#i don’t like the mouth washing fandom | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-chip-in-inosukes-nichirin · 10 months ago

Text

Ameliorate

Fandom: Kimetsu no Yaiba/Demon Slayer

Rating: Explicit- Minors DNI (18+ only)

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Sanemi/Female Reader

Tags: Female Reader, Penis in Vagina Sex, Bad Dates, Brief Mentions of SA, Oral Sex, Protective Genya, Protective Sanemi, Fucking you better, Slight Self-Esteem Issues, Mating Press, Sexual Tension, Sanemi is a lovable asshole

Wordcount: 5k

Ameliorate: To make something unsatisfactory better

After a bad date you spill the beans that you think Genya's brother is hot and he decides to fuck the memory of your shitty date out of you.

Cross-posted from my AO3 account.

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8627 45th Street SOS pls pick me up ASAP

The hastily sent text was minimal, blunt, and out of character for you. Usually, your messages were sprinkled with extraneous words, emojis, and “please” and “thank you”. You had no time for flowery language today; you needed a quick extraction.

You were hidden in the bathroom, date passed out on the bed after possibly the worst sex you’d ever experienced- for how long, you weren’t sure. Hopefully just enough for you to get out of here.

You weren’t known for making the best decisions and tended to go along with things longer than you wanted to in the name of politeness. It had landed you in many shitty situations, but this was by far the worst one. You rinsed your mouth with water in an attempt to wash the taste of the man who’d been far too rough with you from your palate, holding back the need to gag. You’d done enough of that today, and it was barely noon; a striking contrast to how you felt.

Your phone vibrated, Genya’s number lighting up the screen. You answered it with shaky fingers, keeping your voice low as you spoke.

“Hey.”

You hated how raspy it sounded. That’s what happens when an asshole doesn’t listen when you tell him to be gentle.

“You okay?” Genya’s concerned voice came through the speaker. “We’re almost there; what’s up?”

You appreciated Genya’s swift response but stiffened at his words.

“We?”

“I’m out with Nemi,” Genya told you.

Sanemi.

Genya’s big brother, and the last person you wanted to see you in this state. You couldn’t afford to be picky, though, when you were stranded at a stranger’s house after a variety of bad decisions.

“Just text me when you’re outside. Don’t honk or anything.”

“Are you safe?”

“Yeah…”

Just having a shitty day.

“We’re just around the corner,” Genya informed you.

“Okay. Be out in a sec.”

You hung up the phone and wished between your legs didn’t ache so badly, wished you weren’t half-limping from everything. There were likely bruises on your wrists and thighs, probably on your ass too if you were being honest. Under different circumstances you would’ve been proud of them, but today you only felt disgust.

You’d been so stupid.

Shuffling out of the bathroom on your tiptoes, you crept past the bedroom door that was left ajar, catching a glance at the man who’d cajoled until you caved, then didn’t listen when you said you weren’t fucking ready yet.

So stupid.

You berated yourself as you softly closed the door behind you for your walk of shame to the vaguely familiar SUV parked on the street. Genya twisted to look at you from the passenger seat as you slid in, avoiding his eyes. You knew you looked like a mess: mascara had streaked, and eyeliner was smudged, hair mussed beyond its normal windswept tousle, and it was a miracle that the majority of the damage inflicted on you was covered by your turtleneck.

“No car?”

“In the shop for repairs,” you kept your eyes glued out of the window, knowing Genya was worried but ashamed to meet his gaze. “I appreciate the ride. Didn’t mean to encroach on bro-time.”

“Not a problem,” Sanemi’s voice cut through the air as he pulled away. You shivered at his words, wetting your lips nervously. “You weren’t too far out of the way.”

“You okay?” Genya asked.

You wrinkled your nose, fighting the shame that filled your throat.

“Bad date.”

The following silence was uncomfortable, leaving you shifting against the leather seats. You knew Genya was probably fighting the urge to ask you if you wanted him to kick someone’s ass, and Sanemi… well, you didn’t know what he thought but you sure could guess what someone might think when they saw what you looked like after exiting a man’s house.

“Hungry?”

The question broke you out of your thoughts, and you caught Sanemi’s gaze in the rearview mirror. You’d eaten a couple hours ago, but after the day you’d had, you were starving. You didn’t realize how tense you were until just now, melting into the seat.

“Yeah, food sounds great.”

“Nemi and I were gonna grab something and then marathon Star Wars,” Genya told you. “You down?”

Your eyes flickered between the two brothers.

“Is that okay?”

“You’re over all the time already,” Sanemi replied nonchalantly.

It was true: you often dropped in or crashed at their place after work or on your days off to hang out with Genya. The two of you had been fast friends since you both worked the same shifts at work during high school. You’d moved on to other things, as had Genya, but your friendship had remained and grown as you did.

Sanemi worked quite a bit to provide for his younger brother and himself after an accident that left both of them orphans, and he was often gone when you and Genya hung at his place, but he’d found a better job recently that left him with more days off. With his schedule freed up a bit, he’d been around more while you crushed Genya at Mario Kart and experimented with new recipes in their spacious kitchen.

Sanemi had been little more than a passing thought before, but since seeing him more frequently, you’d developed a fascination with the scarred man with the shock of white hair. It wasn’t like the crushes you’d had on other guys- giddy, giggling things- but instead a hot coal in your stomach that left you uncomfortable and squirming when he was nearby. Sanemi was short-tempered and gruff, and had a permanent scowl on his face, but something about him made butterflies sprout in your chest.

It made you feel foolish, and you knew you’d die if Sanemi ever found out. You’d gone to great lengths to put physical and emotional distance between the two of you, a practiced civility that bordered on cold. It was the only way you could manage to keep yourself in check around him.

With the food acquired (taco bell was Genya’s favorite, much to Sanemi’s disdain), the three of you were back at the Shinaguzawa household in record time. Genya plopped on the couch, patting the seat next to him. You hesitated, the stickiness under your clothes itching uncomfortably now.

“Here,” Sanemi appeared out of thin air, thrusting a towel into your hands. “You know where the shower is.”

Your face heated as you slunk away, disappearing into the tiled bathroom. You must have looked pretty rough if Sanemi was telling you to shower.

Genya furrowed his brows disapprovingly at his brother as you vanished.

“I know you’re trying to help, but you should really work on how you talk to people.”

“Why?” Sanemi settled on the far end of the sofa.

Genya pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Because,” he groaned. “You don’t have tact.”

“I was giving her a towel; why does that need tact?” Sanemi turned the television on. “She obviously wanted a shower.”

“You’re useless,” Genya dug out his burrito. “It’s no wonder nobody will date you.”

Sanemi snatched the food from Genya with a glare, pushing him away with a socked foot when Genya complained and reached for the stolen bag.

“Biting the hand that feeds you means you’re gonna lose the food,” Sanemi told him.

“Genya!”

Your voice from down the hall had the younger brother craning his neck, Sanemi leaning back to peer down the dim hall curiously.

“I’m stealing some of your clothes,” you exited Genya’s room, holding up a handful of cloth. “And I’m borrowing your washer.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Genya nodded, watching you disappear into the bathroom.

The silence as Sanemi set up the movie was relaxed. Genya fished his food from the bag and set it far away from his brother, disposing of the trash as the sound of water reached their ears.

“So I guess you two aren’t fucking then?”

Genya choked on his burrito, slamming his fist into his chest. When he finally could breathe again, he turned his red face towards Sanemi with a glare.

“What the hell would give you that impression?”

“Look,” Sanemi plucked a cinnamon twist from its spot nestled in fast food paper. “I see you guys hanging out all the time. You’re close. I just figured-”

“We’re friends,” Genya cut him off. “She literally was on a date with someone today.”

“A shitty one,” Sanemi interjected.

Genya rubbed his eyes.

“Yeah, a shitty one. I swear she’s got the worst luck when it comes to dating. It’s like she’s an asshole magnet.”

“This happened before?”

Sanemi’s interest was piqued. He’d grown curious about the girl who showed up at the house to keep Genya company and use the kitchen at odd hours. You were incredibly sweet but had a sassy streak around people you were comfortable with. He’d heard you swear like a sailor over losing a game, but even from the next room over he could hear the grin in your tone. It did confuse him how you’d go from acting like you were in your own house while Genya was there, to suddenly stiffening and growing formally polite around him.

“Yeah, like four or five times. Usually, I’ll hear about it the next day, but she’s never called for a ride before.”

“She should’ve just told the guy no date until her car is fixed,” Sanemi took a swig of his drink. “That’d fix that problem. Can’t help with the bad taste in men, though.”

“I don’t have bad taste.”

Your voice cut the air sharply, and the brothers twisted around to see you standing behind the couch, hair damp and body swallowed by Genya’s clothes. Your embarrassed face was juxtaposed by the glare plastered across it. A few pale bruises peeked above the loose collar of the borrowed shirt.

“Then how do you explain consistently shit dates?” Sanemi countered, raising a brow.

Your face burned and you ducked your head between your shoulders.

“…bad luck?”

The white-haired man snorted into his cup. You scowled, plopping down on the couch next to Genya.

“I can’t help it men are pigs who don’t know what the word ‘no’ means,” you bit back, hackles raised at Sanemi’s reaction.

You didn’t think the air could get more uncomfortable, but here you were, starting to squirm as you did your best to avoid the piercing gazes of the Shinazugawa brothers. Genya’s whole body had leaned forward as his hands dug into the couch. Sanemi’s normal resting bitch face hardened farther and his eyes narrowed to pinpricks.

“I’ve got a crowbar in the garage-”

“Nemi!” Genya elbowed him before quickly turning back to you. “Unless… I mean unless you wanted-”

“No!” you shook your head, covering your face. This night was just getting worse the more you had to talk about everything. “I just want to forget about it. Can we watch the movie please?”

Familiar music filled the air as Star Wars began to play. You honestly didn’t care for the franchise all that much but it was a welcome distraction from your morning. You inhaled your food before snuggling down into the couch your lids grew heavy. You finally let them shut, unable to stay awake any longer as the hum of conversation and sound effects melted into the background.

Your dreams were staticky and punctuated by odd dialogue filtering in through your ears from the movies playing, but eventually you fell into a dead sleep, mind dark and empty as the exhaustion caught up to you.

When you jolted awake, the sun had gone down and the curtains were drawn, leaving the living room dark. The couch’s raised fabric pattern was imprinted on your cheek, accompanied by drool trickling from your open mouth.

Gross.

You wiped it away with the back of your hand, sitting upright. The living room was empty, food wrappers cleaned up and a fuzzy blanket laid over your body. Sanemi and Genya were nowhere to be seen. You pushed yourself up, reaching for your phone.

10:18PM.

Genya would normally still be up at this time. You picked yourself up off the couch and padded down the hall, knocking on his door.

No answer.

You opened it slowly, not wanting to get an eyeful if he was in the middle of choking his chicken or something else that would scar you for life. His room was entirely empty, bed uncharacteristically neat. Eyebrows knit together to create a crease.

“Do you always creep around like an intruder?”

Sanemi’s voice made you jump, spinning around to face him. You clutched your chest where your heart beat erratically from the scare, trying to hold back a scowl.

“Jesus Christ dude,” you spit out when you finally caught your breath. “Don’t do that.”

“What?” Sanemi crossed his arms. “Walk through my own house?”

“Surprise me,” you took a step back, gathering your wits. “In the dark.”

Sanemi reached over with one hand, flipping the light switch. The sudden harsh illumination made you squint, which did nothing to make your face look less irritable.

“Genya got called into work about two hours ago,” Sanemi answered your unspoken question. “He said you could use his bed if you wanted to.”

You peered back into the room behind you. Sanemi probably wouldn’t want to drive you home, so you supposed you could crash in Genya’s bed for the night. Wouldn’t have been the first time, and probably not the last. Genya always insisted you take his bed if you stayed the night anyway. He claimed the couch was more comfortable (a lie if you’d ever heard one).

“If it’s no trouble,” you pulled the blanket tighter. “I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”

Sanemi let out a long sigh, leaving you to side-eye him as he rolled his shoulders. When he finally quieted and brought his attention back to you, he looked both pissed and concerned.

“Is it something I did?”

You blinked owlishly, cocking your head.

“What?”

“You always do this,” he gestured to you. “You’re relaxed and chill when Genya’s here, but the moment I show up you get all… frosty. Did I say something to offend you?”

You shifted from one foot to the other, opening your mouth briefly before snapping it shut, trying to think before you said anything stupid. It didn’t work, as per usual.

“N-no, you just make me nervous-”

Sanemi’s face briefly reminded you of a kicked puppy, and you felt horrible. Of course he’d assume you were frightened of him because of his scars. You chided yourself mentally, attempting to fix your mistake.

“N-not like that!” you lifted your hands to wave them wildly, and the blanket slipped to the floor and puddled around your feet. “I just-you make me nervous because you’re hot!”

