#all about never ever doing it right no matter how hard you try

[jarofstyles]

Robins Egg - Indigo 8

…. Hi. It’s been 800 years but I realized I never posted this update! So here we are.

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WC- 4.8k

Warnings- slight angst, fluff, Mention of anxiety, H being slightly oblivious

Harry wasn’t real, Y/N thinks. She was a bit stumped.

While she had read a lot of romance novels, as a self proclaimed member of the book community, she hadn’t ever expected any of that to come true. Sure, it was nice to read, but men like that didn’t exist. The butterflies she got reading them had been more than enough, but she was finding that the more time she spent with Harry that she preferred real life over her story books.

It was just… odd. Not in a bad way, but the things he did had her doing a double take. Venmoing her for the cookie ingredients, paying for the pizza, texting her good morning and good night, checking in on her tattoo, even sending her a bunch of sunflowers when she had woken up in a shit mood and let him know. They were so early in it and she had become a bit nervous.

It felt like waiting for the other shoe to drop. The tension, the knowing it's too good to be true. It wasn’t like he was absolved of fault. He was a little possessive, he was a bit of a workaholic, he was hard on himself, he was a little pessimistic, a little cold, rigid but these were all things she could deal with. But there was just something making her nervous. It had never been this good for her and her cynical side was trying to come out, trying to rear its ugly head and leave a brown smear on this pretty new relationship tied up in a silky red ribbon with pristine white wrapping.

She had been so wrong about him, it was insane. He wasn’t any of the things she had assumed, at least not to her. He was still a bit of a snarly asshole but she was never at the receiving end of it. Their date had blown her mind, how he had been so down to earth with her, how he had kissed her so thoroughly and left with a swagger in his walk, how he left her wanting more. It was strange for her to yearn for someone so much, to want to be around a man more than she had experienced in the past. She feared becoming clingy as it progressed, addicted to the intoxicating kisses and the spice of his cologne, the roughness of the calluses on his hand and his deep voice talking in the cajoling whispers that he had given her a little taste of.

For all intents and purposes, Y/N was realizing she was fucked. Absolutely ruined.

H: Hey, I’m on my way. Do you need me to stop for anything else? Xxx

Y/N: No :) I’ve got everything! Just come on in when you’re here. It’s unlocked. Xxxx

From the beating going on in her chest, she knew she was in for a ride tonight.

After their night making cookies, they’d had a few more dates. All of which he had been a gentleman. They’d made out, he’d felt her up, but he didn’t push for more. It wasn’t something she was used to. All her past experiences had rushed the sexual bits of it and she sort of felt like she was doing something wrong even though she knew she wasn’t. Harry teased her, making her feel hot but backed off shortly after only to be soft and gentle with her. It was confusing and she craved more but it was difficult to know how to push. He’d told her that he wanted to take time with her, that he wanted to do this right because he liked her a lot, but how long was it going to take?

The main concern was that he be comfortable. That’s what mattered the most and she could see he got a little nervous sometimes, like when he’d placed his hands under her shirt and palmed her tits over her bra a few nights ago, only doing it for a short while and not pushing further than that. She’d been aching for it when he left. If this was some sort of edging, he was doing a great job of making her crave it.

Harry was incredibly attractive. This was common knowledge, and she’d go as far as to say it was fact. Her body reacted to him in a very strong way, but the slight rejections were starting to make her wonder if she was the one pushing too hard. It was hard to control herself with his hands on her. His large palms holding her waist and pulling her close so he could lick into his mouth, letting her hips rock a little on top of him- and he got hard! That’s something that stumped her. He was hard and she could feel it under her, so obviously he had to be at least attracted to her, but something was stopping him. Tonight, she needed to figure out what it was.

She heard the door open and the telltale clank of the keys attached to his jeans, making her smile as she continued to stir the pot of soup on the stove. She’d learned a recipe for broccoli cheddar soup when he said it was his favorite and managed to do two trial runs to make sure it was actually good. She’d cheated with the bread, getting store bought, but it had led her to find a new favorite wine.

Hands found her waist and chin rested on top of her as he looked down at the pot she was stirring, a little hum coming from his throat. “Should’ve known you were up t’something when you wouldn’t tell me what we were going to do for dinner.” He clicked his tongue, using a finger to turn her head so he could catch her lips. He was smiling as he pulled back, eyes light and happy as he looked back down at it. “You didn’t have t’do this all by yourself. I would have helped, or paid. But you’re too fucking sweet.” His hands went back to her waist to give her a squeeze before moving next to the stove to look at her. “Is there something I can do to help?

Y/N’s stomach was a mess of butterflies from his reaction, cheeks hurting from keeping her own smile contained enough that it didn’t look crazy. It did smell good in here and her trial runs ensured that her recipe wasn’t a fuck up. “You can get wine glasses out. I found a cool wine at Trader Joes and wanted to try it.” She hummed, tapping the spoon against the side of the pot to get off the excess before resting it in her sunflower spoon rest. For once, she was actually using it as it was intended and not just decor.

“Yeah? I’m excited to try.” He moved past her to get the wine glasses on the bar cart she had set up when she got a wild hair and wanted to do a DIY thing. She went the opposite way to get two bowls, placing them down before gathering the spoons. “How much did the ingredients cost?”

“None of your business.” She playfully snipped, ladling the soup into the bowls. “You’ve paid for enough. I can handle paying for some of our meals and stuff. You know I don’t expect you to cover everything, right?” Sometimes she had to wonder if Harry thought she expected this. Of course she fought him on paying every time but he was quicker to place his card or cash down every time. How? She didn’t know.

“Course I know that. But I like to.” He saddled up next to her, watching as she served their dinner. “I like to take care of you. I know you don’t expect that and you’re not runnin’ around trying to get money off of me. But even if you were, I think I’d give it to you.” He adjusted the strap of her apron, eyes on the side of her face. “I enjoy paying. I can’t describe exactly why, but it feels right. You give me your company, and it’s worth a lot more than dinner.” Harry felt pretty strongly about it, it seemed. Y/N had to wonder who instilled this in him. She knew it was old school, and he did sometimes do things by the book, but he was progressive with his views. It confused her a little.

Harry himself, though, was holding back. Of course he wanted to spoil Y/N. He liked her a lot more than was probably normal for only being together for a few weeks, and he didn’t want to scare her off. It was hard. He wanted to pay for her nails, wanted to make sure she had the things she wanted. It was hard to hold his true emotion back, but he feared the rejection. Coming on way too strong. He fell hard and fast, but Y/N was the hardest and fastest he’d even crashed. His crush had predated their relationship, making it even worse.

“Well.. Okay.” She sighed, turning to hand him his bowl. “If it actually makes you happy, I suppose I can let go. I just don’t want you to think I’m some sort of freeloader or, or a gold digger. I make my own money and I can take care of stuff for us too.” He followed her to the table, choosing to sit next to her instead of across.

“Never. You’ve never asked me for a thing. If you did, I’d probably say yes, but I know you’re none of those things. You’re the sweetest girl I know. Let me take care of you.” He rested his palm on her thigh to squeeze it lightly before spooning some of the soup into his mouth.

“Careful! It’s hot.” Y/N knew it was still steaming and worried for him, but he simply swallowed and gave her a smile.

“Been drinking hot coffee for ages. Doesn’t bother me. Plus, I’ve literally poked a hole through my tongue, so it’s safe. But thanks for looking out for me.” He laughed. “This is really fucking good, Y/N. Probably the best I’ve had.”

She knew he had to be exaggerating but the praise made her flush. A tiny, shy smile painted her lips as she watched him take another bite. A groan of satisfaction came from him, making her stomach flutter for a variety of reasons, but she needed to get her mind out of the gutter. “You think so?”

“Know so. You’re never gonna be able to get rid of me. Gonna have to be bribing you to make this for me again.” His knee knocked into hers. It was a slight joke- he would definitely ask her to make it again, but he would cover the ingredients. Maybe she could make it at his house? He loved the idea of her in his kitchen, in his living room. In his bed.

“Well, there’s plenty of leftovers.” She chirped, happiness coursing through her at his words. Succeeding at this goal made her extremely happy. Her boyfriend liked her soup! “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go to the bars with everyone tonight or if you wanted us to stay here. The choice is yours.” They’d been informed in the groupchat that there was a pub crawl tonight, but Y/N could feel his hesitation. They hadn’t been out with them together yet, and something was keeping him from wanting to go with her.

“Let’s stay here.” He sighed, stretching his arms over his head. “M’not in the mood to have to deal with drunken people spilling their pints on to me. Didn’t you say there was a documentary about a cult you wanted t’watch?” The way he brushed it off made sense, but she had to wonder why he didn’t want to go.

“I’m fine with that, but you used to love going out. I don’t want to stop you from doing that.” She approached it carefully, watching as his brows furrowed together.

“Not at all. T’be honest, I used to only go out when I knew you were going. Wanted to make sure you were okay, and… I dunno. I would always end up staring.” His cheeks pinkened a little, looking down at his bowl. And before her, it was going out to get laid. He didn’t need the bar for either of those things anymore. “So now I’ve got you, get to spend time with you. If you want to go, we can. I jus’ don’t want them poking at us.”

That was a worry of his.

“How do you mean?” This was something she’d been a little insecure about. Their friends didn’t really know she and Harry were together. Harry hadn’t mentioned telling anyone and she hadn’t wanted to say something too early. It was hard to navigate the relationship this early on. Harry was a private person but she also liked the idea of people knowing that they were together.

“Well.. They’re just a nosy lot, aren’t they? I’ve kind of kept this to myself, wanted to enjoy you before the group of them descend on us like vultures asking for information.” The distaste was clear on his face, making something in her tummy turn. “They’re gonna ask for the whole story, and apparently they all thought I didn’t like you so it’s gonna be a big deal. I’d like it to just stay between us for a while longer.”

“Oh. Okay.” She peeped, swallowing the lump in her throat.

She was being silly. Of course, she knew what he said made complete and utter sense. He was correct. It would be a big deal and they would demand to know what and how and when and it would be a lot, but something about it made her feel icky. Moving her soup around with her spoon, she stayed quiet as she tried to talk herself down. Harry had never done something purposely to hurt her feelings, but this had done so by accident. It wasn’t his fault- but part of her worried he was ashamed or something. She knew she didn’t exactly look like his normal type,or the type he apparently went for prior to her. She wasn’t covered in tattoos yet. Was it weird to be dating a girl that was sort of your opposite?

Meanwhile, Harry’s heart sunk to his ass. He could see, he could hear that it wasn’t okay. He’d hurt her feelings and he caught it on her face, and he felt a little queasy that he couldn’t pinpoint what exactly about that had made her upset. She looked a bit like a kicked puppy and he felt awful, the guilt crawling up his throat as he turned to her. “Hey… Y/N.” He urged. “Can you look at me, sweetheart? I think I just hurt your feelings and I didn’t mean to.” His hand settled on her shoulder, thumbing over it as he tried not to freak out. This was what he meant by putting his foot in his mouth. Sometimes he didn’t think things through, or maybe had some emotional incompetence.

“No, no… You just, I don’t know why it upset me.” She looked at him, seeing the genuine stress on his face. He had just turned anxious in a way she hadn’t seen him before. “I uh, I think I’m just being silly.” Even though her eyes burned a little bit, he obviously hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings.

“Your feelings aren’t silly.” He murmured. “What felt bad about what I said? I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to upset you.” His hand grabbed hers as she dropped her spoon. “Talk me through it. What part felt bad to you? M’sorry.” His apology came out again and Y/N felt guilty herself. She knew she was ultra sensitive and lots of things hurt her feelings that didn’t make sense, but she didn’t want him feeling that way about her! He’d just been talking.

“I uh… I think, somewhere in my brain… Part of me has been thinking you don’t want people to know we’re together because I’m like, y’know. Not your type.” She winced even as she said it, stumbling over her words. “Like, I’ve seen the girls that approach you and the ones you used to talk to.” One of his ex flings had come up to the table once but he had swiftly rejected her. “I’m nothing like them. I just get nervous that you’ll be like… embarrassed to be seen with me or something.”

Harry looked at her with a sad frown, shaking his head adamantly as she finished the sentence. So that’s what it was. She was comparing herself to other girls that seemed to fit his aesthetic more, which had been true before. He’d gone for girls that had lots of tattoos and wore darker makeup and different clothes than she had, sure. But she was his absolute favorite person. Couldn’t she see that?

“Darling… No. Absolutely not. M’the furthest thing from embarrassed.” He promised. “I want everyone to know. It’s nothing to do with that. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the privilege to call mine. I adore you, and sometimes I even have to stop myself because I feel like m’gonna come on too strong but… It isn’t that I don’t want them to know. It’s the part where they harass us for answers.” Harry wasn’t too good at the whole talking thing sometimes but he was doing his best for Y/N. He liked her far too much to let her worry like this. “I am a private man. I don’t want to share all the gritty details, no, but you know how they are when they’ve been drinking. They’re relentless and they’re gonna bother you about it. And I know that you can get overwhelmed and I just…I don’t want them to hound you while I just sit there next to you.” They’d know better than to go after Harry for answers, but Y/N had been so open with them in the past, they’d expect the same.

“I like you a lot more than you can probably tell. So much that I’ve had to pace myself. I don’t like the idea of being too much for you, or moving too fast. You deserve a proper dating experience with the lead ups, or whatever you want. You’re not just some hookup I want to divulge dirty details about. You mean something to me and I think… I think that’s part of why I like keeping it to us right now.” He swallowed, adjusting in his seat to get closer to her. “I don’t want them to intrude on us when we’re doing so well on our own. But if you want them to know, I’ll tell ‘em all.” Harry knew he’d try to find a way to lasso the moon if that's what the girl in front of him wanted.

Y/N felt exceptionally silly for thinking he was ashamed of her, but his explanation made her butterflies return. He really liked her like that? She sniffled, looking into his earnest eyes before nodding. “Okay. That makes a lot of sense.” Taking some initiative, she got up and sat herself on his lap to get a cuddle. They both seemed to need one. Harry had a damn near heart attack seeing her lips downturned. “We could do like…” She paused before shaking her head. “Nevermind, It’s silly.” Her face heated.

“No, it’s not. What is it?” He urged, trying to hear her out. The man had no idea what she was going to suggest but he doubted he would tell her no.

“People sometimes like, hint that they’re with someone. On social media. They post photos that are kinda like, unsure. So it isn’t as much of a shock when they do come out as a couple. Is that something that would make you feel a little better about it?” She knew they called it soft launching but it felt weird to call it that out loud.

They could ignore texts if they wanted to. It was obvious they weren’t going out tonight, but maybe people could put things together and they didn’t need to be harassed in person. Harry thought about it for a moment before nodding, still unsure as to how it would work. He was picky about his privacy, especially on socials, but he trusted Y/N. He didn’t mind later on if she posted him fully, but it would make sense to him to start it that way. “I don’t see why not. How do we do that, though?”

“Well, later when we’re watching something I can take a selfie and your arm can be in it or something. I dunno, it doesn’t have to be extremely obvious. Just enough that there's a hint. You move on from there.” She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, adjusting herself. “If you’re worried about them harassing me, which is very sweet by the way, it may be easier to just do something like that. Let them see we’re hanging out on our own and we can just ignore our phones and answer when we see fit. It may be less overwhelming for the both of us.” It made sense to her.

“Hm.” He hummed, thinking about it for a moment. “I think that could be alright, yeah.” Lips quirked up in a smile. “We can do that when we’re watching TV. Sounds like a plan?”

“Yes, absolutely.” She beamed. Thank god he hadn’t rejected her. She’d probably crawl into her own skin. “Did you want seconds before we do that, though?” His bowl was nearly empty and Y/N couldn’t help but be giddy about it. He’d really enjoyed her soup!

“Mm.. Yeah, I think so.”

—-----

To be fair, Y/N was sort of expecting it. When their TV time and ‘soft launch photo’ (consisting of Harry’s hand on her thigh- the one with the cross tattoo- and the bowl of popcorn in her lap) lulled, the tension had risen again. One thing was leading to another and his mouth was glued to hers, her body hauled up on top of him as he leaned back on the couch. His touches were eager, squeezing her hips and pulling her into him, the girl was gagging for it.

Harry had been holding back on her and she was dying for even the slightest nibble of intimacy with him. The way he kissed her was so thorough and hot, like he needed her mouth to breathe, and yet when he gently pulled away this time it made her whimper. Frustration rose in her belly and chest as she watched him wipe under her lips, the movement of her hips paused by his other hand. It always stopped here, and she had to wonder why it was.

“D-Do you not want to touch me?” She asked breathlessly as her hands fell from his shoulders back to her sides. It didn’t add up. He kissed her hungrily, touched her when they kissed like she was his anchor, he’d been suggestive in texts- but there was this lull that had always come up and halted their progression.

Harry’s eyes widened and he shook his head, sitting up slightly whilst keeping her in his lap. “What? Are you joking?” He whispered, confusion painted on his face. “It’s all I want to do. I can barely keep my hands off of you. What are you talking about?”

“E-Every time we get to this point you stop. I know we talked about taking it slow and I never want to push you further than what you want to do but we spoke about you wanting to do more to me a-and I’m just a little confused.” She peeped, looking down at his lap. She could visibly see he was hard, it was obvious. “I want to make you feel good, H. I really, really do.”

She hadn’t meant for it to be whiny. Really, she hadn’t, but she’d been thinking about having him down her throat and hearing him praise her for weeks now. He’d been patient and gentle and of course, she loved how tender he was with her but… “I’ve been a mess and I keep thinking about sucking you off and I would really like to. Can we do something more tonight?” She brushed her nose against his, a fleeting kiss being pressed to his slightly open mouth. “Please? If you’re comfortable, I promise I’ll be good and do whatever you want. I think- I think you’ll have to show me how you like it but if you want to hold off touching me, let me do it to you.. Please, H…” Her hand slid down and rested at the waistband of his jeans.

