#a dream come true

[bluequeerio]

This is incredible

Just going to leave this here @justtheclippy

[eleanor-bradstreet]

✨DON’T TALK TO ME, I’M DYING✨

[candybisous]

my look for sandy liang’s ss 24 show ⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆

[comphy-and-cozy]

perfume - jt compher

Pairing: JT Compher x Reader (f) - A Dream Come True universe

Word Count: ~3.2K

Author’s Note: It's been too long since I've posted JT Compher smut on main, and I need to get this out before he gets married and I get my feelings hurt. Based off of that one sexy now deleted video from Jesse's TikTok + Perfume by Del Water Gap.

Warnings: Alcohol use. Feelings!!! Smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected sex, fingering (f receiving), creampie, semi-public/risque sex - the usual.

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Faded blue jeans, you said you bleached ‘em with your mom Folded over the cuff as if they were too long ‘Cause I wanna do all the things, baby, I said I wanna do with you And I’m picturing you right now, I’m thinking of you right now With nothing on, with nothing on but your perfume

July 2024 The bar thrums with energy, brought to life by the jukebox playing John Mellencamp in the corner. In your hand is a cold Bud Light, and around your waist is a warm hand, resting comfortably at the waist of your shorts. It’s a beautifully warm July night in the Chicago suburbs, and you are soaring on cloud nine after being reunited with JT for the first time in a month—your first real time apart.

His sisters and friends that have gathered to spend time with him are off getting drinks or preoccupied, leaving the two of you alone. It’s only a few minutes, you know, but you relish the chance to have his full, uninhibited attention.

It’s been four months since he called you his girlfriend for the first time. You’ve experienced many ‘firsts’ in that period, including being officially added to the WAG group chat and getting to experience the lore of playoff jacket design. Unfortunately, after a devastating end to an otherwise electric April, that jacket sat unworn and untouched in the closet, waiting until next season to be introduced to the world.

And now, you’re with him in a dimly lit bar—the same one you watched him bring the Cup to on YouTube two years ago. It’s incredibly insane to you that three and a half years ago, you were meeting him at a fan event in Denver, and now, you’re in his hometown bar with his friends and family.

And you’re his date.

“You smell good,” he says, nuzzling into your neck to inhale deeply. The tickle of his beard against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, and you allow him to press a kiss against your lips; you sink into him, like settling into a good, cozy armchair at the end of a long day.

Heat has been simmering between the two of you all night, borne from pent-up sexual tension after a month of heated text messages and long-distance yearning. The wand in your bedside table has gotten more than its fair share of use after lying mostly dormant for the last 8 months—though JT has been known to break it out for some extra delicious fun now and then.

The frustration is only exacerbated by the fact that you’re staying with him in his childhood bedroom. In any other situation, sharing a bed with him would be welcomed after being away from him for so long, but under his parent’s roof, where you refuse to touch him past a hug and a kiss on the lips, it’s simply torture. Sleeping beside him, feeling his body heat, the touch of his skin against yours without being able to truly feel him is excruciating.

“Gross,” you hear Morgan’s voice say, and you pull away from JT to find Jesse filming you with a grin. JT groans in frustration—from being caught on film, or from being forced to pull away from you, you aren’t sure.

The next few hours pass quickly, full of jovial chatter and a rousing game of bags—you and Jesse beat JT and his friend in a 21-20 victory. He’s a good sport, though, pressing a congratulatory kiss to your cheek amid more fake retching sounds from his sisters.

“Been picturing you with nothing on but your perfume,” he murmurs into your ear, quiet enough that only you can hear it. His words send a shiver down your spine, one that he definitely notices; all he does in response is smirk knowingly at you before returning to the conversation.

Jesse and Morgan con you into doing shots, followed by a round of karaoke that you’re certain is not very well-appreciated by the other patrons of the bar. Your heart is happy, over the moon that the people that mean the most to JT have accepted you without hesitation as part of the family.

“You wanna get out of here?” he asks abruptly, interrupting your introspection. You’d have to be blind to miss the heat simmering in his eyes, though, to his credit, his voice and honest smile don’t betray the lust you know he’s feeling. You’re feeling it too, growing practically mad with it.

