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, aged up characters (don't like? don't read), childhood best friends to fwb to lovers, college au! (no curses), reader is the same age as yuji (both 20s), grew up as neighbors, mutual pining, nobara playing cupid, jealous!yuji, yuji is so golden retriever bf, nightmares, mentions of parental death via car crash (yuji), adoptive dad nanamin :), nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (under a blanket with sleeping friends nearby), sex (p in v), creampie, swearing, fanart by unknown artist (found on pinterest, pls let me know if you know the og artist so i can credit)

✧ wc: 13,544

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 5 has been sold to two anons!

“You want me to teach you?” 

The words left your best friend’s lips nonchalantly as if he was asking you if you wanted him to teach you how to ride a bike. 

But that’s not what he was offering to have you ride—

“Yuji,” you say slowly, “what are you saying? Do you even know what you’re saying?” 

Yuji Itadori was dense, but you knew he was far from stupid. You learned that in third grade when he punched a bully that had been picking on you, the final straw being when he had tripped you, causing you to skin your knee. Before you could even well any tears up in your eyes, you heard a thwack and a yelp as Yuji had laid the boy out on the playground. You stared at Yuji, as he offered you his other hand to help you to your feet, as your eyes slid from him to your bully. 

Yuji knelt down, carrying you on his back to the nurse’s office, “but Yuji, what about him? We left him—“ 

And he set you down outside the nurse’s office — and he only smiled that wide smile he had always reserved for you, “Don’t worry — I made sure no one was looking.” 

But now, you were beginning to doubt his sanity, rather than his intelligence — “I know what I’m saying,” he chuckles, trademark smile on his lips, “I’m just offering you the chance to practice,” 

“This isn’t practicing a sport or test—you’re offering,” you shift on your bed, while Yuji lounges on the floor, back against the bottom of your bed, “you’re offering to sleep with me, Yuji,” he leans his head on your bed, looking up at you at way, your face upside in his vision. 

“I know, I know, but it’s not a big deal is it?” he’s acting so nonchalant you wonder if one of his teammates had hit him hard in the head during practice, “we’ve had all our firsts together,” 

You scoff, “That was like our first steps, first day of school, first drink—“ 

“First kiss—“ he interrupts, and your face burns at the memory — a preadolescent game gone wrong that ended up with you and Yuji sharing your first kiss when you were teens. 

“That wasn’t real,” you wave him off, crossing your arms, “and this isn’t just a kiss for a game—this could change our friendship—“ 

“It won’t, if we don’t let it,” his gaze is more serious than you’ve ever seen Yuji be — not when he was usually all wide smiles and enthusiasm, “it’s us, we can get through it, and we don’t have to let it get weird right?” 

You chew on your lip, “Yuji, what do you get out of it?” And he’s tilting his head at your question— “I mean you don’t have to do this — just because I’m insecure because I don’t have experience,” you mumble. 

And that’s how the conversation had started — your complaints about your friends talking about their boyfriends, exes, and hookups, while you just nodded along — far too aware that you hadn’t even had a proper kiss, much less sex. And now you had found yourself here. 

“Look,” he slides up to sit on your bed, a good distance away from you, his eyes finding yours — warm hazel that felt as if it was drizzling over your skin wherever his gaze traveled, “I want your first time to be safe. I don’t want you to just hook up with someone and something bad to happen because you can’t say no — with me,” he clenched his hand into a fist holding his other hand flat as he gently hit his fist against it, “you can tell me to stop and if I somehow don’t or don’t hear you, punch me,” 

You snort, “Yuji,” he’s shaking his head. 

“I’m serious, I want you to be safe,” and you’re fidgeting with your fingers in your lap — this was Yuji, Yuji — you couldn’t say you hadn’t noticed how well he had grown up. Not when all of your friends drooled over him — especially with how liked he was — by everyone. 

“What if I lose you?” And he chuckles, as he breaches your personal space and his hand brushes yours. 

“You won’t, ever. I promise,” and your breath catches — many millions of times had Yuji touched you throughout your lives — an arm over over your shoulder, a hug, even holding your hand through crowds during festivals — but a simple brush of his fingers against yours had your heart rattling against its bony enclosure, begging for you to let it out, “what do ya think?” 

And you’re thinking — this would be the best outcome — you weren’t one to hook up with a stranger and you were burnt out on dead end dating app conversations, and to have your first time with someone close, someone you knew — it would be ideal. 

“Are you sure?” And his lips curl into a soft smile, leaning closer, as his fingers gently brush against your locks. 

“Would I be here like this if I wasn’t?” his breath warms your lips, as his fingers skim your cheek, “is this okay?” 

You nod wordlessly, unable to find the words to even reply — you had never thought of this situation would ever happen — especially like this. You lean against his hand, calloused from his practices, but as gentle as it always was. 

“We can take it as slow as you need,” he murmurs, as he’s even closer now, your eyes fluttering shut, only for his lips to graze your forehead. You pause at the featherlight touch — wondering if it actually happened when your eyes open to find his, “no need to rush, right?” He smiles, as he gets to his feet, “are we still on for tomorrow’s study session?” 

“Of course,” 

He scratches the back of his head, “Good because I still don’t understand math or why I need it, but unfortunately, I still have to pass,” he grabs his bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he offers a smile before he’s gone. 

And you’re left sitting on your bed, the warmth of his touch still on your skin, wondering what the fuck just even happened. 

“Yuji, you just have to solve for x,” you sigh, explaining the problem for the billionth time, as his pen waves back forth between two fingers, “it’s simple,” 

Your weekly study sessions with Yuji were a constant throughout your life, though more for Yuji than you. Yuji is very intelligent, despite his demeanor in class where it felt as if there was a perpetual question mark over his head — he just learned by seeing and then doing. And the repetition helped you all the same. But you had never felt so conscious sitting next to the boy you called your best friend. 

“Maybe to you, but I don’t why math has to involve letters,” he wrinkled his nose at the problem, sighing, as he twists the pen around his hand, and your eyes catch the movement — you didn’t know how the little boy’s whose hands you used to hold had gotten so big now — calloused from his practices, but so soft against your skin,  “is something interesting about my hands?” 

Your eyes snap up to meet his, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “No, just, uh, impressed that you can twist the pen around your hand like that,” 

“Oh, that?” he’s as unfazed as usual, leaning back a little, “that’s easy. I could show you if you want,” 

“It’s fine,” and you’re trying to focus back on the problem, when you find him still staring, “what is it?” 

“If you wanted to hold my hand, you just had to ask,” his fingers graze yours, with enough time for you to pull away, before his fingers lace with yours, “and we can do more if you want?” 

This was crazy — it was probably a mistake, but — as his touch made your heart flutter, warm rolling in waves that erupted into butterflies in your stomach — why weren’t you pulling away? 

“What does more entail?” and he inches a little closer, his breath warming your lips, “but you still haven’t gotten this problem down, are you just trying to get out of studying?” 

A chuckle on his lips, “Maybe I’m just looking for the right motivation, so how about we make a deal?” He moves over, spreading his legs apart, and pats the floor in front of you — for each question I get right, I get a kiss,”

And why you agreed to this, you really didn’t have words—but now you were sat between his legs, nearly in his lap, as he leaned forward — his chest against your back as his chin brushed your shoulder and his cheek brushed against your own, breath warming your neck — trying to get a better look at the math problem. His arm was wrapped around your side as his pen scratched against the scrap paper, trying to solve the problem. You bit your lip, trying your best not to glance at him, but you spot his wrinkled brow out of the corner of his lip and the tip of his tongue poking ever so slightly out of his mouth— and your lips curled, he still had that habit from when you were kids. 

“There, I think I solved it,” he murmurs, and you have to hold back a shiver at the words rumbled against your ear, “is it right?” 

And god, you could barely think, much less do math, but as you glance over the question and answer — he’s got it right.  

Fuck. 

“It is,” you say softly, “is all you need some motivation? Because I would have just promised I would go to see the next Human Earthworm movie,” 

He chuckles, his lips nearly against your ear, as his hand gently traces your jaw, “I’d like that, but I think i rather have what I was promised, as long as you’re still okay with that,” 

Your breath hitches, as you follow his lead, rough pads still so gentle against your cheek, as your eyes find his, but you don’t find his usual doe eyes — but instead find pools of lust threatening to drag you under. Although from the way your lips part and eyes flutter shut, perhaps he had you underwater for far longer than you even knew. 

His lips graze yours — it’s barely a kiss, a peck maybe — as he does his best to ease you in. You didn’t know lips could be so soft — meeting again and again, stealing logic from your mind and breath from your lungs. 

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, not even a breath away from your lips. You’re nearly dizzy, mind reeling from his touch, heart jumping at his thumb rubbing lightly against your cheek. 

“I am, just a little strange to be kissing, much less you,” and his brow knits together, “but not bad at all,” you add, and he chuckles, his fingers grazing your cheek firmer, as he leans in again, “we said one kiss—“ 

“Do you really want to stop now?” he’s murmuring, and your noses bump against each other. 

Your lips find his again and now you can taste the sour candy he had stolen from you, but an overwhelming sweetness overrides it, and your hand brushes against his cheek, the other finding purchase on his chest.

“Is that okay?” You murmur, as you lips part, the two of you catching your breath, your shared pants filling the silence, your cheeks burning as your eyes avert from his, “I don’t know—“ 

“You’re fine, don’t worry about it,” a small chuckle on his lips, fingers cupping your chin to guide your gaze back to his — a subtle heat that makes your insides turn to molasses, sticky and sweet and far too warm, “just do what feels right, ok?” 

And his lips find yours again, gently as he did the first time, but more passion behind it, swallowing your quiet murmur of his name with ease. Your lips move against his just as his did — you try to push aside the thoughts of whether you were doing this right. But the slight brush of his teeth against your bottom lip makes you forget too with a gasp. 

He pulls away with a grin on his lips, “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” and his lips are kissed red, your thumb brushed against his swollen lips, “don’t tempt me more,” 

“You’re the one who started this, shouldn’t you take some responsibility, Yu?” your lips graze his cheek, curling as a rosy flush settles over his cheekbones, “nothing to say?” 

“You’re making it hard for me to hold back,” and he’s burying his face in the side of your neck, making you shiver, as he pulls you even closer, arms around your waist, “I don’t want to rush you,” 

Cute, you think before you even think, and yet the way his face is hidden away in your neck, breath warming your neck makes your body flush, and when have you ever thought of Yuji as cute? And yet you couldn’t remember a time that he made your heart race either. 

His lips press a small kiss to your neck, drawing a yelp from your lips, “Yuji—“ he’s nosing the hollow of your throat, “ah, you’re teasing me,” you whine, and he’s lifting his gaze back to yours, heavy with want, a want that leaves you bereft of any semblance of sense. 

“You started it,” he murmurs, before he finds your lips in another kiss — this time it’s a slow heat, languid as it threatens to burn both of you alive, flames licking at the edges of your reason. And his phone goes off — a reminder for practice that he groans at, “I should go. I have to go run laps,” 

“Now?” And he’s slowly disentangling himself from you, the absence of his touch lingers, the heat ebbing, “don’t you usually practice in the mornings?” You get to your feet slowly as well, handing him his math notebook, and it occurs to you when you spot the puddles outside, “it was too wet,” 

And he nods, scratching the back of his head, as the two of you walk out into your apartment’s living space, “and I forgot my protein shake—“ you head over to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out his shake, and he blinks, “how—“ 

“You did the same thing last week, so I just bought a pack for you,” and his lips curl as he walks over and takes the bottle from your hand, fingers brushing — and even that much alight a flutter of nerves through your body. 

“Thanks,” he grins, and you nod. 

“Of course, I thought it just made sense since you come here every week—” you turn to shut the refrigerator, before turning back, only to find him stepping a bit closer, “Yu—“ 

“I almost forgot, one more lesson,” and he’s leaning close, and your breath catches in your throat, as his lips brush yours, fingers tracing the swell of your cheek, “a kiss goodbye,” and he parts, a brush of his fingers against yours, “I’ll text you later,” and he’s gone in a flash. 

Your left, fingertips touching your lips, a questioning lingering as he left — whether these feelings blooming in your chest were just from the kiss, or something more. 

But you glance at your phone — a text from Yuji: 

Golden Retriever Bestie: thanks for the drink again :)

You lock the screen — but you couldn’t hope for more, right? Not when this was started with the intention of stopping. But why—as you laid back into bed, staring up at your ceiling in the same room the two of you had spent the last two years watching movies or studying in, eyes squeezing shut—

Why did you still want more? 

When did Yuji Itadori fall in love with you? It would probably be easier for him to list the moments he hadn’t fallen for you — but the earliest he can remember was when he had hurt himself climbing a tree in the schoolyard, falling from the branch he had made it to. You had been watching him the whole time, telling him to come down, and when he fell, you were at his side. His vision was a little blurry but when it cleared, he saw you knelt above him, big tears leaving your eyes. And when he came to, you hugged him tight, before helping him to the nurse’s. You had even insisted on bandaging his cuts, not letting the nurse do so. 

And that’s when he knew — he knew he always wanted to wake to you beside him. 

“You what?” Nobara scoffed at him, as she held up another of her new purchases in front of her while looking in her full length mirror, “so instead of asking her out and confession this pathetic crush—“ 

“Pathetic is kinda harsh, Kugisaki—“ 

“It’s been over a decade — your one sided feelings is now in secondary school — it’s officially pathetic,” she hangs up the new leather jacket she bought in her closet, before turning to Yuji, “so instead of confessing, you asked her to be your friends with benefits—“ 

“That’s not exactly—“ she cuts him off with a look, “ok that’s kind of what I did,” he shakes his head, “she was venting about how she never had her first kiss and words started coming out of my mouth and wouldn’t stop—“ 

“Not the first time that’s happened to you is it?” And Yuji glares at her through the mirror, “what? You came to me instead of Fushiguro because you wanted a pretty girl’s opinion right?” 

“I said girl, nothing about—“ it was her turn to glare at him, “alright, alright — what do I do now? I want to tell her I like her, but if I do, I might seem like a—“ 

“A creep? A weirdo? A pervert?” 

“I was gonna say liar, but those too,” he rubbed a hand down his face, “what do I do?” 

She sighs, tucking a strand of her dyed hair behind her ear, “the only thing to do in situation like this,” 

“Tell the truth?” And she scoffs. 

“No, of course not, just use this time to make her fall for you, but that means you’ll have to use this agreement to your advantage,” she hums, “she said she wanted more experience right?” And Yuji nods, “who says it has to just be making out and sex?” 