Both of you froze this time, and your face lit up bright red, ears burning as your mouth fell open and eyes bugged out at your slip of the tongue. You wished you could melt into the wooden floorboards of the hall.

Sanemi broke out of his stupor first, a slow grin spreading across his face. You would’ve run if you hadn’t been rooted to the floor in humiliation.

“Oh, is that it?” he leaned down, resting one palm flat against the doorframe near your head.

His face was close-too close to yours to be completely comfortable. You turned your head away, trying to calm your racing heart. There’s no way Sanemi was flirting with you. He was probably just being an asshole, right?

Right?

“Genya isn’t the only one who has a bed,” Sanemi’s smirk was crooked, eyes half lidded. His face swiftly softened when he noted your eyes flickering to your left and right like a frightened rabbit. He took a step back, allowing you your personal space again.

“Sorry,” he apologized, eyes gentle amidst the sharp planes of his face. “You just had a shitty date and here I am being a bad host. You’re probably tired.”

You hadn’t seen this side of Sanemi before much. You were used to his cocky glares and barking laughter. Not this gentle tone like someone coaxing a horse.

“You’re not bad,” you burst out, wanting to ease the tense atmosphere. “I just- I don’t… know how to act around you.”

Your face burned. How many embarrassing confessions would you make tonight? You were already at two and counting.

“I’m not a pig,” Sanemi echoed your words from earlier. “I know how to take a ‘no’.”

“I-it’s not a no!”

Sanemi’s gaze snapped back to you, shocked but curious. You bit your lip, clenching your fists.

“It’s… not a no. I’m just not sure-”

“If you’re not sure, then it’s the same thing,” Sanemi picked the blanket up from off the floor and looping it around your shoulders like a cape.

Your fingers snagged it without a second thought, anchoring it in place where he’d laid it. You weren’t sure where your eyes should settle, but risked peeking up at him. His eyes rested on your visage with a gentleness that rivaled the brush of his fingers as they withdrew from fabric around your body. Those lilac eyes were a little curious, a little resigned, and a little hungry.

You reached out with one hand, hooking your fingers in the hem of his shirt. He paused. You took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“I want you,” you maintained eye contact as you spoke- quite the feat when your heart was trying to escape through your throat.

Sanemi stared at you as if trying to gauge your sincerity.

“Please?” you tacked on as an afterthought, suddenly afraid that he’d laugh in your face or- worse- reject you outright for some other reason. You could thin of a million, but the one you worried most about was him thinking you were some kind of loose woman who slept around-

Hands threaded through your hair, and you felt lips on your own. You melted into the unexpected touch, anxiously moving closer until you were fully pressed against Sanemi’s body. Heat rolled off him comfortingly, and your hands twisted in his white tank top. His teeth nipped against your lower lip, forcefully requesting entrance. You granted it, running your tongue along his teeth, tasting mint and the faintest lingering bitterness of tobacco.

Cigarettes.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” you whispered as he broke away for a breath.

A brief embarrassed guilt flashed across his features before he shrugged.

“I’m working on quitting. Don’t want Genya to think it’s okay but… we all have our vices.”

You laughed, reaching up to touch his hair.

“Genya tried cigs and isn’t a fan, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

The look on Sanemi’s face was comical, and you held in a giggle. He glared behind you in the direction of Genya’s bed.

“The little fucker-”

“Hey, he’s a good kid,” you insisted, feeling more at ease speaking with Sanemi now that his hands were around your waist. It was both soothing and thrilling.

Sanemi crowded you against the wall, dropping his head until your gazes were level. His eyes bored into yours and it felt as if you were suddenly being interrogated.

“You two really aren’t fucking?”

The question took you aback a little bit, but you shook your head.

“He’s like my little brother.”

Sanemi’s grin split across his face, crooked and sharp. Your stomach fluttered as the tip of his nose brushed against yours, fanning his breath across your lips.

“Good. Because I’m taking you.”

Before you had a chance to ask what he meant, you were lifted off your feet and carried- with an undignified squeal- through the hall and into Sanemi’s room. When he dropped you on the bed, the air left your lungs in a gasp, and it took a second to get your bearings.

“If you say stop, or no, at any point,” Sanemi’s shirt was whipped off over his head as he approached the bed, “I’ll back off. If you can’t speak, tap me three times.”

Your eyes locked on his torso as you nodded dumbly, taking in the muscles and scars across his ribs and pecs, down his sides and crowning his hips. It took everything in you to tear your vision away to meet his face as he crawled over you, running his hand up your neck until he cradled your jaw.

“Now… how about I make you forget all about that shitty fucking guy from earlier?”

The kiss was soft and chaste, not what you expected after how heated things had gotten in the hallway. Sanemi’s hands reached for the edge of the t-shirt you wore- Genya’s t-shirt- and lifted it until it caught on your face, tugging a bit when your head was stuck until it popped off, leaving your hair mussed. He brushed the stray strands from your face, eyes dropping to your bare breasts.

Shit.

In the chaos of excitement, you’d forgotten about the marks left from your earlier date. Your hands immediately went to cover them in horror. Sanemi stopped you, grabbing your wrists and holding them from blocking his view. His lips pressed to each mark, scraping his teeth and sucking them until they grew darker. Each bruise was remarked afresh by his mouth until not one was left untouched.

Your head had fallen back, a trembling hum dragged from your lips at the feeling of Sanemi’s touch. He sucked a few new marks as well, higher up on your neck, making sure to lavish the juncture of your shoulder and throat with attention. Your hands dug into his hair, tugging and holding back a keen of pleasure.

“There,” he pulled back, satisfied with his work.

Your breath hitched, watching him slide his fingers under the satin basketball shorts clinging to your hips. Being fully exposed to Sanemi was frightening, your entire body going rigid, remembering the offhand snide comments you’d endured only hours ago in the same situation. Sanemi noted the way you wouldn’t meet his eye, ducking your head and pulling your legs towards yourself as if you were going to curl in on yourself.

“I can’t see your pretty face,” he lifted your chin with a finger, thumbing your lip. “I want you to look at me while I go down on you.”

Your face blazed red, and it crept down your neck until your chest flushed as well, watching Sanemi drop his face between your legs, forcing them apart while maintaining eye contact. You slowly eased yourself down until you were only propped up on your elbows.

“Ready, pretty girl?”

It was humiliating how your cunt fluttered at the words, and you nodded, transfixed by his cocky smile as he stuck his tongue out, just barely flicking the little nub that hid under its fleshy hood. The anticipation made you squirm a bit, even though the touch wasn’t enough to affect you. Sanemi hooked his arms around your thighs, anchoring you in place before burying his face against your hot core. Your back arched, a muffled moan fluttering past your lips as your nails scratched his scalp.

You could feel him grin against your cunt as his tongue dipped in and out, tracing the sides and up towards your clit. He avoided directly touching it until you were practically grinding against his face in desperation, desperate short whimpers huffed through your nose. Your lower lip was tucked under your top teeth, bitten and swollen due to your barely restrained desire.

“Please, Sanemi,” you finally gasped.

He pulled back, chin slicked with your juices.

“Please what?”

“You know what!” you whined.

Leave it to Sanemi to be an asshole while eating you out. You couldn’t really complain though- he was impressively good.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you dropped your head to the sheets so you wouldn’t have to look at him as you spoke. “Let me cum.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

You shot up, glaring at Sanemi with a fury you didn’t know was in you. That pleased smirk was plastered on his gorgeously annoying face. You moved your legs so they locked behind his head, holding him in place.

“Don’t be a fucking tease!” you shook him a little by his cornsilk hair, just firm enough to show you weren’t a fan of his antics.

Sanemi huffed a laugh against your inner thigh. His mouth was already back on you, finally going high enough to reach that sensitive button that he’d been neglecting. You sighed in relief, thighs clenching around his face. It didn’t take long after that for that coil in your stomach to build, snapping and throwing you over the edge when Sanemi’s flat tongue caressed your clit.

He kept going despite your choked cry and the way you arched up off the bed, limbs shaking and legs shaking. When you finally couldn’t take it anymore your hands pushed against his head, forcing him away. He sat up, looking over your trembling body and heaving chest. Your eyes were closed, a ringing sound in your ears from the intensity of the orgasm that was currently acting like a muscle relaxer.

A muffled groan pulled you from your pleasure-induced haze, and your eyes slit open. Sanemi’s pants were gone, pupils blown out. You didn’t realize how hard he was already, the outline of his dick inside the confines of his gray boxers surprising you as he palmed himself through the fabric. His own breathing was labored, and he swallowed, noticing your eyes opening.

“You good, princess?”

You nodded, feeling a bit sleepy, but pushed yourself up until you were sitting.

“Up for another round?”

You reached out, a bit hesitant, but tugged on the waistband of his underwear. That was all the answer he needed, and Sanemi stripped out of them, fishing around in the drawer of his nearby nightstand until he was able to produce a condom. It was opened and rolled on in a flash. He nudged your legs apart, settling between them and lining himself up at your entrance. You were incredibly slick from your earlier orgasm, and he pushed in with little resistance. The intrusion was still unexpected, and your fingernails bit into his forearm. Sanemi let out a shaky breath as he bottomed out, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Good job, sweetheart,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “Let me know when you’re ready for me to move.”

Instead of answering him verbally, you pushed up against him, grinding your cunt down onto his dick. The choked cry from his lips was like honey to your ears, and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Fuck me, Sanemi,” you breathed into his ear.

You barely finished the sentence before his hips began pounding into you, a cacophony of grunts and groans escaping his throat. He grabbed your legs and folded them back, angling deeper into your sopping cunt and hitting something inside you that made your toes curl. Each thrust punched the air from your lungs, leaving you too breathless to even moan out your satisfaction. Sanemi’s grip on your legs was leaving bruises but you didn’t care. You were enveloped in the feeling of his cock drilling into you relentlessly, his eyes half closed as the veins in his neck and arms stood out from the force he applied with each movement.

“S-Sanemi!”

The strangled cry you managed to get out among the intense movement filled the hot air of the room. Sanemi’s grip tightened on your legs and his hips stuttered against yours. His mouth had fallen open, eyes lidded with pleasure. His groans rose in pitch until they were more whines than anything, and the staccato beat of skin on skin lost all rhythm.

Sanemi came with a long moan, his mouth dropping to your neck, suckling as he ground up against you, hands loosing their hold on your legs to scramble for your hips. The tension in your stomach snapped with the last few jerks of his hips, a pleasant buzz settling in your limbs and chest a second time as your walls fluttered around his pulsing member. Your arms draped across his shoulders in an embrace as he came down from his high.

It was too warm in the room, but neither of you made a move. You hummed into his soft hair in hazy satisfaction.

“That was nice,” your hoarse voice drew Sanemi’s eyes to your half-asleep face.

He chuckled.

“Just nice?”

You tousled his hair, feigning a pout.

“What, you need your ego stroked?”

Sanemi snaked his hand down your body, flicking your still-sensitive nub with a finger. Your body jerked involuntarily, a cry escaping from your lips. You whined at him, burying your face in your hands in embarrassment.

“I made you come twice,” Sanemi said. “How many times did that piece of shit you call a date make you come?”

You mumbled your answer, and Sanemi narrowed his eyes, gently abusing your clit again. You squirmed in an attempt to get away, but he was still buried to the hilt inside of you.

“He didn’t-” you said, fingers digging into the sheets on either side of you.

“That’s what I thought,” Sanemi ground against you, and you wriggled against the intense feeling of overstimulation. “Pretty girls like you deserve to be treated well, don’t you think?”

If you hadn’t been blushing before, you definitely were now. All you could manage was a nod as Sanemi slowly pulled out of you. You whimpered at the loss, feeling empty and cold as he tied off the condom and tossed it in the trash.

“What do pretty girls like you deserve?” Sanemi lifted your chin with his fingers.

“To be… treated well?”

Sanemi had a satisfied grin plastered on his face, and he kissed you deeply before pulling back and nodding.

“So how about you find yourself someone who’ll treat you like a princess?”

His words set your heart fluttering again, and you wet your lips, staring at him expectantly.

“Okay. Have any suggestions?”

His laughter huffed through his nose at your innocent and eager expression. Sanemi kissed the tip of your nose, cradling your jaw in his hand.

“You’re looking at him.”

#sanemi smut #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba #fic writer #fanfiction #demon slayer fanfic #sanemi x reader #kny sanemi #kny genya

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the-real-couchrat · 4 months ago

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Post ending / rescue AU / recovering Curly is everything to me, so I’m making a list of other people’s posts that feature him. (The links will connect to a reblog of them in case anything ever happens to the original post)

If anyone ever see’s posts like these ones, PLEASE tag me in a reblog!! All posts are welcome, not just art!