Harry was a bit shocked, really. He’d been taking his time with her because he really, really didn’t want to fuck this up by thinking with his dick, but he hadn’t realized it had been grating so much on her. Of course this was his fuck up, but he could only focus on the fact that she was nearly begging to have his cock in her mouth. “M’so sorry, baby. Was trying to take it slow. I want to touch you so much.” His voice was slightly hoarse as he replied. “Don’t ever think I’m not attracted to you.” Grabbing her hand, she let it sink further so it was over his cock. His breathing caught in his throat as she squeezed, giving him a needy look that was unfamiliar with him.

Who would have thought Y/N would be the one to make the first move?

“You feel that, Sweetheart? I get like this every time I’m around you.” Her hand was smaller than his, he noticed as he let go and let her do as she pleased. “I’m obsessed with you. Y’know that? I meant it in my text to you when we talked about this.” His nose brushed against hers. “I’m always thinking about how hot and wet I can get that pretty cunt. Do you think I don’t imagine you every single time I wrap my hand around my cock?” He clicked his tongue. “It’s always you. Always your gorgeous face I see when I cum. Imagine making you cum for me, how you’d feel. Don’t think for a minute that I don’t want you when you’re all I can bloody think about when I close my eyes.” It was intense, maybe, but true.

“You can do whatever you want. What’s my girl need, hm? Want my fingers? My tongue? We’re going to hold off on having you squeeze around my cock for now until we’ve got days to spare… M’not going to be able to do it just once. But It’s up to you pretty girl.” He would get on his knees for her if he was being honest. He’d never wanted to make her feel like he didn’t want her, and he knew he would be making up for it. His pretty girl, however, had a different thing in mind.

“I want to touch you. Please?” She whispered. “I meant it. I want you to touch me too but, I’ve been thinking about this for ages.” It was slightly embarrassing to admit but she felt that confidence going through her now, especially since he had expressed how much he wanted her too. “I’m okay with anything but you’ve been teasing me for so long…” Her fingernails dragged over the side of his neck and tangled slightly in his hair, making him hiss and his eyes roll back slightly at the accidental tug of his hair. His cock was thick in his pants and he knew he didn’t have it in him to deny her- not after all of this.

“Can’t say no to you, baby.” He panted, gently taking her hand and leading it to his belt. His eyes were dark as he took her lips again, groaning as her palm slipped down and squeezed over him. It was a welcomed feeling for the both of them, her lips parting against his own as she felt the hot bulge underneath the denim as it throbbed against her hand. Yes- this was exactly what she had wanted. “Go ahead. Whatever you want to do, m’yours.”

[jambalaya-enthusiast]

Tulpar crew most to least rough?

MOST TO LEAST ROUGH IN BED— TULPAR CREW.

warnings: suggestive

JIMMY

Jimmy is by no means,vanilla. He just doesn't get the point of fucking if it's not rough and hard or even painful. He bites like a rabid dog, so much so to the point of drawing blood. Jimmy doesn't necessarily care about making you feel good, as long as he's getting his own satisfaction, he is happy. Jimmy is a bed breaker. He isn't all that much into foreplay, but if he's in the mood, he'll do it. The nastiest dirty talker, will say shit so vile it might scare you. he doesn't care for safe words, he'll just have his way with you,how he wants, when he wants.

DAISUKE

Daisuke is a young, handsome lad whose libido is higher than the fucking sky, he isn't all that experienced which is exactly why he doesn't shy away from trying new things in bed. although he doesn't want to hurt you/ make you uncomfortable in the slightest, he unknowingly becomes hella rough when he's nearing his peak. Is also hella into marking you up, his high libido leaves you overstimulated. you're definitely having back aches.

SWANSEA

Swansea is a tired man, he likes taking his sweet time and doing it slowly, intimately. But that doesn't mean he hasn't got it. If he ever feels that he isn't pleasuring you the way you deserve to be, get ready for a wild night because this guy will show you a side of him completely unknown to you. He is experienced he knows how to make you feel good, he knows where to touch you to get the right sounds out. and if it ever came to that, he will break the bed.

ANYA

Anya loves to be taken care of,she loves it when you slowly, and passionately make love to her, slowly and passionately. she loves you being gentle, showing her that you love her in all the ways that make her feel good. But in all honesty, she also loves it when you make her back arch, and lips mewl by being rough. she loves scratching your back with her nails during missionary, she loves biting you, and being marked up by you.

CURLY

I know that I've put curly in the least curly tier, but that isn't exactly who he is. Curly is absolutely terrified of hurting you in any way or form, he only wants to make you feel good, he doesn't care for his own pleasure sometimes. He wants to make sure that you feel great, satisfied and happy. That's all that matters to him, but sometimes, just sometimes he lets his inner feelings lose, and rams into you like an animal in heat, curly is big, that isn't even up for debate. When he is into it he's into it. You'll be unable to wall for the next several days. But curly would feel so fucking guilty that he'll take care of your every need during those days, he promises to himself that he'll never do that to you ever again, because he simply just wants to pamper and protect you. but he sometimes slips and lets his lust control him, it happens very very rarely though,but whenever it does happen, you're not sure if you're complaining.

[zeddylux]

Allright I have an attempt at something. Keep in mind these are VERY VERY rough but I need to put my drabbles somewhere or I'm going to forget them and my phones all I've got right now 😅. I'm picturing a scene after a fight that ends in a draw. Vi is not in the best mood but she and Gert are talking outside the arena. I'll take constructive criticism but please be gentle I've never done this before 😭😭

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️ - Mentions of alchohol abuse, panic attacks, and police brutality. Enjoy!

The sounds and jeers of the arena fade into the background as they walk along the side. Vi caught a glimpse through the slats in the building of some other poor sap standing alone against a massive opponent. Some might call him a fool for standing up to someone he had no chance against. But those same people probably had no inkling of what it took to survive down here. The pits had opened up after the new checkpoints made it nearly impossible for consistent supplies to enter the lanes. Food that had already been scarce became even harder to come by. But if you knew how to fight and a Chem Barron took enough of a liking to you, you could be guaranteed a meal at least. Maybe even a room if you won enough.

Vi tried not to think about her last round of the night. It had ended in a draw and the powers that be would not be happy. If she wanted to keep her shitty room and a roof over her head she had to start winning. And fast.

Gert walked next to her, excitingly talking about a rally taking place the next day. Vi was trying really hard not to think about how pretty she looked under the glow of the moonlight. Trying not to think too much about the blue and pink eye makeup or the blue in her dreads. These days Vi tried really hard not to think about anything really.

"Come on!" Gert says, slinging her arm around Vi's shoulders, "All you do is eat, and sleep and fight! Come to the rally tommorow before your next one! It'll get you in the right headspace and you'll win for sure!"

'Bold of you assume I eat' Vi thinks detjectingly. These days a 6 pack of beer was easier to come by than anything substantial and besides. Anything to take her mind of the last 6 months. Or 7 years. Which ever.

"I already told you I don't want to go. I'm pretty sure one of my ribs is cracked. I need to get some rest before I get back into the pits."

It was a lame excuse and they both knew it. Vi had fought back to back fights with dislocated shoulders, broken wrists, and bruises up and down her entire body. She had long since learned to ignore her own pain. Real and imagined it was no longer really a factor. Vi only cared about survival anymore. She couldn't bring herself to look any further than that.

Gert opens her mouth to retort but before she can a group of enforcers rounds the corner. Both of them immediately tensed and back into the shadows of the arena hoping the ramshackle structure will hide them well enough. It's close to midnight and darkness in the lanes is no laughing matter. Once the smog settles in there's no seeing what's in front of you. Only trenchers, born here their entire lives walking the same streets every single day have a chance in hell of finding their way around once the sun goes down.

Vi puts herself fully in front of Gert as they both watch the enforcers struggle along the docks. It seems like an ordinary patrol squad clad in the black armor of house Kiramman. One of them slips and partially falls into the oily water cursing as his partners laugh quietly at him.

Vi chuckles lightly and mumbles, "Serves you right."

"Shhhhh," Gert says quietly putting her hands on Vi's shoulders, "Don't draw their attention."

The patrol squad eventually moves on to the lower parts of the city. No doubt heading for the brothels and Shimmer dens to find some easy pickings. They had a quota to meet after all.

Vi breathes a sigh of relief and gently grabs Gerts hand. They peel off the wall and step more into the light. She cups the side of Gerts face gently asking, "Ok?"

Gert nods shakily and presses her head to Vi's.

"All good."

They stay like that for a moment just taking solace in each other. Enforcers had always been a terrible presence in both of their lives but never before had they been so aggressive. Ever since Jinx's painted smoke had reminded Piltover of the threat that lurked underneath topside had seemed all the more determined to remind the Lanes who was really in charge. Random frisks and arrests had become all the more common. And there were whispers of Stillwater opening up their torture chambers for the first time. With the absence of councilor Medarda and Jayce what little conscious the council had gained recently had all but vanished. Commander Kiramman had deemed them animals in her relentles search for Jinx. Worthy of neither pity nor mercy.

"There are rumors" Gert said suddenly, anger creeping into her voice. "That Caitlyn's strike team had one of ours. Someone from Zaun leading them down here."

Vi felt a jolt of panic at the bitterness in her voice. Like icy water flowing down her back. 'there's no way for her to know' she thinks frantically, 'I had my mask on until we reached the sewers, and the grey..' Guilt begins to build in her mind, self-hatred mixing with her panic in a way that makes her long for a drink. Trying to keep her voice steady she asks instead

"Thats probably just hearsay. They were all wearing masks nobody would even know what they looked like," she says nervously trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Gert looks at her with a wry smile. "I dont think it's just people talking. They got down here way to quickly and easily for someone who didnt have help. They say the one who lead them had pink hair but nobody got a good look at her face." Venom creeps it her voice as she straightened up to look at the faraway skyscrapers. The lights of Piltover just visible in the distance through the smog, "They say that coward helped Kiramman with the ventilation system. Released this crazy smog called the Grey to poison us." Gert turns to Vi and cracks her knuckles, a cold look on her face. "If I ever get my hands on that traitor, not even her friends up top would be able to save her."

Vi feels the panic begin to build in stomach, her vision briefly blacking out as her breaths turn shakey. She frantically tries to draw in air but it's like it can't reach her lungs. It's a feeling she's become familiar with over the years but now there's no one to turn to. Caitlyn had abandoned and betrayed her. Her sister hated her and Ekko was still missing. And Gert. If she ever found out what Vi had done, who could blame her for walking away too?

Vi leaned heavily against the wall of the arena fighting to catch her breath as images began to flash through her mind. Vander, Powder, Ekko, Milo, Clagger. And Caitlyn. Gods who was left? Vi had always done whatever it took to keep the family together. Sacrificed whole parts of herself, betrayed her people and for what? To end up with no one and nothing.

Gert looks completely taken aback, rushing over to Vi and cupping her face gently.

"Vi! Vi are you ok? What happened?"

But it's too much. Too many things had crowded Vi's mind. Another girl in another life cupping her face like this, back when Vi still had hope that things could still be fixed. That they could go back to the ways things were.

"I, I have to go," Vi said straightening up and gently pushing Gert away ignoring the concern in her eyes. She has to get away before she hurts her. Like she did with Powder. Like she did with Jinx. There's no telling what might happen when she gets like this. "I'll see you at the fights tommorow."

"Vi wait," but Vi's already turned to go.

She leaps down from the ledge they were standing on to the docks below and starts running. Fleeing really, heading for the ramshackle apartments that house the fighters the Chem Barrons deem worthy enough to keep around. She thinks frantically of the brand new bottle of whiskey Loris had gotten for her. Top of the line. "Piltovers finest," she thinks bitterly. She'll have to explain tommorow but for now. She has a date with a bottle of hair dye and another bottle of whiskey. If she plays her cards right maybe she'll get some sleep tonight. And maybe she won't hear the sounds of her sisters laughter ringing in her head.

[blanceyblance]

On Lance and Keith, and the water/fire and sun/moon dynamics

Saw a post talking about how Lance and Keith are actually more like the other's element and is a really interesting but I found myself disagreeing though I didn't want to argue in OPs post.

I remember there was a part that said that Keith had to mold himself for survival, and, for what I remember, Keith very much does NOT do that.

Someone who molds himself to fit better would have gone into the Garrison to become a model of a perfect cadet, instead Keith is rebellious, and is not afraid of confrontation. He challenges Iverson and fights James and doesn't care if he makes an enemy out of the rest of the other cadets. They don't like it? sucks to suck because he is that good and he knows he is good.

In that same Garrison flashback, Lance actually tells Keith that if Keith keeps messing around he will be stuck as a cargo pilot, Lance tries to follow instructions, molds himself to be a good cadet because that's what is expected for him to be a fighter pilot, only that, things don't go that way, Keith is the one becoming a fighter pilot instead.

Even in his role as Black Paladin, Keith doesn't mold himself as much as he grows into it, like a flame growing to consume space.

Keith is a very straight forward guy, and rarely if ever, tries to hide his feelings, he is very sincere in what he does and means and he does things because he thinks is the best for everyone.

Take leaving the team for the Blades, while I do think he also did it so Lance didn't have to feel left out, I think he also did it so he could go and find more about his origins and himself, making what he thought was the best decision for both the team and himself.

What i'm trying to say is that t I never got the impression that Keith was afraid of showing himself. Just like a fire that doesn't change itself to fit in one place. He can be abrasive and powerful and hurtful like a wildfire and can also be warm and comforting and protective from the harsh circumstances like a fireplace. The presentation is the same, he just needed to learn to channel it better.

And that's why I think Lance had a bone to pick with him, or at least one of the reasons.

The previous description fits Lance to a tee, he can be downright mean and bitchy when he wants but also will give you friendly words and comfort when needed. Just like water can be overpowering and traitorous like the ocean while also bringing life and cleansing.

The thing is that while Keith didn't feel the need to mold for others, Lance does it with a lot of ease.

Being either a friendly welcoming face for the aliens they encounter, an emotional support for his team, a goodball to lift spirits for his friends, or a right hand man to two different leaders.

There is a reason he was usually referred as a jack of all trades just like Blue, not the tankiest or the fastest but it will be hard to find a place he won't be able to fill.

That's also while I support the sun Keith/moon Lance dynamic.

No matter how emo or mysterious he is, Keith shines bright not caring who may end up burning on his path, he is powerful and brilliant and good luck trying to ignore that. He burns but knowing he exists gives you hope for a new day. "He is the future" just like Lance said.

While Lance is the moon, who is always the same but will take on different faces depending the situation, the fact that you can stare directly at him doesn't mean he is letting you see the full picture. He shines in the dark offering guide in hard times but also caring for his team from afar as the resident sniper. Nurturing and kind, always tied to the waters and Earth.

They are still very similar, that's why they are a duo but I still think Keith at his core is fire just like Lance's is water.

And also to spread the Sun Keith/Moon Lance agenda.

[i-will-cry-you-a-river]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

It was weird to be home. Thankfully, neither his parents - who were kinda absent, so he never really thought it would be a possibility -, not his siblings - in all honesty, Shen Yuan had been prepared for his kidnapping and atticsiblinging - insisted that Shen Yuan had to move out of his home. His siblings fretted, for sure, and he could see that his meimei and da-ge had to keep back er-ge from saying something, but it was okay. Shen Yuan even agreed to the “nanny” his siblings paid for to make sure he survived living alone. It didn't matter; he could continue to live alone! That was one hell of a relief.

Still, it was weird to be home. He kinda got used to the comings and goings of the nurses, the smell of disinfectant, the low murmurs of life outside of his room. And his meetings with Hospital Guy, but he was not thinking about Hospital Guy. Hospital Guy who?

The point was, he was kinda… just maybe a tiny bit… lonely. After his siblings went home, he felt relieved, but after a few hours of complete silence, it became…

Overwhelming. Lonely. 

His thoughts were too loud. 

Sighing, he switched on his phone. A message awaited him; he didn't notice it even after his siblings left. He just didn't have enough energy to look at his phone.

Fall: Do you ever feel like no matter what you do, it's always wrong?

Shen Yuan blinked at the screen, caught off guard by the question. He frowned; the message had been sent six hours ago. Shit.

Hoping Fall didn't resent him for not responding, or think Shen Yuan was deliberately avoiding him, he wrote, “Yes, but I think everyone feels like that. Every choice you make has negative and positive sides - so you just have to concentrate on why it was right to do the thing you did.”

He thought about it for a second, then added, trying to lighten the mood:

Shizun: Except if you wrote a 1000-chapter-long porn with no redeeming qualities, no plot, no world-building, no great characters, nothing. Then, I have to confess, my friend, there's no save for you. But see? There's no such thing as “everything you do is wrong”. Even Airplane has done something right!

There was a long pause, and Shen Yuan was left wondering if he'd said the wrong thing. He should have looked at his phone sooner. He should have been more compassionate. Maybe he shouldn't have sent the last message. Maybe-

Fall: Yeah… ig your ribht. Its just hard to shake sometimes…

“Oh, shit,” Shen Yuan swore. His friend never was as grammatically correct in their messages, as he had been, but this? This was a cry for help.

His fingers were hovering over the screen, but his mind was empty. He wasn't sure how to comfort somebody, especially through text, especially someone he'd never met in real life. But Fall was his friend. He was there for him, and Shen Yuan wanted to be there for his friend too.

Shizun: For what it's worth, I don't think everything you do is wrong. You are a great friend. You are supportive and fun, and so easy to talk to! I don't know what you are going through right now, but you have me, if you want to talk about it. And you have me if you don't. 

A few seconds that seemed like .minutes passed before Fall's next message came through.

Fall: Thanks. It means a lot

It wasn't much, but… it was something. Shen Yuan hoped he was helping. And if their messages took on a slightly different tone from there on, it was met with relief. They were still joking around, ranting about things, talking about fanfiction and PIDW - but they were talking about other things as well. Not just surface level things; about their deeper emotions and thoughts as well.

It was great.

Shen Yuan still thought about Hospital Guy from time to time, wishing they could have a similar relationship like the one he had with Fall, but… it was okay. He had Fall.