“You want to go on a date? Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you turn the heat of your burner down, hoping you hadn’t completely burned your omelet now as you flipped it, “I thought this was just supposed to be for the more…physical sides of things,” your cheeks burned. 

God, what the fuck. 

“I mean part of gaining experience is learning how to date, right?” And you’re placing your slightly burned omelet in the plate, as you wipe your hands off with your dishcloth, “we could go to an arcade, maybe catch a movie,” 

“Human Earthworm 4?” And you hear him chuckle over the line, and the sound makes your lips curl — it always felt like an accomplishment making him laugh, but even more so now.  

“We don’t have to—“ 

“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you never did — you just loved to tease him, as you always did, “they’ve grown on me,” and you didn’t know there was more room for Yuji to grow on you, you thought his roots had already went far and deep, tangled around every inch of yourself and your mind, even your heart — but now—

“Does 2 PM work? I’ll come by and pick you up from your place,” and you didn’t know where it would go but— 

“Sounds perfect,”  he had found his way into a place you never thought anyone would find themselves in. — and as he hung up, biting your bottom lip—

And it seemed he was here to stay. 

“You’re such a cheater,” you glared at Yuji as he won for the tenth time at the boxing game — hitting the max score every time, “tell me what the trick is,” 

“You know I’m strong,” Yuji gapes,  holding his arm, “how would I cheat?” And you’re pouting, crossing your arms. 

“You’re cheating by being you,” and Yuji has to bite back his smile — you were being so cute — but he knows saying that will earn him a punch in the shoulder harder than you gave the punching bag on the machine, “now you have to buy me an ice cream,” 

“For?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“For being a cheater,” and he can’t help the chuckle that leaves his lips that earns him a bunch of slaps to his arm, before he’s wrapping that same arm around your waist, your complaints chased away by a gasp, “what—“ 

“I was going to buy you anything you wanted anyway, it is a date after all,” he smiles, and you stammer, but you don’t pull away, “what flavor do you want?” After you tell him, he goes off to the concession to buy you both some ice cream, and when he finds you at a table, he sees you’re not alone. His lips are a tight line, as he finds a guy leaning against the booth you sat in, clearly flirting with you, your back to Yuji so he can’t see your face. 

He finds his way back to you, his hand brushes your shoulder gently, “is everything okay?” He asks you, meeting your gaze without regard for the stranger — and he’s glad he did, because he spots your pursed lips and darting eyes that told him everything he needed to know, “you need something?” He asks the guy, a friendly smile on his lips. 

“Not from you,” the guy scoffs, “I was talking to—“ 

“Well, you’re talking to me now, not my date, so—“ and you’re leaning into Yuji, “you need something or not?” And the guy grumbles something under his breath before slinking away, and Yuji’s sliding in beside you when you move over, “you okay?” 

“Yeah, he wouldn’t leave,” you sigh, shaking your head, “sorry—“ 

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he murmurs, as he hands you your ice cream, “as long as you’re okay,” his arm slides around your shoulder and squeezes you, “i would’ve punched him if it wouldn’t have ruined our date,” 

You snort, as you lick your ice cream, “if you punched him harder than you did the bag, don’t know if this date would have ended with us going home,” and he pouts, as he laps at his ice cream, and he feels you turn to look at him, “Didn’t know you were the jealous type, Yu,” and he chuckles, he wanted to say — only when it came to you. 

But he knew that he couldn’t. Not like this.  

“I didn’t think I was either.” 

“Nope, not gonna admit it,” and Yuji’s grinning still, as the two of you walk out of the theater, his arm still around your shoulder, “no it wasn’t that good,” 

If there was one thing about Yuji is that movies were literally his obsession — one movie marathon when the two of you were teens had turned him into a fanatic. And he often ended up dragging you to all of them he saw in theaters — and you probably had watched the Human Earthworm movies the most amount of times anyone ever has — aside from Yuji. Well, more like you watched him watch it, because while he was smiling and laughing (or crying) at the movie, you were looking at him. 

And right now, he looked far too smug, “So you admit that it was good,” and you cross your arms, shaking your head, “I saw you tearing up at the end — I told you, it’s all about love!” 

You purse your lips, if only to hold back your smile, before sighing, “How would no one tear up at that ending?” And his hand’s grabbing yours, tugging at your arm, as the two of you walk along, “Yu—“ 

“I knew you liked it! C’mon, I knew you would, now what was your favorite part?” And your lips curl into a smile, “what?” 

That was one of the things you loved the most about Yuji, how excited he could get — how he loved everything so wholeheartedly with no reservations, and you knew he was the one person you could always count on to cheer you up. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you chuckle, letting your fingers lace with his, “my favorite part?” And you want to say — watching him enjoy the movie. 

But you can’t. 

“Probably the ending,” you slowly smile, “liked it when the credits rolled,” and he’s mock glaring, as you laugh before his arm tightening around your waist, “Yu-ji—“ 

“Not going to be honest?” He murmurs, before kissing your chin, “then maybe I’ll make you.” 

“Yu—ngh, please,” Yuji could get addicted to your taste, it was never enough, was it? His lips had spent the last twenty minutes kissing every inch of your face and neck, traversing over every nook and cranny as he always wanted to — and yet it was never enough. Any time spent with you was never enough —because you always made anything better, and nothing ever worse. 

And he knew no one else would ever feel this good. 

How many times had he imagined just this scenario? Of you in his bedroom with him alone, as you had been many times before, but never like this. You never looked at him like that before — with that shyness mixed with an undercurrent of want. And it was enough to rip him away and drag him under with you. 

“Please what, baby?” Yuji looks up with a wry smile and soft eyes that burn a path where as it raked down your body like coals across a fire, “want me to stop?” And he’s dragging a thumb down your untouched lips. 

You cover your face with the back of your hand, and he’s gently tugging it away, pressing a kiss to your wrist, your pulse jumping underneath, “I want more,” and fuck if he wasn’t at full mast from the kissing, he was now at your words, “I want you to…kiss me and…touch me,” you mumble, eyes averted, but he’s smiling all the same — you were so cute. 

“Where can I touch?” he asks softly, his nose brushing yours, “need you to tell me. I don’t want to rush—“ 

And your lips crash against his, your fingers finding the back of his neck, threading in his pink locks. He’s pausing a moment before he melts into your kiss, and you’re taking the lead, as you lean further into the kiss, your fingers sliding down from his shoulder to his chest. His tongue flicks against the seam of your lips and you part for him. 

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur as you break the kiss, panting, strings of your spit still connecting your lips, your breathy words nearly enough for him to lose all control, “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it,” 

And he’s more than happy to oblige, his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, his hand toys with the hem of your shirt as permission, and you part from the kiss to nod. His hand slides up your soft flesh, pushing up your shirt along with it — finding your lacy bra underneath. He’s tugging the shirt up and over your head with your help, and god—

He has to stop himself from cumming right then and there at the sight of you. His fingers reach out, toying with the strap of your bra, “Did you wear this for me?” And you biting your bottom lip was all the answer he needed. 

“Yu—“ he’s tweaking your hardened bud through the fabric, “ah, fuck—“ and he leans down to suck the other side through your bra, while sliding down your bra strap. 

“Need to taste you,” and you’re nodding, while he’s reaching around to brush against the clasp of your bra to undo it, and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare skin — you’re so fucking pretty. 

He always thought you were pretty — when you were kids drenched from running around in the rain, when you were just waking up from a nap with your hair askew and dried drool in the corner of your mouth, when your eyes were wide with excitement and nearly jumping up and down to tell him good news; and when you’re smiling—especially when you’re smiling. 

It was his favorite thing. 

“Don’t stare so much,” you’re trying cover yourself, but his hands catch yours, easing them off, “It’s embarrassing—“ 

“You’re perfect,” and your lips part but no words come, but you can’t meet his gaze, “you are—“ 

“You’re just saying that—“ and his fingers pinch your nipple drawing a gasp from your lips, while he leans down and takes the other in his mouth. His eyes find yours, blown into deep, dark pools by his lust — ones you’d be more than willing to drown in. 

“I’d never just say that, especially to you, baby,” and you’re about to make a smart remark about him calling you ‘baby.’ But you forget every word you ever learned when his fingers start to drag down your stomach, fingers playing with the button of your jeans, “can I?” 

And you nod, your back arching ever so slightly as his lips press a sweet kiss to your bellybutton. He’s kissing down your soft legs as he tugs down your jeans — one to your thigh, another to your knee, and another to your ankle —before he’s kissing up the other. 

“How’s that feel?” he murmurs, eyes flitting up to meet yours, and fuck, your lips parted and swollen a pretty red, eyes half lidded with want, and — as his eyes fall between your thighs — a growing wet spot on your panties. 

His fingers toy with the elastic, snapping it lightly against your skin, a slight flinch only, as his eyes gaze at your clothed cunt with near reverence. He looks for permission, before he leans in to press a kiss to your swollen clit, a small yelp escaping your mouth. 

“Yuji,” you whine, lifting your head to meet his gaze again, “please,” 

“Say my name again, please,” he’s kissing your thigh gently, and it feels as if you’ll crumble under his touch any second, wither away in a figment of his imagination, and he won’t ever get the chance to hear you like this again, much less touch you. He was selfish to take advantage like this — and he knew he was — but he couldn’t leave it like this.

“Yuji, just touch me—“ and your head falls back as his fingers graze your clit through your nearly translucent underwear, “ngh, you fucker—“ and he’s chuckling, as he tugs your panties away. 

“Wanted to keep them on since you looked so good, but,” and he’s pocketing them with a grin, “I’ll just keep them instead,” your dripping walls twitch at the thought, “s’good for me. What do you want, my fingers or my tongue?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know, just touch—“ and your head lolls against the pillow as his tongue drags up flat up the length of your weeping pussy. 

“You’re so sweet — I could live here,” he murmurs, as his fingers spread your slick folds, a pretty moan falling from your lips as he does, “can’t wait to feel you cum around my fingers,” he’s easing a finger in — and you’re so tight, you’re tensing as he tries to part your walls, “relax, ok? I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry. I won’t ever hurt you,” his eyes meet yours and you’re nodding, as he pulls his finger away, a shiver at the empty ache, but it falls away into another moan as his tongue replaces it. 

The wet squelch of your folds is enough for him to cum right there — you smell as sweet as you taste, as he kisses your clit, before dragging the length of his tongue over your sopping slit again, “Yuji—fuck—“ your fingers find purchase in his pink locks right when he decides to sink a finger inside you again. 

“That’s it,” he grunts, as he works his finger knuckle deep into you, “so good f’me, so tight,” he’s murmuring, and your syrupy walls wrapped around his finger makes him wonder how good it will feel when his cock is inside you. He’s palming his erection through his pants, desperate for any kind of fucking friction, “g’nna add another,” 

And you’re nodding, “please, I—“ and a second finger joins the first, and the lewd noises grow louder from your slick and his fingers begin to pump faster — teasing and stretching your walls as they begin to flutter around you, “Yuji, Yuji—“ his name leaves your lips like a prayer, but he’s the one who would worship at your feet, if you’d let him, your moans and whimpers were all he needed to survive, and he’d give his very soul if it meant he could be at your side. 

His fingers are fucking you open, the tips of his fingers brushing against the spot that his your mouth falling open in a silent moan, “that’s it, cum for me, pretty girl,” and pleasure rips up your spine, as you cum all over his fingers, thighs shaking as you do. He fucks you slowly through your orgasm, helping you ride it out, until he’s slowing, leaning up to prsss sweet kisses to your face. 

“I’m going to pull them out slowly,” he murmurs, your eyes still fluttered shut, but they slowly open to watch him ease his fingers from you. Soft pants leave your lips as you watch him with lidded eyes lick his fingers sticky with your release clean. 

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, as he moves up to lean over your face, and you’re nodding, “let me clean you up and we can sleep, ok?” he’s moving to get off the bed, but you grab his hand, and he tilts his head. 

“What about you?” You mumble, frowning, eyes flickering to the tent in his pants with a shy gaze, “I want to—“ 

“It’s okay, let’s just take it easy today,” he’s smiling, fingers finding yours and squeezing, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “you look like you’re about to pass out,” and you’re pouting all the same, but you seem to relent as the exhaustion sets in once again at your words, “I’ll be right back,” and he retreats to his bathroom to wet a washcloth, only to come back to you fast asleep. 

He chuckles at the sight of you sprawled out on his bed — a sight not uncommon to him on nights you spent over, but never like this before. He leans on the bed carefully, mattress creaking ever so slightly under his weight, as he begins to clean you gently — and luckily, you don’t wake by the time he’s done. He can’t put your jeans or underwear on so he opts to grab a pair of his freshly washed shorts and slides them on you. He adjusts the blanket, draping it over you, running his fingers through your hair to tuck it behind your ear, and the back of his knuckles over your cheek. 

“Yuji,” you mumble in your sleep, and he bites his lip — as he returns to his bathroom, softly shutting the bedroom door and the bathroom door behind him, a glaring problem to deal with, as he is still nearly waddling at this point from the grazing of his boxers against his aching erection. 

He undoes his jeans quickly, eyes fluttering as he pushes both down and strips his shirt off before slipping into the shower. The squeak of the shower faucet and the water running hopefully don’t wake you — but more importantly, he hopes his moans don’t.  

His dick was rock hard and aching still — there were so many times he nearly came in his pants, and by how drenched his boxers were — maybe he had. But fuck, you were so gorgeous, laid back and spread out for him. 

His fingers grazed his weeping cock, smearing the precum up and down his length, thumb tracing his slit, as you would. He could see you thumbing his head experimentally, as your eyes flickered up at him, doe eyes, yet glazed over with lust. It wouldn’t be long until you’re slowly pumping him, as he does now — from base to tip, teasing his balls all the same. You’d flick your tongue over the tip, sucking at the dripping precum — wrinkle your nose at the salty taste, but you’d suck at his tip all the same. 

He’d look down at you as your hand switches to toying with his balls, as you let his cock slap against your tongue, before letting his length slip past your lips. Your lips would feel so much softer than his hand does right now, jerking himself off, your plush lips and tongue wrapped around his dick. A low groan escapes his lips, as he covers his mouth, hoping you couldn’t hear him over the running water. The squelch of his precum and his soft moans would only make him want to repay the favor, making you cum over and over, until you were begging him to stop. 

Fuck, he was close, by the way his cock twitched in his hand — where would he cum with you? He’d cum anywhere you wanted — but to cum on your face or chest, the image made him shudder. Your tongue would flick out to clean up some of the cum, and—

Fuck, he moans your name, as he cums all over his fingers, his release sprayed against the tile of his shower, dripping down and mixing with the water. He’s panting, as he cleans his hand off in the shower, leaning his head back. 