Please note that I don’t decide what to add to this list based on shipping, opinions on the metaphors in the game, the accuracy of burn scars, the morality of Curly, or anything else that causes discourse in the fandom. I just add any posts that I come across that include Curly recovering from his injuries in any way. Prosthetics, wheelchair, wig, crutches, It just needs to have him in better shape than when he first got injured.

No NSFW

(Also this post is edited to add new ones when I find them)

Rehabilitated Curly

Party with no Jimmy

Stand around in medbay party (Idk if this counts, but he has prosthetics so I'm saying it does)

Happy abortion!

Post-ending speculation (text)

20 years later (I AM NOT WORTHY TO LOOK UPON THIS WITH MY MERE MORTAL EYES)

ANYA’S GRADUATION DAY

Post ending

Rescue/Recovery AU

My own post! (text)

Aftermath Curly

Good ending

Best way to approach captain’s disability?

A little sketch

They care

“I wouldn’t want to frighten her”

Anya doesn’t quite overdose

They’re safe

Guys rate my fanart

WWI face prosthetics

Less fucked up Curly AU

Fix-it type AU

Silly recovering time

Curly got some gifts for his b-day

Imagine Curly survived (twitter)

Curly with a service dog

I’m not a dog and you’re not a mare

Drawing the dentalcare crew (does this count?)

The quality will not be questioned

Fix-it AU

Want to make Curly some cool new mechanical hands so he can strangle Jimmy

One can dream

He’s got a wig now

Happy ending where they all survive (devianart)

It hurt my heart (twitter)

God forbid I get sick (translated?)

This might be controversial but… (text)

Let’s get you out of the house!

Cyberpunk AU

Cartoons with breakfast

Old-school surgeries (text)

Post-ending fic prompt (text)

Post-rescue AU curlyana

Post-rescue curlyana part two

Why is this goddamn white boy so hard to draw?

Captain stop infodumping the baby

Maybe never forgive

Draw Captain Curly having a prosthetic limb

Curly from Mouthwashing (good ending)

This is how I imagine Curly post OP

whats the worse fate, whatd be better for the tulpar crew

Wip

🐈

Mouthwashing AU (Reddit)

Curly if he survives (Reddit)

My own art

I’ll give him smoochies, prosthetics, and skin grafts

Art dump time✨

Hoppin on da trendin train

The crew built curly a mechanical hand

How to give Captain Curly a voice (idk if this technically counts, but it’s a disability aid so I will)

Doodle of the Tulpar crew post-rescue!

New hyperfixation just dropped

Hi Tumblr. Funny seeing you here

Another rehabilitated Curly

Who up washing they mouth rn

Don’t use the dog buttons (text)

Haunted part one and two

Prosthetics

AU were someone saves them

Mouthwashing doodles

A New Ladder-Reader x Curly (I’ll add the original art videos when I can) (also I didnt read it. if someone did read it, please let me know if it’s SFW)

I know he always have his headphones on

More rehabilitated Curly✨

You guys like this right

Anya, what’s it like working as a medic on a spaceship?

This is how we can still get the good ending

“I’m sorry Anya”

More cringe mouthwashing art be upon thee

Curly’s happy (and recovering) ending

Writing an AU of mouthwashing where the crew survives

Most people seem to be giving him prosthetics…

Doing a bit of study

Ladonb Kokosa (TikTok account, LOTS of great videos )

Giving the mouthwashing characters what they deserve (TikTok)

Zest for life

How I think the Tulpar crew would make YT videos

Edit: I am no longer seeking out these posts, and new ones will only be added if I’m tagged or such

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing AU #Captain Curly #recovered Curly #healing curly #healing curly mouthwashing #mouthwashing curly #curly mouthwashing #recovering curly #recovering curly mouthwashing

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lasanya539 · 6 months ago

Text

tuck your head under the covers

(written for @tmnt-write-fight for @remedyturtles)

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Prompt: Insomniac Leo - visiting various brothers when unable to sleep, or managing to fall asleep and his brothers doing anything to PRESERVE that sleep Word Count: 4635

Posted on AO3!

---

The first time it happens, Mikey doesn’t make a big deal out of it.

It’s four in the morning on a Monday, and he’s thirsty, so he gets up from his train car and walks to the kitchen. Only to find Leo sitting at the table, with a lollipop in his mouth and a Jupiter Jim comic in his hands, legs rested on the surface, humming a tune under his breath.

“Leo?” Mikey mumbles drowsily, rubbing at his eyes. “Bro, what are you doing?”

Leo startles in surprise, and sits up, shooting him a guilty look. “Mikes!” He exclaims, voice pitched low. “Shit, I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, no.” He flaps his hand, grabbing a glass. “I was thirsty, wanted water. Why are you awake right now?”

“Eh, you know, same old, same old. Couldn’t sleep.”

Mikey hums, taking a languid sip. His tired eyes catch a giant mug on the table, black as tar coffee peeking from the bottom, a pack of pink Starbursts with wrappers, and what looks like the crumbled remains of the pecan pie April’s mom had lovingly gifted them. If he was a little more awake, he’d be a lot more pissed about that, but for now he just sighs and stretches.

“Did you at least try to sleep?” He asks, knowing the answer.

“Yeah, of course.” Leo replies easily enough, turning away to flip another page. “But that’s the problem with insomnia, my friend, it kinda makes the ‘fall asleep’ thing not happen.”

Hm, not good enough. Mikey waddles over closer, physically pushing his brother’s head up so he can study him. Leo’s eyes are just barely bloodshot, cheeks hollower than he’d like to see on him.

“Can I help you?” He asks, bemused.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Somewhere in the evening, I got a cat nap in. Don’t worry, Mikey, you’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep.” He retorts around a yawn. He plops down in a chair next to him, picking up an uneaten Starburst and chomping on it. Leo tsks at that, but he ignores him, folding his arms and resting his head comfortably.

“You just brushed your teeth and are supposed to be asleep, why are you still here?”

“Moral support.”

“Moral support from what? I – okay,” Leo stands up, all big brother voice. “C’mon, up.”

Mikey whines, not having enough energy to fight as Leo physically picks him up and throws him over the shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Grk–?” He chokes out in surprise, when the hell did he get so strong?

“Nope, don’t wanna hear it. This is what happens when you don’t listen to me.”

Leo plants him on the bathroom floor, and pointedly stares at him as Mikey brushes, having to actually count each stroke on the rows of teeth under the scrutiny instead of a quick wash. As soon as he rinses his mouth, Leo picks him up again.

“You realize I have feet.” He said, flopping his limbs in defeat and letting himself be carried lifelessly.

“You think I don’t know you were planning on dragging more ass by suggesting a movie night or something? I’ve taught you all my tricks, I know how your brain works.”

Mikey tries to keep in his smile at how well his brother can read him, and gasps dramatically. “Language! I’ll tell on you to Raphie.”

“If you make it to morning asleep like a good turtle, I’ll tell Raphie, how about that?”

Mikey gets tossed on his bed, the springs creaking under his weight. His favorite quilt is thrown over him, and his stuffed crocodile is tucked in between his shoulder and neck, just how he likes it. The warmth immediately makes him even drowsier, but he blinks up at Leo and invitingly opens his arms.

“Sleep?” He suggests, making the motion of scooting over to make room for him.

A few seconds, but Leo eventually sighs, far too susceptible to the prospect of little brother cuddles. He sticks his freezing feet into the tangle of limbs, making him hiss, but settles in comfortably on his pillow. Arms wind around him and squeeze affectionately.

“Better?” Mikey asks.

Leo hums on top of his head. “Yep, thanks Angelo. You can pass out now.”

It doesn’t take very long for him to do so. Unfortunately for him, when he does wake up to his 9 A.M. alarm, the side of the bed is cold and the corner of the pillow undented. Outside, he sees Leo casually do the crossword puzzle with Dad with a newly filled mug of coffee in his hand, looking like sleep never graced him at all. Mikey sighs, but sets to making breakfast.

–

The second time it happens, Donnie is pulled out of his whirlwind of thoughts by a single hand on his shoulder.

Naturally, he jumps, not having expected that contact when he’s working in his lab alone, smack-dab in the middle of the night. He’s too scientific and logic-driven to ever assume the existence of ghosts (which are different from spirits, thank you very much Michael), but the sudden touch makes him doubt that fact for a second.

Leo backs up with his hands up apologetically, and Donnie realizes with some amount of mortification he actually hissed at him. The mortification lasts for all of two seconds before he scowls at his twin with all the irritation in the world as he turns off his loud music.

“What the hell do you want?” He groans at Leo, rubbing his sore eyes.

“Just checking in.” Leo says, sounding normal enough, though Donnie picks up a strange note in his voice. He peeks at him between his fingers and catches his eyes look up from his torso just in time.

Looking down, he sees his other hand gripped into a fist, sharp claws extended, held right to the middle of his chest. Shit, he was scratching at his plastron again, the dull ache finally registering in his brain.

It’s a nasty habit he’s had since he was very young, all the complicated feelings of the big, bad world too much for him to handle. His family has been trying for years to help him work through his emotions instead of immediately resorting to this, but apparently all the effort goes to shit the second it gets to debugging, the devil’s favorite method of torture. Donnie turns away, embarrassed but not willing to admit it.

Leo thankfully doesn’t make a big deal out of it, and flops onto the back of his chair, resting his head at the top. “What are you working on?”

“Setting up face identification in the scanners in the Hidden City.” Donnie replies tiredly. “The mystic orbs they use as cameras are advanced enough to pick up magical signatures, but somehow not enough to track facial features of their various species of mutants and Yōkai. So, I’m doing it for them.”

Leo snorts. “Wow, how altruistic of you.” He leans in further, presumably to try to read the strange symbols that make up their programming language, before Donnie swats at his face.

“Stop, you’re ruining my concentration.”

“Shut up.” He swats back. Annoying

Donnie’s eyes flick over to the corner of the monitor, looking at the time. Wonderful, it’s another night of no sleep for his insomniac twin brother.

He sighs. “I’m assuming getting bored to death from Papa’s speech on the various opera singers of the 20th century somehow didn’t lure you to sleep?”

“What, are you telling me you don’t care about the 1950s Maria Callas and Renata Tebaldi drama about their different vocal techniques? It’s the hottest tea from that side of the century, Don-Don, I’m disappointed in you.” He dodges the swat from him this time.

Donnie turns up to look at him, noticing his brother’s heavy eyelids blinking over his sharp eyes, far too awake for someone who hasn’t slept in Gaga knows how long. He’s wearing his soft blue hoodie, the big one that he makes sure is always washed with the rose scent beads for the comforting smell.

“Is there anything specific that is keeping you up?” He asks, worried.

“Nah, not really. Unless you count my dumb brain as a whole, nope.”

“Don’t call yourself dumb.” Donnie says, practiced. He stands up and stretches, hearing some impressive cracks from his neck that Leo whistles at.

“Is there anything I can say that will make you try to sleep again?”

“Probably not, if I’m being honest.”

“Okay, then.” He doesn’t argue. If there’s one thing he knows about his twin is that badgering him about his sleep intake, no matter how worrying, is the best way to get completely shut out by him. And as annoying as he finds Leo on a day-to-day basis, he’s rather fond of the time he gets to spend with him in the middle of the night when it's just the two of them, the disaster twins. “Do you wanna play some Mario Kart instead?”

Leo brightens up. “Snacks?”

“Of course we’ll have snacks. I may be crazy, but I’m not a heathen.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, you’re a civilized demon-possessed genius, right?”

“Exactly right, my dear brother.”

The twins grab enough popcorn and candy from the pantry to send a tiny child into a coma, but as soon as Leo’s hand moves to the coffee machine, Donnie whacks it with a box of Nerds. “Dude, ow?”

“No more caffeine.” He says sternly.

“Oho, that is rich coming from you—”

“Yeah, well, deal with it. Otherwise I’m switching the kitchen permanently to decaf and making myself a secret password protected machine with the good coffee, the extra dark-roasted one.” That shuts Leo up fast.

They play and bicker loudly in the soundproof lab, up until the wee hours of the morning. Eventually, Donnie falls asleep with the controller in his hand, only to wake up in the afternoon and find himself resting on the cot with his favorite blanket, battle shell and mask off. His sleepless twin nowhere to be found.

–

The third time it happens, Raph is having a nightmare about the Krang.

It’s par for the course, really. In the morning, he happens to overhear one of Mikey’s favorite YouTubers talk about their grief over their late friend who was lost to the bubblegum aliens, so he spends the most of the day in a haze, keeping to himself in the dojo, training, and eating his dinner alone while reading news articles about the reconstruction in New York to repair the damage from their fight.

One trigger after another. So it’s no surprise that his dreams are filled with sick pink flesh and yellow eyes, tentacles worming over his body, digging into his brain, sadistic voices of the hive mind overpowering his screams, the feel of a lithe figure in his clutch, nails scratching onto his hand as he tightens his grip on his victim, his brother—

The part that’s surprising, however, is the other presence in his room, comforting, safe. Soft words spoken over his whimpers, warm hands smoothing over his shell as he regains consciousness. “Deep breaths, big bro, you’re okay, you’re safe, I promise you. Try to breathe, please.”