And strangely, Airplane.

The banters between Peerless Cucumber and Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky have always been something like a spectacle for other readers, but ever since Airplane actively responded to his comments, instead of just passively adding things to his chapters just for shits and giggles, it became something entirely different. Other readers would watch their back-and-forth with amusement, and more often than not, their interactions would turn into petty insults, while the other readers egged them on.

Peerless Cucumber: Another chapter, another “surprising” plot twist. I never would have guessed the protagonist would survive this near-death experience. Nor that he would fall from the cliff, straight into the bed of a demoness. What a creative genius you are…

 Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky: It’s called dramatic tension. Not that you’d know anything about it, even if it bit you in your ass!

Peerless Cucumber: Sure, if by "dramatic tension" you mean rehashing the same tropes over and over again. Ever thought about trying something new? Or are we just going to keep watching Luo Binghe fall to his doom and survive everything by fucking more and more uninteresiting maidens until the end of time?

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky: Look, maybe if you wrote something instead of whining, you'd understand. Oh, wait - I'm sorry, do you actually write? Or do you just complain? Or you could just leave PIDW to people who can appreciate it, and just read anything else

Shen Yuan’s fingers froze over his keyboard. Was Airplane... goading him? Was he really upset by his comments, or was it just to stir shit? Was he really-

Shen Yuan didn’t know what possessed him at that moment, but he typed something out before he could stop himself.

Peerless Cucumber: Maybe I do write. And maybe it’s better than the endless trainwreck you’re passing off as a novel. Maybe one of my chapters has more emotions and sense than all of your chapters all together!

There. That should give him some satisfaction. If Airplane wanted to humiliate him for not being a writer, he has another thing coming!

But, strangely, when Airplane didn’t respond right away, Shen Yuan felt an odd twinge of... regret? Maybe he went a bit too far? He shook his head. No way. He wasn’t going to feel bad for Airplane, of all people. Airplane was the one constantly dishing out subpar writing. It was Airplane who baited him with his little digs in his chapters and notes and his replies!

Still, the silence stretched on longer than usual, and Shen Yuan started to wonder if maybe - just maybe - he’d gone too far this time.

It was a shitty feeling.

Almost as shitty as being ignored by Hospital Guy.

-*-*-*-

When Airplane did reply, it was short and almost... despondent. It is hard to really know how somebody was feeling through text but… Yeah. Airplane was clearly Not Okay.

Fuck.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky: Well, if your writing is so much better, maybe you should just stick to that. Or maybe you should stick to reading fanfic. I heard there's one that's “way better than PIDW could ever dream of”. Probably less painful for both of us.

Shen Yuan blinked at his phone. That was... not the kind of response he was expecting. For the first time since their banter had started, Airplane didn’t sound defensive or snarky; he just sounded tired.

Tired and so fucking sad.

That was not what Shen Yuan wanted. He knew he was an asshole. But not this much of an asshole! He actually liked PIDW and Airplane! That's why he was so frustrated all the time! He wanted the story to be better! To be as good as he knew it could be!

But it seems his complaints were seen as…

Bullying.

He was a bully.

Fuck.

Peerless Cucumber: Hey, calm down. Just because I critique your work doesn’t mean I hate everything about it. I mean, I did read over 600 chapters, right? You’re clearly doing something right. You have to know you are doing something right.

There was no immediate reply, and Shen Yuan stared at his phone, wondering if Airplane had ever been doxxed before and if yes, where he could find his address. He needed to shake some sense into this idiotic author!

For all its flaws, PIDW had its moments, and it was those moments that had kept him reading despite his frustrations. The story itself wasn't a masterpiece, that's for sure, but Airplane was a creative genius and it was a shame he didn't realize how much potential he had. Besides, even if Airplane’s writing could be infuriating, it took a certain level of dedication to write a story that long.

Shen Yuan typed another message.

Peerless Cucumber: Listen, some fanfics might be better at some things, like world-building or avoiding the... uh... gratuitous papapa scenes. But at the end of the day, they are still just fanfics. Your story is the foundation. Without PIDW, they wouldn’t exist at all! My - and others' - writing wouldn't exist if it wasn't for you!

This time, the silence dragged on for so long that Shen Yuan began to wonder if Airplane had just decided to ghost him entirely. A strange pang of disappointment bloomed in his chest. Maybe he’d pushed too hard after all. Maybe-

But then, Airplane finally replied.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky: ...Thanks.

That was it. Just one word. But somehow, it felt like the heaviest response Shen Yuan had ever received from him.

-*-*-*-

Shen Yuan didn’t usually get caught up in his feelings, or at least, he tried to pretend he didn’t. He had a system for dealing with the world: sarcasm, avoidance, and pretending that everything rolled off his back. It was a good, working system. It didn't break when he finally accepted that he would never be his parent's perfect (nor the preferred) child. It worked when his first (and last) interned boyfriend broke up with him for being Too Much. It was a perfect system when he dropped out of college, when he realized no company would ever hire him because of his health issues.

But sometimes, it all caught up to him. Like tonight.

The hospital had been exhausting. Not physically, but mentally. Ever since he’d been discharged, he couldn’t shake this strange heaviness that had settled in his chest. Maybe it was the way things had ended with the guy in the other room - the one he’d developed a little crush on. Shen Yuan had tried so hard to be there for him, to make sure he had everything he needed while he recovered. But in the end, the guy didn’t seem to care. He never asked Shen Yuan to visit, didn’t seem to notice all the little things Shen Yuan did to help him out. And when Shen Yuan said goodbye, all he was left with was rejection.

The previous days were exhausting; his fretting siblings, moving back to his apartment, getting used to being alone again, Fall’s bad mood… all of those were emotionally taxing.

And then there was Airplane.

The snarky banter between them had been fun, sure, but when Shen Yuan had complimented PIDW - genuinely, for once - Airplane had gone silent. Completely ghosted him.

At first, Shen Yuan had brushed it off. It was Airplane, after all. He could be moody, and maybe he just didn’t know how to handle praise. But the longer Airplane stayed quiet, the more Shen Yuan started to feel like maybe he was the problem. Maybe he’d gone too far, even when he’d been trying to be nice for once. Maybe everyone found him too much.

Staring at the ceiling of his apartment, the weight of it all felt unbearable. The hospital guy, Airplane..

Even Fall failed to message him much today. It was like everyone in his life was drifting away, and Shen Yuan couldn’t figure out why.

He grabbed his phone, his heart pounding, and opened his chat with Fallingfromsky1. It wasn’t like him to vent like this, but he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Maybe he really was Too Much. Bothering somebody with his emotions… he really was greedy, wasn't he?

Shizun: You ever feel like… no matter what you do, it’s never enough? Or like you’re just too much for people? Like… everyone eventually gets tired of you?

He hit send before he could second-guess himself, immediately regretting it. This wasn’t the kind of thing he usually talked about, especially not with someone he hadn’t even met in person. But the words were out there now, and all he could do was wait for Fall’s response.

He watched the three little dots appear on the screen, then disappear.

Then reappear.

Then disappear again.

He guessed, he had his answer. He didn't really know what exactly he was expecting. Comfort? Reassurance? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he felt hollow inside, like he was sinking. 

Several minutes passed before Fall finally responded. It was one question:   "Are you okay?"

Shen Yuan stared at the message. He didn’t even know how to answer that. Was he okay? No, not really. But that felt like too much to dump on someone, even if they were friends, even if Fall had always been kind and understanding.

But Shen Yuan was too far gone to hold back now. The dam had broken.

Shizun: I don’t know. It’s just… things keep happening, and it feels like I can’t do anything right. I tried helping someone in the hospital, you know? There was this guy I met, and I thought we were becoming friends. I even… I don’t know, I liked him. He was awkward and didn't really talk to me, but I thought he appreciated my ramblings. But maybe he didn't react to most of the things because I didn’t even exist to him. When I was discharged, he didn’t even care. Didn’t even ask me to visit. I just feel like… like I was too much, or not enough. And then Airplane… I tried to compliment his writing for once, and now he’s completely disappeared. Just… nothing. I guess I complained too much that now he doesn't even believe me when I'm not berating him for once. I think I messed up again.

Shen Yuan closed his eyes after sending the message, feeling sick and embarrassed. Why had he sent all that? He’d just dumped a whole mess of insecurities onto someone he didn’t even know in real life. 

He really was too much.

There was a long stretch of silence after that, and Shen Yuan’s heart began to sink. He stared at his phone, wondering if he’d just ruined things with Fall too. Maybe he’d pushed too hard, said too much. He always did that, didn’t he? Overthought everything, expected too much from people, and then got hurt when they pulled away.

But just when he was about to put his phone down, the screen lit up with a new message.

Fall: Shizun. I don’t think you’re too much. You’re kind. You care about people, and that’s never too much. Maybe the hospital guy didn’t realize what you meant by all the things you did, and that’s on him. But that doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. And Airplane… well, maybe he’s just not great at dealing with compliments. Some people aren’t. But I know it’s not because of you.

Shen Yuan read the message over and over again, his eyes stinging for reasons he would deny to his death. He was not crying, okay?!

The words were so simple, but they hit him harder than anything else had in a long time. He wasn’t used to people being kind to him, especially when he felt so… raw.

Shizun: Thanks. I’m just… tired, I guess.

There was another pause, and then Fall’s next message lit up his phone. It wasn’t what Shen Yuan expected.

Fall: Can we meet?

[bobalegsanji]

Are you there?

‘’This didn’t happen.’’

‘’It did, and we’re going to talk about it,’’ Zoro says, not caring about what Sanji has to say. ‘’You’re not doing well, and we’re going to fix it.’’

Sanji sighs. He’s still leaning on Zoro, he desperately needs Zoro’s steadiness as his feet occasionally trip over one another. ‘’I’m doing just fine,’’ he responds, barely audible.

Modern Zosan AU. Fluff/Angst. Words: 11,824.

Trigger Warnings: disordered eating, anxiety/panic attacks, depression, self-worth issues.

One Piece Masterlist

‘’Cook?!’’

‘’Hmm,’’ Sanji responds softly, not fully awake yet.

‘’Cook?!!’’ Zoro’s words are accompanied by a loud slam.

Sanji peeks one eye open, annoyed at being woken up. The mossball knows he’s not supposed to slam the door of the living room. There’s a table right behind, and if slammed too hard, Usopp’s botanical books always fall over and - he feels his pulse rise with annoyance once more. 

Once he realises there’s nothing important coming from Zoro’s mouth (when is there ever?), he closes his eyes again and makes himself comfortable on the pillows on the couch.

‘’Cook, are you deaf?’’

‘’Hmmmmmm,’’ Sanji whines. ‘’Whaddyawant,’’ the pile of pillows and blankets murmurs. 

‘’Is dinner ready yet?’’ Zoro asks, his question assisted with a poke that lands somewhere between Sanji’s ribs.

‘’Ugh, fuck you,’’ Sanji reacts, immediately sitting up. ‘’Why would you ever do that?’’

Zoro shrugs his shoulders. ‘’Be awake when I talk to you.’’

‘’What do you-’’ Sanji starts, unsure of how to put all of his feelings of anger into one sentence while his head’s still fuzzy with sleep. ‘’What the fuck do you-No?? I was sleeping?’’

‘’And I’m hungry,’’ Zoro responds.

Sanji stares at him for a couple of seconds. He’s been living with his best friends for over a year, yet they still find new ways to piss him off daily.

‘’I’m going to say this once, very slowly, so your dumb head can follow me, alright?’’ He says calmly. ‘’Fuck off.’’

Zoro just rolls his eyes. His hand stretches to get ready for another poke, but Sanji slaps it with a pillow before he can reach him. ‘’I’m serious, order something. Or not, don’t eat, I don’t care.’’ 

He ignores the confused look in Zoro’s eyes, instead picks up the comfiest blanket he’d been sleeping under to take to his room. 

Before he can get out of the living room, Zoro finds his words. ‘’But… It’s Tuesday? You never let us order food on weekdays?’’

Without missing a step, Sanji responds. ‘’I’m tired, figure it out yourself today.’’

Zoro is left to stare at the empty living room, the couch still messy from Sanji’s nap. A bedroom door slams closed somewhere upstairs. 

Sanji never leaves the shared places messy. Or takes naps during the day.

-

-

‘’Food!’’ Luffy screams loudly throughout the house.

Sanji could curse him right now, even though he knows Luffy’s just excited at getting to eat junk food on a weekday. Usually, he cooks every day. The last time he hasn’t must’ve been during finals, which was months ago. 

He sighs deeply, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and mentally preparing himself for the dinner he’s about to have. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to them - it’s just that he’s been feeling a migraine coming up since morning, he hasn’t had an appetite all day, and no matter how much he sleeps it doesn’t seem to recharge his empty social battery. It’s exhausting, even more so to try and not bite Zoro’s head off right now. Usually, he can keep his annoyances in check, but today? Not a chance.

‘’Sanji, Usopp, dinner!’’ Nami’s voice echoes through the house. He can ignore Luffy for a few minutes, but never his beautiful Nami. 

‘’Coming, my sweet,’’ he calls after her, unsure if it’s loud enough for her to hear. Based on the loud chattering and clinking of silverware in the kitchen, they don’t care, anyway.

Before he leaves his bedroom, he takes a quick look in the mirror. Embarrassedly, he immediately takes off his shirt. How long have I been wearing this? Since Sunday morning?

It’s not something anyone else would bat an eye at, or even notice, but it’s not something he usually does. Shirts are for during the day, pajamas for during the night, and they are worn a maximum of two days- Sanji sighs, putting on a new shirt and promising himself to take it off before sleeping.

It hasn’t been this bad ever since they got to live together. He can’t spiral now, he can’t let them see . 

A knock on the door brings him out of his thoughts. 

‘’Are you downstairs?’’ Usopp’s voice travels through the door.

‘’Yea, no- no,’’ Sanji falls over his words. He opens the door, suddenly happy to have some distraction. ‘’I needed to get changed.’’

Usopp looks him up and down for a moment. ‘’Okay… I just wanted to check if you were here.’’

‘’Ahh…��’ Sanji feels a blush spread on his cheeks. ‘’Yea, I just… Never mind.’’

Usopp takes a moment to study his face, but quickly seems to find what he’s looking for. ‘’Let’s go, I think they ordered pizza. Don’t want Luffy to finish everything before we even got a slice.’’

Sanji nods as he follows Usopp downstairs. 

He’s going to be fine. He’s going to eat, get a good night’s sleep, and turn this whatever-is-going-on around. He’ll be fine.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

The outside air leaves a noticeable blush on Sanji’s cheeks. In the mirror, he sees nothing but pale skin and a red nose. He feels numb, both from the cold and his recent lack of enthusiasm to do anything. 

The day wasn’t bad- a morning lecture at 11 always gives him enough time to cook a proper breakfast (at least, that’s what he’d usually do. Today, Sanji woke up way too late, having to rush to be on time without any food). On the third Thursday of the month, the local market is always  bigger than usual. Usually, he’d spend at least an hour strolling through the market covering multiple streets. It’s relaxing to taste new and common foods, to buy local ingredients for the house, and to plan meals for their household: today, he merely rushed past it. Not even the seafood stall was worth a glance at. 

Quietly, he takes off his shoes and jacket, putting all the items in their respective places. Even though the time for lunch has been long past, and he hasn’t eaten anything all day, the idea of preparing or eating food makes his stomach churn. 

He takes one last look in the mirror. It’s not like he needs to eat, anyway. He knows the occasional joking remarks of Luffy and Usopp are exactly that, jokes, but maybe they’re onto something. He could lose a little weight. 

He pinches his cheeks, noticing the way they’re definitely chubbier than they used to be. It’s not the end of the world to skip lunch. Someone will take care of dinner, and he’ll eat that, but right now he’d rather go to his bedroom to recharge his social battery. It’ll be fine. As long as no one notices, it’ll be fine. 

‘’Sanji-kun, are you home?’’ Nami’s sweet voice strolls in from the living room. 

‘’My sweet,’’ he immediately swoons, trying hard to imitate the happy tone of speech reserved for his favourite ladies. 

Nami’s sitting on the couch, cross-legged with a book perched up on her legs. Her eyes light up when she sees him standing in the doorway. ‘’Do you have plans tonight?’’

‘’Well-’’ Sanji starts, but gets interrupted immediately.

‘’I need a ride to the cinema tonight, could you…?’’ She bats her eyes, knowing exactly what she’s doing to his heart.

Or, usually does to his heart. Today, Sanji notices, but he doesn’t feel anything. Nothing seemed to penetrate the armour of melancholy that had wrapped its way around his heart. 

He forces a smile. Even though he’s not feeling his best, he could never let Nami down. ‘’Of course, what time would you like to leave?’’

‘’You’re the best!’’ She smiles, jumping up to give him a hug. Her book falls to the ground. Sanji keeps his eyes trained on it until Nami pulls her arms back, and he feels the cold air of the room engulf him once more. He hadn’t realised how warm she was. ‘’I want to leave at 6, but you should come with me! Perona is going to be there, too. She’s been asking about you,’’ she winks.

Sanji feels a slight blush creep up his cheeks. ‘’Oh, I can’t tonight, my love. Maybe next time?’’ 

Nami’s face immediately falls into a frown. She opens her mouth to say something, but gets interrupted by a voice from the kitchen before she can make a sound.

‘’What you gonna do?’’ Zoro’s leaning against the wall, half-eaten apple in hand. He takes a bite, staring down at Sanji as if to dare him to answer.

Sanji feels his heartbeat quicken. ‘’What’s it to you?’’

‘’Just wondering.’’ Zoro shrugs his shoulders, eyes never leaving Sanji’s.

Sanji clicks his tongue. ‘’Not that it’s any of your business, M arimo ,’’ he bites. ‘’I’ve had class all day, and need to cook for your sorry ass because you can’t even turn on a toaster. Plus, I have a presentation in a couple of days, so I need to work on that.’’ The moment the words leave his mouth, he knows he’s made a mistake. He really wants to lie in bed, smoke half a pack of cigarettes, and watch Youtube videos until he falls asleep- but now? Dinner falls on him. Again. 