What has he gotten himself into? Was it right for him to do this? You didn’t know how he felt — and he didn’t know if you would ever feel the same. But as he got dressed and crawled into bed beside you, keeping his distance as you slept, he felt you move closer, mumbling his name as you did. He couldn’t help but softly smile, running his fingers through his hair—it didn’t matter if you never ended up loving him, as long as you knew what you deserved—to be with someone who loved you, as much or even more than he did. 

He let himself drift off, a loose arm thrown over your middle—he’d let himself have this, if only for now. 

“Oh come on, you couldn’t get the ad free version, Fushiguro?” Nobara complains as yet another commercial comes on, as she glares at the black haired vet student, who sat on the floor after she stole his armchair. 

He only shrugs, bearing little to no reaction, “If you’re going to complain, then why don’t you pay for it?” 

Nobara and him begin to bicker ever so slightly, and Yuji chuckles in your ear, “are they more fun to watch then the show?” 

The four of you were at your apartment, watching a new season of a TV show you all had started last year. You were sat next to Yuji on the couch, your bodies nearly pressed against each other as you shared the blanket, a little cold from the rain outside. 

“They’re always more entertaining than the show, that’s why we agree to this,” you whisper back, the proximity of your bodies making your cheeks burn. You turn away, hoping he can’t feel or even hear the way your heart was beating down your ribs to burst free. Every time he shifted even slightly, you felt your body react — so conscious of even a twitch of his fingers — you wanted to bury yourself under the blanket. 

It had been like this since that night. 

You had woken up to him asleep beside you. Your eyes fluttered open as consciousness slowly crept into focus, sunlight filtering into sight, a small groan leaving your lips. And it wasn’t until you tried to reach for your phone you realized the thing beside you wasn’t a pillow but a person.  

Your eyes flew open and you found Yuji still sound asleep beside you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to sleep on the same bed — especially after a late night where one or the other didn’t want to go home — but it was different to wake up entangled with him, especially after the events of the night before came flooding back. 

And after that, each time you had been around him, you had become more and more conscious of his touch, nervous even, at the simplest of brushes of his fingers. And this? His body pressed against yours, his fingers grazing your thigh nearly, and his soft breath against your ear — god, you were going to lose it. 

“You ok?” he murmurs a half an hour later, and the question itself makes you squirm — because no, your hot best friend was pressed against you and making you want to do nothing more than kiss him— 

Wait, wait, hot? Your mind stutters at your own thoughts, lagging to comprehend yourself — hot? You wanted to kiss him? You always knew Yuji was hot, he was objectively — especially based on how many of your friends had wanted you to hook them up with him — but you had never thought of him that way. Maybe in passing — but to you, that was the one line you could never cross, especially when you had seen so many friendships fall apart because of a relationship. 

You never wanted to risk Yuji like that. 

But then here you were — blurring that line you said you never cross — and letting the ground split underneath the two of you. 

“I’m fine,” you mumble back — and yet here he was, seemingly unfazed by your proximity and as the minutes ticked by, it began to eat away at you. Did he not find it as meaningful as you did? Did he not feel as good as you? Do you need to touch him just to make him feel just as heartsick as you were? 

And now you know what you wanted to do. 

As the show went on, Nobara and Fushiguro fell asleep — Fushiguro asleep with a cushion he had stolen from Nobara’s armchair and Nobara curled up in said armchair, passed out. 

“Should we stop the show and go to bed?” Yuji asks you, albeit innocently — but there was anything but innocent intentions in your mind when you shake your head, a smile on your lips. 

“Let’s keep watching,” your fingers grazes his thigh, as you lean over, lips nearly brushing against his ear, “it’s just getting interesting, right?” 

And his breath hitches, “what’re you—“ and your fingers inches higher, grazing over his already tenting erection, a hiss escapes his lips, as he’s covering his mouth. 

“Shh, don’t wake them,” and your fingers are ghosting and teasing over his cock, the precum already starting to seep through the fabric, as he shifts under your touch. Your thumb flicks over his head, now fully hard, “so big already,” you mumble, and now your lips press sweet kisses to his neck, finding small cuts and bruises from his practices, and a gasp escaped his lips. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this—“ and your lips find his, and he melts so easily into your touch, your fingers toy with the elastic of his shorts, his eyes flickering to the two sleeping. He’s pulling away for a breath, lips utterly ruined — his fingers running through his hair, “please—“ and your lips curl. 

Your fingers finally brush against his leaking cock, and his head falls back, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, lips parted as soft pants left his lips. And you’re nearly shivering yourself at his want — seeping into your own body, as his pants and moans send a wave of heat between your thighs. 

You rub your thighs together, as you shift even closer somehow, “Gotta be quiet Yu — they can hear us after all,” you murmur, right as your thumb swipes over his slit, a yelp caught in his throat, as his hand flies back to lips, “good boy,” and his dick twitches at the praise, as your finger begins to trace along his veins, “so big, how am I going to fit you inside?” you murmur, biting back a smirk when a muffled groan reaches your ears. 

Your fingers finally curl around his length, you never thought a cock to be pretty — but Yuji’s was. You stared at it under the covers, flushed a lovely red, too dripping pearly beads of precum, and the slight curve it had to it — made the ache in your cunt only grow. 

“Please, baby, I need, please—“ he’s whining, “I need you—“ 

And you oblige him, your hand beginning to spread the pre along his length, beginning to stroke him slowly from base to tip. He’s biting his lip, hard, nearly drawing blood as he chooses to bury his face in the crook of your neck, if only to muffle any moans that fell from his lips. 

“S’good for me, Yu, wanna make you feel as good as I did,” his moan vibrates against your skin, cock twitching in your fingers, “gonna move faster, don’t want our friends to see you like this, do you? You have to be quiet,” and god, why did only seem to get harder at your words? 

Your fingers begin to jerk him off in earnest, the wet squelch of his cock nearly not hidden enough by the volume of the TV, but nearly don’t care at this point — you just want him to fall apart under your touch, need him to. 

And oh, he’s so close. His groans are more frequent, his hips jerking against your fist, and when your other hand finds his balls, squeezing — it’s too much. 

He moans softly, “I’m—“ and that’s all he manages before he spills on your fingers — warm, white spurts splatter against your palm and the blanket, dripping, as he falls back, limp against the sofa. His cock softened in your hand, as you pull it away, before gently wiping him clean with the already drenched blanket. 

He’s panting and fucked out, eyes half lidded as his chest rises and falls, watching you lick your fingers clear of his release, gaze never leaving his. 

“Didn’t know you’d taste this good—“ you barely can manage, before he’s leaning forward to kiss you. Your fingers slide against his cheek to cup it, feeling his hand tangle itself in your hair, “Yuji—“ 

“What was that about?” he murmurs, “not that I’m complaining but—“ but then Megumi starts to move and you both freeze, your breath catching, until Megumi seemingly falls back asleep, “we should head to bed, but—“ 

He looks at the blanket, and the mess you made of him and the couch alike. 

“The blanket I’ll toss in the washer, the cushion I’ll clean up and just turn over—“ and you smile, “and you take a shower before bed,” 

His brow still knits together, “but we haven’t—“ 

“We’ll talk later,” and when later came, Yuji found you fast asleep in bed, with more questions than answers. But he supposed, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his answers could come later. 

How long has it been? 

You stared at your phone — as if you could will it to receive the message you’ve been waiting for. As if it would grant your one and only wish for a text or a call — but it didn’t. Instead, it only gave you a spam call and a text to let you know you had a discount code for your favorite takeout place. 

Great. 

It had been a week since you had heard from Yuji — and a week since that night. You had woken up to the other three gone — gone off to their own apartments after you had slept in and texts on your phone from them in the groupchat. It was a few days before break — before you and Yuji would be heading back home for a few days together. But you hadn’t seen him at all since — not a chance to talk, much less seeing him. 

Was he upset? Was he done with this? Was his promise to stay empty in the end? Was it your fault — for pushing it, for agreeing to it, and for falling for it all the same? Falling for it or — your eyes trace the screen of your phone as if it’s his cheek — or falling for him. 

No, you rake your fingers through your hair, no, you didn’t love him — not like that. Not the way you shouldn’t, the way you had sworn yourself never to — but maybe all promises between friends were empty, when they were made like this. 

But you weren’t made to let this break apart. 

You found yourself at his door after classes, knocking at his door of his apartment. The door opens, and you find Yuji rubbing his eyes, hair askew, and shoulders drooped. 

“Hey,” he yawned, he’s still shaking off the shackles of sleep, “sorry, what’s up?” 

“Are you okay?” Your furrow your brow, your eyes spot the dark bags under his eyes, large enough to nearly engulf his eyes all together, “you look like you haven’t slept in days,” he steps aside to let you in, you glance around, his apartment wasn’t usually the cleanest — but it wasn’t a wreck like it was now. Clothes scattered, unwashed dishes stacked up, and papers strewn about. 

“I just haven’t…been sleeping—“ and then you remember. 

It wasn’t about you. It was about him. And you were so wrapped up in yourself, you weren’t thinking about him. 

“Yuji, you’re having those nightmares again, aren’t you?” You murmur softly, and the way his gaze falls to the ground tells you everything you need to know, “alright, go lay down,” 

“What?” he’s blinking, but your hand already finds his as you take him to his bedroom, “what are you—“ 

“You lay down. I’m going to make you dinner, and then you’re going to sleep,” and he sits on the bed reluctantly, fingers against his knees, as he bit his lip. 

“I can’t sleep, I told you—“ you cup his cheek, and guide his gaze to yours. 

“Remember what we’d do when you couldn’t sleep after the accident?” 

“This feels ridiculous,” Yuji murmurs into your chest, his head buried there, while your fingers run softly through his pink locks, “we’re not six anymore—“ 

“So what? Doesn’t mean we can’t do this still,” you say, as your fingers pause, “unless you don’t want me to,” 

“I didn’t say that,” he mumbles, and you can hear the blush in his voice that undoubtedly painted his cheeks, “I just meant it feels like I’m bothering—“ 

“Yu, don’t make me pinch you,” you murmur, rubbing his head, “you’re never a bother,” you kiss his head softly without thinking, and soon your cheeks are burning too, “sorry I didn’t—“ 

“Why are you sorry?” He chuckles, “we’ve done a lot more than kiss recently,” and he adds, “especially you,” 

You bite your lip, glad he couldn’t see your face like this, “I thought that’s why you weren’t talking to me, I thought you didn’t like what I did…on the couch, you know—“ 

“I know,” he chuckles this time, “and how could I not like that?” And you swallow the lump in your throat, as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence that you choose to breach. 

“You haven’t had these nightmares in a while,” you murmur quietly, before you add, “we don’t have to talk—“ 

“I know, but it happens from time to time, especially this month,” and your brow furrows, “don’t wrinkle your forehead at me,” and you lean back to gape at him, a smile pulling at his lips, “you always do that when you find out I’m keeping something from you,” 

He moves ever so slightly away, turning to look at the ceiling, “Well I think I have a right because this is a pretty big thing to keep from me, Yu,” you pout, and your fingers begin to absentmindedly trace his jaw, his eyes fluttering shut — you always treated him so gently, like that something that could shatter, but he knew you would always be there to put him back together. Because you did that once already. Over a decade ago, “why didn’t you tell me?” 

Because he didn’t want to worry you. Because he didn’t want you to think of him still as that broken kid you watched after when he had his world fall apart. 

Because he didn’t want you to take that burden — he wanted to handle it himself. 

“I didn’t want to bother you—“ 

“It’s never a bother when it’s you,” and his voice catches in his throat — fuck, how did you always know just what to say? 

He takes a breath, “it’s just the same dream. Of the crash,” he could see something so clearly that he never experienced. He was at home with you when the crash happened — a play date Yuji had insisted on when he had cried and begged his parents to stay with you instead of going to dinner with them. They had relented — and that was the thing that left him alone. 

It was lucky that his grandfather was able to take him in, and stay close by — so he still got to go to school with you. 

“Let’s try to sleep, ok?” You murmur, “you’ll feel better when you sleep,” you cup his cheek, and he’s biting his lip, “what is it?” 

“What if I see it again?” He whispers, as if he’s afraid that his words were any louder he would speak it into existence. 

“Come here,” you say softly, your fingers gently guide his head to face you,  “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” A sigh leaves his lips as he moves closer, letting you engulf him in your arms, his eyes shutting, and letting himself relax for a moment — the first moment in far too many days. 

When he let himself slip into sleep’s embrace—it was the first night he didn’t dream of the crash — he dreamt of you.  

And when he woke in your arms in the morning, your soft lips parted as you slept, sunlight dappled on your skin through his window, and the way your fingers held onto the fabric of his shirt — he knew, he knew he had to tell you how he felt. 

He needed to end this — his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear — if only to begin something new. 

You had to end it — it hadn’t sunk in until the car drove back home. The quiet morning drive left you both in a comfortable silence, the quiet white noise of his playlist, along with Yuji’s terrible singalongs and your bickering over his music choice. And you found yourself more than once staring at him as he drove, to the point where he had caught you looking. 

“What?” He tilts his head when the light turned red, fingers drumming on the steering, the other poking your side. 

“Nothing,” and you’re playfully slapping his hand away, a smile on your lips — same smile you always had with him. Always—because he’s your best friend. But he was so much more than that. 

You were in love. 

The two of you had returned to the place where you had laid your roots to rest and let your seed scatter to the wind. Only to return as a different flower altogether — but you knew, you couldn’t let it go on. 

It had become painfully clear that morning, you had woken first, the sun had not peaked over the horizon yet, and you found Yuji fast asleep — breaths even and face relaxed. You knew his parents had scarred him deeply — he spoke of them often, but not at all at — he mentioned their presence, but never his own feelings. You knew he had a habit of putting others above himself — but you had missed this — all of this week, you could have been there for him, but you were caught up in your own thoughts and you had made it all about yourself. 

And he deserved more than that. 

He deserved more than you. 

And you couldn’t risk losing him — lose him in a stupid argument or a disagreement and then never be able to comfort him again? Never be able to be by his side? You couldn’t bear to even fathom that. 

“Nanamin was asking about you,” Yuji says as the two of you walk home from the local convenience store — a late night run that produced a familiar bag of treats the two of you always shared when you came back home. 

“Oh really? Are classes over for high school already?” The English literature teacher had taken Yuji in for his last year and half of high school after his grandfather passed, and Yuji always stayed with him on breaks. 