He breathes, turning away from the damp pillow, lifting his head up by his elbows to blink the sleep away. Blood pools back into his body, bones creaking in protest. All four limbs, whole, green, normal.

Raph takes in one deep breath, and lets it out with meditative precision. His vision finally clears. Leo is sitting on the corner of his bed, hands anxiously rubbing together but giving him space to get up on his own. Worried eyes ticking over his face before latching onto his, relieved.

“Hiya, Raphie.” He says with remarkable poise. “Okay?”

Raph slowly scoots up to sit properly, picking up one of his stuffed bears and hugging him. Embarrassment keeps him from meeting Leo’s eyes, burying his face in the soft fake fur. “Mhm.”

A hand gently strokes his leg, a comforting, involuntary motion. “Long day?”

“...You could say that.” He agrees. He clears his throat. “What time is it?”

“Just after 2.” Leo squeezes his knee. “Do you want me to wake Dad?”

Raph scoffs. “What is Dad going to do in the middle of the night? Let him sleep.”

“Okay, how about the other guys? We could turtle pile.”

He shakes his head before Leo finishes. “No, no, it’s not important, Leo. Let them all sleep.”

“It is important.” He replies sharply, and Raph blinks up at him. Leo’s sporting his own version of a Raph Chasm, eye-ridges pulled together in a gut-wrenching frown, lips turned down. “You are important.”

A lump rises in his throat, but he swallows it down. He’s had enough of Leo stubbornly insisting that he stop dismissing his own emotions over the years, so he says nothing, instead lifting up an arm. Leo immediately snuggles in next to him, shell fitting perfectly under his arm.

The tension falls off his frame as his little brother wiggles to get comfortable. Raph sighs, the dregs of his nightmare-fueled dread seeping away with Leo right next to him, the scent of roses in his nose.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He offers.

“Pizza Supreme, no.” Raph snorts, making Leo huff.

“Okay.” He agrees easily. Then, “Oh, I almost forgot!”

From the pocket of his hoodie he pulls out his phone, tapping at it for a couple of seconds before holding out the camera. “Snap streak.”

Raph snorts again but obliges his younger brother, putting on some version of a smile as he takes the picture, adding a bunch of unicorn emojis in the corner before showing it to him for approval.

He takes the phone, but immediately frowns, zooming in to study Leo’s face. Even though he’s grinning, the exhaustion is practically radiating off him. The red stripes under his eyes are marred with purple bags, eyes squinting with the effort of staying up. He looks like he’s about to pass out almost any second.

Raph sends off the streak, and starts arranging the pillows and stuffed animals around him to make space for two sleeping turtles. He pulls his blanket over Leo’s head, which he, of course, shoves back. “What are you doing?”

“Tucking you in.” He informs him, dragging him down. “We’re going to sleep for a very long time.”

“Sure, Raphie, whatever you say.” Leo says too easily, and he immediately calls bullshit.

“No, we’re really going to sleep. No more pretending.” He glares at him with one eye open. “Promise?”

Leo hesitates, but then forcibly relaxes himself, nuzzling closer. “I’ll try, promise.”

As good as he’s going to get, Raph thinks. He squeezes his brother tight enough for him to wheeze and laugh, wishing him goodnight and eventually falling asleep, nightmares far away. When he wakes up, Leo is on the floor next to the bed, face illuminated by the glow of his phone screen, playing a game of chess. The eye bags seem heavier than ever.

–

The fourth time it happens, April is trying to catch up on physics homework.

It’s actually ridiculous how she, a journalism major, has to study physics at all, even as a gen-ed. She’s a sophomore now, for god’s sake, she’s supposed to be interning at CNN and MSNBC, or at least spearheading some kind of journaling initiative with a bunch of her classmates. But no, Eastlaird is forcing her to calculate angular momentum and torque for a homework that is apparently not due on Monday, but in the morning on Friday, which is tomorrow. Or more accurately, today, she thinks, warily eyeing the clock on the table that reads 3:35 A.M.

She has maybe one more problem left before she can finally get some sleep, and hopefully get to stay over at the lair for the weekend. She hasn’t seen her boys and her Pops in over a month, and the joy of destroying Donnie in the Just Dance competition of their lives is the only motivation getting her through this.

April sighs and stretches, cracking her back, before she hears a notification from her phone. Picking it up she sees, ‘nardo💙 sent an Instagram reel.’

She sits up in surprise. Why the hell is this idiot awake? And why is he sending her Instagram reels of all things?

‘awake???’ she texts back, worried. ‘why??’

Seen immediately, typing. ‘YOU awake why??’

‘homework’

‘yuck get away from me’

April picks at her bottom lip, watching the clock on her desk tick. If Leo’s awake at four in the morning, he hasn’t slept all night. She considers texting one of her other brothers to force him to sleep, but hopefully they would all be in bed by now, Donnie included.

‘how much coffee did you have in the evening’

‘...’

‘Leo.’

‘okok four cups’

‘nardo you gotta be kidding me’. April rubs at her face, sighing. Leo knows better than to lie to his big sister, so he’s definitely telling her the truth, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Four whole cups of coffee?

‘did you try melatonin? helps me sleep a lot better nowadays’

‘apes do u even know me, obv melatonin doesn’t work on us’

‘damn’

‘ur taking it tho?? don’t take too much, not good for u’

‘yeah dum-dum, no sleep is not good for YOU have you thought about that?’

No response. Two minutes later, a funny reel.

She huffs frustratedly, thinking, before finally deciding to call him on FaceTime, setting the phone against a textbook.

The face that greets her is so fucking worrying that April gapes, not responding to Leo’s raspy greeting. His eyes are completely bloodshot, face gaunt, red stripes practically completely purple now.

“You look like shit.” She says, uncharacteristically blunt. Maybe the lack of sleep and physics is getting to her. How the hell does Donnie do this all the time?

Leo scowls, putting the phone down so all she sees is the dark ceiling of the kitchen. “If you just called me to insult me, I’m hanging up.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She raises a hand in surrender, pulling her notebook closer and picking up her pencil. “Science is turning my brain to soup, I lost my speaking filter. You’re still very pretty.”

A second, and Leo’s face comes back into view. “Promise?”

“Pinky promise.” She nods, smiling as Leo grins, as brightly as he can with fatigue coming off him in waves. “What are you up to?”

“This guy on YouTube is reviewing the older JJ movies, it’s a four hour long video. And I have Sour Patch Kids, so I’m happy.”

April bites back the hundreds of worried comments she comes up with, deciding to think a little more tactically. She doesn’t want to piss him off again, so telling him to sleep or pointing out his eye-bags is off the table.

“You wanna hear about my homework? It’s so difficult and horrible, I hate it.”

“I respect your degree, I do, Apes, but how hard can journalism homework even be?”

“It’s physics, man, that’s the thing. I’m going to jump out of my window.” She groans, equations swimming behind her eyelids. “I’m like ninety percent sure if I tried explaining this to you I could bore you to sleep.”

Leo chuckles, but there’s something tired and morose in it. “I wouldn’t take that bet.”

She blinks at the bitter tone of his voice, but doesn’t call him out on it. There’s a lost look in his eyes as he stares off to the side, chewing slowly on his candy. Her big sister instinct rears its head immediately at that.

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” April assures him, deciding fuck it, opening up Chegg to find the answer to this last question so she can finish this as fast as possible. “I’ll be done in fifteen minutes. Why don’t you tell me what this random guy has to say about Pluto Vacation IV, and I’ll tell you how valid that is.”

By the time the sun rises, and Leo hangs up to go help Mikey make breakfast, April has turned in not only physics, but has finished all of the rest of her homework. She starts to pack, a plan ready in her mind.

–

They don’t let it happen a fifth time.

Leo sighs, letting his head fall onto his bed, hiding his eyes from the fairy lights in his room. Normally, they look so pretty and aesthetic, but ever since this new bout of insomnia hit him, a lot of things have been bothering him more than usual. And he’s currently too exhausted to get up and turn it off on his own.

He groans, reaching for his phone, because what else is he going to do? His brain is too tired for anything other than mindless scrolling, and if Raph asks him to train today he might just burst into tears. The time reads 12 P.M., a very productive time of day for the majority of planet Earth. The minority includes him apparently, as he pulls up one of his old blankets over his head, and settles in for an afternoon of TikTok.

The door to his train car opens quietly. Leo blinks, emerging from his nest to look up.

Mikey stands at the doorway, sunshine smile on display. He sees his eyes scan his face, and the sunshine dims a bit, but he still says excitedly, “Hi, Lee! April just got back, we’re doing a sleepover!”

“Oh – oh yay!” His delayed response throws his act off a little. Don’t get him wrong, he is so happy his sister is back, it’s just he’d really rather not do a sleepover tonight where he has to spend another eight hours pretending to be asleep next to his peacefully resting siblings. “That’s great, I’ll be right there.”

Mikey nods but doesn’t leave, so Leo has to go through the excruciating process of forcing himself up and out of the room with a performative smile painted on his face. Mikey hooks his elbow with his, walking in step with him to the living room.

He finds Raph and April talking, a bag carelessly dropped next to her feet. She catches sight of him and grins immediately, raising her arms. Leo can see the conscious effort it takes for her to not linger on his eye bags, he’s been needing a lot of that too lately.

“Hi, Apes.” He mumbles into her shoulder as she tightly squeezes him.

“Hi, Leo.” She replies warmly. “Missed you so much.”

A large hand rests on his shell, and he looks up to see Raph smile down at him. “Wanna join in on the hug fest, Raphie?”

“Ha, don’t worry, there’s gonna be plenty to go around in the sleepover soon.” He chuckles.

“Soon?” Leo asks, and Raph points a thumb to the entrance. Leo turns around to see Donnie and Mikey walk in with a bunch of blankets and pillows in their arms. One of the spider limbs in Donnie’s battle shell is holding Raph’s largest teddy bear, the other holding his blue hoodie he couldn’t find in the morning.

“We’re doing a sleepover now? It’s literally noon.”

“We’ve hit critical condition.” Donnie informs him primly, dropping the blankets in the middle of the floor. “You’ve been awake for too long.”

His mood sours immediately. He knows, okay? He’s aware that not sleeping for days at a time isn’t healthy, and he knows he looks like shit, but people don’t have to keep commenting on it.

“Don’t pout.” Mikey wheedles into his side, giving him another squeeze. “We’re gonna help, I promise.”

“Right.” Leo says, disbelief clear in his voice, before something rose-scented smacks him in the face. “Hey!”

“You’re welcome.” Donnie responds, starting to move the furniture to make enough room for the blanket fort. “Your favorite hoodie, freshly washed with softener and your scent beads.”

Leo pulls it over his head, the familiar comforting smell easing some of his tension, the soft texture making him feel like he’s being swallowed whole. “Thanks.” He says quietly, hoping they can’t hear the croak in his voice.

Donnie pauses in his ministrations for a millisecond before getting back to work with more gusto, him and Mikey setting up an impressive fort that could withstand five siblings. While Leo watches them, Raph taps him on his shoulder, and he’s offered a cup of freshly made chamomile and lavender tea, steam curling on top. The thoughtfulness almost makes him cry as he gives him a wobbly smile in return, taking a sip. It’s the perfect temperature, splash of milk and sweetened with honey, just how he likes it.

He feels April at his back, gently untying the knot of his mask, carefully folding it and walking to his room to put it away. She comes back with his fuzzy Christmas socks.

“You guys.” Leo tries, feeling emotionally wrung out and sore. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Shut up.” Three turtles reply in unison, breaking out into chuckles. Raph guides him to the center of the fort, making him sit down and rest on the biggest pillow. He finishes his tea as Mikey puts the teddy bear under his other arm and April puts the socks on him, brain too fuzzy to protest.

He jolts out of his fog when he feels something pressing down on him. He looks up to see Donnie tuck him in under his purple weighted blanket, the one he uses on his bad days. He’s awash with the clean scent of roses, as tears fill up in Leo’s eyes unbidden. He tries to blink them back. “Don…”

“Hush.” Donnie replies, quietly, and Leo sees the lights in the room have been dimmed, his other siblings wearing their pajamas and getting ready to pile. “Stop using your brain. It’s sleeping time now.”

“Wow, I never thought there’d be a day when Hamato Donatello would actually tell me to ‘stop using my brain’.” He croaks out.

Leo prepares for the obligatory joke about him not having a brain in the first place, but Donnie just gives him an amused look in return, speaking softly but matter-of-factly, “Your brain is hurting my twin. So stop using it.”

A ball of emotion lodges in his throat that keeps him from speaking out loud, so he just nods. He gets a head pat for his troubles that he’s too emotional to block away.