‘’Ehh.’’ Just the sight of Zoro’s smirk is enough to get Sanji’s blood boiling, but of course the idiot has to talk too. ‘’Playing kitchen princess tonight? What are you gonna make for me?’’

‘’For you, absolutely nothing,’’ Sanji bites. ‘’You act like I’m not the sole reason you’ve had food on the table for the past year.’’

‘’Actually.’’ Zoro takes a pause to bite into his apple. ‘’You’ve been living here for 14 months. And who earns more money? Is it you or me, princess ?’’

‘’The only reason you earn so much is that you’re too dumb to study and actually have enough time on your hands to work.’’ Sanji can’t help but roll his eyes. Zoro really knows how to get under his skin. ‘’Anyway, I have to take care of Nami tonight, so I need to get started on cooking. You can let me do my job, or I’ll make you a chocolate cake for dinner. And believe me, it’ll be extra, extra sweet, just for you.’’

Zoro looks him up and down, but doesn’t go against him. ‘’Fine,’’ he mutters, throwing the remains of the apple core towards Sanji. ‘’Throw this away for me, will you?’’

Automatically, Sanji catches it, before realising what he has just caught. ‘’You disgusting, mannerless brute!’’ He screams, ‘’are you genuinely deranged? What if it had hit our dear Nami-san?’’

It doesn’t matter. Zoro has turned around already and left to do whatever it is he does all day. When Sanji turns around, he finds Nami sitting on the couch with her book again. 

He sighs.

He’s more to them than a chore boy. They love him, he knows that. Nami doesn’t love him simply because he’d do anything for her, and the others don’t simply love him because he cooks for them without complaint. 

He knows it’s not true, but sometimes, he can’t quieten his thoughts.

After fully accepting that Nami isn’t going to pay him any further attention, he throws the apple core away and checks the kitchen cabinets for ingredients.

-

-

To the best of his abilities, Sanji quickly throws together a simple fried rice for the house. He forces himself to take a small bowl with him upstairs, finally ready to take a well-deserved rest. The fried rice is perfect, crispy and tasty and filling, yet it tastes like sand in his mouth. 

He doesn’t want to eat. Maybe, if he didn’t, he’d feel better. That’s quite possible, right? What if all the feelings of the past week have simply come from a poor diet, or from consuming too much food?

(He’s not even fooling himself, but the small bowl of rice is enough to trick himself into believing he’s fine. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have grabbed himself dinner, right?)

The people in the house can heat up their own dinner whenever they want. According to his calculations, Sanji has another hour before he even needs to get dressed to drive Nami to her destination, and he’s planning on making the absolute best of it.

In the end, he scrolls through any social media he can get his hands on for the whole hour. He’d love to sleep, but with having to drop Nami off so quickly, he can’t. The exhaustion of the day is starting to fully get to him. It feels like there’s a foggy cloud in his brain, dampening all his thoughts and making it hard to focus on anything. Social media isn’t helping. Seeing his friends, acquaintances and strangers being nothing but perfect makes it absolutely impossible not to compare himself to them. 

He knows it makes no sense. Of course, they’re not going to post the downsides of their lives, but he really, really can’t help it. Zoro’s pictures in the gym make his heart clench - he’s beautiful, his body is so perfect, meanwhile Sanji’s just… Sanji. He’s not special, or handsome, or even skinny enough. He doesn’t even have half of the muscles the Marimo has on him. 

Luffy is out every day with new friends, while Sanji has been feeling stuck in his room. He loves his friends, he really does, but he’s not entirely sure that they love him. But to be loved the way Luffy is being loved seems like a dream. He makes friends everywhere he goes, and never seems to second-guess anything, while Sanji seems to second-guess everything. It’s become hard to even go to the grocery store. Every outfit he puts on, every smile, every conversation he has, it feels forced and fake. 

Tears prick in Sanji’s for no apparent reason. He’s so tired, but he promised Nami his services, and he’d never let her down.

The drive to the cinema is short. Sanji’s not entirely sure if it’s safe for him to drive in this state, not with the way his mind is fogged and his heart is beating in his chest, but Nami doesn’t seem to notice. She rambles on about things Sanji couldn’t care less about. He chain-smokes out of the window, occasionally humming to at least seem interested in whatever Nami has to say. 

At their destination, Nami bats her eyes once more and pushes her top subtly lower while asking if Sanji could please pick her up again after the film ?

It takes a couple of seconds for the question to penetrate the fog in his mind. Sanji doesn’t want to. He’s never wanted to do anything less than this. The pit of anxiety in his stomach enlarges, until he feels like his lungs are caving in. He knows it goes against all his principles, but he really can’t be there for her tonight.

‘’I’m sorry, Nami-san,’’ Sanji says, not meeting her eyes. Mindlessly, he’s already turning the steering wheel without truly caring about her response. ‘’I can’t. Maybe Franky can pick you up, or something.’’

Nami stays quiet for a moment, before taking a step back and throwing the door closed. She smiles and waves him off, but Sanji can’t help but feel like he let her down. Like he’s a bad friend. Like she deserves better than him. Like they deserve better than him. 

He misses the way Nami immediately takes her phone out to call someone. Instead, tears fall from his eyes, and he’s barely able to see the road in front of him until he returns home. 

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

He’s just going to check up on him. It’s not that he’s worried, per se, it’s more that Nami’s worried. 

Not that Zoro really cares what she thinks. How weird could Sanji truly actually be acting? Of course, he noticed small things, but that’s understandable- he’s an idiot who takes everything to heart. Someone looking at him the wrong way could probably give him a mental breakdown. But Zoro’s sure that if something was actually wrong, like fundamentally, problematically wrong, Sanji would come to one of his friends.

They’ve known him for years . And sure, they don’t always see eye to eye, but Sanji must trust them enough at this point to come to them. After such a long friendship, he has to. 

Still, knocking on his bedroom door makes Zoro feel nervous. Sanji’s always protective of his space. Even though Zoro knows the room well.

When Sanji just moved in, he had a hard time sleeping. It’s not that he complained about it, but it was obvious. He’d wander through the kitchen all night, often falling asleep on the couch instead of his own bed. The house was very different from the apartment he shared with Zeff before. Once, late at night, he had told Zoro something neither of them would ever bring up again: the last time he’d slept alone in a room was at his father’s house. Zoro never pushed for details, and he’s quite certain no one else even knows about it, but suddenly, Zoro would spend his evenings in Sanji’s room. Usually they’d do their own thing: Sanji would do homework or lay in bed on his phone until he started to drift off to sleep. Zoro would find ways to entertain himself, watching shows or reading Sanji’s manga until he had drifted off, only to quietly move to his own room to sleep. The memories are dear to Zoro, even if it feels off to remember a bad time so fondly. It felt good to be so close to Sanji, even if his vulnerability was only for a short while.

The actual anxiety creeps in on Zoro once the knock doesn’t get a response.

Just the slightest bit worried, Zoro knocks again, much harder this time. A small groan can be heard from the other side of the door. Without waiting for a response, Zoro pushes open the door.

Sanji’s bedroom is… not as he expected.

There’s laundry laying around on the floor. His precious manga collection is scattered around the room, the display shelf basically empty. There’s dirty dishes on his nightstand and his desk. A full ashtray of empty cigarette stumps lay next to his bed, but there’s half-smoked cigarette butts on almost all dishes, too. It’s more cluttered than Zoro’s ever seen.

‘’Hey,’’ he says, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

Sanji’s bed head pokes out from under his duvet. His eyes are small, obviously thick with sleep. ‘’Huh?’’ he asks, sounding very confused and sleepy.

‘’Just wanted to check up on you.’’ Zoro doesn’t meet his eyes, unable to tear his eyes apart from the unfamiliar chaos in Sanji’s space.

‘’Huh?’’ Sanji asks again, not waiting for a response. His head hits the pillow again, making it hard for Zoro to look at him. 

‘’Nothing,’’ Zoro mutters. Maybe Nami was right to be worried, it’s unusual for Sanji to be in bed at this time, but he’s not sure how to bring it up. His thoughts go back to right before he went into the room. Sanji’s an adult, he’s able to take care of himself. If he needs help, he’ll ask for it.  

‘’Sleepy,’’ Sanji croaks softly. He turns around, his back now turned to Zoro. ‘’S cold.’’

‘’Do you want… Some tea? Or anything else?’’ Zoro hears the hesitation in his own voice. He’s thankful Sanji doesn’t respond, obviously having drifted off to sleep again, because he’s not sure what to make of this.

Quietly, he closes the door. Maybe Sanji’s just tired. Maybe he needs a good night’s sleep. Maybe tomorrow he’ll do a major cleaning, and it’ll be the first step in the right direction.

Zoro decides to keep a closer eye on Sanji until that happens.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Sanji’s annoyed. The music is way too loud and absolutely awful, the room is too hot and there’s so many people, he’s quite certain it’s a safety hazard, the alcohol is overpriced and bad ( what do you mean the only white wine you have is Ogio??). He hadn’t even really wanted to come in the first place, but his university friends demanded he’d come tonight and, honestly? He really did need a break, so he accepted. He’s not entirely sure of what it is he needs a break, but a night out drinking is supposed to take your mind off of other things, right?

Wrong, apparently. It took about 5 minutes for most of his friends to wander off somewhere without him, leaving him pathetic and alone at the bar with his very overpriced (and disgusting) beer. No way in hell is he going to drink Ogio, but neither the red nor white wine seemed acceptable to drink, so he has to make do. 

About half an hour ago, just when he expected the night couldn’t possibly get any worse, his eyes fell on a certain green-haired marimo on the other side of the room. 

At least he was decent enough to come over and ask why Sanji was sitting on his own. Even though he hadn’t said anything, the pity radiated off Zoro like heat. Maybe that’s why Sanji couldn’t possibly tell the truth, opting to lie and say ‘ ’my friends are actually outside, they should be back any minute. You can go back to whoever you came with, idiot, I don’t need your company.’’

His friends did, in fact, not come back. Kid has been trying to flirt (and very obviously failing) with a girl way out of his league somewhere in a corner, and Kaku has walked past the bar a couple of times- but besides them? Sanji has no idea where the others are.

He could leave right now. There’s no reason for him to stay, but the idea of returning home within an hour and a half after leaving their house to go clubbing is going to throw Usopp and Nami into a laughing fit so hard, he’d rather get drunk and sit in self-pity for one evening. 

The only problem is Zoro. He hasn’t bothered him any further, but if he’s paying attention, he might never live this night down. Zoro should be able to see him. Surely he’s paying attention to him, right? At least a bit?

Sanji moves his head slightly to the right. If he moves just right, he can catch a glimpse of the booth where Zoro and his friends are sitting and- Zoro’s back is to him. 

Annoyed, Sanji clicks his tongue. Really, the marimo isn’t even the least bit worried about him? Whatever. He flags down the bartender to order two more beers, one for himself and one for his misery, as he checks his phone for at least the 6th time in the last 10 minutes.

‘’Excuse me?’’ The small voice behind him is barely audible above the horrible 2000s music mix currently playing. ‘’You’re Sanji, right?’’

Shocked, the blond turns around. Behind him is one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever seen: her long, pink dress makes her figure look incredible, and her half-up-half-down blue hair is a stark contrast from everyone else in the room. She’s beautiful, Sanji can’t help but feel his pulse rise slightly. She’s exactly his type.

‘’Y-yes, I’m Sanji,’’ he cringes at the stutter, but keeps going. ‘’You look absolutely lovely, can I help you with anything?’’ Proud of making his voice steady again, he flashes his best smile at the lady in front of him

‘’I actually came over to talk to you,’’ she smiles sweetly, swiftly taking the empty bar stool next to him. ‘’Aren’t you going to ask my name, Sanji?’’ she smiles teasingly.

‘’Of- ofcourse.’’ He clenches his eyes out of embarrassment, before realising the situation and putting on a smile again. ‘’May I ask your name, and your order, my love?’’

‘’It’s Vivi,’’ she responds, lightly swinging her legs. She’s so cute, she’s too short to reach the ground . ‘’And I’d like a Moscow Mule, please.’’

Sanji raises his eyebrows at that. ‘’Alright, give me a moment,’’ he says while trying to raise the attention of the bar man, who’s trying very hard to get the attention of a very clearly uninterested girl on the other side of the bar.

‘’What?’’ Vivi asks. ‘’Something wrong?’’

‘’Of course not. I just didn’t take you for the vodka type, but whatever my lady desires, she gets,’’ Sanji responds smoothly, finally gaining the attention of the barkeeper. 

‘’I don’t like vodka,’’ Vivi laughs. ‘’I like ginger beer and lime, and tolerate the vodka.’’

After Sanji orders for her, he returns his attention to the goddess next to him. ‘’See, I can read you like a book, already.’’

The night turns out not to be so bad after all. Vivi is lovely, she’s sweet and easily reciprocates Sanji’s flirtations- but something feels off. 

It’s not like Sanji never takes women home. Quite the opposite, he’s had his fair share of temporary relationships and one-night stands, even while living together in a house with his 8 friends he’s gotten lucky. There’s nothing wrong with Vivi, either. She’s exactly what Sanji looks for in a girl: beautiful, smart, funny. Even if all she’d give him is a wink, he’d take that any day of the week, but tonight is different. 

He stumbles over his words, embarrassing himself after realising he lost concentration while she was talking. He drinks more than he’d like to cover up his embarrassment, which leads to more embarrassment. The loud noises and stuffiness of the room feel overwhelming, so much so that he doesn’t even really want to listen to her anymore. Honestly, all Sanji really wants right now is a smoke and his bed.

For a moment, he debates inviting Vivi to come outside with him so he can at least satiate one of his urges and hopefully refind some motivation to talk to her, but he decides against it. He doesn’t want to let her on when he’s clearly not in the mood for whatever she’s offering, whether it’s friendship, flirting or something else entirely - neither his head nor heart is in it, and he couldn’t knowingly take advantage of such a beautiful woman. Plus, he’s certain she’s noticed his standoffishness. All he can hope for is that she doesn’t think he’s not interested in her.

He kindly takes his leave with a sad excuse of feeling under the weather in hopes of rekindling his poor first impression later on. Luckily, Vivi really seems too sweet for her own good, because she asks for his phone number before he can even stand up. He gives her a kiss on the cheek as goodbye, and based on the slight blush on her face, she doesn’t mind. 

The walk outside is heinous. There’s too many people, and the night has formed a fogginess in Sanji’s mind that he can’t seem to break out of. Every time anyone touches him, he feels an electric shock go through his body. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor, ignoring everything around him to try and get outside as fast as possible. The quicker he has a cigarette between his teeth, the better.

With his hand finally on the doorknob of the front door, someone tightly grabs his shoulders. Sanji’s so frustrated at almost being out of this horrible situation, but being pulled back at the last moment, he groans loudly. 

‘’Cook?’’ Zoro asks behind him.

‘’Ugh,’’ Sanji scoffs, not bothering to turn around. ‘’If you want to talk to me, come outside. I’m not staying here a second longer.’’ He yells loudly over the music and people, quickly pushing open the door and disappearing outside.

He almost expected Zoro not to follow him at all, but as soon as the door falls closed, it opens again, with the bewildered, green-haired man walking outside. Before either of them can say anything, Sanji frantically searches his pockets for his cigarettes, until Zoro holds his pack in front of his face.

‘’I saw you left it at the bar,’’ Zoro says.

‘’Oh…’’ Sanji takes the package, thankful for not having lost it. ‘’Thanks. I didn’t know you could see me.’’

Zoro fidgets with his hands. ‘’Of course, I saw some of your friends around. They ditched you?’’

‘’Nah.’’ Sanji takes a deep drag of the cigarette, happy at finally having some nicotine in his lungs after multiple hours. ‘’We went out together. Just, everyone found something to do, you know?’’

‘’Hmmm.’’ Zoro obviously doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t press further, and that’s enough for Sanji. ‘’Saw you sitting with Vivi.’’

Surprised, Sanji looks at Zoro. ‘’You know her?’’

Zoro nods. ‘’She’s really nice. And sweet. She was sitting with us, actually.’’ He takes a sharp inhale before he finishes, ‘’She saw you sitting there, so I told her a bit about you… That’s why she came over.’’

‘’Oh,’’ Sanji says, not sure how to feel about having Zoro as a wingman, basically. ‘’Yea, she’s beautiful. Really funny too, way wittier than you.’’ 

Zoro leans his back against the wall of the building, looking everywhere but at Sanji. If his fidgeting indicates he’s nervous, Sanji’s not going to feel bad. He doesn’t necessarily want to have a conversation with the Marimo about his love life, either. There’s nothing stopping him from just shutting up.

‘’But she’s not your type?’’

‘’Of course she’s my type!’’ Sanji remarks, possibly a bit too loud after the amount of alcohol he’s consumed. It probably hasn’t helped that he barely managed to eat anything today, his appetite has been reduced since certain insecurities have come up again. ‘’She’s adorable, sweet, hot, funny, smart, she might be an actual ange-’’

‘’Whatever, why didn’t you take her home then?’’ Zoro asks. ‘’She was basically lying at your feet, all you had to do was ask.’’

Sanji rolls his eyes. ‘’I’m not going to take a woman home on the first date, not that this was even a date, you idiot.’’

‘’Wouldn’t be the first time,’’ Zoro mutters.

Sanji has half a mind to slap Zoro across the face, but ultimately decides it’s not worth it to risk hurting his hands for such an idiot like him. 

‘’Whatever, it’s not your problem. I just wasn’t feeling it tonight.’’ Sanji responds, attention focused on the cigarette instead of the mossball. He’s annoyed at himself for not feeling up to talking to her, he’s never not wanted to talk to a beautiful woman, and he’s annoyed at Zoro for helping him.

‘’It is, actually. I sent her over to you because I thought you’d like her. Do you want me to…’’ Zoro sighs, unsure of how to phrase his question. ‘’Not send a woman over if they’re interested in you?’’