“He asked if you were going to come with us to see my parents tomorrow morning,” it was a tradition to go visit Yuji’s parents graves each year around this time — you always paid your respects whenever you could, “he also said you’re free to stay over, but you have to sleep in a different bedroom,” you snort, “he said and I quote ‘we are past the age of sharing a room,’” You laugh, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “he’s not exactly wrong though,” his fingers graze yours, and there’s nothing more you want than to take his hand, but you know one way or another, you’d drop it in the end. Wouldn’t it be better now? When there isn’t far to fall? 

So you do, letting your hand fall away from his. 

“I’d be happy to see your parents, but I don’t know if staying over is a good idea—“ and he’s shaking his head with a chuckle in his throat. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything you don’t want to—“ 

“We should stop, Yuji,” and his smile slips off his face as if it was slapped off, he blinks, shock settling into confusion. 

“Why?” Only one word and it manages to break you all the same. 

“We just shouldn’t. This was supposed to be about teaching me, but i think I’ve learned enough,” you’re turning away, but his fingers are gently finding your wrist, “Yuji—“ 

“You don’t think I can’t tell when you’re lying?” Yuji asks, and your glass-like facade shatters so easily — why does it always have to break so readily when it comes to him? 

But you pull away all the same, “I can’t do this anymore. Not like this. I don’t want to. I can’t lose you—“ 

“You won’t lose me—“ but you’re already walking off, sparing a glance back. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning when we leave, Yuji,” and he’s opening his mouth to call out, but he stops himself, watching you disappear up the street. 

What just happened? 

The car ride to the cemetery is notably silent. Yuji’s eyes burned when he woke, head aching from the circles he ran around in last night, trying to figure out what happened. Nanami drives in the quiet, his eyes noting when Yuji chooses to sit passenger instead of beside you, only with one glance that’s averted after Yuji refuses to meet it. 

Yuji didn’t know what to make of what you said. After everything, he thought maybe — just maybe, you felt the same as he did. He thought he could tell you tomorrow, tell you when the two of you were alone — and even if it didn’t work out, it would be okay. 

But now — as his eyes stole a look at you in the rear view mirror, he wondered if it ever would be okay again. 

You left the car a moment to go use the bathroom when they stopped to fill gas in the car, and that’s when Nanami speaks. 

“So did you finally ask her out and she said no?” And Yuji’s head snaps to his, but Nanami only stares back, “you aren’t hard to read, Itadori. You’ve liked her for a long time,” 

Yuji scratches the back of his head, “I did something, kinda stupid,” and Nanami tilts his head, “really stupid, ok? And I was going to tell her how I felt, but she broke off what we were doing—“ 

“You weren’t dating?” Yuji’s cheeks burn as he waves off his teacher. 

“That’s not important! But what do I do, Nanamin?” the blond haired teacher raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s not hard to know what to do, Itadori. It’s what you should have done. Tell her how you feel,” and then you’re walking back to the car, “come on, let’s get back. We’re close now.” 

And your gaze avoids his own when Yuji watches you get back in the car, and his lips part as if to stop you — but he doesn’t. 

Not yet. 

You stood with Yuji as he tended to his parents’ graves. Simple stones that he was able to put in with time from his part time jobs, ones he had insisted he would pay for himself — refusing any help from anyone, even you. You knelt down, helping him clear the strewn dead leaves, brushing away dirt and snow — your fingers brushing when you both reach for the same place. 

And your eyes meet, as both of your fingers intertwine slowly — the three of you pay your respects, and Nanami finally stands. 

“I’ll wait for you two at the car,” Nanami says with a nod, leaving the two of you alone. You both already had placed offerings at their graves, arranging them slowly, as the two of you stand, the silence of the cemetery hanging overhead — light streaming in between clouds in the overcast sky, the sounds of the wind rustling the trees the only thing in the quiet. 

“Thank you for coming,” Yuji says softly, and your blink, eyes sliding to his. 

“You never have to thank me for that, Yuji,” you squeeze his hand, “as long as you want me to come, I’ll always be here. And I’ll always pay my respects to your parents, regardless of that,” you say, and that's exactly why you had to stop with him. You couldn’t bear to lose him — lose this, not when he’s lost too much and he was too much for you to lose, “come on, we should get back to the car,” as you pull your hand away from his. 

And maybe things could get back to normal. 

“I know,” and he doesn’t move as you turn to leave, “and that’s why I love you,” 

And you smile, “I love you too—“ 

“I don’t mean it like that,” and you freeze a moment, his words barely processing before he continues to speak, “I mean I do love you in that way too — but that’s not how I meant it now,” he says, as you turn to face him — not finding a hint of humor on his expression. 

“Yuji—“ your brain can barely process your best friend confessing to you — much less next to his parents’ graves— “should we be having this conversation—“ 

“It’s the perfect place to have this conversation,” he glances around at all of the graves, and he’s shaking his head, “maybe not the perfect place, but—“ his gaze softens when he finds yours, “you saved me,” 

“Yuji—“ 

“No, you did. After my parents died,” he stares at the stones side by side — “I could barely function. I barely wanted to do anything but sleep — but you, you pulled me out of bed. You made me go places. You made me smile again,” he says, “but that’s not the reason I fell in love with you,” his lips curl into a soft smile, “it’s because it’s you — your smile, your laugh, your being — it reminded me of happiness existed, and then I realized you were the only person who could make me happy the way you do,” 

“Yuji—“ 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. But I don’t want to lose you, lose this chance to tell you how I feel, to tell you—“ 

“Yuji—“ 

“And I’ve always loved you — there’s never been—“ and you’re hugging him, before you even know you are, your arms are around his middle, face buried in his chest, as he murmurs your name. 

“The only reason I broke it off was,” your voice wavers despite your efforts to force it to stay even, “I didn’t to lose you by not being good enough—“ 

“You just have to be you,” his brow furrowed into the same valleys he teased you for, “you’re all I need,” his hand finds your cheek, guiding your gaze to his, “how could you think you weren’t enough?”

“You don’t tell how you feel sometimes — you don’t tell me what you’re thinking, I didn’t even know you had nightmares—“ you break off, “what if we continued this and you realized you deserved better than me? And it was already too late for me because I love—“ you break off. 

“You what?” he asks, and you’re biting your lip, “I’ll say it again if it will make you—“ 

Fuck it. 

You lean up and press your lips to his, swallowing his words as your hand finds purchase on his shoulder. And it felt right. As it always did with Yuji. 

“I love you too,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you, in the same way you do,” 

“As a friend?” And your brow furrows, “kidding! Kidding—ow!” You’re smacking him playfully, before he catches both of your wrists and pulls you close, “does that mean I can call you mine?” 

“Or baby,” and he flushes, a cute pout on his lips, “what? Isn’t it—“ and he’s kissing you again, your heart leaping as he does, his hands sliding around your hips, “Yu-“ 

“And what’s my pet name? You still haven’t given me one—“ 

“Have some decorum,” a voice cuts through, and the two of you jump apart, as Nanami stands, glaring at the two of you, “come on, if you’re done paying your respects, then we should go home,” he sighs, rubbing his temples, “the dead shouldn’t have to put up with this.” 

Yuji’s cheeks are tomato red at this point — as he covers his face— but you only chuckle, your fingers intertwining with his, squeezing, “c’mon let’s go, and maybe I can give you a pet name when we get home,” and you both turn to face his parents, as you pay your respects and head down the path a little. 

Yuji faces his parents, kneeling down to say goodbye again — and he remembers how it was their idea to set up Yuji to have a playdate with you, all those years ago. And now, here you were — the most important person in his life. 

“Thank you for everything you did for me,” and he glances at you over his shoulder as he gets up, “especially for helping me find her.” 

“Yu-ji—“ you gasp, as he’s tugging you into your bedroom, bumping himself carelessly into the wall as he guides you both to your bedroom. You giggle as he presses you against the wall outside your room, “I text you my parents are going out for dinner and this is how you greet me? What happened to hello—“ 

His lips crash against yours and you forget about ‘hello’ and just about every other word in your head. Your lips curl against his lips, as his body cages you against the wall. It had been a few days since you and Yuji had been able to have a moment alone—Nanami was watching you both cautiously, while your parents had been keeping you busy at home, seeing family or cleaning up around the house. And Yuji was growing increasingly desperate for some time with you — that wasn’t hidden brushes of fingers under the table or stolen kisses out of sight from family or friends. 

“I missed you so much, baby,” he’s murmuring — and you didn’t know it was so possible to look like a kicked puppy so much until you met Yuji, “can’t believe Nanami was so mean and kept making us keep the door open—“ 

“It didn’t help that he walked in us making out on your bed three times—“ and a moan escapes your lips as he kisses your neck, teeth grazing against your racing pulse, “fuck, Yu—“ 

“How do you always taste so good?” he mumbles against you as he leads you inside your bedroom and shuts the door. His eyes glance around your childhood room, as he takes in the childhood posters plastered on the walls, the untouched books, the stuffed animals from a millennium ago that still lined your bed. 

“My family has not changed much here for years,” your cheeks burn, as he only chuckles, walking you backwards into your bed, and you climb into the bed, only grabbing a stuffed animal from behind you, “remember this?” 

He snorts, as he takes the stuffed penguin from your hands, “How could I forget? I tried a million times to win this,” 

You tilt your head, “You said you won it your first try—“ and you gasp as he looks away, cheeks flushed, “you were trying to impress me,” 

“Not that much,” and you’re leaning closer, brushing your lips against his, “maybe just a little,” you kiss him more insistently this time, sliding against his, fingers curling in his soft strands, “maybe too much,” and you smirk, noses bumping as your lips find each other’s again and again. 

And your fingers slide down to drag his shirt up and over, freeing his chest and abs to your sight — and what a sight it is. So toned and tanned from his American football practices in the sun — perfect for your fingers and lips to explore the peaks and valleys of his body, hands already far too eager.

He returns the favor by lifting your own shirt off in an instant, groaning when he finds you wearing nothing underneath — your eyes can’t help but flit down and find his erection already tenting in his sweatpants. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” his eager hands are already teasing and palming you breasts, a whimper drawn out by his precise pinches and touches, “so good for me,” and your hands drag down his chest, leaning down to press kisses to his chest as your fingers trace along his abs, making him groan. 

He’s pouting, after he pulls you into another kiss, “it’s not fair,” he mumbles into the side of your neck, “I feel like I’m always the one who’s more nervous than you are,” 

You chuckle, kissing his jaw, “I felt the same way, why do you think I touched you on our TV marathon that night?” 

And he’s blinking, as you lay back on the bed for him, “you didn’t know—“ you shake your head. 

“You had offered to help get experience, and even when we had done things, you were just so…normal,” he chuckles, before laying beside you. 

“I had some practice acting normal around you, but I really didn’t. I think you nearly gave me a heart attack that night,” and you grin, drawing so close that you even feel the hitch of his breath. 

“That good, huh?” You tease, and it only takes a moment until he’s hovering over you, lust pooled in his gaze that lights a fire on your body wherever it lays. 

And his lips meet yours right after he whispers, “I’ll show you good.” 

“One more, baby,” Yuji tells you, but you barely hear it through the haze of pleasure and heat that fills the room, along with the sounds of the squelch of his fingers in your tight cunt, “just need one more,” 

And how many times had he made you orgasm already? You’d lost count — five or six at least. The first had taken some time, working his finger into your weeping slit, the way your walls stretch around him make you wonder how good it will feel when he fucks you. It’s not long before he’s sinking another finger in, the sounds and feelings of his digits curling is enough to bring you to orgasm. And the rest are a blur — another finger in your tight entrance, fucking you open as he toyed with your walls, until you came again and again. 

And now he bent down, lips around your clit, teasing and sucking at the sensitive bud, as your fingers curled in his pink locks as the lewd moans fell from your mouth with ease. You’re so close — so fucking close, and when his fingertips brush against that spot and it’s all too much. 

You cum around his fingers and mouth, his name on your lips as you do, back arching against him, as he eases his fingers from your cunt. He licks his fingers clean as your eyes flutter open to meet his, “You taste so good, baby — you’re perfect,” and you watch as his tongue flicks out to clean his lips and chin of your sticky release. 

And soon enough he’s kissing you, hand cupping your cheek, letting you taste yourself on his lips, as your fingers drag over his bare chest and follow his happy trail into the elastic of his boxers. A soft moan leaves his kiss ruined lips, as his eyes are lidded with lust, soft pants against your skin. 

“Is this a dream?” Yuji murmurs, his lips ghosting along your jaw, “never thought we would get here,” and you turn your head to meet his lips in another sweet kiss. 

“It isn’t, we’re here. Took us long enough,” your lips curl, your fingers tracing over his cheek, “and nowhere else I rather be — or no one else I rather be with,” 

“You sure?” And you’ve flipped him over, kissing down his body, fingers tugging at the elastic of his boxers until his dick is freed from the fabric, “fuck, baby, you don’t have—“ 

And his words are cut off with a grunt as your fingers grazes his erection, teasing his weeping head. You start to pump up and down, working the thick beads of precum over his length, his head falling back. 

“How’s your cock so pretty, Yu?” you coo, blowing air over his dick, making him twitch in your hand, “never thought one of these would ever be so pretty,” you let his length slap against your tongue, slowly dragging it down your 

He hisses, hands grasping at the sheets, as you bend down to flick his tongue against the head of his cock. Your lips close around it, and suck, raising the back of his hand to cover his mouth, “fuck, s’good, baby, I—“ 

And you’re letting his cock sink past your lips, your tongue flicking against his slit. Your eyes find his own, as you hollow out your cheeks and sucking hard, and his hips buck into your mouth. His tip brushes against your throat, and you’re moaning around him, your fingers cup his balls, nails digging into your scalp. 

“Baby, fuck, I’m close—where—“ and he’s trying to ease you off, but your hands only hold his hips in place. Your nose brushing against his pubes. And when you’re suck hard on his tip, toying with his sack, only for him to moan your name, before cumming down your throat, his hot release painting your insides. 

You’re slowly pulling off his dick, a string of cum and spit connecting your lips to his cock, a smile on your face. You swallow his release, the salty taste still on your lips as you watch him pant, chest rising and falling. 

“Taste so good, Yu,” you murmur, and you’re moving back up to kiss him, “think I’m addicted,” you murmur, as your lips find each other again and again. 

“Now you know how I feel,” he smiles, fingers running through your hair, “been addicted to you for over a decade,” and he’s sitting up, guiding you into his lap slowly, “we can always stop right here, we don’t have—“ 

You kiss him softly, the way he deserved, the way you’ve wanted to for so long, “I want to, Yuji, I really want to,” your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his hand, his arm slipping around your waist, “because I love you,” 

And your fingers grasp his hardening cock, pressing it to your dripping slit, and god, he’s so fucking big. You knew how big he was, but just feeling him pressed against you makes you ache at how he’ll be stretching you out. He drags his dripping tip against your slit, letting your cum mix together, letting his head catch on your clit. 