“And go where?”

“I’ll show you.”

His hand is warm around yours as he leads you out of the bar, the humid summer air engulfing you. There’s a pleasant buzz around you, equal parts beer and all things JT. You follow his lead, walking down the neatly landscaped Northbrook sidewalk, not caring where you’re going, just enjoying his company.

When he approaches his car, you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Switched to water an hour ago,” he says, opening the passenger door for you. There’s a glint in his eye, and you’re inclined to find out what it is, so you slide in.

JT drives you through the city, and you’re only half paying attention to where he’s navigating, instead humming to the song playing softly on the radio and peppering in some additional commentary. It isn’t until he shifts the car into park that you realize he’s pulled into a quaint park. You’re sure it’s lovely in the daytime, scattered with kids and runners and dogs living a serene, suburban life. Now, however, in the dark on a Saturday night, it’s empty.

“I’m not going to lie to you, I wasn’t listening to a word you just said,” he says, turning to you with a smile.

Your eyebrows raise at his candor. “And why’s that?”

“Was looking at your lips and got distracted thinking about the last time I saw ‘em wrapped around—”

“Joseph.”

His grin is apologetic. “Just being honest with you.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the flood of heat between your thighs. You’re sure he knows it, too.

JT casts a glance back at the backseat, then returns a pointed look to you, eyebrow raised silently in question. It takes a moment for the implication to register.

“This is your hometown,” you murmur, eyes sweeping over the park before you. “How many times did you do this, with another girl?”

“Never,” he says earnestly, like he needs to make sure you know. For a moment, the heat in his eyes has simmered. “I didn’t go to high school here, so I never got the chance.”

With a smirk, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over the center console to press a warm, slow kiss against his lips. Your voice is a low purr as you ask, “You want me to be your first?”

JT’s lips curl up into a smile against yours, nodding, and he leans back to make room for you as you maneuver yourself into his lap. His legs are long enough that you don’t touch the steering wheel, but his hand fumbles for the lever to move his seat back even more. It’s jerky, but you’re more interested in kissing him more deeply. Heat pulses from where your lips are connected, weaving lines of fire through your body that quickly possess you.

With more space, your legs settle on either side of him and your hips are free to begin a subtle grind of your pelvis against his. He’s quick to find your lips again, groaning into your mouth at the friction between your bodies.

“I missed you,” he murmurs lowly against your lips. The tickle of his beard against your skin is something you longed for while he’s been away, and you relish the feeling of the coarse hair scratching against your chin.

“What did you miss most?” you ask, letting out a hot sigh against his mouth when the seam of your shorts strikes at just the right spot.

“Hmm…” he says, letting his hands wander up your bare leg. His fingers play with the frayed edge of your bleached cutoff shorts, slipping them underneath to let his touch dance at the place where your thigh and your ass meet. “Might need a refresher on everything to give you a good answer.”

“I can help you with that,” is your breathed reply before you’re tugging your cropped t-shirt over your head.

“I wanted to do that,” he grumbles, “been waiting all night.”

“You want me to put it back on?”

But JT’s eyes are already on your chest, studying the details of your bra while his hands press into your bare sides. He shakes his head. “No. There’s a few other things I’d rather take off.”

Your hand snakes between your bodies, smiling in satisfaction when your palm reaches the erection straining against his shorts. “Get to it, then, Compher.”

His smile is feline, lips surging forward to connect with your collarbone while his hands seek out the clasp of your bra behind your back. His fingers are fast, and the lace has barely fallen away from your breasts when he’s yanking the straps off your arms, flinging the garment to the side. Large hands cup your breasts as he presses open-mouthed kisses to the tender flesh.

JT groans a low curse from your cleavage. “Missed these a lot.”

A chuckle falls from your lips, followed closely by a sigh when his tongue grazes your nipple. Already, the windows of the car are fogged up, shrouding the two of you in a steamy, sensual veil of privacy. If only they knew that Northbrook's favorite, perfect son is here, in the middle of their most famous park, doing very unsavory things to you.