‘’What do you even mean?’’ Sanji asks. Having to talk about all of this with Zoro out of all people is making him so frustrated, he has to restrain himself from biting his cigarette in two. ‘’If someone’s interested in me, they can talk to me. I just wasn’t feeling it, that’s all.’’

‘’Yea, just, I’ve never seen you not into flirting with anyone?’’ It sounds more like a question than a statement. ‘’I mean, would you have been into it if it was a man? Because-’’

Sanji feels his cheeks flush immediately. ‘’That’s not the problem!’’

Zoro rolls his eyes, his voice immediately sounding more irritated. ‘’Are you seriously still awkward about this? I do not care if you like dick, and neither does anyone else.’’

Sanji sputters something incoherent, throwing his finished cigarette on the ground and pushing it out with the heel of his shoes. ‘’I’m not awkward about it!’’

‘’You look like a tomato.’’

‘’And you look stupid.’’

‘’That is a pathetic comeback, cook.’’

‘’I don’t care!’’ Sanji screams, but immediately realises he’s being very unreasonable here. Zoro’s trying to be nice, a rare occurrence, and he shouldn’t punish him for his own insecurities. ‘’It’s- no. It wouldn’t have mattered if it was a man. I’m just really tired today, so...’’ He quickly checks his phone, deciding that after 2 and a half hours, if he walks really slowly, he can return home, hopefully without being made fun of. ‘’I just want to go home.’’

Zoro nods, still not seemingly satisfied. ‘’So you are interested in Vivi? Because knowing her, she’s going to come over to me any minute to ask me.’’

Sanji’s quiet for a moment, twitching his feet uncomfortably. ‘’I am. I have her number, I’ll call her.’’

‘’ ‘Kay,’’ Zoro responds, pushing himself off the wall. ‘’I’ll go back then. Let me know when you’ve arrived home, okay?’’

Sanji nods, not meeting his eyes.

Zoro stills, something obviously holding him back.

‘’Look, do you want me to walk you home?’’

‘’No!’’ Sanji scoffs. ‘’I’m not a child!’’

‘’I know,’’ Zoro’s voice is soft. He takes a step closer, but changes his mind, and backs off again. ‘’I’m not saying that. I’m just saying, you’re drunk, and…’’ He scratches the back of his head. ‘’Don’t take this the wrong way, but lately you seem a little… off?’’

‘’I’m NOT off!!’’ Sanji explodes, angry at the implication. How dare Zoro say something like that? It’s based on absolutely nothing. ‘’I’m fine, you just can’t ever mind your own fucking business!’’

Somewhere, deep down, Sanji knows Zoro’s probably the friend that minds his own business the most.  

Zoro sighs. ‘’I told you not to take it the wrong way.’’

‘’I don’t care what you tell me, I don’t care about you! Just leave me alone for once!’’ He feels his heartbeat in his chest, arms, neck, everywhere. His throat clams up in a familiar way he hasn’t felt in almost 2 years, and suddenly the world is spinning spinning spinning .

‘’Cook-’’ Zoro starts, but Sanji cuts him off.

‘’Leave me alone,’’ he mutters quietly, not able to make his voice loud. He turns around, unsteady on his feet. He takes one step forward, but quickly has to hold himself up by planting one hand on the wall. There are too many emotions inside of him trying to overpower each other, and the dizziness makes it hard to breathe. The feeling of not getting enough air in his lungs hurts, and it doesn’t help that his thoughts are foggy and he’s lightheaded. 

‘’I’m not letting you go home on your own when you’re this upset,’’ Zoro says behind him, but Sanji doesn’t hear. He needs all his attention to stay upright and keep whatever is trying to overflow in his head at bay. ‘’How much did you even drink?’’

Sanji doesn’t respond. His eyes are closed, but he still feels the ground move beneath his feet. Bile is rising in his throat, and he’s certain he’s going to throw up. There are things moving in front of his eyes and suddenly, his knees hit the ground with such force it knocks the air out of him.

‘’Stop rejecting it,’’ Zoro says softly. Arms are pulling everywhere: on his shirt, hair, shoulder, the skin-on-skin contact makes Sanji feel like he’s burning.  

He feels his back hit the wall. His knees hurt, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of tears burning in his eyes.

He whimpers softly, putting his head in his hands. This is not how he envisioned the night going.

‘’Just breathe, you’re going to be fine,’’ Zoro says. His voice sounds far away, but Sanji registers the body heat he radiates from one side of his body. It’s overwhelming, he tries to shuffle away from it, but Zoro refuses, pulling him back by putting his arm around his shoulder. ‘’Just stay here.’’

Sanji doesn’t respond. He lets himself ride the waves of anxiety that pass through him, embarrassed every time his body shivers involuntarily. Zoro’s kind enough not to say anything about it. Occasionally, he shushes Sanji when his whimpers get too loud. ‘’It’s okay, just let it happen.’’

The hand moving through his hair helps steady him somewhat, but it still takes an embarrassingly long time for Sanji’s breathing to go back to normal. 

After a while, Zoro nudges him softly. ‘’You still with me?’’

Unsure of how to respond, Sanji hides his face in Zoro's arm. He’s definitely not thinking straight, but at least Zoro doesn’t comment on it. 

‘’It’s getting cold, let’s get you home,’’ Zoro says after a while, taking his arm back and slowly standing up. Sanji whines at the loss of warmth. He hadn’t realised how much he missed physical contact.

‘’Come on, cook,’’ Zoro tries again, offering his hand to help Sanji stand up. He stares at the outstretched hand in front of him for a moment before accepting. 

Standing upright feels strange. His centre of gravity is off, and suddenly the exhaustion, lack of food and alcohol has gotten to his head. ‘’Y-you can’t...’’ His voice wavers. He cringes at the sound, it doesn’t even sound like him. ‘’You can’t tell anyone.’’

Zoro stares so intensely in his eyes, Sanji has to look away. He shakingly tries to take the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, but drops it before he can take one out. 

Zoro picks them up without a word. He takes one out, offering it to Sanji. Sanji barely reacts, just lets Zoro place one on his lips. Zoro waits a second to see his reaction, but when Sanji still doesn’t move, he carefully takes the lighter out of Sanji’s pocket to help him light it.

Sanji inhales shakily, one arm heavily leaning on the green-haired man while holding the cigarette with the other. They don’t talk. Zoro quietly directs them on their way home. Once they’re almost there, Sanji starts talking again. ‘’This didn’t happen.’’

‘’It did, and we’re going to talk about it,’’ Zoro says, not caring about what Sanji has to say. ‘’You’re not doing well, and we’re going to fix it.’’

Sanji sighs. He’s still leaning on Zoro, he desperately needs Zoro’s steadiness as his feet occasionally trip over one another. ‘’I’m doing just fine,’’ he responds, barely audible.

‘’This is fine?’’ Zoro asks sarcastically. ‘’I know you’re an idiot, but I didn’t know you were this big of an idiot.’’

‘’You don’t know anything.’’

‘’I know that this,’’ Zoro uses his free hand to wave in the general direction of the blond, ‘’is not normal.’’

Sanji scoffs. ‘’I’ve had panic attacks since I was twelve, and you should know that. You’re supposed to know that, as my friend.’’ If he was thinking a bit more clearly, Sanji might’ve been embarrassed at the blatant rudeness, but he has no other choice. He needs to get Zoro off his back. Zoro doesn’t understand. None of their friends understand.

He feels helpless, has felt helpless for months . No one cared when he started to lock himself in his own bedroom. No one cared when he started to withdraw himself, or started to smile less, or started to skip meals. So why should he care about Zoro’s feelings? He obviously doesn’t care about him anymore.

Suddenly, Sanji feels immature. How had he not realised this before? It’s not Zoro’s fault, Sanji’s the fool for getting hung up on a friendship that is falling apart at the seams. They don’t like him anymore. The signs have been everywhere, and Sanji has been ignoring them on a childish whim. The fairy tale in his head of ‘having best friends.’ The only reason Zoro suddenly seems to care is because he’s become a problem. 

The realisation makes Sanji’s heart sink. Is that what he turned into? A problem? Before all of this, at least he’d been useful - cooking and cleaning and doing favours for his friends whenever possible, but lately he’s been nothing but a disappointment. He messed up Zoro’s night out, he’s been messing up dinners and house dynamics and… Maybe that’s why Zoro now worries about him, or acts to, at least. Because this ‘problem’ he’s having is affecting them. 

Sanji’s a liability. Useless. Useless. Useless. Stupid. Worthless. They don’t care about your pain. They care about the issues you cause them.

‘’Of course I know that, idiot. I also know you haven’t had them in years, so don’t act all high and mighty with me, now,’’ Zoro says, annoyed. His patience is running thin. He’s been giving Sanji space and time, expecting him to, at some point, finally come to him. ‘’I do know you, you know I know you, so shut the fuck up and tell me about what’s been going on with you.’’ 

Instead, Sanji physically pushes him away. ‘’Get the fuck away from me,’’ he growls. He’s still standing, but his legs tremble dangerously. The look in his eyes is so full of anger, Zoro’s not sure if he should touch him right now. 

Sanji doesn’t care about his hesitance. ‘’You don’t care! You never care about me! You only care about the shit I always do for you because I want you to fucking like me for who I am!’’ 

‘’Haaah?’’ 

Sanji’s head drops, but he immediately looks up again. His eyes don’t leave Zoro’s as he talks. ‘’I fucking hate you, you know that?’’

‘’What are you yapping about now?’’ Zoro tries to get his voice under control, but it’s so hard with the way the cook’s behaving right now. How hard does he have to try until that dumb idiot finally accepts help? 

Zoro takes a step closer to Sanji. He stretches his arm out, intending to steady Sanji, who’s swaying dangerously on his legs. Instead, Sanji slaps him across the face, hard.

Zoro stares in disbelief for a couple of seconds. He brings his hand to his face, feeling the tender spot that is definitely going to be bruised tomorrow. ‘’What is your fucking problem?’’ He screams angrily.

‘’You are!’’ Sanji screams back. ‘’How often do I have to repeat that I want nothing to do with you? I hate you!’’ He takes a deep breath, only to continue his verbal abuse. ‘’I don’t care about you, I don’t want to talk to you, I wish I had never even met you!’’

Zoro doesn’t know how to respond. His face hurts, but it’s nothing compared to the way he physically feels his heart break.

‘’Leave me alone,’’ Sanji mutters angrily. He sways on his feet, but stubbornly walks towards their house.

Zoro lets him. He quietly watches him reach their house, clumsily mess with the key until the door opens, and doesn't move until the front door slams shut again.

Neither sees each other's tears fall.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Sanji doesn’t leave his bedroom the next day. Zoro and Robin have knocked on his door to ask him to come out, but he’s ignored both of them. He knows where he stands in their minds now, and he’s not ready to face them. Not when he knows how they see him: as something to use, probably not even a person.

He smokes a lot, grateful for the window next to his bed. The nicotine keeps him agitated and unable to fall asleep. His head hurts, and the hunger pangs from not having eaten are hard to ignore, but it feels good. Like he’s accomplishing something. Like he’s punishing himself for believing he’s worth something. 

It’s not until midday the next day that he decides to enter the living room again. The house has been exceptionally quiet, and he quickly realises his housemates are out. Zoro had been at his bedroom door once more last night, talking about whatever - Sanji hadn’t really listened. Nami had been there this morning, too, asking if he’d like any breakfast. She hadn’t received a response, but outside his door he found a tray with coffee and toast. Both are untouched.

He’s not even sure why he decided to leave his room. A change of scenery and a quick cup of tea while the house is empty and he won’t see anyone sounded like a good idea, but now standing in the midst of the familiar kitchen with over a year’s worth of precious, warm memories, it hurts. 

‘’Sanji!’’ Luffy’s bright voice suddenly comes from the living room. 

Startled, Sanji drops the kettle full of water he’d been carrying back to the stove. ‘’Fuck,’’ he curses. At least the water wasn’t hot yet.

‘’Where did you go yesterday?’’ Luffy asks, taking a seat at the kitchen table. His smile is bright and warm. Sanji feels his heart clench.

‘’What?’’ Sanji asks, slightly confused. He’s trying desperately to dry the ground as quickly as possible so he can disappear in his chamber again.

‘’Where’d you go?’’ Luffy asks again. ‘’I didn’t see you all day!’’

Sanji quits his cleaning for a second. Of course, they haven’t told him. Luffy would’ve probably tried to climb in through the window if he knew Sanji’d been in his room all day. 

But that means Luffy cares, right? 

Sanji feels tears prick at the corner of his eye. He’s so confused.

‘’Just… Out,’’ he mutters, more to himself than to Luffy.

Luffy laughs loudly, the sound echoing through the whole house. ‘’I hope it was fun.’’

Sanji nods his head. Suddenly, his appetite for tea has vanished. ‘’I’ll just go back to-’’

‘’Can you make me breakfast, please?’’ Luffy asks, trying to put on his best puppy eyes. ‘’I haven’t had your pancakes in so long!’’

Even though Sanji feels horrible, the idea of doing something that’ll make one of his best friends feel good is tempting. No matter how bad he feels, the feeling of doing something good, something kind, usually makes him feel good. He yearns to feel the happiness and satisfaction it gives him. His thighs hurt from squatting on the ground, and suddenly, he realises how hungry he actually is. Slowly, he gets up, looking at Luffy for the determining factor.

Luffy’s big eyes stare up at him, awaiting an answer. 

‘’Okay,’’ Sanji whispers before he can truly think about it.

‘’Yay!’’ Luffy screams happily, comically throwing his fists into the air. Sanji can’t tear his eyes away from the way his eyes crinkle closed when he smiles like that.

‘’Pancakes and bacon?’’ Sanji asks softly, already turning around to grab the non-stick skillet he usually uses. He hears Luffy’s excited cheers faintly in the background.

Everything happens on autopilot. Sanji doesn’t think as he makes the batter or pre-cooks the bacon in a second pan. He doesn’t listen to Luffy’s talking, which never seems to stop for even a moment. He barely notices Luffy’s presence. It wouldn’t matter whether he'd been sitting at the kitchen table, peering over his shoulder or wasn’t in the house at all: Sanji’s completely enhanced at cooking. 

For the first time in a long time, his thoughts are quiet. They’re not good or bad, they’re not even there . There’s only him and the food being prepared, and the faint, excited feeling of excitement he knows he’ll get from seeing someone enjoy his food. He feels entirely disconnected from reality, doing everything out of habit without a single thought.

The only problem is, with Sanji working on autopilot, he can’t think about certain dangers that he usually looks out for. Every person in the house has specific behaviours that he’s aware of when he’s cooking: Zoro likes to complain about whatever he’s making looking bad and smelling worse, Usopp likes to sneak little tastes when Sanji isn’t looking, and Luffy? Luffy’s too curious for his own good.

Any food he puts down, whether edible or inedible, gets tasted. Every dubiously looking spoon gets licked. And every kitchen appliance gets examined as if it’s the first time in his life he’s seen a saucepan. 

Usually, Sanji keeps an eye on Luffy to make sure he’s staying at least two feet away from the counter. Today, Sanji’s mind is too chaotic and disconnected. 

The skillet he uses for the pancakes is hot . The handle gets as hot as the surface. It’s second nature for Sanji to use oven mitts when handling this specific pan, and it’s his responsibility to take care of his foolish, oblivious friend. 

He isn’t listening to Luffy’s never-ending chattering. Hell, he doesn’t even know where he is. Sanji’s back is not even turned a full five seconds from the stove, absentmindedly looking for the butter in the fridge, before he hears a loud scream.

Luffy shrieks loudly, and the sound of clattering follows soon after. Immediately, Sanji turns around, only to find Luffy clutching his hand to his chest and the pan with a half-cooked pancake lying on the ground. Hot tears pour down Luffy’s face as he swings his hand around, desperate for any kind of feeling of relief.

Stunned, Sanji realises this is the first time he’s ever seen Luffy cry.

It takes him a second to unfreeze his body and get into action. ‘’C’mere,’’ Sanji quickly says, taking Luffy’s unburned hand and pulling him towards the tap. He pushes Luffy’s now red-hot hand under the ice-cold water, while taking deep breaths to try and steady himself.

‘’It’s okay, you’re okay,’’ Sanji tries to reassure both him and Luffy. Luffy’s tears haven’t dried yet, and Sanji swears he physically feels every single one of his sobs in his body. He feels a tear leave his own eye at the realisation that this is his fault.

I did this. His safety is my responsibility. I fucked up.

‘’It hurts,’’ Luffy whimpers. Sanji nods. 

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

‘’I’ll get you some ice, wait here,’’ Sanji says, leaving Luffy to sit on the counter with his hand under the running water. In record time, Sanji has wrapped up some ice in a clean kitchen towel. 

Without many words, Luffy is too shocked and Sanji too disassociated, Sanji manages to get Luffy seated on the couch with the cold compress on his hand. He’d quickly inspected it and luckily, it doesn’t seem that bad. It hurts, but the shock must have been as bad for Luffy as the actual wound will be. 

‘’Sanji?’’ Luffy asks softly. They’d been sitting together in silence for a couple of moments. Luffy fidgeting with the towel, his tears dried, but his eyes still red, and Sanji wallowing in self-guilt. ‘’Still hungry.’’

Sanji nods, unable to form words. He offers Luffy the TV remote in hopes of distracting him. Happily, he takes it, immediately turning on the TV and getting immersed in whatever he puts on. 

The blond leaves to the kitchen. The mess is still lying around, but he has no energy to worry about that. He quickly whips up something easy, toast and tea after remembering Nami’s tray is still lying near his bedroom door, as the front door opens. Robin enters the kitchen, her eyes widen as she takes in the situation. Sanji’s not sure what she’s more shocked about: seeing him, or the chaos. 

‘’Give this to Luffy,’’ he whispers, pushing the just-finished breakfast in her arms. ‘’Need to go.’’