Eventually, Donnie lies down next to him, their arms pressed together. Mikey nestles into a ball on his other side, snuggling close. Raph settles behind their heads, turning to his side and curling around them all protectively. April throws her feet over their legs, playfully kicking him in the shin.

Leo chokes on a laugh, tears soundlessly rolling onto the pillow. This has been one of the longest weeks of his life, hours in the middle of the night spent staring mindlessly at the ceiling, into the middle distance, into the New York skyline. The darkness seeping into his body, harsh, cold. A high pitched hum in his ears, heaviness in his eyes.

Right now though, he feels warm and loved and exhausted beyond belief. But not alone. Never alone.

“Thanks, guys.” He finally whispers.

Donnie gently bonks his head with his own, affection clear in the action. Mikey presses a loud kiss onto his bicep. “You’re welcome, big bro.”

Raph strokes his head. “Sleep, Leo.”

“We love you, Nardo.” April says, nudging his foot. “We got you.”

Leo smiles. He trusts them, they got him. He closes his eyes and pulls on his night mask. The demons of the night don’t stand a chance against the warm glow of his family. He finally falls asleep.

#tmntwritefight #tmnt write fight #rottmnt #rottmnt fic #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #rottmnt april

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silverstar70 · 3 months ago

Text

Fandom: Criminal minds Character: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Author's note: English isn't my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

Summary: Hotch invites Y/N to dinner with him and Jack, making a step forward in their relationship.

Warnings: family time, fluff moment, domestic fluff, loss of a parent, comfort.

Word count: 5,176k Hope you like it and let me know what you think! Enjoy it!

Dinner for three

Y/N stood at the threshold of Hotch's office, a smile playing on her lips as she leaned against the doorframe. The soft glow of the desk lamp illuminated the usually stoic figure, now bent over a stack of reports, his brow furrowed in concentration. She could see the weariness etched on his face, the dark circles under his eyes telling tales of late nights and endless cases.

“Wasn’t Morgan supposed to wrap up tonight?” she teased, stepping into the room, her voice light and playful.

Hotch looked up, his expression softening as he met her gaze. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, a rare smile breaking through the tension. “He was,” he replied. “But I get lost in the paperwork.”

She stepped further into the room, her heart fluttering at the sight of him. “What’s so important that you can’t take a night off?”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he regarded her. “Just the usual…cases to review, reports to finalize. You know how it is.” He paused, eyes softening. “But I’d rather be spending my evening with you.”

A warmth spread through Y/N at his admission. “You could’ve called me. I would’ve helped you.” She walked closer, around his desk to sit on the edge of it.

“Honey, I think we both know you’d be more of a distraction than a help,” he said with a grin, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone as he reached for her hand.

“You can’t keep this up, Aaron.” She said softly as her thumb brushed over his chuckles. “You need a break.”

Hotch’s gaze lingered on her, and he took a moment to admire her, the way her hair fell softly around her shoulders, and the determination in her eyes as he weighed her words. “I know. In fact, I was hoping you might join me and Jack for dinner,” he said, a hint of apprehension lacing his tone.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, a rush of nervousness flooding her. “Are you sure about this?”

Hotch nodded, firmly. “I am, honey.” he stood up from his chair, moving in front of her letting their body touch. “I think it’s time. Jack deserves to know you’re in my life. I want him to understand that you’re not just my best friend; you mean so much more to me.”

Y/N felt a wave of warmth wash over her at his words. “I want that too,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “But what if he…”

Hotch shook his head, interrupting her thoughts. “He’s going to love having you around more. Trust me. You’ve always been important to us.”

She smiled, a blend of affection and nervousness filling her heart. “Okay, then. Dinner it is,” she said, standing up from the desk.

They came face to face, and the tension between them filled the office as their bodies were eager for more contact. Hotch hesitated for a brief moment, his eyes searching hers, and then as if drawn together by an invisible thread, he leaned down and kissed her softly.

The kiss was gentle, yet filled with an undeniable passion, a warmth that spread between them like the spark of a flame. Y/N melted into him, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss. Hotch responded, his hands finding her waist, holding her tightly as if he were afraid she might disappear.

When they pulled away, Y/N rested her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in the quiet room. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You deserve all the happiness in the world, Y/N,” he murmured, his eyes searching hers for affirmation.

Unable to resist, she tilted her head slightly and pressed her lips against his once more, feeling the warmth and safety of his embrace envelop her. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle exploration, but it deepened as their lips moved in perfect harmony. She melted against him, her hands tangling in his hair, grounding herself in the moment.

When they pulled apart for the second time, both breathless and slightly dazed, Y/N couldn’t help but smile. “You know, if we keep this up, we might never leave this office,” she teased, her heart racing from the intensity of their connection.

“Then it’s better if we leave,” he said, the warmth in his eyes matching the tenderness in his voice. He took her hand, intertwining their fingers as they walked out of the office together.

As they walked down the dimly lit hallways of the BAU, hand in hand, Y/N could feel the mix of anticipation and anxiety fluttering in her stomach. The weight of what they were about to do hung in the air, but the warmth of Hotch’s hand in hers provided some comfort.

As they drove through the quiet streets, the late evening air filled with the soft hum of the car engine, Y/N turned to Aaron, her excitement mixed with a hint of apprehension. “We don’t have to tell him tonight, though,” she suggested, glancing sideways at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

Hotch’s eyes remained focused on the road, but she could feel the weight of his thoughts in the air. “Don’t you want to? I mean we don’t have to if you are not ready, but...”

“No!” she said louder than she intended to, alarming Hotch. “That’s not what I meant. I am ready, Hotch. It’s just that I don’t wanna impose myself. I don’t want Jack to think that I’m replacing his mother or that you don’t love Haley anymore.”

Hotch sighed, understanding her concerns, and reached over to squeeze her hand, grounding her with his warmth. “Jack’s old enough to understand, and I want him to know you’re a part of our lives.”

Y/N bit her lip, her heart fluttering at his conviction. “You really think he’ll be okay with it?” she asked, her tone laced with uncertainty.

“I know he will. He’s been asking about you a lot lately,” he smiled in her direction for a second, before turning his attention to the road again. “Besides, he loves you. I want him to feel comfortable with our relationship.”

She nodded, her heart swelling with affection for both him and his son. As they arrived at his apartment, Jack’s laughter echoed from inside, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile. The little boy always had a way of lighting up any room.

Once inside, Y/N was met with the comforting warmth of his house. Jessica was in the living room chatting animatedly with Jack, who was bouncing in place, filled with energy.

“Hey, look who it is!” Jessica called, a wide smile breaking across her face as she turned to greet them. “Jack has been waiting for you.”

He looked up as they entered, his eyes lit up. “Daddy!” he exclaimed, rushing over to them.

“Hey, buddy!” Hotch greeted him, enveloping Jack in a warm embrace. “What have you been up to?”

“Building a castle!” Jack declared proudly, pointing to the colorful structure rising on the floor. “Look, it’s huge!”

“Wow, that’s amazing! You’re quite the architect,” Hotch replied, ruffling Jack’s hair affectionately.

As Jack turned his attention to Y/N, his smile widened even further, his small face lighting up with joy. “Y/N!” He threw his little arms around her waist, hugging her tightly as he looked up with wide, bright eyes. His infectious grin warmed her heart, and she felt an immediate surge of affection.

“Hey, you!” she replied, her tone playful.

Before she knew it, Jack was eagerly tugging at her hand, his enthusiasm pulling her further into the room. “Come on, I have to show you my castle!” he said, practically dragging her over to the corner where the sprawling fortress of blocks and action figures awaited.

As they settled on the floor, Jack’s excitement was palpable. “This is the gate, and that’s the tower where the hero lives,” he explained, pointing to each carefully placed piece, his little hands moving animatedly as he described the intricate layout of his castle.

“Wow, that’s amazing, Jack!” Y/N marveled, leaning closer to inspect the impressive structure.

As they continued to play, the room filled with laughter, their voices blending in a melody of joy and warmth. Y/N found herself immersed in the world Jack had built, letting her imagination run wild as she joined in on his grand adventure.

While they were engrossed in their game, she glanced over her shoulder to see Hotch standing in the kitchen, talking with Jessica. His gaze occasionally drifted over to her and Jack, a soft, almost wistful smile playing on his lips as he watched them. She knew he was happy to see them together like this, sharing a moment of innocence and joy.

Soon, Jessica excused herself, making her way to the door to leave. Hotch walked over to join them, his hand resting on Y/N’s shoulder as he spoke. “Say bye to Aunt Jessica, Jack.”

Jack looked up, waving energetically as he called out, “Bye, Aunt Jessica!”

Jessica chuckled, giving Jack a quick hug before turning to Y/N. “Take good care of them,” she whispered with a wink, her voice just loud enough for Y/N to hear, though her eyes sparkled with a knowing warmth.

Y/N felt her cheeks warm as she gave a small nod, a silent promise that she would. With a final smile, Jessica closed the door behind her, leaving the three of them alone in the cozy, welcoming space of the living room.

Jack turned to his father, a hopeful look on his face. “Dad, can Y/N sleep over tonight?” he asked, his tone earnest, clearly pleased with the idea. He shifted his gaze back to Y/N, his eyes wide with excitement. “We can watch movies and make popcorn!”

Y/N glanced at Hotch, her heart beating faster as she waited for his response. She saw the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, a look of affection mixed with amusement. Hotch crouched down to Jack’s level, his hand resting gently on his son’s shoulder.

“You really want Y/N to stay?” he asked, though his eyes were already soft with the answer.

Jack nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! And she can tell me a story before bed.”

Hotch’s gaze shifted to her, his eyes meeting hers with a warm, unspoken question. She felt a rush of happiness as she returned his look, sensing the trust and comfort he was offering. “What do you say, Y/N? Up for a sleepover?”

She laughed, unable to hide her delight as she ruffled Jack’s hair. “How could I say no to my favorite people?”

Jack cheered, his smile stretching from ear to ear. “Yes! I’ll get the blankets for the couch!” He darted off towards the hallway, his little feet pattering excitedly down the floor.

Hotch stood and moved closer to her, his voice lowering to a soft murmur. “Thank you for this,” he said, his hand brushing gently over hers. “For being here. It means the world to him… and to me.”

Y/N felt a wave of warmth wash over her, grounding her in this tender moment. She looked up at him, a gentle smile on her lips as she squeezed his hand. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Without another word, Hotch leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a gentle, lingering kiss. The softness of his touch, the warmth of his embrace, all felt like a quiet promise, one she felt deep in her heart. She sighed, leaning into him, savoring the closeness they shared, knowing that this was where she belonged.

Just then, Jack came running back into the room, arms full of blankets and pillows. “Look, I got everything! We’re ready!”

Hotch pulled away with a chuckle, turning his attention to his son. “Looks like we’re all set. But first let’s wash our hands and make some dinner, okay?”

Jack’s excitement was palpable as he scampered off to the kitchen, and Y/N felt Hotch’s hand rest on her shoulder as he leaned down to whisper, “He loves having you around.”

She smiled, looking up at him. “And I love being around.”

They exchanged another tender look before heading together to the kitchen. Jack’s excitement was already palpable. He practically skipped to the counter and hopped onto the stool, determined to be the main helper.

“What do you want for dinner, Jack?” Aaron asked, leaning over with a smile as he passed to Jack a small cutting board and a plastic knife.

Jack beamed up at her, his eyes shining with the thrill of being the decision-maker. “Pasta!” he announced with absolute certainty, bouncing on his toes. “With tomato sauce!”

“How can I help?” she offered, her voice warm and genuine.

Aaron turned to her with an almost conspiratorial look. “You can sit in that chair,” he said, nodding toward the kitchen island, “and let us do the work.”

She raised her hands in mock surrender, laughing softly. “Yes, sir.” With that, she perched on one of the chairs at the island, resting her chin on her hand as she watched them.

Aaron returned his focus to the stove, where he began heating olive oil in a pan. Jack, meanwhile, concentrated intently on peeling the garlic, his small fingers fumbling slightly but determined. Aaron checked on him every so often, offering gentle guidance.

“Good job, buddy,” Aaron said, ruffling Jack’s hair. “Keep at it. You’re a natural.”

Y/N found herself smiling at the sight, her heart full as she watched father and son work together. The kitchen was filled with the rhythmic sounds of chopping, the sizzle of garlic hitting hot oil, and Jack’s occasional commentary about how good it smelled

Y/N couldn’t help but marvel at how easily he balanced teaching Jack and keeping everything under control. It was a side of him she didn’t see often enough, and it made her fall for him even more.

As they let the sauce simmer gently, Jack’s enthusiasm waned as waiting for the sauce to be ready took longer than his patience could handle. “I’m gonna go play with my Legos,” he declared, dashing out of the kitchen.

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head as he watched his son disappear into the living room. “That lasted longer than expected,” he remarked, turning back to the stove to give the sauce another gentle stir.