Gently, you tug at his wrist and draw it to the button of your shorts that you’ve already taken the initiative to undo. Against your lips, you feel his smirk when you guide his hand past the unzipped zipper to press his palm against the lace hiding there.

“You miss this?”

He nods, flicking your tongue with his own as he presses his fingers against the warm, damp fabric. You sigh at his touch—it’s been a long summer without him—and your hips press forward to seek out more. JT doesn’t deny you; instead, he takes the hint and dips his hand beneath the lace. His hand is hot against your skin, and when he brushes your clit, you let out an involuntary moan.

“Seems like maybe you missed this, too,” he purrs.

Before you can breathlessly nod, a whimper rolls out when his finger presses into you. He drags it out and adds another, his body absorbing the shiver of pleasure that ripples through you. “I knew she missed me.”

It feels divine, the bliss heightened—distance makes the pussy grow more desperate or whatever they say. Your hips roll, riding his fingers and chasing a high that shocks you how quickly it comes. (Pun intended.) It rips through you, sucking the air out of your lungs, an explosion of stars in your eyes as you cry out his name in the contained walls of his car. You writhe in his lap, his lips pressed against your breast, his free hand on your waist stroking slow circles.

You’ve barely caught your breath before you’re grappling with the hem of his shirt and haphazardly tugging it over his head. Desperate hands fuss with his belt, button, and zipper—why does he have so many barriers?—and the two of you work in tandem to get his pants down. Even JT, King of Sarcasm, doesn’t have a smart quip for you, understanding your primal need.

When you finally sink down onto him, both of you let out twin sighs. You ignore the feeling that says, I hope I get to do this forever—too scary to think about, so you don’t. For a moment, both of you simply sit as both of you adjust to the sheer pleasure of being reunited so intimately.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he says, more emphatically this time. “Fucking perfect, baby. Wanna fuck you all night.”

His hands find your ass, giving you a squeeze and a slap before he’s helping you to move up and down. It’s a bit cramped in the front seat, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not with the feeling of his skin against yours intoxicating you far more than the Bud Lights you had at the bar. You search for the words, for some way to tell him how good it feels, but nothing comes out, so you simply call out his name.

Your hips draw lazy circles, relishing the feeling of him back inside you again. The deep stroke of him, coupled with his moans exhaled into the dark of the car, reignite the flame of your orgasm almost immediately. His lips have returned to suck a mark into the side of your breast while you ride him, hot breath panting over your skin.

“J—” you whine. “Please.” What you’re begging for, you aren’t sure.

“Told you,” he says, “gonna fuck you all night, baby.”

You laugh, “We don’t have all night. Your sisters are going to wonder where we are.”

“Please stop talking about my sisters while I’m inside of you.”

Your lips ghost over the shell of his ear, pausing the movement of your hips. “Guess you better get to fucking me then.”

The low rumble of his growl vibrates against your chest, a playful slap delivered to your ass and you yelp. His hands lift you off of him, leaving you feeling empty and needy; he smirks at the way you whimper when he slips out of you. “Get in the back, then, beautiful.”

You maneuver to the backseat, and manage to get your clothes (mostly) off your body, forgotten beside his in a heap on the floor of his car. JT's strong arm behind your back guides you down, the back of your head resting safely in his palm; he pauses above you to admire the view of your naked body lying beneath him. A smile makes its way onto his face, soft amidst the heat fogging up the windows of his car, and he repeats himself. “I missed you.”

Your hands graze over his ribcage, reacquainting yourself to the feeling of his skin under your fingertips. They land on his neck, tugging him down toward your face so that you can kiss him deeply, unable to repeat the words back to him even though you return the feeling tenfold. He sighs against you, allowing himself to indulge in the feeling of your lips.

The head of his dick kisses your entrance, nudging it softly until you're whining with primal need—the taste of him you had wasn't enough; you want more. Need more of him. “Don't make me wait, J.”

A smile curls up against your mouth. “Can't say no to you, baby.”