Robin stays still for a moment. Sanji pushes past her, ignoring the fact he’s still in his sweatpants and oversized hoodie he’d slept in as he puts on his shoes. 

‘’Cook…’’ Robin starts, but Sanji ignores her, fastening his shoelaces as quickly as possible. 

He puts on his jacket, wilfully ignoring the way she’s trying to grab his attention. ‘’Luffy’s on the couch,’’ he says, slamming the front door behind him before she can get another word in.

-

-

Sanji doesn’t return until the sun has set and the streetlamps have long turned on. He wouldn’t even really be able to recall what he’d done. He walked around, smoking his package of cigarettes until the last one was gone, immediately going to the nearest shop to buy more and continuing. His throat hurts from the load of tobacco and carbon monoxide he’s been forcing down his throat. The hunger pangs are so bad, he occasionally has to stop and stand still for a moment. Light-headed, he sat down for an unknown amount of time in some park he’d never seen before. 

At some point, he decides that okay, maybe I do need to go home . The nearest subway station finally allowed him to figure out which way he had been walking and in any other situation, he’d be shocked at how far he’s come. Instead, he feels nothing. He figures out the fastest way to go home, head still empty and heart feeling cold.

I hurt Luffy. It was my responsibility. I hurt Zoro. If they still liked me before, they sure as hell don’t anymore.

The house is quiet. The light in the entryway is the only light still on, most likely left on solely for Sanji to return home. He quietly closes the door. Before, all he could think about was his bedroom and wanting to sleep, but now the anxiety creeps in once more. 

His hands shake as he takes off his jacket. No way that he’s going to be able to sleep like this.

-

-

Zoro hasn’t been able to sleep, no matter how hard he’s tried. 

He heard from Robin what happened between Luffy and Sanji, and even though Luffy seems unfazed - more concerned about Sanji’s whereabouts than anything else - he knows the blond is probably beating himself up over it. Sanji had already been weighed down by so much, and this was just another burden added to the load. 

Zoro couldn’t help but worry about how many more straws Sanji can take before he finally breaks.

Waiting downstairs until the return of the cook was tortuous. Everyone went to bed, mutually deciding that if Sanji needed space, he'd get it. But no one has seen the red flags Zoro’s been picking up on for weeks. Sanji’s been having space, and it only seems to make everything worse.

Annoyed, he tosses and turns in his bed. They’d all tried to call Sanji multiple times, but after hearing his phone ring from his bedroom, they knew it was useless. After contemplating, Zoro decided it’d be no use to walk around town and look for him, just as useless as worrying himself sick on the couch, constantly staring out the window in hopes of catching a glimpse of blond hair and cigarette smoke. 

After another 30 minutes of huffing and staring at his ceiling, he decides enough is enough. He can at least get downstairs, check if Sanji really hasn’t returned yet, and get something to drink before wallowing in his worries again. 

Zoro’s feet hit the cold ground. He feels a shudder move through his body. Is Sanji seriously still outside in this weather? 

Seeing the lights in the entryway still on makes his heart clench, afraid of his initial idea being true. Then the soft sound of clattering in the kitchen can be heard, and his heart jumps.

He practically runs to the kitchen, hoping desperately to find who he’s been looking for. The smell of smoke welcomes him on the stairs, and Zoro’s first feeling is pure relief. It gets quickly washed away by worry once he finally comes face-to-face with the cook.

Sanji’s running around in the kitchen. The heat from the oven is overbearing. Zoro closes the door behind him, hoping that their talking won’t wake up anyone else. This is going to be something between just them. He doesn’t need any stray ears picking up on their conversation

“Hey,” he says softly, immediately followed by the sounds of the door closing. Sanji jumps at the sound, wide eyes staring at the man in front of him. 

“Hey,” Sanji responds, immediately going back to tinkering with something sweet-smelling in a saucepan on the stove.

Zoro had expected their next conversation to start with a fight. Screaming, tears, maybe another hit, anything but this. Anything but the quiet, dishevelled man cooking at 4 am.

“What are you making?” Zoro asks, taking short steps towards the counter to peer over Sanji’s shoulder. 

Panicked, Sanji turns around. “Stop!” He says a little too loud, turning around and continuing to stir in the pot. “It’s hot, please… Not too close.”

Zoro nods. Words aren’t needed to understand the stress Sanji’s currently feeling. He understands. He takes a seat at the kitchen table, noticing an already finished cake in the middle of the table. A fork is lying next to it, a small bite has already been taken.

Red flag. Sanji never just plunges a fork into his creations to taste.

“It smells good,” Zoro remarks, hoping to start up a conversation. Or just make the stressed man in front of him feel at ease. He’s okay with both.

“It was for you,” Sanji whispers softly. “Coffee cake. As an apology.” He sighs, one hand finds its way in blond hair to tug harshly. “I messed up.” 

Zoro doesn’t like the way the man’s anxieties are clearly portraying. “Cooking is second nature for you, of course you didn’t mess it up.’’

Sanji doesn’t respond. Zoro sees the faint lines of scratches on his arm. 

‘’I don’t mind if it’s too sweet, I appreciate you making it for me,’’ Zoro tries again.

The blond doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even turn around until the sound of the fork scratching against the underside of the cake pan.

‘’Stop, no no no no,’’ Sanji sputters, eyes wide and shocked. His hair is pushed behind his ears from the tugging earlier, making both his eyes visible. 

Zoro feels his stare tug at his heartstrings. His eyes are so beautiful. He’s not sure whether blue or green suits his eyes better. Before Sanji can whine more, he takes a bite.

He understands what Sanji meant by ‘messed up’ immediately. It’s oversalted, but combined with the slight sweetness it balances each other out well. Zoro never liked sweetness, so the dulled taste is less indulgent. 

‘’It’s great, I like it. Thank you,’’ Zoro says, mouth still full of the bite.

Sanji shakes his head, looking sadly at the cake. In a swift motion, he turns off the heat and picks up the cake. 

‘’Where are you going?’’ Zoro asks, confused.

Sanji’s voice sounds fragile. ‘’Just… Leave it,’’ he sighs, quickly throwing the cake into the bin. 

‘’You…’’ Zoro doesn’t know how to word his thoughts. Sanji doesn’t waste food. He never wastes food. He has messed up new recipes before. At worst, he’d eat it himself, but he never throws it away. ‘’What are you doing?’’

‘’I’m so sorry,’’ Sanji’s voice breaks, and even though Zoro can’t see his face, he sees the way his body slumps against the kitchen counter. 

In a split second, Zoro’s arms are wrapped around Sanji from behind.

‘’I fucked up,’’ Sanji whispers again, to no one in particular again. ‘’I fucked up. I fucked up. It’s my fault. I fucked it up, didn’t I?’’ The hand finds its way back into his hair, and he tugs harshly. 

‘’Stop that,’’ Zoro says, his voice almost breaking. He puts his arms tighter around the blond until he feels every sob through his own chest. ‘’Don’t cry, you didn’t do anything wrong.’’

Sanji nods his head. He shakes out of the embrace only to turn around and fully fall into Zoro’s arms. ‘’I hate myself so much, I can’t do this anymore, Zoro, please.’’

Zoro holds him in his arms as he breaks. He’d been expecting this weeks ago, but it didn’t prepare him at all. Seeing his friend hurt hurts so much.

‘’I got you, it’s okay,’’ he whispers into Sanji’s ear. 

They don’t move. Zoro quietly sways them, hoping it soothes whatever’s going on inside Sanji’s head right now. He cries until all of his tears are dried up.

‘’Curly, look at me.’’ Zoro tries to back off from the embrace, but Sanji whines disgruntled and stays close, his head on the other’s chest. ‘’Talk to me, then.’’

He slowly moves them towards the table, sitting down with Sanji draped on top of his legs. The blond fully leans into him. It’s the first time they’re this close. Zoro feels himself go dizzy from the overwhelming sense of Sanji. 

‘’Tell me what’s been going on.’’

Sanji stutters through an incomprehensible explanation. It consists mainly of things he’s done wrong. ‘’I s-should’ve-’’ Sanji stutters. ‘’Been better.’’

Zoro listens. It’s overwhelming to hear Sanji talk, and he doesn’t know how to process it. Every single thing Sanji tells him hurts, but at the same time, his feelings are dulled. How can Sanji think of himself like this?

‘’Cook,’’ Zoro interrupts him, in the middle of a rant about how he’s sorry he hasn’t been able to do more for them. ‘’Sanji, please, listen.’’

The mention of his own name quiets him down. 

The arms around Sanji tighten. ‘’Where is this coming from?’’

Sanji shrugs his shoulders. ‘’I just… Everything hurts. And I haven’t been able to do anything like - not like I used to do.’’ The hand on Zoro’s shoulder shakes. ‘’I’m weak.’’

‘’Sanji, you’re not weak. You should’ve told us if something was wrong.’’

‘’I can handle it.’’

Zoro softly pets Sanji’s back, the only part of him his hand can comfortably reach. ‘’You don’t have to handle anything on your own.’’

Sanji doesn’t respond, so Zoro continues. ‘’We don’t love you because you do shit for us, idiot. We love you because you’re you. Because you’re kind. Remember when Usopp got wasted and you drove over an hour to pick him and Luffy up? You didn’t have to do that, no one wanted you to do that, but you did it because you’re kind.’’

Sanji moves his head closer to Zoro’s neck.

‘’I like how competitive you are. You’re always pushing me to do better, to be better, and I thought you liked that about me, too, but maybe I was wrong.’’

Sanji shakes his head. ‘’I- I like it. A bit,’’ he says slowly. ‘’ ‘S fun.’’

Zoro can’t help the soft smile that comes over his face. ‘’I’m happy about that.’’

‘’You’re the only one who matches me like that, you know? No one else would be okay with the dumb bets we make. I can’t believe I went to the gym every day for a whole month for you.’’

Sanji laughs softly. ‘’You refused to believe I could make cupcakes you’d like!’’

‘’I thought all cupcakes are sweet!’’

‘’You’re an idiot.’’

‘’I know that. Now that we’re onto the topic again, could you make them again soon?’’ Zoro asks, hoping it’ll distract the cook. Instead, it seems to have the opposite effect.

‘’Y-yea.’’ 

Zoro thinks for a moment. He’s never been good at connecting dots, especially when the dots are placed by Sanji, and thus messily all over the place and shouldn’t even have a connection to begin with.

‘’Sanji, you know you don’t have to do anything we ask you to, right? It’s just… You’re always so helpful, you’re the first person anyone would go to if they needed help.’’ Zoro resumes the soft strokes on his back.

‘’I’m not…’’ Sanji sighs shakily. ‘’I’m really not. I haven’t earned your love like that, not after… I haven’t been… I don’t deserve it, Zoro.’’

Zoro’s body freezes up. Of course, the idiot thinks like this.

‘’Look at me, now,’’ Zoro says. He moves out of the embrace, ignoring Sanji’s whine, and takes his face in his hands. They’re eye-to-eye, and no matter how much Sanji moves, he can’t get out of the grip. ‘’You don’t have to prove yourself. We love you. I promise, who made you feel that way?’’

Sanji refuses to look Zoro in the eyes, his own way of being stubborn. ‘’No one in particular. It’s just… oh.’’ A realisation seems to come over Sanji. His eyes fill with tears. ‘’Oh, oh god.’’

‘’What’s wrong?’’

‘’I’m…’’ It’s hard for Sanji not to make his voice break. ‘’I’m so sorry.’’

‘’Curly, stop apologising, tell me what you’re thinking.’’

‘’I thought it was me. I thought you didn’t like me anymore.’’

Zoro sighs. ‘’We’ve been over this multiple times. You got fucking issues, we know that, but we expect you to come to us when they’re getting bad.’’ Sanji doesn’t respond, but a tear falls from his eye. ‘’We trust you to do that.’’

He nods slowly. ‘’I messed up. It got bad, and I thought I could fix it myself, but… I don’t think I can.’’

Zoro nods, letting go of his face and engulfing him in another hug. ‘’That’s okay. I got you now. We’ll fix it together, okay?’’

“I don’t know if this can be fixed…” Sanji whispers into Zoro’s neck. His voice sounds fragile, and broken, and exhausted . Zoro feels his heart break.

“I promise, we’ll fix it,” Zoro whispers back. “You’ve got us. Let us in, okay?”

A new round of tears flow. Zoro holds him as close as possible through it all.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

“Are your eyes closed?” Zoro’s voice is muffled by the closer door, but Sanji hears it clearly anyway.

“Yes, and I don’t know why I bother because the door is closer and you put out the lights,” Sanji responds. His hands are in front of his eyes nonetheless, because what his boyfriend wants, his boyfriend gets.

“Are you a hundred percent sure?”

“Ask me that again when you can count to a hundred!” Sanji yells back.

Zoro’s deep sigh can be heard through the door. “Just do what I ask for once, will you?” The sound of something heavy being put on the ground is loud enough to echo through the empty house. 

“My eyes are closed, now give me my goddamn gift for… for what again?”

Sanji can hear the smile in Zoro’s voice. “Just wanted to do something nice for you.” 

Sanji’s, honestly, slightly nervous. Their relationship is still quite new, it’s only been 8 months since that fateful night in the kitchen (which Sanji would rather not think about, but at least it got him here). 

Only a month later, they ended up together. As in, officially together. Sanji awkwardly mumbled his way through a confession, until Zoro got fed up with it and just kissed him - which led to a lot of sputtering and swearing from the blond, but Zoro didn’t care. Sanji simply looked too cute with his lips and the tips of his ears bright red. 

They decided to make a big change only a month ago. Zoro’s old bedroom got renovated, and Zoro’s rickety, one-person bed was swapped with a brand-new bed for 2 people. Which was not an easy adjustment.

“We’re throwing away your old bed, I don’t care.” “What’s wrong with my bed?” “Look at how old it is! We can’t even fit on it together, plus, it creaks.” “Everyone knows we have sex, Sanji.” “THEY DON’T HAVE TO HEAR IT!” “I don’t know, I think that’s kinda hot.” “You’re fucking deranged, and I hate you. We’re burning the bed.” 

Slowly, the room came together as theirs. There are cookbooks, dumbbells, dress shirts and swords displayed around the room. Sanji decorated it to be cosy, going as far as to hang up fairy lights and put plants around (‘’Sanji, we have a living room. What is all of this?’’ ‘’It’s cute! Look, the lights have different settings, and you have to learn the names of the plants.’’ ‘’They have names?’’ ‘’And feelings, Marimo. I’ll hurt you if you touch them.’’)

Sanji has never felt more loved and safe. He still has off days, which often result in off weeks, but Zoro’s always there to pick up the pieces. They’ve made a proper chore schedule, so everyone contributes equally. Sanji isn’t allowed to cook more than 4 nights a week, and together they’ve made a meal plan to make sure Sanji’s eating all 3 of his meals. 

Zoro turned out to be a much better boyfriend than Sanji could have hoped for: he’s still Zoro, dumb and clumsy and forgetful, but he does occasional boyfriend stuff Sanji hadn’t expected. He tries his best to be the person he believes Sanji deserves. Still, he’s never had a big surprise, the kind where Sanji has to close his eyes and somehow, Zoro convinces all their housemates to clear out. 

‘’I’m coming in, keep your eyes closed,’’ Zoro yells.

Sanji complies, closing his eyes tightly behind his hands. He hears the door creak open and the lights turn on. Heavy footsteps stop right in front of him.

‘’Okay, open them.’’

Nervous, Sanji opens his eyes. He slowly lowers his hands, expecting something… Practical? New kitchen knives, an apron? Something cheesy? Flowers and chocolate?

He expected everything but Zoro to stand in front of him with a small, black kitten.

‘’Oh my god,’’ Sanji immediately coos. The kitten is comfortable lying in Zoro’s arms, completely uncaring about the world around her. Once she hears Sanji’s voice, her ears perk up. Two beady eyes look over at Sanji, and a little meow escapes her small mouth.

‘’Hold her,’’ Zoro smiles, unable to keep the happiness from his voice. Sanji immediately opens his arms. The kitten looks around dumbfounded for a moment, but quickly makes herself comfortable. She fits in Sanji’s palm perfectly. ‘’I thought you’d like her.’’

‘’’She’s so cute!’’ Sanji pets her head lightly, afraid of hurting her. The kitten leans into his touch thankfully. ‘’Why? What… How?’’

‘’I just…’’ Zoro scratches behind his ear for a moment. He sits down next to Sanji, putting his arm around the other’s shoulder. ‘’I thought you deserved something nice. She’ll keep you company when you don’t feel like going out, and when you’ve had a hard day she’ll be waiting for you here.’’

Sanji feels tears prick in his eyes. ‘’She’s adorable.’’

‘’And she’s all ours.’’ Zoro’s arm tightens. Sanji leans into his touch, unable to tear his eyes from the small creature dozing off to sleep in his hands. ‘’I got everything we need. Nami and Robin even helped pick out toys and stuff.’’

Sanji feels a warm feeling blossoming in his chest, something he learned to identify as love. ‘’What’s her name?’’

‘’I named her onigiri.’’

Big eyes look over at Zoro. ‘’You did not call our cat after your favourite food.’’

‘’It sounds cute! We can name her Oni for short!’’

‘’You’re such an idiot,’’ Sanji says. He can’t even pretend to be mad right now. ‘’I’m… I love you so much,’’ he says happily, bringing Onigiri closer to his face. Her eyes open curiously at the sudden movement.

‘’Calm down,’’ Zoro smiles. ‘’You’ve known her for a good three minutes.’’

‘’I meant you, you oaf. I love you.’’ 

Zoro is silent for a moment, too stunned by Sanji’s sudden confession to respond. Then, after a beat, he pulls the blond even closer, his grip tightening. He buries his face in Sanji’s hair, feeling a familiar warmth bloom in his chest. The same warmth that’s been there every time he’s looked at Sanji for the past few months. 

‘’I love you too, curly.’’