Finally, you’re sinking onto him, his thick length parting your walls, inch by inch. Your head falls back, as he leans into your touch, watching you flinch at the stretch, “you okay?” Yuji’s pressing sweet kisses to your lips and cheek, “should I stop—“ 

“No, no, I’m fine, it’s starting to feel good,” your arms wrapping around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck, “ and he’s helping you sink into him, until finally your hips are flush to his, “fuck, Yu—you’re so deep—“ his cock twitches against your walls, a shiver up his spine at your words. 

And he’s panting, his lips pressed to your shoulder, “you feel s’good, baby — so wet and warm—“ you smile, cupping his cheek, “can’t believe this is real — can’t believe—“ 

“It’s real, Yuji, it’s real,” your lips curl into a smile, “I’m here, I love you,” 

“I love you too, I love you so much,” he kisses you again and again, as he shifts slowly under you, swallowing a gasp that leaves your lips. 

“Please, Yuji, move—“ and he obliges, beginning to fuck into you, and your head falls back, as his cock rocks into you, a moan falling from your lips as you do. He’s groaning your name again and again, a grunt when you begin to ride him in tandem, both of your thrusts sending him deeper into you. 

“Baby, fuck, you’re perfect. You’re so good f’me,” his lips finding your neck, as his strokes become faster and deeper, the sounds of your skin slapping together rings in your ears as he fucks you harder and harder, “g’nna cum, s’close,“ 

“I’m close too,” you’re panting as his lips find yours in a sloppy, messy kiss that has you losing yourself more and more, as his thrusts become more and more swallow. And when he finds your clit between your bodies, rubbing as he finds that one spot that has you seeing stars, “Yuji- I’m—“ 

And you cum hard around him, soaking his cock and thighs as you do, walls squeezing him tight until he’s spilling his warm seed inside you. You slow as you do, legs quivering, as you nearly slump against him and he holds you impossibly closer. He helps you both detangle, easing his softening cock from inside you, a small groan as he sees your mixed releases leaking from you. He helps you lie back, as he wraps his arms around you, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers, brow furrowed in slight worry as your eyes flutter open, lips curling as your fingers smooth the wrinkles of his forehead. 

“I’d be better if you’d kiss me,” you whisper and he obliges, a soft kiss to your lips that leaves you warmer than you were before, “now I’m perfect,” 

“You always were,” and you chuckle, rolling your eyes, before shaking your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

“No, that’s because I had an excellent teacher,” and he laughs, before he pulls you even closer, finding your lips in a kiss. 

“And you always will.” 

“Come on, Fushiguro, pay up,” Nobara holds out her hand, as Megumi glares, pulling out his wallet and plucking money from his wallet and handing it to her. 

“You cheated,” he says as she snatches the money, counting it with a grin on her lips, “I don’t know what you did, but I know you did,” 

“You never said we couldn’t give them advice,” she grins, as she pockets his money, “and all I did was give Yuji a nudge, he’s the one who fucked—“ 

“Alright,” Megumi rubs his temples, “I get it, but it’s still unfair — we’ve been waiting for them to get together all these years and all of sudden he gets the idea to become her friends with benefits—“ and Nobara only grins wider, “you didn’t—“ 

She shrugs, “you can wait around for two idiots to figure it out, or you can shove them off the deep end.” 

“I knew you cheated,” Megumi grumbles, “that’s the last time I ever make a bet with you, Kugisaki,” 

And she smirks, “Well now you’ve been taught a lesson too.” 

✧ a/n: another celebration fic done! now just one more and then i can start preparing for the next follower celebration :). i've settled on using wips but i'll pick out a bunch of prompts for you all to request for certain ones. that way, you all have had a hand in them <3. thank you to laney for helping beta <3.

✧ taglist: @adrenova, @nakariabnrb, @skvllknight, @hanlay, @spider-fan72, @anonimusunnoaniswriting, @chososcamgirl, @thenezuko, @catsgomurp, @too-much-snow, @sashaiko, @forest-fruits-jam, @rita-ritarita, @anyaeuh, @dezznuggetsblog, @jayathelostdragon, @newspapergirlmal, @2livelaughlovefictionalmen2, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @xoocii, @firelordazulaaaa, @cira273, @twosec0nd, @ororomunroro, @sunamatic, @withoutanameyet, @gojorgeous, @masctomboy805, @hantaslittlearsonist, @lemonpoppy-seed, @malmare, @teraine, @boopadoopa333, @jeyughh, @coffeebun17, @faeryli, @katienaps, @tojbitch, @fushitoru, @soulofoz, @yamaguccitadashi

#sab [mlist] #yuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori smut #yuji itadori fanfiction #yuji itadori fluff #yuji itadori x you #jjk smut #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuji smut #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji fanfiction

[rafecameroninterlude]

rafe + breeding kink

warnings: singledad!rafe, older!rafe (maybe like late twenties-early thirties), nanny!reader, rafe’s son calls you mommy, fluff, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mentions of pregnancy and having kids, creampie

a/n: breeding kink was so heavily requested omg, i love everyone who left a req for this <3 i definitely went a little overboard lol

“well, that worked like a charm.” rafe smiled down at you and his son who was currently cuddled into your side. “i don’t want to move away from him.” you pouted, running your fingers through the little boy’s hair. you had been doing this weird thing to rafe’s heart everytime he saw you caring for his boy, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

despite having been rafe’s nanny for nearly three years now, you still found yourself getting flustered every time you caught him staring at you. whether it was you folding laundry, or bending over to dust the entertainment center, all those little things were starting to add up into something both of you wouldn’t be able to come back from.

“do you think we could talk?” rafe helped you up from his son’s race car bed, a worried expression overtaking his features. “yeah, of course, is everything alright?” you didn’t miss the way he kept your hand in his, leading both of you downstairs after closing the door to little ray’s room. “yes, i actually wanted to talk about my salary-” rafe was quick to cut in.

“throw me a number and you got it.” he dropped your hand, ushering you to take a seat next to him. you laughed softly, shaking your head. “no, i don’t want more pay; quite the opposite, really.” rafe’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “you’re not quitting are you?” he heard his heart beating in his ears at your lack of response.

“no, god no!” you placed a hand on his arm, “i’ve been looking for another job because i don’t want to be paid for taking care of ray anymore..” you met his gaze, running your nails against his skin. “why?” rafe couldn’t wrap his head around your words, his eyes darting across your face.

“you know, i’ve been taking care of ray since he was two, and he’s going to be five next week.. i’ve grown so close to him.” you smiled. “caring for him, cooking for him, playing with him, loving him, it isn’t a job for me.” you didn’t realize you were crying until rafe wiped your cheek ever so gently. “you love him?” rafe’s voice was barely above a whisper, his own tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“i do, rafe. i love him so much.” you sniffled. “he called me mom the other day and i felt terrible ‘cause i bursted into tears on the spot, and he thought he made me sad but i was just overjoyed.” you laughed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “i want you to know that i’m not trying to take the place of his mother, i would never do that..”

rafe knew ray called you mom. it wasn’t too long ago that ray said, ‘mommy made my favorite pancakes!’ when rafe asked him about his day and made his heart damn near stop in his chest when he heard the word fall from his son’s lips. “you’re the closest thing he has to a mother. i don’t even know how to thank you for that.” he leaned in, embracing you tightly.

you two stayed like this for a couple moments before you pulled away, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “i called mrs. anderson to set up a playdate with ray and her son, and do you want to know what she said?” you stifled a laugh as rafe relaxed into the couch. “what?” he admired the way you lit up while talking about ray.

“she said that ray was a little more on the wild side and that it would be in her son’s best interest if they didn’t hang out anymore.” you watched as rafe shrugged. “that little nerd was too boring, anyways.” you gasped, slapping his chest playfully. “rafe!” you whispered, both of you covering your mouths to keep from being too loud.

he quieted down, sighing to himself before looking up at the ceiling, you following suit. “i do worry about that sometimes. i feel like ray needs more of a permanent friend, like a sibling..” he trailed off, glancing at you only to see you were looking at him already. “a sibling?” you raised your eyebrows. “how would you go about that?” you cleared your throat, trying to ignore the smidge of jealousy that settled in the pit of your stomach.

“want me to explain to you how babies are made?” rafe scooted closer, his arm draping over your shoulders. “no need, i’m well aware.” you waved him off. “yeah?” he guided you on top of his lap, both of you looking at each other with dark swirling in your eyes. “tell me, y/n, ‘you ever think about having little ones?” his large hands came up to rub against your thighs.

rafe felt as if he was approaching that line he’s been wanting to cross since the first time he interviewed you all those years ago. “yes.” you let out a shaky breath when you felt rafe’s fingertips move under your blouse. “you would make such a good mother, you’d want that wouldn’t you?” you cupped his face as his lips ghosted over your own.

you moaned once he finally kissed you, both of your clothes coming off before you could have enough time to think. “gonna fill you up and make you have my babies, yeah?” he laid you down on the soft cushions, running the head of his cock between your wet folds. “yes, please.” you mewled, eyes shining with lust as he took your chin between his thumb.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful.” he covered your mouth, muffling the yelp that left your lips when he entered you slowly, your silky walls welcoming him inch by inch. his strokes were slow and full of intention, his arms caging you in while you two shared the kind of kisses that made your head spin. “been wanting you like this for so long.” he cursed under his breath.

you whimpered, arms wrapping around his neck as you trailed kisses across his jaw. the intimacy of having his body flush against yours wasn’t like anything you’ve ever experienced, your soft cries driving him on the brink of fucking you senseless. “oh, my god,” you clawed at his skin, making him hiss as he tugged at the roots of your hair to make you look up.

“i can see it already; all three of us going to the beach and rubbing on your round belly, all pretty and pregnant.” rafe picked up his pace, your hips now moving with his to meet his thrusts. “i want that so bad!” you nearly screamed when he started toying with your clit, both of you holding onto one another like your life depended on it.

“jesus, fuck-” his movements came to a halt before he placed your legs on his shoulders, leaning down until your thighs met the cushions underneath you. snaking an arm around your lower back, you gasped when he started lifting you up, fucking you onto his cock so he could reach deeper than before. “r-rafe!” your mouth fell open, eyes blinking slowly.

with one hand still rubbing your clit, and the head of his length continuously hitting your sweet spot, you found yourself approaching the edge of euphoria. rafe can tell by the way you were clenching around him that you were going to cum soon. “hold out a little longer for me, baby. ‘want you to cum when i fill you up.” he pressed a kiss to your temple, hips stuttering once the band in his stomach snapped.

burying his head in the curve of you neck, he moaned against your skin as he stilled, the head of his cock nudging your cervix. you felt the moment he finished, the hot ropes of his cum filling you to the hilt as your thighs started trembling. rafe clamped a hand over your mouth, whispering a ‘let me feel you cum around me.’ before you obliged, your orgasm hitting you in long waves of ecstasy.

you laid helplessly, trying your hardest not to scream at the intense feeling in your tummy, your eyes rolling back as he rubbed a soothing hand on your side. rafe helped you come down from your climax, the aftershocks of your orgasm making your body jolt with every stroke of his fingers against your skin. he stayed nestled inside of you, both of you embracing each other as your breathing slowed, sleep weighing heavy on your eyelids.

“you did so good for me, are you feeling okay?” you blinked up at him, a smile making its way to his lips when he saw the fucked out expression on your face. “mhmm, ‘don’t think i could get up though.” you hissed once he pulled out, watching as he slipped on his pants. “let’s get in the shower, you’re staying here.” he helped you up, putting his large button down over your shoulders.

rafe carried you upstairs, tiptoeing past ray’s room before both of you got in the shower, round two well underway. it wasn’t until you were laying rafe’s bed, adorned in one of his t-shirts that you two heard little ray’s voice outside the door. “daddy? can i come in?” rafe rubbed a reassuring hand on your arm, shouting a ‘yes, son!’ before ray strided inside, running up to you excitedly.

“can i sleep in here, pleaseee,” you embraced him, telling him yes before rafe could get the chance to tell him otherwise. “are you sleeping over?” the little boy peered up at you, wasting no time in settling under the comforter of rafe’s bed. you giggled, flashing rafe a look. “yes, i am.” ray looked over at his father, studying him for a minute.

you watched them have a silent conversation with their eyes, the scene making your heart melt. “goodnight, daddy,” he patted rafe’s chest, “..goodnight, mommy.” he pecked your cheek, the waterworks threatening to spill over at any moment. rafe reached over, taking your hand in his before he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “goodnight.”

#⟡ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 #outer banks #outer banks smut #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron concepts #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron prompt #rafe edit #rafe fluff #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe obx #obx #obx smut #obx fanfiction #drew starkey

[dancingbirdie]

Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him. 

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.” 

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire. 

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way. 

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought. 

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously. 

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering. 

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought. 

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly. 

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence. 

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.” 

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it. 

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt. 

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him. 

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?” 

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder. 

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished. 

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.” 

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror. 

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed. 

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering. 

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed. 

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot. 

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes. 

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination. 

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master. 

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp. 

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain. 

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion. 

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling. 

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face. 

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand. 

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water. 

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand. 

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty. 

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off. 

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze. 

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try. 

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad. 

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her. 

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question. 

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well. 

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly. 

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her. 

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees. 

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far. 

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed. 

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind. 

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years. 

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare. 

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted. 

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight. 

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady. 

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.” 

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on. 

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession. 

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment. 

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face. 

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest. 

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly. 

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.” 

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much. 

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy. 

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her. 

She held his gaze, speechless. 

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation. 

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone. 

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him. 

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded. 

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.   

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer. 

“This… this is nice,” he whispered. 

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response. 

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next. 