Fucking JT Compher in the back of his car was nowhere near your 2024 bingo card. But as your bodies movie together in an erotic rhythm of tangled limbs and heavy sighs, you start to think you’ve already won the game. Your legs fight to stay wrapped around his waist in the cramped space, hand raised above your head to press against the door of the car, holding yourself steady as he thrusts into you with a vigor you haven't seen from him.

Carnal desire roils through you, rippling through your blood and sending heat over the plane of your skin. You're certain you'll never get tired of the way it feels like his dick was made just to bring you pleasure, fitting your pussy like Cinderella's glass slipper. JT pants out low curses, hot puffs against your jaw, mumuring low praises in between.

“So fuckin' tight.”

“Made for me.”

“Love this cunt.”

“J, I'm close,” you cry out with a long moan. Diligently, he maintains his rhythm, striking the perfect spot with deadly precision, sending your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers hotly, hips dutifully driving you closer to your peak. Molten brown eyes stare into yours, intense and unashamed, and you feel like he might swallow you whole. “Come for me. Let me feel this perfect pussy come.”

Whether it’s the time apart, his extra determination, or that warm, oozy, fluttery feeling inside of you that has nothing to do with his dick rearranging your guts, your orgasm ignites like a wildfire. A loud cry leaves your mouth, your hands clutching onto his shoulders as your high shudders through you. JT coaxes you through it with steady, patient rolls of his hips, never wavering, eyes never leaving your face.

Soon enough, his hips begin to falter, and another moan escapes your lips when you feel him pulsing inside of you. He rides out his climax, hips stilling while he’s sheathed completely inside of you, pausing to catch his breath.

“You’re so pretty when you come all over my dick.”

“You’re so pretty when you come inside me,” you quip back, and a smile plays at his lips before his nose nudges yours affectionately.

“Feel better?”

Your pussy clenches again, nowhere near being ready to be done, but you know you’re on borrowed time. “For now.”

“I’d fuck you in that bed if I trusted you to stay quiet,” he murmurs, “but we both know you’d wake the whole damn house up as soon as I touched you.”

Heat warms your cheeks, but you smile because, well, he’s right. His arms wrap around your body, holding you close to him even despite the uncomfortable position in the cramped space of the backseat; you let your legs wrap around him to return the embrace, keeping him buried inside of you. JT mumbles something into your neck that you don’t quite make out.

“Mm?”

“I love you.”

You freeze, the weight of his words settling in in the silence of the car. “What?”

JT pulls back a little, but the intensity of his gaze makes you feel shy. “You don’t have to say it back, if you aren’t ready—if you don’t want to. But I can’t keep it in anymore. I hate being apart from you.”

Your eyes trace the line of his collarbones, feeling the heat of his own eyes on you, gauging your reaction. Love? JT Compher loves you? The guy who you were writing fanfiction about a matter of months ago?

The sentiment is overwhelming, and you blow out a breath. To your surprise, JT laughs, and you look back up at him, confused.

“Didn’t have this written into your story, did you?”

It’s just the right amount of levity to crack the shock, and you can’t fight the smile that turns into a laugh. He loves you. JT Compher loves you. And now that the surprise has worn off, you realize your heart is long gone, soaring far above you in the clouds.

He begrudingly pulls out of you, maneuvering ungracefully to tug a few spare McDonald’s napkins from the glove box to clean the two of you off. His admission hangs between the two of you, but if he’s waiting for you to say something, he doesn’t show it; instead, he helps to locate your clothes and, once both of you are properly covered, he opens the door to let some much-needed fresh air into the vehicle. The fog on the windows is thick, perspiring slightly in the humid July air, and your boyfriend—who loves you!—extends a hand to help you out of the car on shaky legs.

Standing in front of him, you wrap your arms around his body, savoring the feeling of him pressed against you. “J?”

“Hm?”

“I love you, too.”