She let out a gentle laugh as Hotch reached for a bottle of wine. He poured two glasses and handed one to her letting their fingers brush for a second. They stood in companionable silence for a few moments, the rich aroma of the simmering sauce filling the kitchen. Y/N swirled the wine in her glass thoughtfully before taking a sip, savoring the bold, velvety flavor.

“You’re amazing, you know,” she said softly, her voice breaking the quiet.

Aaron glanced at her, one brow raising slightly in curiosity. “Oh?” he asked, setting his glass down after taking a sip. “You thought I couldn’t cook?”

“Well, I never imagined you behind the stove,” she said playfully. “But I gotta admit, it looks good on you.”

He chuckled, his expression modest. “It’s just tomato sauce. Nothing special.”

Y/N tilted her head, her lips curling into a playful smile. “Rossi and I have to disagree with you.” She stated, the hint of a smirk betraying her playful nature.

Aaron leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as his smile grew. “Ah, yes. I’ve heard the lectures. Food is sacred, right?”

“It is,” Y/N insisted, her eyes sparkling with good-natured determination. “So, it’s not just tomato sauce. And it’s never just food. It’s love, traditions, family, and hard work. You’re teaching Jack more than how to make dinner; you’re showing him how to care, how to be patient. Trust me, Aaron, there’s nothing ‘just’ about that.”

As her words filled the kitchen, Aaron found himself momentarily stunned. He admired the way her eyes lit up; her passion so genuine it was almost tangible. Her hands moved slightly as she spoke as if the weight of her conviction demanded not just words but motion.

He watched her, his focus narrowed entirely to her. There was something magnetic about the way she poured her heart into her explanation.

“What?” she asked after a beat, tilting her head as she noticed his lingering gaze.

He shook his head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Nothing,” he said softly, though his voice carried the weight of unspoken admiration. “You’re just... incredible.”

Her expression softened, and a hint of color rose to her cheeks feeling shy all of sudden. “I’m sorry. It’s just seeing you with Jack it reminds me of my father. Of how the Sunday mornings used to be.”

Aaron’s gaze softened, his own heart aching as he watched her. “What was it like?” he asked quietly, his tone filled with genuine curiosity.

Y/N let out a quiet sigh, taking a moment to steady herself. “You know he was a Marine, so he was away most of the time. But when he was home, Sundays were for his kids. Me and my siblings used to wake up early, and no matter how tired he was or how awful the week had been, he’d make this huge breakfast for us.” She smiled softly remembering those moments, though her eyes held a lingering sadness. “He then would let us cook with him and he was so patient, even when we spilled ingredients everywhere.”

Aaron leaned against the counter, his full attention on her. “It sounds like he was a great father,” he said gently.

“He was,” she said, her voice thickening just slightly. “He died when I was seven and my world fell apart. After that everything stopped, everything changed. My mother wasn’t quite like him, she was and still is, all about work.”

Hotch could sense the bitterness in her voice as she mentioned her mother. He didn’t know what happened between them and Y/N didn’t seem inclined to talk about it so he let it go. He simply reached for her hand, letting her feel her presence. Words weren’t needed in that moment.

Finally, he spoke, his voice gentle. “Do you miss Italy?”

She blinked at the question, startled by how much it had caught her off guard. But then, her eyes softened. “Sometimes.” Her smile faltered slightly, “We used to go there every summer before my father died. I went back to Italy when I was deployed in Naples.” She took a breath, looking down for a moment before meeting his eyes. “It wasn’t the same thing, though. I was still working, still on a mission. But knowing the language and the culture made me feel at home.”

He smiled at her words. “Your father would be proud, you know right?”

She nodded slightly, forcing a small smile. “Thank you.”

They were silent for a moment, the kitchen filled only with the soft simmering of the sauce. She found herself feeling a little lighter like she had shared a piece of herself she hadn’t realized she was holding onto so tightly.

Aaron, for his part, didn’t break the quiet. He wasn’t going to rush her; instead, he just placed a kiss on her forehead and stayed there with her, giving her the space to feel whatever she needed to feel.

“Anyway,” she said recomposing herself, clearing her throat as if to dismiss the heaviness of the moment. She gave him a small smile, brushing away the trace of emotion that lingered in her voice. “I meant you’re amazing at being a dad.”

His expression shifted, and his eyes softened as she made an effort to move past the vulnerability she had just shared. He opened his mouth as if to respond but hesitated, unsure of what to say.

“Watching you with Jack – it’s amazing. You’re patient and kind, you spend time teaching him things and I can see that he loves listening to you. You make it look effortless.”

Aaron exhaled quietly, his eyes dropping to the countertop for a moment before returning to hers. “It doesn’t feel effortless,” he admitted. “Most of the time, I’m just trying to make sure I don’t mess it up.”

“You’re not messing anything up,” she said, reaching out to place her hand lightly on his arm. “I know it must be awful raising him alone, but you’re doing a great job, Aaron. Jack is happy. He’s kind. He’s confident. That doesn’t happen by accident. That’s you.”

Her words hit him more than anticipated. He knew she saw the effort he put in, even when he didn’t feel like he was doing enough. The truth was, there were days when it felt like he was walking on a tightrope, unsure of his every step, knowing that the responsibility of raising Jack fell entirely on his shoulders.

A small, almost shy smile tugged at his lips as he met her gaze. He leaned closer and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on her lips, that said more than words could ever express.

He pulled back after a second, his forehead resting gently against hers as he let out a quiet breath. “Thank you,”

Y/N smiled softly, her hand resting on his arm, her thumb brushing over his skin as she leaned in to kiss him again.

A few minutes passed, and the scent of the simmering tomato sauce filled the kitchen. The atmosphere was light and filled with the hum of comfort right before Jack’s voice broke through the calm.

“I think it’s ready!” Jack declared, his small face lighting up with excitement. He rushed over to the kitchen island, holding a spoon with a focused look on his face.

He blew on a spoonful of sauce, holding it out to Y/N. “You have to try it,” he said, his small face full of pride.

Y/N reached for the spoon and took a small taste. The sauce was wonderful, perfectly balanced in flavors. She let out a small sigh of approval and smiled up at Jack, her heart swelling with affection for the boy. “Jack, this is the best sauce I’ve ever had!”

Jack’s grin stretched from ear to ear as he turned to his dad, brimming with pride. “You hear that, Dad? We did well.”

Hotch bent down, tasting the spoon Jack offered him, and nodded with a smile. “I think you’re right. This might be our best work yet.”

As Hotch finished preparing, Y/N insisted on setting the table and helped Jack arrange the plates and utensils. Soon, Hotch brought out the finished pasta, placing it in the center of the table as they all took their seats. Jack dug in eagerly, shoveling bites of pasta with wild abandon, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

Every so often, she caught Hotch’s gaze from across the table, a gentle warmth in his eyes as he looked between her and Jack, clearly savoring the moment. Her heart swelled, feeling the sweetness of this makeshift family dinner, the way they fit together so naturally, so effortlessly.

As the meal wrapped up, Jack declared, “Movie time!” and bounded off to the living room, ready to set up their viewing area.

Hotch stayed behind for a moment, gently catching Y/N’s hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. She squeezed his hand, leaning in just a little closer, her eyes lingering on him, feeling the warmth of his gratitude and the shared happiness between them. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before they joined Jack in the living room.

“Hey, buddy, can you come sit with us for a minute?”

Jack immediately left what he was doing, curious about what his father had to say that couldn’t wait the day after.

Hotch exchanged a glance with Y/N, who offered him a reassuring smile. “I want to talk to you about something important,” he began, his voice steady yet gentle. “You know how Y/N has been spending more time with us?” Hotch asked, his heart pounding slightly.

“Yeah! She’s awesome!” Jack exclaimed, a bright smile spreading across his face.

“Well, Y/N and I… we really like each other,” Hotch said, his words flowing easier than he expected. He watched Jack’s face, looking for any signs of confusion.

Jack blinked, processing the information. Then, to Hotch’s surprise, a huge grin broke out across his face. “So, is she your girlfriend?” he asked innocently, looking between his dad and Y/N.

Hotch nodded, feeling a wave of hesitancy washing over him. “Yes, she is.”

A huge grin broke across Jack’s face, his joy infectious. “That’s awesome, Dad!” He bounced in his seat, nearly knocking over a stack of building blocks beside him. Jack hugged both his father and Y/N, overjoyed by the news. “Can we watch the movie, now?”

Both adults nodded, too stunned by his reaction to speak. With the movie Cars playing softly in the background, Jack settled snugly between Hotch and Y/N, cheered and laughed through every twist and turn of Lightning McQueen’s adventures. But as the movie progressed, his energy finally wore down, and he leaned sleepily against Y/N, his eyelids fluttering shut.

Feeling the weight of his head on her arm, Y/N looked down, a tender smile spreading across her face as she watched his small chest rise and fall with each peaceful breath. She glanced over at Hotch, who was already watching her with that soft, quiet smile that made her heart skip a beat.

“Should we put him in bed?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper so as not to disturb the sleepy child nestled against her side.

Hotch shook his head, his eyes never leaving the view of Jack resting so peacefully with her. “In a second,” he murmured, reaching over to gently tuck a stray lock of hair away from Jack’s forehead. “I want to enjoy this a little longer.”

He leaned back against the couch, his gaze lingering on the sight of his son curled up, trusting and content, next to the woman he loved. His expression was one of quiet awe, a look that spoke volumes about how much this moment meant to him. The vulnerability and happiness in his eyes made Y/N’s heart swell with love.

She smiled, shifting just enough to rest her head against Hotch’s shoulder, careful not to disturb Jack. “I think he already decided I’m part of the family,” she whispered, her voice laced with affection.

Hotch chuckled softly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. “He has,” he said, his voice warm and steady. “And so have I.”

In that moment, Y/N felt as if the world had stopped. She leaned in closer, capturing his lips in a soft kiss.

When they pulled away, both slightly breathless, Y/N saw the flicker of surprise in Hotch’s eyes. “What was that for?” he asked, a playful smile spreading across his face.

“For being you,” she replied, her cheeks warming under his gaze.

They sat in comfortable silence, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment, with Jack’s soft breathing a gentle background to the stillness that wrapped around them. Hotch leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, a silent thank-you for being there, for becoming part of his life in ways he hadn’t expected but was endlessly grateful for.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Hotch reluctantly got up from the couch, as if he wanted to freeze this moment a little longer. He carefully lifted Jack from Y/N’s side, cradling him in his arms. The boy instinctively nestled into his father’s embrace, looking perfectly at home.

They settled Jack in bed, tucking him in beneath his favorite superhero blanket. “Goodnight, buddy. Sweet dreams,” he whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss on Jack’s forehead.

“Night, Dad. Night, Y/N,” Jack murmured, his eyes always closed.

“Goodnight, Jack,” Y/N said. She lingered for a moment, taking in the innocence of his sleeping face before they stepped back into the hallway.

Once they closed the door behind them, Y/N turned to Hotch, who looked at her with a mixture of gratitude and happiness. “He really loves you.” He said, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N smiled, feeling the warmth spread through her. “And I really love him,” she replied.

Hotch stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulling her against him. Y/N looked up into his deep brown eyes, seeing sincerity and love reflected back at her. After a moment, Hotch tilted his head slightly and pressed his lips against hers in a gentle yet passionate kiss. The world around them faded away as they lost themselves in the moment.

She could feel the warmth of his body against hers and the sweet taste of his lips, igniting a spark that sent butterflies dancing in her stomach.

After a lingering kiss, they broke apart, breathless. Hotch’s hands remained on her waist, and she could see the affection in his gaze. “Let’s head to the bedroom,” he suggested softly, and Y/N nodded, feeling her heart race at the thought of spending the night together.

They walked hand in hand to Hotch’s bedroom. Once inside, Hotch closed the door, turning to face her with a serious expression.

“I didn’t expect that reaction,” he began, his voice low and sincere, “but I’m glad he accepted it, accepted us.”

Y/N stepped closer, cupping his face in her hands, her thumb brushing gently across his cheek. “I’m glad too.” She whispered.

With a soft smile, Hotch leaned down and captured her lips again in a softer kiss, but equally filled with love. She melted into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back. When they finally pulled away, their foreheads rested against each other for a moment.

“We should probably get some sleep,” Hotch said, though his voice held a hint of reluctance.

“Yeah, we should,” Y/N agreed, though she couldn’t help but steal another quick kiss.

They settled into bed; the sheets cool against their skin as they lay side by side. Hotch reached for her, pulling her close so she could rest her head on his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was comforting, lulling her into a sense of security.

As Y/N lay there, feeling the warmth of Hotch beside her, she realized that this was where she belonged. This was what “home” felt like.

“Goodnight, honey,” Hotch murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” she whispered back, closing her eyes and allowing herself to drift into a peaceful sleep, surrounded by the warmth of his love.