#astarion #dancingbirdiewrites #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #astarion x f!reader #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion fic #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic

[fingertipsmp3]

In some other news, I’ve come to the conclusion that while my mom got asbestos hands (can pick up hot things and doesn’t care) and my grandma got an asbestos mouth (drinks tea that is actively boiling), I have an asbestos tummy

#reading reviews of my new heat pad that are like ‘it burned me!’ and ‘setting 3 is way too hot unless you lay material between the pad #and your body’ #meanwhile i had the thing on setting three and directly against my skin and was like ‘fucking… this is not hot enough’ #like don’t get me wrong it’s HOT but i’m the type of bitch who loses her hot water bottle covers because she doesn’t use them #if i don’t have red welts on my stomach has it even worked #the heat pad is fine though. i like how portable it is and how fast it warms up. i’ve got to remember to keep it charged though because #if there’s ever a time i need this and it’s dead i will also be passing away #the thing i really don’t like about hot water bottles is waiting for the kettle to boil and then worrying about scalding myself while trying #to pour (which i’ve absolutely done before when i’ve been dizzy and nauseous) #either way i’m just glad i have another option. like what if i had a friend staying with me and we were synced; or she was cold in bed #and i had a back pain. these are the things i think about #my old flatmate did actually borrow my hot water bottle for like 3 months straight and i was kind of okay because it’s not my sole pain #relief method; but then i had a really bad time and i was like ‘girl i need this back’ and she was like ‘okay :(‘ #she was mostly using it because she was cold. she ended up buying a winter duvet. i don’t think anyone explained english winters to her #but that was a whole thing and i don’t want to repeat it tbh #anyway tl;dr asbestos tummy is now a real condition. i’m coining it #personal

[iicarused]

##cant take my eyes off of you

valentine’s day special // vox x reader : alastor x reader : lucifer x reader : striker x reader

synopsis: it’s valentine’s day. the lead up, the present, the aftermath

beware: fluff, minor angst, establishment relationships (not for lucifer) // short hc’s

VOX

you have to tell him months in advance of what you want. if you don’t, he may not even think about the day. valentine’s day to him always seemed like a chore, but when you gave him a solemn gaze and a sweet smile — he couldn’t say no. all you asked for was a dinner together back in december, a gentle reminder and two months in advance. what you didn’t expect was how he was planning to go even bigger

while he didn’t ask you to be his valentine, he did plan a whole day of activities for just the two of you. it started off small as he didn’t want you to think much of it. it’s quite normal for vox to bring you breakfast in bed, especially since he wakes up much earlier than you

the key different was a rose on the edge of the tray. before you cod thank him, he was already out the door. it was a sweet gesture, and you believed that it was just vox doing something nice for the start of your day. although, more signs of him planning something started to show up afterwards: an outfit waiting for you in your bathroom to wear after your shower, a certain perfume set in place for you to wear, the entire penthouse being cleaned to the speck.

finally, you found a note left for you at the coffee table. “you rest your pretty face today and don’t worry about lifting a finger.”

vox came back not long after with a large bouquet of flowers and a bag of sweets in hand. “you really think i’m just going to allow you to settle for some lousy dinner?” finally admits through a laugh. “you deserve this whole day served to you on a silver platter.”

ALASTOR

you thought he forgot about it till you found a letter at the foot of your door. you still had a week before the day of love even came, but alastor thought about it very thoroughly on what he wanted to do and how to do it. the letter was sweet and genuine, the scent of his cologne lingering on the paper.

“my dearest, y/n.

oh, how i look forward to spending valentine’s day with you, or i hope you do accept this to be my valentine. a day that is entirely booked for just you and i, what a wonderful life to live. i hope by the end we are able to bask underneath the stars with our love stronger than ever before.

with love,

alastor.”

when the day came, alastor was at your door with 7 roses in hand. “the best for you, my dear.” while it wasn’t a large bouquet, you noticed how he wrapped it with a string, you noticed the paper bag wrapping, then you noticed the ends trimmed: he prepped it for you to either set it in a vase or to be hung and dried. the petals were already bloomed for you — it was a genuine gift

after, he took you out to cannibal town. not the most romantic, but to say it was more preferred than the other rings of hell is an understatement. on behalf of his close friend, rosie had prepped a table for you both on the gazebo. lined with flowers and vines for privacy

a mundane valentine’s day, but a well spent one with your lover. gentle kisses against your fingertips and the skin of your shoulder — his teeth grazing every so often just for a reaction.

by the end of the night, he has his cane playing some old timey tunes while he whisks you around in his arms. not only does alastor have a way with words, but he also has a way to sway you off your feet; quite literally too.

LUCIFER

“i was hoping you would be my valentine this year — totally fine if you decline — not that you have too but-“ “i would love to be your valentine this year.” and that’s how lucifer asked you on a date for valentine’s day. extremely nervous and was pulling at the hem of his collar, in high hopes that you would accept. after dedicating his whole life to a single soul, it is kind of expected that he would be nervous to jump back into the dating game.

most definitely had to ask charlie and/or got a little tipsy by the bar to chat with husk about it. more so, he blabbered about his nervousness and fears of what could happen — husk just nodded and hummed while listening to the king of hell freak out about a date — what if he can’t woo you?

finally settled for something simple and something that’s hes good at. he brought you to the castle for a lunch he prepared in the garden. “i got word from charlie that you enjoyed a strawberry shortcake.” lucifer sheepishly admitted through a proud grin.

a talker, a chatterbox, any other word in the english vocabulary of a man who talks your ear off. it’s almost funny because you know it isn’t word vomit, he just enjoys a chat and especially getting to know you. he questions are almost endless, his interest seem to go on forever, and somehow he doesn’t seem like an egotistical guy who just rules hell. he’s just some guy who loves ducks and getting to know someone on a deeper lever.

took you around the garden afterwards, introducing you to all his favourite plants and getting to know yours. his hand rests on your back for a majority, leading you around and allowing you to lead him to plants that pique your interest.

the entire day is just spent with you talking about anything and everything, honestly. from stories to old tales you heard throughout the years, it almost made you forget that it was only a date and not a lifetime of being together.

STRIKER

he has been working a lot these days. a whole lot. his attention span is very slim, and it is very evident how he tries to not show his irritation towards you. tired eyes always gaze over yours, almost like he’s not in touch with the world to really concentrate on you. sometimes you question why you’re still around — why he bothers to stop you at the door and tell you he’ll put more effort.

finally, the day you dreaded. you were on the path of grabbing a bag of chips and turning on a movie, but striker had other ideas. he came back home about lunch looking more clean — more refreshed than any other day you had seen him — a bouquet of dandelion’s and a gift bag in hand.

“sweet pea, you didn’t think i was falling out of love, did yah?” he was smug — he was smug until he realized you started to cry. “shit, sweet pea, i was jokin’!” he was by your side in seconds and had to calm you down. after a long needed conversation, you were ready to start the day. he wanted to tell you why he was busy, but that would mean spilling everything he had planned.

he admitted his faults, but his promises were never broken. on one condition, he was not allowed to speak or bring up any work related topics on this special day, to which he quickly agreed.

he took you out for lunch and dinner, but the rest of the evening was spent lazying around on your back patio with some country music playing. tennessee whiskey to be exact. he never stopped giving you kisses on your face either, his tail wrapped over your waist to keep you on top.

#ᥫ᭡. #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel imagine #vox x reader #alastor x reader #vox imagine #alastor imagine #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #striker x reader #striker #hazbin hotel headcanon

[jyoongim]

SUBMISSIVE ALASTOR + OVERSTIMULATION + HIM WITH A DEER TAIL AND SENSITIVE DEER EARS (HES WHINING, BEGGING, PANTING ETC.) PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

I’m not use to darling being the slight dominant so i tried my best!

Themes: soft!dom reader, alastor, tentacle play, pet names, anal, overstimulation, begging, edging, orgasm denial, whining, fluff, cutesy,

You always admired how Alastor took care of everything in the hotel. He was very meticulous about how he wanted things. Even when things were chaotic, he always seemed to have it together.

And that went with the hotel and you.

He loved to spoil you.

You never had to lift a single finger to do anything with Alastor around.

It was sweet; enduring that he loved to take care of you without even a falter in his demeanor.

But you being his sweet little darling, couldnt just let your dear deer man do everything. 

Alastor. The lanky, red demon with the title Radio Demon, who was always in complete and total control, believe it or not; had a nasty habit of being stressed.

And you were determined to help relieve him of that stress.

You were going through your to-do list of things that needed to be done around the hotel. You had nearly completed everything, when you caught sight of Alastor walking through the lobby.

Your face immediately light up into a smile and you were about to greet him when you noticed something odd.

Most people couldnt read Alastor, but you had been with him long enough to know when something was bothering him.

 His ever present smile was tense. Fluffy ears furrowed against his skull and tail flickering.

”Alastor?” You called out and immediately his smile softened.

”OOooh Mon Cher! How are you this hellish afternoon?” He asked as he squeezed you in a hug.

you ignored his questioned and stared at him, pout on your lips

”something’s botherin’ you beau” his eye twitched.

”nothin’ to worry your pretty little head dearest, now if you’ll excuse me i am off for an outing. I will be back for dinner” he said giving your cheek a peck before scrolling out the lobby.

You spent the rest of the day helping Charlie and making sure the hotel was running jus fine. Quite a bit of time had passed and Alastor was due to come back soon.

you had cooked dinner for everyone and once everyone ate and went to bed, you started to prepare something special for Alastor.

You had just finished setting everything up when you hear the sound of Alastor’s hooves making their way to his bedroom.

Upon opening the door, his red eyes widened, smile softer and small

”darling what’s all this?” The sound of ‘Ohs and Ahs’ from a track played as he approached and looked around.

The room was dimmly light by the many candles you had. There was the soft humming of whatever creature was in his forest and the fireflies danced as he took in the lovely meal you had prepared.

You smiled and took his hand, guiding him to the table

”well i thought that for a change that I do something for you. Call it a show of my appreciation.” You said into his ear, causing it to flick.

Alastor hummed and took in the meal.

You had roasted venison (he would have eaten it raw-) and with some greens and some wine. Simple (but you weren’t much of a cooker anyway) but he appreciated it none the less.

As the both of you ate, you listened to him talk about his day and told him about the crazy plans Charlie had come up with. 

 Alastor wiped his lips and gave you a smile. “Why darling dinner was marlevous, you don’t have dessert planned too do you” he asked chuckling.

This was the moment you had been waiting for.

“Actually i was thinking of something much sweeter” you said as you rounded behind him, hands slowly massaging his shoulders.

he melted at your touch and let out a soft purr.

”mmmm and what would that be?”

To HIS surprise, a collar appeared around his neck and you tugged him towards the bed.

You pushed him flat against the bed and straddled his waist. You felt his hands grab at your waist and you slapped his hands away, shaking your head

”no no this is about me taking care of you for once so just relax baby”

he tilted his head and let you have control for once.

Even though Alastor didn’t have a high sex drive, he didn’t mind indulging you in your lustful bouts.

You teased your hands through his red tresses and scratched at his undercut.

His skin had goosebumps and you leaned down to kissed his nose.

Oh he was so cute.

your hands scratched to the top of his head and you pouted as he moved his ears away from your seeking hands.

you finally lightly grazed them as they were pinned (such a angi boi)  against his and caressed them between your fingers.

you couldn’t resist and tugged on his ears.

Alastor groaned and pressed his hips up into yours in response to you diddling with his ears.

“Ooh easy darling” he cooed at you.

you ignored him and tied the chain attached to his neck around the headboard. Satisfied that he wont break free (he still can) you slide down and nuzzled into the tent that was raging in his dress pants.

You softly stroked the bulge and unzipped his pants.

Alastor might be all limps and tall, but he had a monster in his pants

(Who would have guessed???)

Shimmying out of the bothersome garments, Alastor growled as you peppered his cock with kisses.

You hummed as you dragged your tongue against the underside of his cock and as you hear his breathing pick up.

You relax your jaw as you take him into your throat. 

‘Ooooh that’s so good’ he hissed

you were happy that he was enjoying himself but you really wanted to him

fucked out.

with a pop you released him from your mouth and ran your hands up and down his thighs

”i wanna try something that I think youll enjoy”

his ears perked and honed in on your voice.

”Alastor…on your knees” you purred and much to your surprise…he did so without as much of a complaint.

you tried to suppress a giggle as he wiggled his tail at you.

You caressed his balls and stroked his dick as you nipped at his behind.

Your tongue probed at his asshole and Alastor growled at you in warning.

Oh that wont do.

You manifested a strap-on around your waist and tapped it against his hole.

Ears pulled back immediately.

through you were much shorter than Alastor, you were going to give him a bit of his own medicine.

you exterted your own tentacles and restrained the red demon as you put your knees into his and pulled him to you.

Sharp claws tore into the pillows and Alastor hissed, head whipping around

”You dare?”

you gave him a smile and thrusted forward, causing him to let out a soft moan.

Your tentacles were a real help since you were of shorter statue.

One had his head mushed into the mattress

One was wrapped around his dick; squeezing and stroking him, precum leaking.

You could practically see Alastor melt. His shoulders relaxed, head lobbed to the side, and back arched.

If anyone else saw the Radio Demon like this, they would be dead.

”Ooooh darling sweet hell” he brawled.

You sped up your pace and locked his arms behind his back as you dragged him back into your thrusts.

Never in your afterlife did you think you would be the one to have Alastor so

wanton

Hells it felt good to have this power.

You felt his dick twitch with each stroke of your tenacle

you cooed at him “Do my beau wanna cum?”

his ear flickered.

you pushed just a little harder

”will you beg me beau?”a shudder ran through him as well his dick swelled.

Alastor was prideful by nature and you couldn’t think of a time where he was the one begging.

 But any man would do anything to have his dick milked dry.

“Please” he mumbled.

you gave a harsh thrust “what was that? I didn’t quite hear you”

he pushed his hips against you and you loosened the collar and pulled him back.

He bared his teeth at you; the sound of broken record sounding.

“Please…please make me cum” You started to pound into his ass and the tentacle around his cock twisted and stroked until you felt the telltale of his dick growing.

”my sweet beau” he snarled as his body seized forward as he spilled his seed onto the sheets.

you had flipped him over onto his back and kissed his lips, “I’m not done”

Your hand wrapped around his cock and stroked it causing him to whine.

You ran your fingers through his hair as you squeezed his sensitive cock.

Alastor’s face was scrunched and you cooed “c’mon baby i know you can give me one more”

you threw a leg over his waist and lined his cock up with your cunt.

sinking down you sighed as he bucked up into you.

using what power you had you held his wrists down and slammed yourself onto him

”Fucking hell!” He gasped as you rode him like there was no tomorrow.

your warm walls sucked him in so well.

you brought your lips to his neck and latched on as you felt his dick twitch

“M-Mon Cher please i-”

you whined into his neck “you gonna cum again? My pretty boy wanna cum?”

he hissed and clenched his teeth

you abandoned riding for some light grinding and just before he could try and thrust up into you to paint your walls you lifted off him

Alastor growled “Aaah Fuck you!” As his orgasm whined.

you giggled “patience dear”

his red eyes narrowed at you but quickly closed as your mouth found his throbbing member.

you sunk down, taking him into your throat

”darling please! Please please j-just let me cum”

you felt you had tormented your demon long enough and licked up his shaft before kissing the head.

you felt your jaw extend as your tongue extended and wrapped around him.

sinking him back into your throat, you bbbed your head as your tongue squeezed and stroked him.