Tag list: @somuchf4rstardust @tpwkstiles @smileysvech @senditcolton @robindrake13 @laurenairay

[white-flower-blooming]

✦ ۫ ּ Chibi donghua moment ｡🏮 ۫ ּ ✦

[nicemare]

Phasmas forth one. The ideas just won't stop coming, she has to write faster than Hux lawyer can work through all possibilities and potentially find a technicality to eventually get her with. As she can't write and edit at the same time, she dropped an inquiry on the blackboard for beta readers: Mitaka made sure NOBODY else besides him could apply. He FINALLY got his autograph AND the honor to work with the great author herself. She also managed to answer some fanpost- and was delighted to get some intel on a certain dark haired knights background by 'TraitorDater Flyboi' that will be incorporated into her next book. Captain Cardinal and Phasma might not be on good terms, but damn, that man can draw some fleek oil portraits and she keeps commissioning him. The silent and grim exchange in hallways is contrary to the praise Cardinal gets in messages about his latest piece- and the credit amount payed for it. Original Image by Sharon Spia (Developments of the lore heavily inspired by @brieflymaximumprincess tags- loved them! Not a peaceful second for Hux from now on >:3 )

[joemama-2]

1950s era gojo x you except it’s an alternate timeline and he’s the housewife

[jomiddlemarch]

“I dreamt about you,” Taggie confessed.

As she’d expected, Rupert’s eyes lit up, but where she might have seen a certain sly, self-satisfied glee, his expression held only an almost boyish delight.

“From another woman, that would be nothing but flirtation,” he replied.

“I wouldn’t do that,” she said.

“I know,” he said, grinning.

“Because you think I wouldn’t dare?” Taggie asked. With Maud in London, it seemed possible to be something other than the household drudge.

“I think you wouldn’t bother, angel,” he said.

“We were in the bluebell wood. You said good things came to those who wait.”

[louielle]

TO JE ZÁZRAK

JSME MISTŘI SVĚTA

JSME MISTŘI SVĚTA PO 14 LETECH!!!!!

JE TO TAM!!!!!

DOHÁJE JE TO TAM!!!

JE TO DOMA!!!!🇨🇿🥇

[letheology]

Two of Them

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

#He Can't Believe It

[mariajmajesty]

[livelaughlovepedri]

pedrigavi double pivot 💞💕💖💘💗

[comphy-and-cozy]

Little delayed in catching up as work (and life) went a tad bit sideways. However my goodness yeah that was a GOOD catch up.

And kind of you to oblige an ask. Would LOVE to know a little more about the first “morning after” and aftermath in the third part of a dream come true 👀

Please and thank you kindly my dear 🫶🏻🤍

the morning after - jt compher

Pairing: JT Compher x Reader (f) - A Dream Come True universe

Word Count: 1.3K

Author’s Note: Yes, this is nearly 8 months late following a JTC hiatus and then a writing funk for the majority of the fall, but I never forgot about this. We all know I will always come back to these two! Still living in that delicious fantasy of that August day...

Warnings: Mature content/sexual themes, references to sex, language, the usual banter.

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August 2023 - The morning after

JT Compher has a way with words. Smooth and sleek, you wonder what came first: his confidence or his ability to woo with just a short sentence and a simmering smile. Somehow, he’s managed to quiet every last question and insecurity that bubbled up in you when you woke up to an empty bed, the fear of him stealing away after a one night stand vanished at his insistence of seeing you again. 

Seeing him standing in your kitchen, preparing morning-after breakfast for you following a dicking down for the ages, you were in shock. But once his lips are on yours, you forget how to think, how to breathe, how to do anything except return his kiss and do everything in your power to keep his lips on you. His hands rest on your hips, fingers digging in slightly as your mouth opens to allow his tongue in, the feeling of him against you near enough to turn your legs into pure jello. The edge of the countertop bumps against your lower back, and you realize he’s been backing you up slowly. 

Strong arms lift you onto the counter, the coolness of the surface against your bare center earning a small yelp from your lips. It’s a stark contrast to the scorching heat between your legs, and the low pulse of your molten center throbs as you press yourself into his figure, caging you between his arms. Your nipples pebble pressed against his strong, solid chest, warmth blooming steadily inside of you. You’re more than ready for him to ravage you again, right there, not caring about the half-cooked eggs on the stove.