Tag: @sweetbearcolorgarden

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch #jack hotchner #female reader

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yourgentlegirlfriend · 2 years ago

Note

death island leon headcannons with his s/o??

HI babies, I’ve been trying to like keep up with requests and such and i stg i have had so much writing inspiration that i start writing to many things at once.

Here are some DI!Leon s/o headcanons!!

DISCLAIMER!! this is 18+ ONLY, please do not interact with my blog if you are underaged or don’t have age indicator in your bio!! thank you!!

DI!Leon x GN reader

not spell checked i’m sorry 💔

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- He is DEFINITELY sleepy all the time. Finally getting to see him after work always gets you so excited, rambling on about something you saw at the store today and when you turn the corner, you see him slouched on the couch, his head tilted back and mouth slightly open STILL in his work clothes.

- Before he crashed the bike, he actually really did love it. You’d open the garage to the door to see him inside, focused as all hell on god knows what

“You touch that bike more than you touch me”

you’d joke, hand on your hip as you leaned against the door frame. Leon would just look over at you, rolling his eyes playfully before finally coming back inside with you.

- Likes to act like he isn’t aging, though he is in absolutely perfect shape he often forgets he needs to take medication after his missions or his body will be sore. So when you walk into the room, your hand holding up the small pill bottle with his name on it

“Wasn’t given to you for no reason.”

“I’m fine.”

He would protest, going to sit up trying to hide the groan from the stretching in his lower back.

- He loves you more than anything. He makes that very clear when the two of you go basically anywhere. Anything you laid your eyes on in the store would be yours, anything you touched.

Your fingers rubbing at the petal of a flower, Leon’s eyebrows raising as he reaches over you and shoves the potted plant into the cart. And even when you argue he isn’t here for it at all.

- He’s not a very physically affectionate man, he hates PDA almost 50% of the time but sometimes when the two of you start your way into a crowd his fingers slyly wrap around your waist or grab at your hand.

- VERY overprotective, he’s so afraid of losing you but he would never admit it ever. When he found out about how you and your ex broke up he swore if he ever saw them, they were dead. He doesn’t mean it though, he knows that when he gets frustrated or anything around you, you get worried about him.

- Bed time is always the same every night, you always fall asleep first that’s just how you are. He sneaks in beside you, his nose resting against the back of your head as he pulls you into him, instant relief washing over him when you push yourself back into him.

NSFW WARNING

- Everytime he returns from a mission you know what it means. He comes home so frustrated that not everything works out his way, so he takes out all his frustrations on you.

Soft groans leaving his lips as his strong hands leave red finger print indents in your waist, your breath heavy as he fucks you into the soft mattress.

- He likes to pretend he’s “normal” but you can feel his steady rhythm suddenly stutter when you let out a whimper of his name.

- Aftercare with him is perfect, his fingers playing with your hair as the two of you just stare at the ceiling. It’s perfect till he says something corny like

“So the weather today”

And he thinks it’s so funny, but you just burst out laughing, his arms squeezing you as a smile spreads across his face.

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I hope you guys are doing great, for all of my readers starting a new college semester GOOD LUCK. You’re gonna do great! I love you all :))

For a limited time i’m doing paid requests and will write anything from ocs to different fandoms for any price, my job cut my hours and i’m SO behind on bills. :) click here if interested!!

#yourgentlegf #milascreams #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #death island #re death island #leon kennedy fluff

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yourdearestaliengerbil · 7 months ago

Text

Mornings With Them

Fandom: Obey Me! Shall We Date Pairings: Older brothers/GN! Reader TW: None! It's just domestic fluff here!

Lucifer

I feel like he wakes up really reallyyy early to get ready for the day because of all the work he usually has to do so you two don’t always wake up next to each other

At first it made you sad but now that you’re used to it you don’t mind and just end up looking for him

He’s usually sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee or taking a morning shower

So you always start off with one of those spots first

But

When you do wake up next to him you relish in the feeling

You bury your head into his bare chest and wrap your arms around his warm body

He wakes up easily when you move around but he’ll pretend he didn’t just to enjoy having you wrapped up in his arms

When it’s actually time to get up you’ll sometimes just lay in bed and watch him roam around the room trying to change into his outfit for the day (you know you should be getting ready too but you just can’t help but admire the way he looks with his slightly disheveled bed head and tired eyes)

I feel like the two of you aren’t really talkers when you first get up so you only exchange touches or short sentences

After he’s dressed, he’ll come over and move your hair out of the way so he can kiss the crown of your head

Then the two of you make your way to the bathroom before everyone else gets up to brush your teeth and wash your face

As well as any other parts of your morning routine

Mammon

He’s not a morning person AT ALL

As soon as you try to leave the bed to start your day, he’s pulling you back down into bed by your waist

And that’s only if you can escape the tight grip he already has on you from your initial position in bed

“Go back to sleep, it’s too earlyyy” he’ll whine to you with a small pout

Honestly, you might as well give up going anywhere anytime soon

When he’s finally up, albeit begrudgingly, the two of you will change out of your matching pajamas

And then you’ll help him with his tie (I feel like he’s too tired to tie it right)

Then, you guys end up going to the bathroom together to wash your face and brush your teeth

This is his favorite part of the day

Other than waking up beside you because WITHOUT fail

He gives you a gross toothpaste kiss every single morning

He’ll wait until your guard is down and you're stuck within the motions of brushing your teeth

Then with a toothey smile, he’ll kiss you either on the cheek, forehead, or neck after the toothpaste begins to foam a bit at his mouth (ew so gross ew)

And in response you’ll shriek out in disgust and surprise and start trying to swat him away

“Mammon, ew stop that!” you exclaim, pressing your back into the arm he has holding you in place by the waist, as he tries to plant more toothpaste kisses onto you

Kiss after kiss, elicits another airy laugh out of you

The type of laugh that he loves hearing, the type of laugh that just brightens his entire week

When he’s done covering you in kisses he’ll just look down at you with those lovesick eyes of his and you’ll look back up at him the same way

Leviathan

When you two sleep, he’ll curl his entire body around you while in his demon form

So when you wake up with him, you're stuck in place due to his entire body being entangled with yours

His tail is around your legs and the rest of his body is practically on top of yours, as if it’s trying to merge and become one with you

He is usually awake before you just because he feels like he has so much stuff to do online but when he’s not, you won’t be able to escape his grip

Even when he wakes up before you though, he typically stays in the bathtub/bed just so he can be near you but he’s definitely scrolling on his phone until you wake up

The only exception being if he gets out to get dressed but even then, he’ll try to get back in with you until you wake up

Is willing to do his morning routine without you but typically waits just because you used to complain about him not doing it with you in the mornings since it’s just more domestic to do it together

A bit loud in the morning if you show him any physical touch because he gets flustered really easily

So you wake up and go “Good morning” then give him a kiss and he’ll fall out of bed or get really nervous and become embarrassingly loud

He’s definitely the type to talk to you about random things while you two do your morning routine together so in the middle of washing your face he’ll tell you about the new internet drama or a new anime he wants to watch with you

He just rambles a bit and he doesn’t expect you to answer too much since it is early and he knows you might still be sleepy

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcannons #obey me fluff #gender neutral reader #lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #fluff #domestic fluff #obey me leviathan #leviathan x reader #morning routine #mammon my beloved #finally im back again

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inoreuct · 1 year ago

Note

would you agree that we all need more Sanji getting nosebleeds over Zoro in this fandom?

YES *pelting down a hill waving the proposal for this in my hand like a madman* YESSSSSS

the first time sanji gets a nosebleed over zoro is his clue-in that oh. i’m not straight, am i. the swordsman’s doing a bench press (shirtless, as always) as sanji walks by (and sanji sneaks a look, as always, because who wouldn’t?) and when he glances over the plates he has to do a double take because what the fuck. zoro’s pressing more than twice his body weight. zoro’s repping more than twice his body weight. he’s just registered that maybe he’s stared for a bit too long when he feels something warm and wet on his upper lip, iron dripping over his mouth, and he books it for the galley.

he slams the door shut and presses his back against it before he slides to the ground and screams into his knees because what. the fuck. it’s not even that he’s getting hot and bothered over a guy; it’s just that the guy’s zoro. he’s not supposed to get nosebleeds over zoro.

but he does.

and it gets worse.

zoro walking around shirtless on deck? nosebleed. zoro re-tying the sails and just hanging on with his legs around the mast? nosebleed. zoro strutting out of the shower door, damp with steam and hair dripping wet and a towel around his waist? nosebleed. zoro tsking irritably and grabbing all of sanji’s food and packages from him to haul the whole lot over his shoulder? NOSEBLEED.

and not even that. he starts getting breathless around zoro and his chest hurts. he kicks zoro back while they’re sparring one day and the swordsman grins, feral and unrestrained and all challenge and teeth, and sanji’s heart spasms so hard that he actually wonders if he’s about to go into cardiac arrest. he’s barely twenty, he isn’t ready to die— much less because of some stupid marimo. chiselled abs and a nice set of biceps are only worth so much of sanji’s dignity. he twists and smashes the sole of his shoe right into zoro’s pretty face.

still, it gets so, so bad that he’s elected to just. avoid zoro completely. he’s sneaking around corners and running across open expanses ducked low like some kind of goofy thief and he knows it’s so fucking stupid but he doesn’t. he doesn’t know if zoro likes— no. he doesn’t even think about it. there’s no way, and if he gives himself false hope he’ll just break his own heart. he doesn’t know if zoro likes men, or anyone, much less him; nobody in their right mind would, not really. he's nice to have but not to keep and he's come to terms with it.

…until zoro corners him in the galley and demands to know what the fuck’s going on.

sanji stays facing away, slowly washing the dishes even as his heart pounds so hard it hurts. he is painfully aware of the way zoro’s seething like an over-boiled kettle in one of the chairs behind him, arms crossed over his stupidly broad chest and stock-still because he never, ever shakes his leg even though sanji knows he wants to.

his sponge squeaks across ceramic. the water’s warm against his fingertips, and his eyes flick up to meet his own reflection in the porthole window; he looks… well, he doesn’t know. scared, maybe. nervous. his mouth is thin, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, a shudder running its fingers down his spine even as his heartbeat thumps between his ribs and god, fuck, it aches. and he knows. he looks himself in the eyes and he knows that somewhere along the line nosebleeds had turned into falling in love and he was the stupid idiot who had just let it happen because he was too weak to pry zoro out of his thoughts.

his gaze flicks down sharply when he hears the sudden scrape of the chair, and zoro spits, “look, i can’t fix whatever i did wrong if you don’t tell me what it is.”

sanji’s heart throbs. “what?”

he can hear zoro’s scowl. “what, what? i obviously did something. you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

the cook almost laughs. he bites it down and swallows his words, salty-sweet at the back of his throat. guilt nips at him; zoro’s his rival and and his personal annoyance and a blockhead but he might also, maybe, just maybe, be sanji’s best friend. and sanji hasn’t been very fair to him lately.

he swallows again, clears his throat silently. “you didn’t do anything, marimo,” he murmurs to the plate in his hands, trying for airy and getting more somewhat vaguely strangled. he coughs. “just forget about it. sorry i’ve been weird.”

sanji will deal. he will, somehow; he’d been careless and careless is dangerous and for perhaps the first time in his life, he has too much to lose. he’ll squash his heart into a box and lock it down tight like he always has and it’ll hurt, but when does it ever not? he mentally declares the matter done and dusted as he shakes off the plate and gently sets it on the drying rack.

his lungs hitch as a callused hand cups his elbow.

zoro pulls him around. he’s too weak to resist. the edge of the sink digs into his hip as stormy grey eyes scan his face and zoro looks tense, his jaw set in the way it only is when he faces off with a particularly vexing foe.

“did i not look happy enough at dinner?" he asks, and it could be mockery but it isn't, not with that edge to his voice; not desperation, but damn near. like filter paper burning its way to ash. "was it my clothes on the floor? my boots on the bed? what?”

sanji can't stand it anymore. he looks away, tries to twist out of the invisible bonds zoro has him trapped in, but fingers looped around his wrist are all it takes to make him stay and fuck, fuck, he's so fucked.

"sanji, what did i do?” zoro breathes, brow furrowed, voice too near and too damn earnest, and sanji's throat bobs as he digs the heel of his palm into his eye.

this isn't how it's supposed to go. zoro isn't supposed to care. zoro isn't supposed to be standing here in the galley saying his name in that tone of voice. a hand carefully pulls his own away from his face, and zoro doesn't fucking let go, and sanji feels too much like he's been stripped down to the bone.

"i know," zoro continues, gruff like he doesn't know how to be anything else, "that i upset you. so would you please tell me what i did so i can fix it?" he bends lower still, ducking to try and catch sanji’s line of sight but sanji just can't look at him. "i'll fix it, i—"

"you can't fix this." the words are out and in the air before he can stop them, and a bittersweet smile curves his mouth. "there's nothing to fix, so you can't fix it. just let it go, alright?"

zoro wants to argue. sanji can tell. but the swordsman lets out a measured exhale after a long moment and pulls back, face carefully neutral. "at least tell me what's going on, cook."

sanji looks down at his feet. "...i can't."