[infiniteseriesofhalfways]

good lord, i just read some shit i wrote back in October, and it fucking hurts, like-

He doesn't hate his father. He loves him like an ant loves a magnifying glass, like ex-smokers love a new pack, like holding your hand to a fire and begging for once, for it to only warm and not burn. His father is a force beyond his control, a god who forgot the verses on mercy. On forgiveness. He doesn't pray to anyone, not since they stopped going to church. But at night he lies awake, pleading with the universe, allow his father to see the truth. His mother is a good woman. He has done his best to be a good son. They have given their entire lives to him, sacrificed nearly every bit of their own desires to try and make him happy. If, someday, his father should wake up and see all of it, maybe then he would start believing in god again. Until then, he can't see anyone looking out for him. He can't find any father in the stars who actually loves him back.

why did i say any of that at all??? could've kept every bit of that to myself.

When CA turns away from him, his heart aches. He wants so badly to reach over, to hold CA until everything bad that has ever happened to him comes tumbling out. He wants to let CA spill his secrets and leave them here in the sand, buried beside forgotten beer bottles and toy shovels. It's in the rise and fall of his chest, faster and faster as he spirals. He can't imagine where CA's thoughts have gone, what fucked up memory he's gotten lost in. He considers his own past, good experiences tainted by the way they ended. He could tell the story, be the first of them to cut himself open tonight. A bloody invitation for CA to do the same. Not a demand. Not a requirement. An open palm and a promise under moonlight.

like idk who i was thinking i was but i have in fact depressed the shit out of myself three months later

[takeyourcyanide]

asking for help always makes things worse

[skrunksthatwunk]

household enemy to the yyh watchthrough number one is the olympics. it's taken us a week to get two episodes into the gamemaster fight

[sleevebuscemii]

tmi

[lucyvaleheart]

.

[gentlethorns]

fuck dude i have got to find a job where i can be self-employed and creative. i cannot be in fucking retail hell anymore

[tonycries]

Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left. 

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you? 

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse. 

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything. 

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly. 

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere. 

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it. 

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe. 

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words. 

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought. 

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go. 

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own. 

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back. 

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms. 

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you? 

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru. 

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him. 

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by. 

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend. 

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core. 

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra. 

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you. 

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker. 

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now. 

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down. 

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity. 

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor. 

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts. 

And it was so unfair. 

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were. 

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt. 

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used. 

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now. 

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything. 

���Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance. 

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier. 

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.��

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close. 

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. 

But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat. 

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard. 

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time. 

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-” 

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. 

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything. 

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of. 

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue. 

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes. 

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild. 

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then. 

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time. 

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum. 

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice. 

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick. 

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy. 

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…” 

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t. 

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him. 

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. 

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks. 

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face. 

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting. 

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow. 

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet. 

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic.  “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan’ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut. 

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it. 

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty. 

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind. 

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain. 

And then it’s black. 

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so. 

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel? 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[pennjammin]

geeked up.

you fucked around and snuck him an aphrodisiac, so now all you’ve got to do is survive until the effects wear off!

content: smut, established relationships, bondage, edging, overstim, degrading, oral sèx, public sèx, exhibitionism, drüg/alcohol use, afab!reader, gn!reader on nanami, spit kink, masochism

incl pairings: kento, toji, satoru, suguru

word count. 8.3k

soundtrack 🌧️💿: sativa ft. swae lee

COCK THAT TEA / NANAMI.

A cup of hot tea. That's all Nanami had requested.

The lemon stimulant you’d mixed into the drink had made him wrap up his work early, clamoring downstairs, his eyes glassy with desire.

"Darling," he breathes out, staring at the floor, holding the cup in his shaky hand. "Are you busy?”

He’s so polite about it. At first.

“What ever is the matter, Ken?” you question, running your cleaning rag in slow circles over the dining room table, standing on your toes as you stretch across the surface. “I’m trying to clean.”

He nearly growls, eyes shutting and reopening with frustration. His fingers flutter at his side like butterfly wings and he takes a step towards you.

“I need to be inside of you,” he blurts, looking momentarily embarrassed before his face darkens, then he looks up at you with viper eyes.

“Right now?” you fake your surprise, walking around the table to stand in front of him. “But the dining room is so filthy…” You watch as his nostrils flare; he’s clearly taking in your scent.

“You know I would never force you,” he grits out, voice choked. “But also - mmh - p-pretty please?”

His arms come up, either side of you, and he moves to pin your body between himself and the table. He releases the teacup on the table and his fingertips grip onto the surface so harshly that his nails make tiny imperfections in the wood.

“My God, are you feeling alright?” you stall, pressing the back of your hand to his flushed forehead. “You look unwell.”

“I feel unwell, baby,” he says, tone serious and apologetic. “I feel like I might die if I can’t put my cock in you. That is unreasonable.”

Even as he says the words, it’s clear in his eyes that he doesn’t care how irrational it is. He wants to act on his urges so badly.

You rest your hand over the painful lump in his pants. “Is that so?”

“No, please don’t,” he breathes. “D-Don’t wanna lose my control…”

“You won’t,” you purr, slipping his zipper down. “You’re gonna be good and let me take care of you for once, ‘kay?”

His shoulders visibly slump a bit as the pressure from his hard cock is released by his unzipped pants. You take it a step further and dip your fingernails underneath the waistband of his Calvin’s, softly scratching over the blond happy trail.

“No, no,” Nanami’s head falls onto your shoulder, full body shudders coming out of him.

“I’m just trying to help, Ken,” you quip, rolling your eyes, moving to pull your hand out; but in the same beat his large hand clamps around your wrist and shoves it down deeper.

He jerks forward against you, a whine for help coming out of his mouth and landing breathily in your ear canal. You try not to shudder yourself, wanting to maintain the facade that you’re in control.

“Please, just take it out,” he begs.

How could you deny him? Your usually composed, control-taking husband is begging you for something. It breaks your heart as much as it nearly makes you cream your undies.

"Alright," you say calmly, clamping your fist around his shaft, squeezing harshly as you remove it from its barrier.

Nanami whispers gratefully in your ear - over and over - until it fades into moans, because of you sliding the pad of your thumb over his oh-so sensitive cockhead, spreading his precum all over the throbbing skin.

You have his heartbeat in your palm. You feel it racing faster with each stroke of your finger. The organ jerks in response and so does Nanami.

His hips begin to mindly grind back and forth, his torso rubbing yours, hardening your nipples and exposing your arousal.

You let his length slide in and out of your fist, and his hands grip onto your breasts like they can save him from ruin. His hair has fallen down around his head, sweat ruining his gelled style. He looks so desperate.

You'd only wanted to see if the aphrodisiac would remove some of his patience. He's always so kind, slow, gentle. You were writhing to see him lose control, have his way with you, rough you up. You’d hardly expected it to turn him this submissive and needy.

Fwip! Fwip! The sound of your top disappearing makes you gasp. You’d gotten too lost in thought and allowed him to get your shirt off, leaving you in just underwear.

Your thighs turn in on themselves, but they’re no match for his strength. It’s as if you'd let a feral panther out of its cage, his nails clawing at the waistband, threatening to shred it as his hips pick up speed.

On a whim, you release his shaft and put your palm to his tip, running it over the shiny pink skin. Nanami’s neck nearly snaps back. You rotate your palm over the tip and rip! his iron grip accidentally tears your underwear off.

He doesn’t notice, as he maintains his grip on the fabric with his eyes closed. He freezes in place as you violate his sensitive tip and the underside.

“Agh - shit, shit, nonono…” Nanami spits out.

Until finally he’s had enough.

In exactly three movements, he has your spine curved painfully against his torso, hand clasping a handful of your hair and pulling it against his chest, your shredded undies fallen somewhere on the floor. His groans in your ear are wet and raunchy, coming from the depths of his throat.

His cock pushes through your soaking ring of muscle, sliding through the ridges until it rams into your cervix. He has no regard for your pain level, punishing you even as tears brim your eyes. His hand cracks harshly on your asscheek, before scratching the sensitive skin and making you scream.

"My love, you feel so fucking good.” The lewd words leave his lips in an uncharacteristic way.

You want to roll your hips in time with his but he releases your hair and brings his hand around to cup your neck - faltering you as he thrusts deeper, the painfully solid cock violating your walls. If not for your pussy flooding the veiny organ, your entrance would be raw from the harsh stroking and lack of regard for your pleasure.

With a release of your throat, Nanami's hand moves to the back of your head and forces it down against the table, cheek pressed to the wood. You look at the abandoned drink at the other end. Now you’re watching as the cold liquid ripples through the teacup with each rhythmic thrust of your husband splitting you from hole to hole.

“F-Fuck, Ken, take it easy,” you whine, knowing it’s a full fib.

You want him deeper than he already is, cock bottomed out, heavy balls sticking to your clit each time he goes all the way in. Your internal organs feel like they’re being bent out of shape, pressure in your belly a bit painful, but mostly exhilarating.

“I-I can’t, baby,” Nanami grunts from above. “Your pussy has me so out of control.”

You decide to admit, in a sultry moment of regret what you’d done. Your pussy can’t take all the credit for making him this feral, can it? Nanami doesn’t respond much, but his cock begins to take it out on you.

His veins pop from his wrists as he pushes your head further into the wood, cheek squishing in on itself, muffling your sobs.

He moans in response to his new rhythm, grunting your name over and over, mixed with naughty minx, take me, feel good?, mhmm.

He hikes his hips at an upward angle and the new spot he's hitting is foul, causing you to scream so loud the noise reverberates off of the walls.

You put a leg up, knee to the edge of the table for stability. Your arms stretch across the surface and you feel drool trickle out of your mouth - your mind so fucked out that you can't even bring yourself to moan.

"Where's my spouse?" Nanami questions rhetorically, shoving a deep thrust in you while cracking his palm on your stinging asscheek. "Why can't I hear them?"

You swallow, trying to stop some of the drool, attempting to answer him but all that comes out is a guttural cry for mercy.

Nanami pretends not to hear it, and runs his nails along your pretty arched back.

His fingers yank your head in the direction of his old cup, “Be sure to look at what got you into this ordeal, dear. Stimulants in my tea, really?”

Your moans return when you feel the pool of fire deep within your belly, and Nanami feels you fluttering your walls around him in an attempt to fight off the orgasm. But he recognizes your moans all too well, so he drills his hips harder to push it out of you.

"Ken! No!" you cry, trying to hold it off, but just before you release he's spilling his own hot spurts into you.

You feel each rope hit the opening to your cervix and your cunt sends you into the harshest orgasm you've had your entire marriage; your one leg that remained on the floor giving out, leaving you to dangle on the edge of the table.

But Nanami's strokes show no sign of slowing down. You feel the veins in his cock drumming against your slick ridges, and his length remains solid.

“Mm, so much wetter now,” he notes, his cum nearly sticking his balls to to your clit every time he shoves his groin against your ass.

The noise that comes from your cum mixing together as lubricant is so nasty; it makes your toes curl as you lay on your stomach and continue to take the pain.

You’ll spend the rest of the evening begging him for mercy and not receiving it. When you think he’s finally done, he carryies you upstairs, telling you that he’s going to give you a massage to calm your strained legs.

But when you end up on your side as Nanami stuffs you full of kids for the sixth or seventh time, you realize the massage had been part of his plan, and he gives no hint that he’s near finished with you.

KNOTTY BOY / TOJI.

Toji had arrived home from work right on schedule. You'd been in the middle of preparing breakfast for dinner, the kitchen smelling of bacon grease and syrup.

He'd come in and given you a quick kiss, then disappeared to the back of the apartment to shower.

While he was gone, you'd finished cooking, and loaded his plate up with sausage, bacon, and eggs. Then, you plopped a tower of pancakes in the leftover space. This is when you ripped open a packet of honey from the gas station. You'd seen it on the counter one day whilst getting snacks and, you were curious to see if the rumors were true.

You’d felt a twinge of guilt as you drizzled the honey all over his pancakes and then hid your naughty work by covering it with maple syrup. It almost felt like drugging him, but you knew it wasn’t, and the worst that’ll happen is consensual rounds of sex. You’d disposed of the empty wrapper in the trash just in time.

Toji comes back from his shower with damp hair and oily skin, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts that cling low on his v-line. Your chest heats in response, but you maintain an innocent smile as you pad over to him with his dinner.

He sits down at the kitchen table, ready to dive into your delicious meal with a thankful grunt.

"Not hungry?" he questions, noticing that you remain standing behind him, rubbing some of the tension from his shoulders.

"I had a heavy lunch," you lie. "How was work?"

Toji pokes his fork into a sausage link before bringing it to his mouth, "Hot. Annoying. Lil' bitch Shiu was moaning about his sunburn all day."

You giggle, observing the darker shade on Toji's skin from where he has the privilege of tanning instead of frying in the sun. He's glowing like a cinnamon roll coated in sweet icing, and you want to drag your tongue over his moisturized torso.

"Well, least you're home now," you kiss his cheek. "I missed you. I hate when you have to work such long shifts."

He sighs. "Gotta do what I gotta do, puss. Have ta'make sure you have everything you want."

"That so?" you coo. "There’s something I want right now."

Toji reaches for the cup of orange juice you'd poured for him, thick eyebrow raised, “Spit it out.”

"Have you ever considered letting me tie you up? You know, 'stead of the other way around?" The words are out before you can stop them, and you're immediately writhing in regret when there's silence for several moments.

Toji takes a sip of the juice, and then turns to face you. "Needy brat, you thinkin' about tying me up while I'm tryin'a eat?"

You tap your fingers on his traps, trying to build a shovel to dig yourself out of this hole. "Actually, I've been thinking about it all day," you admit. "I was just worried you might be too tired for… you know."

His fork pokes into the pancake stack. You’re overcome with a sense of urgency. The minute he ingests the honey, the timer begins.

Toji chuckles and tilts his head awkwardly, rolling his neck. "You know I would never let you go to bed without a couple of nuts, ma." He takes a big bite of the cakes. "Didn't expect that, though.”

"O-Only if you want, of course," you throw out quickly, suddenly more nervous.

Toji swallows and turns to wrap an arm around you, pulling you flush against his body as he sticks his fork back into his food. "If you're gonna be in control, ya can't backtrack. Gotta stand on business.”

You swallow, "Well, unlike you, I need your compliance because I can't just throw you around like you weigh nothing."

Toji's body shakes against you as he takes another bite of pancake. You know the effects take a bit to kick in, but you aren't sure how much time you have left now.

"Would like to see you try to throw me around, though,” he says before adding, “do ya even know how to tie a knot, lil’ girl?”

"Of course," you say, offended. "I've watched you plenty of times."

"Usually while you're already on your second orgasm and cockdrunk, but..." he shrugs, "we'll see.”

You part from him, allowing him to finish his dinner as you collect the ropes from the closet. You untangle them as you wait. You're buzzing with excitement, blood pumping through your ears and your cunt, as you can already imagine his large torso being pierced with puffy red marks from the ropes digging into his baby-soft skin.

You're just about ready to drag him away from the kitchen by his ears when Toji finally comes into the room, sucking leftover syrup off of his thumb, eyeballing you.

"Mm, did you do something different to the pancakes, puss?" he questions. "Might be a new favorite of mine."

You smile and shrug. "Nope, don't think so." 

He buys it, or if he doesn't, he doesn't press the topic further. Instead his eyes travel over the wooden chair in the center of your bedroom.

“Welp, let the games begin,” he says, holding out his arms as he releases himself to be at your mercy.

Around ten minutes later, his sits with his arms pinned behind his back. His torso is attached to the back of the chair while his ankles are bound to the legs.

“Well done,” Toji grunts, attempting to tug on the ropes and being unsuccessful in loosening the knots. “My lil’ brat does pay attention.”

You lean over him, putting your hands on his shoulders. His cock has definitely hardened by now, sitting pretty in his lap as you’d requested he take his shorts off before being tied up.

You watch as his thighs flex and his cock jerks up, tip glistening under the warm lighting in your bedroom.

“Agh, fuck,” he spits. “Show me what you got, dollface.”

You continue to stand, fingers linked together in front of you, implying you have no intention of touching him. “What do you mean?” you ask innocently.

“Brat, don’t piss me off,” he grunts, a vein in his neck throbbing as he tilts his neck, fighting harder against his restraints now.

You giggle innocently and bring your knee up to the meeting of his thighs, ghosting it over his light brown tip. “You doing okay there?”

His eyes flutter closed, beads of sweat appearing on his brow line just under his hair. “Fuck. Stop doing that shit.”

“Or what?” you taunt, knowing he’s trapped.

“Oh, I’m going to kill you,” he threatens, but he can’t help but let out a delicious grunt when you glide your knee up his wanton shaft - back down again.

“What is it you always call me?” you tap your chin, pretending to think about it. “Needy whore.”

“Fuck you,” he grits, fists balled up behind him. You see his fingers attempting to reach the bottom of the knot but to no avail. He has no way out of this and he knows it. You’re watching the aphrodisiac kick into his system in real time.

His pupils expand when he looks up at you. His cheeks are slightly pink, and his bottom lip is underneath his teeth.

“Okay, okay,” you say, rolling your eyes. You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it slowly past your stomach, then over your chest. You shake your tits in his face, and he leans forward, snapping his teeth, like a shark threatening to take a chomp out of your flesh.

“Quit playing with me, Y/N,” he says sharply. “I’mma fuck you up. Bruise your little uterus so bad.”

“Would love to see you try,” you crack, pulling the fabric off your head and shaking your hair free. You know just how bad your hair turns him on, how much he enjoys nearly ripping it from your scalp as he delivers painful backshots.

He jerks against the chair, causing you to jump a little. You turn around and sit on his lap.

Toji’s entire body stiffens. “God, why is my shit so sensitive?” The sentence comes out breathy, almost whiny. Toji never allows himself to switch, but you feel you may have unlocked the ten percent of him that likes to be submissive.

“What did you do?” he goes on. “You did something to me - fuck.”

And the moment you'd come clean, you were already bouncing deliciously on his cock, watching as he squirmed against his restraints and cussed in your ear.