JT, it seems, has a similar idea, his hands trailing fire up the sides of your bare thighs, slipping underneath the hem of your sweatshirt and resting on your ass before squeezing firmly. A moan slips out of your lips that he swallows hungrily before a smirk forms against your mouth. “No panties? Easy access.”

A breathless chuckle is all you can manage in reply. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to you, until you can feel him pressed against your bare center. Only a thin layer of fabric lies between you, and your body knows it. You can feel your pussy dripping arousal onto your otherwise pristine countertop. 

JT registers the smell before you do, tearing himself away from your lips and earning a wanton whine from you. The curse from his mouth alerts you to his urgency, pulling away to dash toward the toaster, which you soon register is smoking. He unplugs it, fishing two completely blackened pieces of toast from it, but not before the sharp chirp of the smoke alarm blares through your apartment. 

“Looks like my tour of Detroit is going to continue,” he says with a sheepish, apologetic smile after you’ve managed to shut the alarm off and rid your apartment of the smoke. The commotion, unfortunately, has quelled both of your libidos, though you make a mental note that you’re very interested in exploring what he might do with you lying on the kitchen counter. “Best breakfast in Detroit?”

“I know just the place.”

Back in your bedroom, both of you get dressed, fighting the urge to do the opposite and stay locked in your room all day. You can feel the heat of JT’s gaze on your ass as you step on your tiptoes to retrieve a sweatshirt from your closet. 

“That a Wings jersey?”

Your head turns and you catch sight of the red sleeve that’s drawn his attention. An eyebrow quirks up. “Whose do you think it is?”

He tugs on his pants while he ponders, doing his best to smooth out the wrinkles from lying on your bedroom floor all night. It’s a bit obvious they’re last night’s clothes, but there’s an ember of pride burning within you at the subtle messaging: He was with me last night.

“I’m going to say it’s too cliche to guess mine, right?”

“Sir, you haven’t even played a single game as a Red Wing yet,” you scoff, though you feel a glimmer of hope at the idea of maybe, just maybe, wearing his name to Little Caesars Arena someday in the future. 

“Touché,” he says with a laugh, then thinks. “Stevie Y?”

“He’s in here too,” you reply, lifting the sleeve of a different jersey. You note the way he remembered your favorite Red Wings player from the first conversation you had nearly two years ago. 

“I’m stumped.”

Taking the hanger off of the rack, you turn the jersey around to reveal the large 71 on the back. You watch JT’s eyes flash over the letters of his captain’s name, and the subsequent grin that forms on his face. “So I bet you loved me telling him I was leaving with you last night, huh?”

Heat tinges your cheeks as you return the jersey carefully to its spot. Your heartbeat quickens and you shudder at the memory alone. “Mortifying. But less so than being… overheard by him or his wife.”

JT smirks, and you’re sure he’s remembering the sounds you made last night. You allow yourself to slip briefly back into a reverie full of heated kisses, steady thrusts, and intimate, erotic bliss.

“Did you ever want to fuck him, too?”

The question is so stark and out of left field it takes you by surprise, pulling you quickly out of your daydream. With a glance at him, you notice his cheeks are flushed with a slight hint of pink—he’s playing it off as a casual, silly question, but you can sense that he’s gauging his competition. That admission, while indirect, shows the depth of his interest in you, and it makes your stomach flip. 

“Not enough to write fanfic about him.”

JT’s lips curl upward and he laughs. He doesn’t say it, but you can feel the relief settle in. He’s the one you’ve been crushing on for years, not Dylan. His pride in holding that title is trivial, but it strikes you as cute. 

“Told you I wasn’t interested in sharing.”

Breakfast is only a few blocks down the street, a little hole in the wall for some of your favorite breakfast sandwiches in the city. He offers to pay, and you’re both grateful and pleasantly surprised that conversation still flows just as easily while both of you are sober—the irony isn’t lost on you that your first time spending real, quality time with him is the morning after he gave you the best dicking down of your life. 

Before he leaves your apartment, he has you put your number in his phone. With the promise to reach out soon and one last heated makeout session against your front door, your whirlwind first date with JT Compher comes to an end.