Alastor was a whining mess.

panting his tried to thrust up, but whatever power you had held him in place.

”s'il te plaît, mon amour, laisse-moi recouvrir cette jolie gorge s'il te plaît. traite-moi à sec. s'il te plaît, laisse-moi jouir”

please love let me coat that pretty throat please. milk me dry. please let me cum

Well if he asked so nicely…

you quickened your pace and squeezed at his ball.

Alastor mewled and your throat was flooded with warm cum.

you swallowed all you could and waited til his dick softened to pop him out your mouth. You licked up what spilled past your lips and peppered his thighs with kisses.

he was panting out of breath as he sleepily looked at you.

you  purred as you placed a soft kiss to his lips.

”you did so good”

he sighed as you cuddled him and you could hear the soft hum of white noise

”what was that for dear?”

you smiled, scratching his undercut

”someone needs to take care of you too Mr.Radio”

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim

[simpforrooster]

nothing but a gentleman.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x F!Reader

summary: jake is obsessed with you. you eat it up. you’re obsessed with his obsession. but also with him.

t/w: soft!jake, some cursing

"Get out of here, Bagman. You're giving me a headache."

The blonde aviator grabs at his chest. "God, I love it when you're mean to me." Those green eyes sparkle with mischief under the lights of the Hard Deck.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin has been pining after you for months.

& you have been loving every second of it. Miramar's resident playboy has only had eyes for you. You haven't seen him spare a glance at any of the other ladies in the bar.

Believe me, they've been looking at him.

"Y/n, how long are you going to keep my boy at arm's length?" Coyote asks from the other side of the pool table. Jake saddles up next to him and feeds you the saddest pout he can muster.

"Yeah, y/n, how long?" Jake asks.

Your intention wasn't to drag this hard-to-get play out for so long. Truthfully, it's becoming hard not to give in to those strong arms. To not lean in when he invades your personal space, feeding you a smart ass comment.

Your shoulder comes up to your ear and falls back down. "Hard to say, Bagman."

"Let's play for it," he tells you. Jake saunters over to you, and leans against the pool table. Crossing his arms over his fit chest, he situates his mouth just outside your ear. "If I win, you've gotta give me a kiss, darlin'."

The way his hot breath falls across your ear causes goosebumps to appear down your arms. Jake notices, and a blonde brow raises.

"What are you? Twelve?" you antagonize.

"Oh, honey. I'm willing to try anything at this point."

"Rack 'em. Honey." You lightly shove him back, your hands reacting to the small second they were on his chest.

"If I win, you give it up," you send the man a sad look.

"Give what up?" he asks.

"All this pining'." Your hand gestures wildly around in the air.

For a moment, despair crosses over that handsome face. He recovers quickly. "Oh, I'm not worried."

Jake lets you break. Two stripes fall into the pocket. Jake comes up behind you before your next shot. His hand slides across your waist and he pulls you into his side.

Right as you pull back, Jake leans down. "Don't scratch."

The cueball follows your striped ball into the pocket.

"Damn," he murmurs. It takes a full 45 seconds to get your heart rate under control.

The jig is up once Jake get in control of the pool table. Not only is he the dagger squad's best dart player, he's got the best pool table on lock, too. There is no way he's going to take it easy on you.

Naturally, he doesn't.

"One more and Hangman gets a kiss," he smirks. He doesn't take his eyes off your as he pulls back and send the cue ball sailing.

The eight ball falls into it's intended pocket effortlessly. Followed right by the cue ball.

Shock falls across all your faces. Jake has never lost a game of pool. Ever.

Jake sets the cue stick down, and rounds the table. Standing toe-to-toe with you, he feeds you a delicious smirk.

"Darlin', I ain't gonna make you kiss me if you don't want to. Furthermore, I only want your kiss if its of your own volition." He tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ear.

Your eyes lock with his and the world stops. What a fucking gentleman.

Fisting the front of his shirt, you yank him down to your mouth. Jake relaxes into the kiss immediately and allows his hands to slide around your waist.

Jake takes control, changing the direction and deepening the kiss. Your hands move from his shirt to the nap of his neck, fingers knotting in his hair. His hair that’s gotten just a bit long.

Jake pulls back just a hair, his lips a breath away from yours. “Damn,” he mumbles, again.

“My own volition, huh?”

“I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” he winks. “A gentleman who is dying to kiss you again.”

You guide his lips back to yours.

“Kiss me, Hangman.”

master list.

a/n: been a little while since i wrote for ole jakey. i hope y'all like it!

#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun maverick fic #hangman fic #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake seresin

[midascrow]

Alastor x Gn!Reader

Favoritism pt.1

part 2

————/////————————//////

Synopsis: the others notice a certain Deer Demons positive behavior regarding one of the staff. (Reader)

a/n: reader is portrayed as pretty meek and quiet. At least upon first meeting people, and I may continue that trait in part 2 or have them open up a bit more.

———————————————/—/——————

“Don’t ya think it’s kinda…I dunno..weird?”

Charlie’s shiny eyes snapped up from the sparkly cards and glue strewn across the living room table. “What’s weird?” Angel hummed, one set of arms crossed thoughtfully as his eyes swept towards the far corner, watching a certain Radio Demon quietly chat with one of the hotels…”staff” members.

“That Smiles, is so sweet on (Y/n) and not the rest of us?” His hand waved around dramatically, watching Charlie’s eyes widen as they spun towards the aforementioned duo, studying them for a moment for any sign of irregular behavior on the deer demons part. Although not much could be considered regular in regards to him

“I’m pretty sure Alastor is just as much of a prick to them as he is to everyone else.” Vaggie huffed from her spot on the couches armchair, a small magazine in hand that she carefully tried to cut apart for the days craft. Scrapbooking, if it wasn’t clear. “…your markers bleeding babe..”

“Oh shoot!”

Angel guffawed, bolting up right and letting his arms flail wildly in disbelief. “No way toots! Don’t you remember when he first brought them ovah? As one of ‘s lil “Helpahs”?” He turned, “Huskers you know what I’m on about don’t ya?”

The grumpy cat deflated with a sigh, setting down a freshly cleaned glass just to pick up another and start again. “That demon, plays with souls and sinners like no other shitlord out there. And that one,” his clawed finger shot out to point dagger straight at you “just so happens to be his favorite. End of story.”

Charlies lips pursed at that, a small shimmer in her expression that made Vaggies brow furrow in stress, watching her lover fall back into her own mind and remember the hotels first ever introduction to you.

—————

“Now my friends, I do have one more favor to cash in on. I expect you all on your best behavior in regards to them..” His red eyes lingered on Angel with a sneer. “I won’t take kindly to any damage done by your hands.” The static that swelled behind his words reached its peak, before muffling once a small figure materialized just beside him.

A clawed hand curled atop your shoulder and if not for the familiar chill, perhaps you would’ve jumped, but the buzz of static and the crackle of a radio was a comforting sound you had grown all too close to.

“Now, this sweet thing is (Y/n), a special little friend of mine who will help you, though- mainly me, keep the hotel on tip top shape- isn’t that right dear?”

Your gaze darted around, and the others watched as you barely made a peep before a gentle smile pulled on your lips and you nodded..strange for someone in the company of the Radio Demon.

“What’s up with them? Can’t talk or what?” Angel mused, almost rudely, winking under your watchful eye that was almost..freakishly intense.

Alastor hummed and buzzed for a moment, gazing down at you in thought. “No No, just a bit shy is all. Always on the quieter side…”

“That won’t be a problem will it?” The static fluxed and swayed around them, shadows scratching at the walls of his underlying threat, that cut through the air.

……..

The princess was admittedly worried by your timid nature. You were almost…paranoid in a sense, looking as if you wanted to melt into the floor at any sign of confrontation, friendly or otherwise.

But…she did notice you seemed oddly at ease around the Overlord. Sticking close, though typically he was the one following you around as you did..whatever it is you were brought over to do.

She was even reminded of one instance, where you had been scuttling around, a stack of fresh dishes held precariously in your clammy hands as you made your way to the kitchen.

Charlie had been too busy at first to notice, she was speaking with Alastor about the future promotion of the hotel, when the loud sound of glass shattering rang through the room.

All heads snapped towards the cause, only to spot you, wide eyed and flat on the floor surrounded by dozens of broken plates and glasses.

Seemed you had tripped on a loose bit of tile.

Now, Husker just had been throughly..scolded by the Hotelier for dropping a bottle just a few hours prior, so the patrons and staff watched with baited breath as the ever encompassing form of the radio demon stalked towards your dejected form.

Vaggie had drawn her spear right as the crash had happened, ready to step in at any moment should she need.

But the others could only watch in surprise as you were gently ushered to your feet with soft dusts off your shoulder, and a little snap of clawed fingers. The mess disappeared in a flash, and your uniform was carefully adjusted by the tall red deer who softly scolded you.

“Now now my dear. You must remember not to overwork yourself. Can’t have you in poor shape now can we?” His words were condescending at best, paired with the gentle pinch of your cheek, but for whatever reason you seemed hardly put off, simply nodding shyly and quickly darting off to continue your next list of….errands, the deers ears swiveled in your direction till you vanished through the corridor.

——/

“Do you think they’re-?”

“Fuckin?”

“I was gonna say dating..” Charlie trailed off uncomfortably, watching tensely as Alastor almost…”playfully” whisked you around the parlor.

“They’re not.” Husks gruff voice cut through, dipped in firm belief that he was right. “That fucker has an angle no matter what, and whatever special treatment they’re receiving is just to follow through with it. That guy can’t even conceptualize caring about someone like that.”

Clearly that incident was still fresh on his mind as he mumbled quietly about how he was cut off from all booze the following week to, help clear his “shaky hands”.

The others grimaced, Vaggie especially as Charlie’s big eyes welled with fat tears. “That’s..that’s so sad!” She wailed, collapsing into her girlfriend’s arms, her reaction subtly mirrored by Sir Pentious who had slithered into the conversation.

“Wh..why are we crying??” He hissed, greated with rolled eyes from the spider and cat, and a dejected sniffle from the princess.

“Al-Alastor’s never been in love!!” She sobbed dramatically, Vaggie cooing in her ear while her hand rubbed her back soothingly.

“Oh..?” The snake perked up, a confused tilt to his head. “But aren’t Alassstor and (Y/n) …?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out! He totally dots on them don’t he Snakes??”

The engineer nodded rapidly, scales shimmering in the dim living room light.

“I told you morons, they’re not and never will-“ Husks aggravation of the topic was clear, the scrubbing of his glass a tad more aggressive.

“But…I jussst ssssssaw them kisssssing the other day…? Up on the terrace?”

…..

“Ex-fucking scuse me?”

#hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel husk #huskerdust

[sluttywoozi]

Interlude No. 3 | csc x reader

Interlude No. 3: Life with a new baby is different, and four months into it, you and Seungcheol return to something familiar.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~1.8k | Pairing: csc x reader | Genre: smut

Warnings: you and cheol have a new baby (~4 mo) so there’s allusions to breastfeeding and mentions of being cleared for sex, he’s injured in this too (but on the mend!), some body worship, tiny mention of not getting waxed in a while, mention of not losing baby weight (and not being worried about losing baby weight), facesitting, v gentle fingering, cumming untouched

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, can have kids and lactate, referred to as Mrs. Choi

“She asleep?” Seungcheol asks tiredly from the bed, opening his arms to you as soon as you place a knee on the mattress and start to climb up. You find your place against him, pressing your ear to his chest so you can hear the soothing thump thump thump of his heart. 

“Yeah, finally,” you sigh, laying your arm over his waist and hooking your leg over his. His arm comes up to wrap around your back and hold you to him as he lifts his head, pressing his lips to your messy hair before letting it drop back down. 

“I’m sorry I can’t help more right now,” he says softly, making you let out a dissenting noise and shift up onto your elbow to catch his eye. 

“You’re still healing, and it’s not your fault she’ll only settle down with me. It’s because of these,” you nod down at your breasts, fuller than they used to be and more annoying than they used to be too. 

Seungcheol’s eyes gravitate down, his gaze heavy and hot on your tits before he flicks them up and forces a smile. 

“Still, I wish it didn’t have to be you every time. You’re barely getting any sleep,” he murmurs, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and trace the bag under your eye. 

“I knew what I was signing up for when I let you knock me up, Mr. Choi,” you tease, hoping to bring back his real smile, the one that meets his eyes. 

“Oh, when you let me? I seem to remember a lot of begging on your end, Mrs. Choi,” he smirks at you, his dimple popping and his charm out in full force. 

You feel a flash of heat zip through you, slightly unfamiliar after four months of its absence. 

You were cleared for sex two months ago, but between your new baby and Seungcheol’s physical therapy, you’re both too exhausted at the end of the day to think about anything but sleeping. It doesn’t help that she wakes up at the drop of a hat, and can only be soothed by you, your sweet little velcro baby. 

Tonight, however, you think she may be tired enough to make it through the rest of the night, and Seungcheol’s rehabilitation efforts have been more successful than ever. 

He was so quick to tease you back, and the way he let his eyes linger on your swollen tits has you feeling like perhaps tonight is the night you get back in the saddle, so to speak. 

His thumb drags over your bottom lip, his gaze caught on your mouth before he braces himself on his elbows and leans in to kiss you. He keeps it soft, slow, sweet, a quiet groan rumbling through his chest as he relearns the shape of your lips. 

It’s not like you haven’t kissed in the meantime, but they’re mostly pecks now, exchanged in the process of doing something else, or they’re sleepy and clumsy, traded just after waking or just before bed. 

Now, he’s kissing you with a purpose, sucking at your bottom lip and swiping his tongue over the sting, setting his big, warm hand on your cheek as his sounds vibrate into your mouth. 

It’s not long before you’re shifting over to straddle him, settling your center on his slowly hardening dick and boxing his head in with your elbows when he lays back down. His other hand rises to grasp your hip, pulling you into him before gripping your ass and starting to pull you up.

“What are you doing?” You break away and laugh breathlessly, staring down at him with heavy lidded eyes. 

“I want you to sit on my face, baby. C’mon, get up here,” Seungcheol requests, though it sounds more like a plea, if you’re being honest. 

“Okay, okay, let me get this off,” you agree easily, pushing down the voice that reminds you how long it’s been since you were able to get out of the house for a wax, knowing that he doesn’t give even the slightest fuck. 