"You're fuckin' dead," he keeps saying, before giving up and breaking into a pathetic little, "fu-uck. Mmh, yeah, ride me baby. Gonna fill you up."

"No you're not," you say, noting how his cock begins to twitch and using your knees to lift yourself up and slide it out of you, leaving your cunt pulsing with ache.

"What the fuck - get back here," he growls. His arms pull against the ropes, and you fear at any moment they're going to pop.

"This is payback, Toji." You look at your nails and then sit yourself back down, facing him with your cunt touching his cock but not allowing him the pleasure of being inside of it. "All those times you overstimulate me, or edge me.”

You lean forward and kiss him on the nape of his neck. He howls, jerking his cock up against you for even the slightest bit of pleasure.

You're just about to drag your teeth across the prominent vein in his neck when a terrifying shred! sound enters the air.

You sit up straight and stare down at Toji in horror, but his face has twisted into a sinister, knowing smile.

"You fucked up, you know that?" he questions, and before you can scramble off of his lap, his arms are around your body, capturing you against his chest.

The next few seconds are a blur. Before you can blink or breathe, the tip of Toji’s cock feels like it’s inside your intestines, your back against your bedroom door as he fucks you against it.

“A honey packet like I’m some booty call?” Toji gripes, drilling his hips into you so mean, that all you can do is slap your hands on his back for mercy. “‘Bout to turn your pussy inside out, demon brat.”

“Toji! Please,” you cry, trying to spread your legs on either side of his hips to make it feel like he isn’t going so deep, but his cockhead is so slick and fat that it’s threatening to crack you open.

His body being covered in oil is not working to your advantage. Your hands are sliding off of him, until you finally give up and take your hands in his hair, and he increases his speed because of it.

“I oughta chain you to the bed with a vibrator on your clit,” he threatens. “Since you wanna play with me. Fuck. So fucking creamy, ma.” His head falls to stare at your cunt as his cock drills in and out of it, white substance layering on his groin and between your folds.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry,” you whine into his ear, “o-ooh. Shit.”

“‘Sorry baby,’” Toji mocks. “Yeah. ‘M sorry too. Sorry that you ain’t gonna be able to walk for a few days. Hold on tight, brat.”

SHOOT MY STEAM / GETO.

"Baby, can you pass me my bottle?"

The sentence you've been waiting to hear for about thirty minutes now.

You're at the gym with your boyfriend. You've been resting on the bench, watching him do his sets, waiting for him to ask for his water.

Suguru knows you always mix in his electrolyte packets for him, only this time, you'd found a convenient aphrodisiac powder to put inside instead. You wanted to see just how hot and sweaty he could really get with it flowing through his veins while he trained.

Only one issue with that: you’d accidentally forgotten about putting it in there, so you’d taken a fat swig a while back and now you’re paying for it as you sit and watch him.

"C'mon, monk, back on your feet," he says, taking a deep breath after chugging some of his water. He places it next to you and then reaches his hands out to help you stand. "'M gonna lose motivation if you're not up with me."

You swallow thickly and force a smile, before taking his hands and rising back up to follow him to the weights. Your body is tingling, cunt ripe with desire.

You decide to do some lunges to distract yourself while Suguru works on the lat pulldown, and you stare with heat in your chest as his back muscles flex under the cut-off sleeves of his shirt.

You think about your nails sliding over the sweaty skin to incite dangerous growls from your boyfriend, making him fall apart as he pumps you full of dick. Your head spins.

You attempt to shake the thoughts away and continue lunging until he finishes his pulldowns. When he stands, an erection is painfully obvious in his shorts.

He walks over to you, voice low. "Well, I guess this means I'm doing good," he comments, pointing to his new friend, and then gesturing to you. "It's also probably because your legs are looking good, angel. Damn."

You giggle and walk to drop off the weights. "Are you gonna be able to keep working out with... that?" You’re mostly asking for yourself, because if you’re forced to sit here and watch him workout with a boner, you may combust.

Suguru glances at himself in the mirror, rolling his shoulder blades. "It'll go away in a second. It's just all the blood pumping through me."

You blink. Your self control is dwindling but you try to redirect your focus. "'Kay, well I'll be over here starting some squats."

Suguru nods and pulls you in for a sweaty kiss, "Alright, love you."

God, you wish he hadn’t done that. Now everywhere his body touched you feels like a thousand needles. You want to grab him the minute he attempts to pull away, but you’re frozen in place, the fuzzy memory of his sweaty lips on yours making your panties damper.

And the next twenty minutes are history. You watch as Suguru loses more and more of his focus, his painful erection never coming close to dying. He slows down in his workouts, his eyes lingering on you much longer than before. You even watch him blink harshly, attempts running futile at pushing away his feelings. Then at last, he comes to collect you.

Now, you know it's a little unsanitary to be laid out over the sauna bench, Suguru leaning over you as steam and sweat drip from his locks.

You also don't care. The lust in his eyes, the furrow in his brow from where he doesn't understand why he couldn't wait to get home to do this is making your pussy throb around him.

"Fuck me," Suguru’s eyes roll back as he brings one of your slippery legs over his chiseled hip, sides of his cock gliding against your internal ridges. “Feels too fucking good, monk.”

All you can do is whine in response, as the subtle curve in Suguru’s dick causes it to poke the squishy roof of your tunnel. Your arms are trying to hold onto him, but with the steam, the two of you are just sweaty, wet bodies gliding against each other.

His abs rub over your belly and sensitive nipples, and he takes in the way each grind makes you gasp a little harder than before.

"F-fuck, Suguru," you whimper.

"Hah - ngh," he growls in your ear. "Don't say my name like that."

"S-Suguru," you repeat, feeling his nails attempt to dig into your skin before his fingers slide over your wet hips. "Wanna feel your cum."

He shakes his head, slinging water all over your face until you’re envisioning it being his warm semen instead. "N-No, feels too good, don't wanna cum yet."

You continue pushing him. "Cum for me, please?"

"No," Suguru spits, the end coming out breathy as he tries to compose himself.

"Please fill me up," you keep going, knowing that he won't be able to even if he tries.

"Baby," Suguru whines pathetically, but his strokes have noticeably gotten sloppier, needier. "Y-You have to stop."

You shake your head defiantly, before you crash your sweaty lips onto his. You moan against his mouth, taking his bottom lip between your teeth, piercing pressure onto it. His lips part as he continues slipping in and out of you.

Your bodies roll to the side on the sauna bench and continue going at it.

“Can’t get enough,” he mumbles against your mouth. “So wet for me, angel.”

It’s not long before you’re practically shoving him off of you, pussy sore and swollen. But he keeps holding you back onto his cock, making sure you nut on him as many times as he is able to drag it out of you.

Then, after concerns about your time spent in the sauna, you wrap it up - even though Suguru still hasn’t cum himself. But that doesn’t remain the case for long.

You find yourself pressed against the wet shower wall not even five minutes later, only a curtain hiding the two of you from the rest of the people in the bathroom. Suguru keeps his hand clamped over your mouth, whispering in your ear how good girls keep quiet, while making it impossible for you to obey.

And when he finally releases his thick cum all over your asscheek, watching as it instantly washes away under the hot water, he’s sticking it back in just a few seconds later.

Your brain is mushed with ecstasy from the powder, so you hardly notice that you’ve cum on his cock twice already, still ready for more.

GUMMY THROAT / GOJO.

“Want a hit?”

Shoko coughs and turns her wrist to hold her blunt out to you. You sit beside her on the couch and shake your head, holding up the bag in your hand.

“I’m good,” you grin. Inside the bag is edible gummies, which you’ve taken two of, and can already feel your toes stretching.

Shoko nods in understanding and passes it to someone else, leaning back against the couch with her eyelids laying low.

You check your pockets for your other bag, which has libido gummy bears, not edibles. This is the bag you’d handed to Gojo, watching as he’d devoured three obliviously.

“Satoru, you know you shouldn’t have eaten that many,” you’d scolded, trying to play along.

“Relax, my tolerance is higher than yours,” he’d quipped sassily.

But now that Shoko’s party has started to slow down, people disappearing in spurts, others sitting in corners or on the floor because they’re stuck, you and Gojo are having a staring contest - and you know what it means.

His eyes are wide and his fingers are restless. He’s sitting next to Suguru, who’s naively engaged in conversation with a pretty ginger. You’re pretending to ignore Gojo’s clear body language that says he wants to leave so that he can scramble your brains.

You giggle as your head falls on Shoko’s shoulder. Your body feels like it’s lifting off of the couch as the THC begins to flood through your bloodstream. All you can do is grip onto your skirt as if it’ll ground you.

Gojo stands from where he sits and struts over to you, his blue eyes appearing to glow with madness. “Y/N, get up,” he instructs, his voice commanding and unlike him.

“No,” you huff, nuzzling further into Shoko.

“Have it your way.” He reaches down and grabs your wrist, yanking you off of the cushions, and you can distantly hear Shoko laughing as Gojo puts his hand under your thighs and lifts you into his arms.

“Hey-!” you protest as you’re now being hauled princess style, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin with just how harshly he’s holding you.

“It’s way late,” he says. “And you’re high as hell. We need to go.”

“You’re being extra,” you scold, bopping your finger on his nose before letting yourself go limp against him. “Y’sure this is about it being late?”

“No, it isn’t,” he admits. “Watching you sit there and play with your skirt is making me lose my damn mind.”

“But I was hanging out with Shoko,” you pout, and realize he is not taking you towards any exits at all. He’s walking you to the back of the house, near the laundry room. “Gojo, what are you-?”

“I need your throat,” he blurts suddenly, glaring down at you with a compulsory twinkling in his eye. “Happy now? That’s what this is about. Need it so fucking bad.”

You giggle. The air feels crisp and your mind is so free. The room spins and you still feel like you’re floating.

“Okay, but be warned that I have cotton mouth,” you hold up a finger matter-of-factly. “May be a bit dry.”

He reaches the laundry room and pushes the curtain aside. If you were more sober, you’d realize how incredibly risky he’s being, but since you aren’t, you don’t care.

He puts you down in front of the washer, and wraps his fingers around your face, squishing your cheeks and forcing your mouth to open. In the same beat, he tuahs a mean glob of spit in your mouth.

“There,” he whispers. “That should help. Now I need you on your knees.”

He uses his grip on your face to push your head down until your knees collapse and you land on them. He releases you and you look up at him expectantly.

“All this for some head?” you taunt, placing your palms on his thighs. “Not that serious.”

“Yes it is,” he whines, “might die if I can’t shove my cock between those pretty lips.”

He leans down and swipes his thumb across your mouth, flicking your bottom lip and making your eyes flutter. You’re looking at him but not quite seeing him, as the gummies in your system have you spaced out. Your limbs feel like they’re stretching. You dig your nails into Gojo’s pants and he responds with an unearthly growl.

Your face is shadowed immediately, and upon focusing your eyes, you realize there's a fat, peachy cock looming over your face.

You gasp, watching as it comes down and taps you on the nose, fleshy and dripping in precum.

“Satoru-!” is all you can manage to say, as his tip grazes your cheek.

“Open up,” he instructs, and you part your lips slowly, expecting him to shove himself inside but instead he leans forward and sends another drop of saliva down your throat. “Just making sure it’s wet enough.”

“Y- mmh,” you're cut off, because Gojo has rammed the tip of his cock between your lips.

You part your teeth and wrap your tongue on the underside instinctually, eyes fluttering closed as you take in his salty taste.

"Speak up," he grunts, “you were being so bratty a minute ago.”

"Ngh - no," you gargle around his girth, saliva filling your mouth and making it hard to breath, pouring out of the sides of your cheeks and coating his shaft.

"Look at you, can't even take all of it," he taunts, pushing his hips deeper so that the tip begins to push down your throat, making you gag, your mouth becoming wetter.

Your eyes are hardly staying open. With your brain being so mellow, all that you can see or feel or taste is Gojo’s cock as it pumps in and out of your throat, bulging through your neck.

“So gummy,” Gojo purrs, putting his hands on the edge of the washing machine behind you. “Throat fits me so perfect, baby, y’know that?”

You can’t respond but the moaning attempt you make around his cock pulls a grunt from him. You know he’s being incredibly loud and obvious, but you can hardly scold him. The most you can do is crack your palms on his thighs, leaving tiny hand-shaped prints on the smooth skin.

“Hngh - what was that for?” he scolds before murmuring, “do it again.”

You smack his legs again and keep your eyes closed. You’re salivating all over his length and it drips down your chin, which is being abused by his heavy sac in repeated claps.

“Quiet,” you moan around his cock, as he’s letting out the most pathetic, desperate moans while you drive your mouth down to the base.

“N-No,” he grumbles, lifting his shirt up, before taking it between his teeth. You’re met face to face his with his perfect abdomen, glistening in droplets of sweat. “You suck me up so good, princess.”

Your eyes roll in pleasure at the name, eyes watering, mouth no longer dry. You don’t care if he wants to wake up the neighborhood; you just want to hear the delicious, sultry noises.

But right when you feel his dick twitch against the sides of your cheeks, you force your mouth off and swallow down the pool of saliva in the back of your throat. Your lips are wet and puffy as you part them and stare up at him.

“Gah - baby, why?” he quarrels, gripping tightly on your head.

You answer by leaning back forward and kissing his tip, sticking out your tongue and flicking it over the head before backing up again.

His knees nearly buckle, his grip on your head tightens.

“P-please don’t,” he whimpers. “S-suck it.”

“Mm-mm,” you mouth defiantly, wrapping your lips over the tip and gently pressing your teeth down; should he try to shove it deeper, it would only hurt him.

“Ngh - ‘m too horny for this, baby,” he growls. “Was so close.”

“Too bad,” you shrug, voice muffled because of the way you’re swirling your tongue over his slick pink tip.

His head falls forward, white locks dangling over his face as he tries to fight through his unbearably high libido. Your high has started to wear off but you can tell it’s going to be a long night for Satoru.

“Alright princess, I-I’ll remember this,” he coos from above, trying to push his hips towards your face but ultimately hissing and stopping when your teeth clamp down on the meat. “Goddamnit baby, what’s gotten into you? P-Please jus’ le’me cum.”

“Maybe,” you hum, taking him out of your mouth and using your spit to stroke his cock. “How bad you want it?”

“S-so bad,” he begs. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” you question, running your thumb over his tip. “Hmm. You’re in charge of cooking dinner for a week. Deal?”

“Ah - fuck it, just please,” he whines, writhing under your touch, barely able to get his words out.

“Cum,” you say silkily, sticking your tongue to catch the salty, white ropes that waste absolutely no time shooting from his shaft.

He twitches under your grip until his high has ridden out, but you use his cum as lubricant to keep stroking his poor length.

“Okay, okay,” he whines. “I-I’m good now, agh.”

“You’re not good till I say so,” you gruff, until his hand comes under your chin harshly, and brings you to a forced standing position.

“I said I’m good, but if you think I’m not getting you back for that - you’re a stupid little thing, aren’t you?” He swipes his thumb over your cum-covered lips, and then licks it clean, before cracking you on the cheek. “Now, on your toes baby. And be quiet.”

A/N:

I’ve been trying to finish this for forever bro wtf is wrong with me

I’m fighting demons (writer’s block)

And also… I think I wanna write some Gojo fluff after #jjk271 because my baby deserves love and light good fucking bye.

all the love always!

~pennjammin

[nozomijoestar]

I know people hate SMT Nocturne's approach to characters but I love this shit, they feel like puddles that drag you down into an ideological sea once you start thinking on what they represent and the context of the situations the game put them in or what they say/how they act pre and during Vortex World, and their isolation from the player makes them doomed from getting any help being faced with their ugly inner selves until it's too late

[in-class-daydreams]

Imaging you and ex-husband Gojo getting into an ugly fight for one of the first times since the initial divorce.

"Does your little boyfriend know you kissed me?" he asks lowly.

Your living room was not the ideal place to get into spats like this, but you'd rather here than either school where eavesdroppers can spread your business all over the place.

"He doesn't, actually!" You turn and stalk towards the kitchen, calling over your shoulder, "He's not my boyfriend, so it doesn't matter."

Satoru and his ridiculous long legs easily keep up with you. "Is that how that works?"

You turn to face him, only to bump right into his chest. When did he get that close?

Jabbing a finger into his chest, you say, "If, by some insane lapse in judgement, I kissed you while I had a boyfriend, I'd own it and come clean. It's called 'communication,' Satoru, look it up." Again, you turn to make your way into another room, eager to be away from him, but he grabs you by the wrist.

"I hate when you do that! You say some pain in the ass thing, then you try to walk away! You do it every time," he gripes. "And what would you tell him, huh?"

"I'd tell him your fucking lips were dry!" you snap. "And that it was a mistake."

Satoru grabs you by the face with one hand, squishing your cheeks together and forcing you to look at him. With one flick of his finger, he uses his technique to force his blindfold off. You're left looking into his crystal blue eyes that make you feel like a teenager again.

"You still love me," he tells you.

"I don't."

"I can tell. You look at me the same way you always have."

"No."

"Say it!"

"Fuck off!" You turn and bite his hand hard. He yelps and recoils. His fault for always letting you through his infinity. "You want me to love you, Satoru?" you shout. "You wanna act like you've changed?"

Memories of him walking into the restaurant with another woman on his arm flash in your mind. Holding back tears, you continue, "Maybe you have. But you changed for other women instead of me, so why should I give a damn about what you want?"

Satoru always blamed himself for the divorce, as much as you tried in the past to reassure him that there were a dozen factors working against you. He's done his best to take what you've said in the end days of your marriage to heart and become a better man. Communicating with dates, being better about speaking his true thoughts, all of it was an attempt to be the type of man you wanted to be married to. For you to imply that all that was too little, too late cut him deeper than you could ever know.

And so, in a stroke of pure idiocy, Satoru reaches out, cups your face, and kisses you like he'd never get to again.

Heehoo

Click [here] to keep up with ex-husband Gojo and his estranged family | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]