Sitting in the silence of your now empty apartment, you wonder how much of what he said was genuine, if he’ll actually connect or just save your number as a potential 11pm booty call during the season. You’re inclined to believe the former, but your self-preservation instinct has you preparing yourself for the latter. 

You don’t have to wait long to find out. Barely a day goes by before your phone buzzes with your first text from your new contact. 

[JT:] I can’t stop thinking about you [You:] You say that to all the girls? [JT:] Just the ones who write fanfic about me

The text makes you laugh. None of it feels real; his number in your phone, his scent in your bed, the earnest and unashamed captivation he’s shown with you. Another glance in the mirror confirms the marks he left on your skin with his mouth. Your fingers brush over one of the mauvey-purple spots to make sure it’s not a figment of your imagination. 

They’re real—and so is he. It terrifies you, how much power he has over you, how easily he could crush you if he woke up tomorrow and changed his mind. But there’s also a flutter in your heart, replaying all of his simmering, lingering glances and the warmth of his presence. 

You’re hopeful. The feeling is beautiful, uplifting, sanguine, like you’re bouncing from cloud to cloud. And while you don’t know what’s coming, you’re excited to watch it unfold.

Tag list: @somuchf4rstardust @tpwkstiles @smileysvech @senditcolton @robindrake13 @laurenairay

[wisteriadaydreams]

Hey hey! Yandere Tanjiro definitely has the unintentional habit of sneaking up on you. At times he just approaches you from behind while you’re working and too busy to notice him coming, then looks over your shoulder to check at what you’re doing and he accidentally gives you a jumpscare? He’s so apologetic about it too, you can’t stay mad at him, it’s not his fault you’re so adorable when scared, so much so that he wants to gobble you up

TO BE ENAMORED

pairing: Kamado Tanjirō x gn!reader

genre: fluff, ig?

words: 1.4k (of Tanjirō simping for you)

tw: soft yandere

a/n: soft yandere Tanjirō is where it's at

Tanjirō has been taught many things during his training. How to breath properly, to bring his body beyond its breaking point, to always be alert and clear-headed in any situation. To learn how to reduce his presence in the face of danger and to keep his footing light so that they cannot easily detect his movements.

He has always regarded these tidbits and knowledge gained from his mentors and previous experiences as only ever most useful in his Demon Slayer career.

How his heart fluttered when he realized he can use them when it comes to you.

He first saw you when he was first taken to the Butterfly Estate on the back of a Kakushi, and though he was in excruciating pain, nothing could stop him from being dumbstruck by your appearance. You seemed to be veiled by a halo of light, which even paled in comparison to your radiance. You fussed over him with worry, the genuine concern you showed to a complete stranger like him made a pool of sunfire burn low in his stomach.

You were quick to direct them to an empty bed, getting to work and coordinating with the others easily like you've done this all your life. When you touched his skin, liquid lightning rushed through his veins, causing goosebumps to rise on his body. You treated his wounds and bandaged him up with a caring hand that made his heart stutter, but nothing could compare to when you crouched down closer to inspect something, giving him a full whiff of your scent. It filled his mind intoxicatingly, and for a moment he was sure he just had an out of body experience, his brain all mushy and fuzzy. If his bones weren't broken, he would've prop himself up to get another inhale.

The next day, he was reassured that it wasn't all a pain-induced hallucination when he saw you greet him with a gorgeous smile while giving him his medicine.

Tanjirō was completely smitten, even if he didn't know it yet.

Over the next few days, he greedily sought out any piece of information about you, even for things as trivial as whether you are right or left-handed, or even how you like to take your tea in the morning. The best time of the day for him is when you would come to bring him medicine and check on his bandages, the giddy smile not leaving his face even when it hurts when you touch his wounds.

(He will deny it if asked, but Zenitsu can attest to the fact that the burgundy-haired boy is noticeably less chipper if someone else came in.)