You haul your nursing-friendly night dress over your head, baring you to him, and he moans brokenly, both hands coming up to smooth over your waist and belly. “So fuckin’ beautiful, God.”

You can tell he wants to let himself soak you in, so you sit still for him and wait as he memorizes every new curve, every new stretch mark, every new difference in your ever changing body. You haven’t lost the baby weight and it’s not high on your list of priorities, not with an infant to take care of and a husband that’s on the mend, and definitely not when you know said husband will be obsessed with you in any state. 

It’s obvious in the way he trails his hands over you, so reverently, so lovingly, his eyes following their path and his mouth open in awed desire. When he grasps your hips again and starts tugging you up, you know he can’t wait anymore. 

You climb your way up his body, maneuvering carefully and settling with your knees on either side of his head. 

“Fuck,” he sighs out, his voice tight and his eyes laser focused on your glistening pussy, the position spreading you open for him and letting him see everything. “Sit down, baby, get closer.”

You shuffle a bit further forward, hovering above him and reluctant to fully relax your thighs lest you smother him. That’s what he wants, apparently, because he tugs until your legs are spread and your cunt is covering his mouth, his cherry lips already coated in your arousal.

His next groan has a distinct whine-like tinge to it, and you’re about to feel smug at the fact that your pussy can make him whimper like that, but he lays his tongue out and drags it from your entrance to your clit, and then you can’t feel anything but bliss. 

You’re glad your body is muffling his noises because he won’t stop making them, the sounds vibrating into you as he wraps his lips around your now throbbing clit and sucks. You bite back the cry that aches to burst out, grinding your teeth as you grind onto his face, his steel-like grip pulling you down even harder. 

His mouth is so wet and hot, so much better than you remember, and it’s not long before you have to hang onto the headboard to hold yourself up, your muscles weak in the wake of his appetite for you. 

He’s messy with it, shaking his face to bury it deeper, his nose bumping into your clit as he fucks you with his tongue and his fingertips denting your flesh as he starts moving your hips over his mouth. 

Soon enough, you’re moving on your own, riding his tongue and attempting to breathe through the pleasure he’s giving you. It’s been so long that you’re already close, already feeling that coil wind tighter and tighter in your belly as he grunts and moans into you, already aching to fall into that love spiral, to find the heaven that only Seungcheol can push you into. 

You don’t have to tell him, he knows instantly, slipping his tongue out and dragging it over your clit before pulling away enough to ask, “Fingers?”

“J-just one or two, be gentle,” you instruct, though you’re sure he doesn’t intend to be anything else. 

He nods and sucks your clit between his lips, slowly easing one finger into you from behind, his eyebrows crinkling at how hot and wet and tight you are. You think his eyes might be watering, but you can barely see through the haze of euphoria overtaking you, gasping as a second finger slides in alongside the first, both of them crooking towards your stomach in a light sweeping motion. 

He doesn’t move them in and out, doesn’t fuck you with them like he did his tongue, just leaves them inside, lets them fill you up and pets softly at your sweet spot. His mouth is more intense, his plump lips suctioned around your pulsing clit, taking deep pulls and laving over it with his tongue as he pushes you toward the edge so carefully, you don’t even realize you’re there until you topple over. 

A hitching gasp escapes you, your body locks up on top of him, and you break, cumming with a rush of arousal and a spinning head, so out of your mind with it that you don’t even notice his hips bucking behind you as he spills into his boxers. 

He doesn’t stop until you’ve come out on the other side, one hand slipping from the headboard to clench his hair and pull his mouth away from your pussy. You’re still squeezing his fingers, your cunt clamping down on them when he starts sliding them out until you consciously relax your muscles and release him. 

You tip over onto your side, curling into yourself as you tremble through the aftershocks, watching as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean, as if drinking you down wasn’t enough. 

You blink blearily, reaching your hand out to smooth over his chest and down his stomach to find his dick. You find damp boxers instead, and have to swallow the coo you want to let out at the thought of Seungcheol cumming untouched, just from you sitting on his face. 

When you feel stable enough to get up, you roll out of bed, wetting a washcloth with warm water and stopping by the dresser to pick up a fresh pair of boxers. He’s sleepy as he lifts his hips for you, letting you tug his soiled shorts down and clean him up with a gentle touch. You’re careful as you guide the boxers over his knee, taking care to avoid the newly healed suture line from his surgery. 

He pouts up at you and opens his arms, waiting for you to find your place against his chest again and press a kiss to his lips before murmuring, “I love you,” and settling into sleep so quickly, you’re almost jealous. 

“I love you too, honey,” you chuckle to yourself, not even upset when a cry rings out over the baby monitor. 

AN: i wanna have a baby with himmmmm

i'm having so much fun with these lil interludes!! mingyu is next!

My Masterlist

#svthub #k vanity #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol x reader #✨em’s interludes✨ #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol smut #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x y/n #choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol imagines #choi seungcheol smut #choi seungcheol x you #scoups x reader #scoups smut #scoups imagines #scoups x you #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt smut #svt fanfic #kpop smut #kpop fanfic

[tasteleeknow]

LIVING IN THE RUINS

minho x fem!reader. 2k words. minors dni. best friends to lovers. soft!minho. angst. fluff. jealousy. emotional hurt/comfort. smut with feelings, in a tent.

“Excuse me?”

You blink at the stranger in front of you. She seems to materialise before your eyes. You’d zoned out again and missed the attention your best friend had clearly been receiving from strangers in the crowded room. “I was wondering if I could get your number?” she asks, eyes fixed on Minho’s. She blinks quickly a few times, her long dark lashes fluttering much like your heart in your chest. 

She hasn’t looked at you once despite your close proximity. You’re so close to the object of her attention in fact, your thigh brushes against Minho’s jeans under the table. 

He shifts beside you, sitting up straighter in the booth. “Oh,” he says, clearly taken off guard as well. “Thank you. I mean that’s — I don’t—” 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks with a small tilt of her head. 

“No,” Minho answers quickly, incapable of lying. His discomfort radiates off him. You’d spent years learning his emotional tells. “I mean—” 

“He’s not into women,” you interrupt, finally drawing her attention to you. She blinks before her eyes drop down to your chest and back to your eyes, like she’s completely taken aback by your presence. It’s impossible, you know that logically. Still, she puts on a good performance. “Sorry,” you add. 

Her lips curve into an unconvincing smile. “No worries,” she says. “The hot ones never are.” 

The whole exchange is as short as it is ordinary. How many tipsy girls work up the courage to ask the pretty man across the bar for his number? You would bet money on it happening multiple times over somewhere across the planet at any given moment. It’s normal. Mundane. Still, you know it’ll chip a little more of your carefully built wall away. A chisel to stone, slow and steady. The only problem is that it’s been chipped at for years. You can feel the fragility of it these days, each chisel etch feels alot like when you’re down to the end of a game of jenga. 

Any move now will cause it to crash and fall. 

She hadn’t considered for a moment you might have been together — not when she’d spotted him across the room, clearly with you — and not when she’d gotten close and blatantly ignored your comfortable proximity to each other. Her question about his relationship status had been an afterthought, a possibility she hadn’t considered until faced with a response other than ‘yes’. She’d been expecting a yes.

The thought that he might be with you, might be attracted to you, was unconsidered. You wonder if she’d discussed it with her friends. ‘No,’ they might have said. ‘There’s no way he’s with her.’

Minho is quiet as the petite brunette turns on her heels and disappears back into the mass of people. His red ears give his embarrassment away. 

You nudge his shoulder, rocking him out of his trance. “Hey,” you prod. “Alright?” 

The smile he offers you is a little lopsided — very Minho. “Always,” he says. 

—

Your annual camping trip is just like the year before. Your small group of friends sets up camp in your usual spot. Everyone climbs into their usual tents. Everyone assumes you and Minho will be sharing, as always. 

You’re not sure why it hurts so much. They assume that nothing would ever happen between you. None of the other girls share a tent with a guy they aren’t dating. You’re the exception. Because Minho would never want you. 

He notices your low mood later that night. The group separates in the dark to play flashlight tag and as you find yourself wandering a secluded patch of the campsite, you know he knows. His attention is on you instead of where he’s walking. You almost scream when he falls into apparent nothingness. 

“I’m fine,” he quickly reassures you, pulling himself up from the ground. “Just dropped my glasses.” 

“God, you scared me.” 

It takes you both at least ten minutes to find them, relying purely on touch alone. It's too dark to see much at all without a light and using your phones would give your position away. 

You’re grateful for the darkness when you reach up and place his frames gently on his face. It hides the heat in your cheeks when you brush chocolate brown hair behind his ears, ensuring you’ve placed them properly. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, close enough that his breath warms your lips. 

You’re also grateful just to be near him, you realise. Just to know him. You love him. 

You love him. 

It’s an earth shattering realisation to have while playing flashlight tag in the middle of nowhere. You need to escape. You can’t. You’re sharing a tent with him. 

The situation isn’t helped when later in the night one of the girls with big bright eyes and a gentle smile makes a very clear move on him. You were used to it. People loved him. 

You loved him. 

It’s a stupid thing to cause the wall to finally crumble. It’s humiliating really. But when he laughs at something she whispers in his ear: it happens. 

It falls. 

You’re pathetic without it. 

All you can do is hide from him, escape to the tent and pretend to be so tired you’ve fallen asleep before he can investigate. It’s not something you do. Not with Minho. He knows you so well hiding from him is just as stupid as it is pathetic. He’ll know. 

Still, you can pretend. He won’t know as long as you’re unconscious. You can put it off until morning. 

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep. You lie there staring at the canvas of the tent for what feels like hours, the sounds of him tossing and turning continuing for so long you almost give up. 

But then he’s still. His breathing seems to even out. He’s asleep. 

That’s when you let yourself cry. Quietly at first; silent aching sobs. 

What a time for the wall to crumble. You wonder if you have the energy to rebuild. You’ll have to find it. The alternative is letting Minho go entirely, removing him from your life and letting the ruins erode away over a long, long time. 

Not an option. 

“Hey,” Minho’s soft voice calls. Shit. You wipe clumsily at your eyes and sodden cheeks. “Hey, what’s going on? What happened?” he questions as his palm rests gently against your shoulder. 

You should face him. You can’t hide. You know it. 

“No-thing,” you whimper, breath catching between each syllable. It’s that awful breathless kind of sobbing, the type that leaves you unable to inhale fully, let alone speak. 

He rolls you over onto your back. He isn’t rough — but it’s with enough strength you’re completely unable to resist him. 

“What is it?” he says again, tone much more forceful now. He isn’t letting it go. He looks down at you with wide eyes, like he’d never been asleep at all. 

You shake your head. 

His gentle thumbs move to your cheeks to attempt to wipe away the mess you’d left behind. He rests on one arm, leaning over you so he can give each cheek the same treatment. It’s a curious instinct, to wipe away someone's tears — like it has any effect on the person’s pain at all. It’s the best we can often do, you suppose. 

“Just focus on breathing,” he says. “Just breathe.” His hand stays against your cheek, fingers resting on your neck by your ear — featherlight. 

Breathing is easy, in theory. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. His lips part to join you, guide you. His lips are still a little red from his bedtime routine, his tinted vaseline usually lasting him the entire night. 

“That’s it,” he soothes when you finally manage a few steady breaths in a row. “That’s good. You’re okay.” 

They’re simple words of comfort. The kind of thing anyone would say to a person in distress, but they settle something in your chest. You were okay. He was yours in a way that was more than nothing. He cared in a way that felt so genuine it was hard to be dissatisfied with the nature of it at all. 

“Did something happen today?” he asks, still leaning over you. It’s a vulnerable position to be in. It mirrors how you know this conversation will go. Your wall is a crumbled mess. You have no defences against him. 

“Not really.” 

His eyebrows pull together. 

“Nothing worth this,” you clarify. 

“Tell me.” 

“It’s not… It’s embarrassing.” 

His lips curve in a tiny lopsided smile, just a hint of amusement. “Friends are for sharing embarrassing things with. And I’m your friend,” he says. “Aren’t I?” 

You blink quickly a few times, desperate to keep your tears at bay. Then you nod weakly. 

“Why do you look so miserable about it?” he says, tone light and teasing. 

Your lips wobble a little as you struggle with the words attempting to burst forth. They pound and burn and demand to be set free. You lose the battle. “I love you.” 

He blinks, eyes flicking across your face. 

The gates are open now. You’re turned loose. “I love you so much,” you sob. “It hurts. It hurts everyday and it just keeps getting worse and I can’t—” 

His lips cut you off, a warm, heart-stopping, and very much welcome interruption. He’s kissing you. He’s—

“Stop,” he mumbles against your wet, salty lips. “Stop hurting. Please.” His next kiss is unbearably soft, a brush against your upper lip. “Please,” he whispers. 

You nod dumbly.

He rewards you with a collection of gentle kisses across your cheeks, replacing the remnants of your tears with the sticky wetness of his moisturised lips. You imagine the slight red marks he must leave behind. 

He settles over you properly at some point. You’re too distracted by the path of his lips to notice exactly when. But then his arms are by your head, caging you under him in a way that makes you hope for the universe to halt all progression forward. This was enough; everything. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips finally. “I’m… sorry for letting you think I don’t. I’m a coward.” 

“No,” you chastise quickly as you tangle your fingers in his hair. “Don’t say shit like that.” 

“I—” 

“It hurts me… and you told me to stop hurting.” 

His head drops to your neck… then, with a soft press of his lips to your skin, “Then I’ll never do it again.” 

Every move he makes is gentle when the slow, indulgent kisses turn into exploring hands and whispered pleas for more. Each of his whisper-soft words of affection sweeps away a crumbled section of your wall, clearing the space to build something entirely new. He’s warm, so warm as his bare torso rests on yours — as he finally presses inside you and sucks a mark into your neck to join the rest he’s left. “Doesn’t hurt?” he asks, stilling as he fills you completely. 

“No,” you gasp. “No, you’re… it’s—” His lips take the words from your mouth, a little messier than he’s been before. When his hips roll into yours you can’t help grasping at him like he might suddenly get up and leave — fingers tangling in his hair desperately.

“I got you,” he mumbles against your lips, heavy breaths mingling with your own. “I got you…” 

When he eventually spills inside you, flooding you with more of his warmth, you’re crying again. But this time it doesn’t hurt; this time it’s a release. The tears that he kisses from your face afterwards — they wash away the rest of the rubble.

#lee know smut #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #kpop smut #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #kpop imagines #skz smut #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #kpop scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios #minho drabbles