Rehabilitation training was grueling, but made exponentially better by your mere presence. His skin erupts into goosebumps every time he's able to catch up to you in the game of tag, butterflies swirling around his stomach when he grabs a hold of your wrist. He also managed to stop your attacks during the reflex test, but refrained from splashing the medicine water in your face out of guilt.

(Needless to say, he wasn't that happy when the next time, he was partnered with Kanao when the others saw his progress.)

His eyes are on you whenever you're with the others, a strange feeling coiling around his heart — intense like wildfire, a darkness that encroaches into his mind and make his gaze burn like an inferno.

(He aches to be by your side.)

No matter, he already has your scent committed into his memory, fused so deeply into a part of his soul that not even amnesia can erase it from him. He uses it to look for you in this maze of an estate, easily being able to locate you whether you're in the kitchen, the garden, or even the storage room.

There's truly not a corner that you can hide from him.

Tanjirō wouldn't hesitate to lend you a hand in whatever you're doing, swiftly waving away your protests with a smile as he plucks whatever you're holding into his hands. There have been times when he has been able to convince you to accompany you to town, his heart soaring at the idea of being able to spend more time with you.

He keeps these moments with you close to his heart, unwilling to share them with his friends. And though he adores the way you spend time with Nezuko, he has become greedy for instances when it's just the two of you alone. It's already hard enough to steal a moment alone when you're so busy, so it infuriates bothers him whenever someone interrupt. But what he truly savors are the moments before you've become aware of his presence, when he can simply look at you and soak in every little detail about you.

He drinks in the sight of you like it's the water that he needs to survive, every movement captures his attention like a leash that refuses to let go. Even if he were to stand in front of the most beautiful sight in the world, his eyes would only be on you.

Never has he been more grateful for his training, for he can take every opportunity to stand so close to you that your natural scent invades his senses, pulling him into a dream so bewitching that he is left with one singular thought.

You.

Your hands could be covered with rice flour, your cheeks could be smeared with dirt from the garden, your hair could be plastered to your sweaty face, flushed red from the heat. You could be freshly waking up, strands of hair sticking out all over the place, your eyes groggy and hazy, and he would still think of you as the most stunning person who ever existed.

He cares not if whatever you're doing is the most mundane work in the world, Tanjirō just loves watching you. He just loves how your eyebrows would scrunch together in concentration, or how occasionally you would hum something under your breath — your voice clear like the mountain stream, like a blessing straight from the gods.

You have him all wrapped around your finger.

And don't get him started on how you would react when you finally realized he's there.

"Tanjirō-kun!" You nearly jumped out of your body when you notice the red-headed boy behind you. "How long have you been standing there."

"Not long," he says innocently. Though he always feels a little guilty about scaring you, your reaction is so adorable that he can't help it sometimes. You're like a cute, jittery bunny with your eyes all wide open in shock. "I'm sorry, did I scare you?"

"No, no, it's okay. I guess I just wasn't paying attention." You wave it off, somehow never being able to blame him when he's that sincere. Surely he's not actively sneaking up on you. And although it seems he has an ability to find you wherever you are, it's probably all a coincidence, right?

"What are you working on?"

Your shoulders slack. You really can't be mad at him when he's bouncing on his feet, truly interested in whatever you're doing, giving you the kind of attention that you're unaccustomed to from the other Demon Slayers. They're all grateful for the care that you provided them (more or less), but few have taken their time to get to know you as someone more than a caretaker. It feels refreshing (and almost exhilarating) to be seen, to have someone take notice of you,

As for Tanjirō...well, let's just say no one can take his attention away in that moment except for you. It is a true skill, really, to be able to simultaneously pay attention to everything that you said and indulge in his thoughts. Surely you wouldn't mind if he stands just a little closer, right?

He wonders if he will be able to find the courage to hold your hand one day. To have you all to himself with nobody interrupting. To let him hug you tight and bury his nose in the crook of your neck. Perhaps even to kiss you...

A delightful shiver crawls down his spine, lighting up his insides like fireworks and bringing a drunken blush to his cheeks.

'Oh,' Tanjirō thinks while looking at you tenderly, 'That day will come, I'll make sure of it.'

After all, Tanjirō is nothing but obsessed determined.

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