"like hell you can't," zoro replies immediately, and it's such an abrupt reminder of their normal banter that it wrenches a rough noise from sanji's chest. "i was the one who held your hair back after you had, like, seven margaritas too many. don't think you could tell me anything worse than the experience of trying to stop you from falling into your own puke."

"oh, jesus fuck," sanji swears on instinct, then laughs. it's unfortunately hollow. "that was one time, asshole."

"one time too many," zoro hums, raising an eyebrow. "so you gonna tell me what's going on, or do i have to make it a captain's order?"

sanji grits his teeth.

"i will drag luffy in here, i don't care—"

"fucking—" he holds his breath, flipping around to white-knuckle the edge of the sink and letting it out slow. "fine. you ever loved someone, marimo?"

"sure." zoro shrugs easily, crossing his arms as he looks out the window. "kuina, but i think i learned to love her memory more than anything else. luffy, nami—" a near-unnoticeable flutter of thick lashes. "you."

sanji exhales through his nose as he rocks back on his heels. squeezes out air till it hurts. "you know that's not what i meant."

"what did you mean, then?"

he turns to look at where zoro has settled lazily against the counter, the moon turning his eyes to silver. "I mean the kind of love that makes your blood race. that makes you want more even when you know you'll never take more than you're allowed. the kind that makes your heart hurt so badly you feel empty without it."

the swordsman's face is unreadable as he tilts his head slowly. "i did say i love you."

it hits sanji like a bullet. he sucks in a sharp breath, and his throat burns as he turns away and tries to stop his shoulders from heaving up. "don't fuck with me, zoro. not about this."

it feels rather like a cruel cosmic joke. he's so near yet so far, just one step away with a gauzy curtain between but he can't touch it. he won't. he's got too many things on the line and yet he can't even name one of them.

"hey."

he squeezes his eyes shut against the burn of salt that shouldn't even be there, and look at that. little sanji's gone and broken his own heart again.

"hey," zoro tries again, more insistent, one hand hovering in the space between them and sanji feels the pull of it like a magnet.

he doesn't turn away as it cups his cheek. doesn't run as fingers slide through the short hairs at his nape, a thumb behind his jaw. his lashes are damp. it is everything he wants and everything he cannot have and he can't—

"look at me."

"i can't," he breathes, lungs rising fast and shallow. he's afraid to open his eyes. he's afraid of what he'll see.

"yes, you can." zoro shifts closer and another hand joins the first. it's big and rough and warm and he holds sanji's face like he's the moon herself. "look at me, curly."

he can't.

he does.

zoro's gaze is almost painful to meet straight-on with how intense it is. he seems to realise, face softening as he leans closer, closer, posture loose enough that it would be no problem for sanji to shove him away. "you love me," he breathes. "yes or no?"

sanji's heart stops. his tongue is clumsy in his mouth, his brain a mess of yesnoyesyesnoiwon'tican’tido—

"don't think." zoro's voice cuts through the haze as he shakes his head slowly; a sword through smoke, silver-bright, singing in the air and leaving silence. "don't think. you love me, yes or no."

the galley swims around sanji as his vision blurs. he feels his tears spill hot down his cheek, knows the way zoro aches to brush them away and yet stays still. he opens his mouth and it feels like stepping out of the only shelter he's ever known; he is an open fucking wound and he's raw and everything hurts, everything but zoro. zoro. zoro. "yes."

just one word, three simple letters, and still it feels like damnation; if he'd never said it he could deny it but now it's real. the swordsman relaxes, shoulders dropping enough that his forehead brushes sanji's, and sanji tracks the way his throat bobs. the way steel-grey eyes flicker over his face, molten in the light of the electric lamps and the moonlight spilling through the window, gilding zoro like something out of a dream. a fairytale sanji read as a child until the edges of the pages fitted familiar to his thumbs as his little hands reached for a happy ending that was never meant to be his.

he shakes, now, as zoro reaches up to run tentative fingers through straw-pale hair. "let me love you. yes or no."

"i—" the sound that twists from his mouth is cracked jagged down the middle, unpolished as a common pebble picked up off the damn street. "you don't—"

"yes or no."

"i'm not what you want," he gasps, his face wet.

"yes or no."

sanji wants to break apart. because zoro sounds like he's begging, and he cannot fathom anybody possibly wanting him that much. he wants to scream and cry and claw at the walls until his nails break. he wants to shatter into pieces all over the floor without having to worry about putting himself back together. he wants. he wants, and zoro's looking at him with the closest thing to reverence he's seen in his life, and even that isn't enough for him to believe it. "i'm not what you want."

he can barely look at zoro. he can barely look at himself. the shame is clawing a pit into his stomach, and he lets it, feels every inch of it, because what kind of person doesn't know how to be loved? his breath catches wetly as zoro cups his jaw in both hands, tilting his face up, and once again sanji is too weak to pull away.

"you are everything i want."

the words are so fierce, so sure, and sanji is cracking apart at the seams. the stitches pulled tight by his own hand are unravelling and he can't stop it—

"yes or no."

zoro's breath ghosts warm across his mouth, fingertips in his hair, just far away enough for sanji to see the way his eyes are blazing and yet he waits. his thumb on sanji's cheek is the gentlest thing sanji has ever known.

"you'll get tired of me," he tries weakly, one last time for good measure, and zoro just shakes his head. the resolve in his expression does not waver even once.

sanji breaks.

"yes." the word scrapes itself out of his throat seconds before arms are going around him, and he sobs. lets the swordsman bring them both to the kitchen floor as he curls up in zoro's lap, fingers clawing into his white shirt, numb with how hard he cries because nobody, nobody has ever stayed. not without him getting hurt in the process. he pushes them away when he gets scared and they let him and then it becomes his fault when it all blows up in his face, but zoro's not leaving, and it's so foreign to him that he's shaking so badly and he can't stop.

a warm, heavy palm smooths over his spine and he lets himself be shifted closer, settles sideways as zoro wraps an arm over his shins and rocks them until his breathing evens out. the embarrassment hits like a gut punch; he knows he looks like a mess, face blotchy and hair everywhere and eyes puffy as hell, but zoro cards his bangs out of his eyes and looks at him like he doesn't care, and sanji turns away.

he feels... fragile. like he's made of tinted glass and spun sugar, like he'll cave in at the slightest touch. there is something melting in his chest and it drips down over his ribs; pools fresh as a river in spring, offset by the grounding presence of zoro's hands on his skin. "don't say i didn't warn you," he mumbles, masking his very real fear behind a layer of watery bravado as he hides his face in zoro's shoulder, and of course, of course zoro sees right through him.

the swordsman's thumb traces the swirl of his eyebrow before zoro rests his chin on top of sanji's head. "i don’t listen. you know that."

you know me, is what goes unsaid, and sanji doesn't deign to reply. he buries his face into zoro's chest and breathes in the smell of steel and sword oil and— he sits up slightly, eyes narrowing. "you've been stealing my deodorant, yes or no." the way zoro stills momentarily is a dead giveaway, and he yelps when the swordsman flicks his forehead.

"would you rather i be stinky?" zoro scoffs, rolling his eyes gently as sanji settles back down with a huff.

"you still are stinky. if we're gonna be together i'm expecting you to shower at least once every two days—" zoro groans, and he powers through, raising his voice, "—and if you aren't fussy i'll let you shower with me."

the way zoro instantly stops complaining cracks a laugh out of him. it's weak and watered-down, but it's a start. zoro's hands slide back into his hair and he hums as he lets his eyes fall shut.

the moon's full tonight. their ship rocks gently, and sanji gets comfortable; zoro's warm and solid and happens to make a perfectly respectable pillow. the thought that he can have this now sends a thrill through him.

he's not a fool. he's not optimistic when it comes to this. when it comes to love.

but with zoro's thumb rubbing mindless circles against the side of his thigh and a kiss pressed to the top of his head, he's got a pretty good feeling about this time around.

#er. this dragged me down the hill and i let it #this got so off-topic anon i apologise #but to be fair even after they start dating sanij gets absolutely HORRIFIC nosebleeds #like hello?? that man is hot as hell?? and he's MY man??? good lordy #cue him leaning against the wall in a dramatic swoon and yelling for zoro to catch him #(zoro does not catch him. sanji falls on his ass.)#(he does get a forehead kiss before zoro walks away cackling though so. a win is a win!)#black leg sanji #zosan #one piece zosan #zoro x sanji #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #one piece sanji #one piece #ino writes #ino's ask box #sanji's issues deserve a tag of their own #my habit of segueing from chill fun rambling to emotionally damaging content should be studied. jesus christ.

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milkymora · 3 months ago

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⟢ vi’s habits.

note: all in the title. just some silly (sfw) habits i think vi would have. cts of the pictures used to their respective owners on pinterest! enjoy pretties. reblogs are also very much appreciated. xo ✧

every time she’s nervous, she plays with her piercings. mostly her helixes, rolling the rings between her index and her thumb.

she mainly sleeps on her stomach, hugging her pillow and smashing her cheek against it way too unnecessarily hard.

cracks her knuckles all the time. actually, cracks every bone she can crack, especially when she wakes up.

washes her face like a dude. literally, she splashes water on her face and then starts rubbing every inch of her skin like she’s trying to rip it off.

she tends to drink a lot. she’s not an alcoholic but she does fancy strong alcohol; if it doesn’t burn her throat after a sip, she doesn’t enjoy it.

she spits on the floor. she grew this habit since she was a kid, due to the toxic air she’d breath in the undercity. sometimes her mouth just feels dirty, she does it unconsciously.

she’s always removing and re-applying layers of gauzes all over her arms & hands, even when they aren’t bloody. it makes her feel protected to have those, like a sort of extra layer of skin.

and that was it! just a short post but i needed to write down something about this fandom because for the life of me i can’t be a quiet fan. also i’m realizing that in a couple hours the last 3 episodes are gonna come out and then it’ll be all over. i don’t think i’m mentally prepared.

→ arcane navigation.

#arcane #arcane lol #arcane league of legends #league of legends #arcane vi #violet arcane #arcane 2024 #arcane s2 #arcane season 2 #arcane season two #vi arcane #vi headcanons #✧ mora’s lol.

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illusioninfnty · 1 year ago

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day 14 ; face sitting

↠ john price x reader

fandom: call of duty word count: 672 warnings: nsfw 18+, body insecurity, body worship, praise, cunnilingus

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

“I can handle anything you give me, love.”

When John asks you to sit on his face, you don’t believe he’s being serious. But the glint in his eye as you jokingly ask him if he’ll be able to breathe with you on top of him tells you otherwise.

“Are you sure?” you confirm. You’ve never done anything outside of missionary with John, too embarrassed about your body and unsure how to bring anything else up to him.

He gives you a gentle yet admonishing look, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking right now.

“Love,” he starts, his hands sliding to your waist, caressing it. “If you don’t get on my face within the minute, I may just have to drag you on it myself.”

That’s all the confirmation you need. Ignoring the heat that rushes to your cheeks, you slowly begin to strip as John lowers himself on the bed, eyes glued to your body.

The last piece of clothing you remove is your underwear. You stand bare in front of John, who lays shirtless with his forearms holding him up. You move to straddle him and he grabs the back of your thighs, pulling you up so your pussy is right above his mouth.

“My pretty girl,” John croons. He presses kisses all along your inner thighs, trailing them all the way up to your pussy. His beard tickles you, and you can’t help but giggle. John grins at hearing you. “What, making fun of me?”

“It’s just,” You try to stifle your giggles, but fail. “Your beard. It tickles.”

John looks up at you, a small smirk adorning his face. “Hmm. You’ll like how it feels when it’s up against your cunt.”

You gasp. “John!” He ignores you and caresses your thighs, returning to kissing and sucking them all over.

“Need to taste you.” John looks up at you for a final say of consent, and you give him a curt nod.

John’s tongue feels so different to what you envisioned. It’s wet and warm, yet feels cool compared to the heat of your pussy. John switches from licking inside to pressing sloppy kisses against your clit, causing you to grip his hair.

And he was right, of course—the roughness of his beard feels insanely good against your pussy.

You let out a shameless moan as you rock yourself against his face. You run your hair through his hair and arch your back in pleasure. Your body trembles from the shocking sensation John gives you.

John burrows his face into your, his hands sure to leave marks on your thighs from the way he grips them furiously. He eats you out like a man starved, and you push yourself towards him to feel even more.

He doesn’t let up from your cunt for what feels like hours. John is a determined man, dedicated to whatever task he wishes to complete. And now, that task is making you reach your peak.

You can feel your orgasm coming on soon, and you’re sure John can tell too by the way he quickens his pace.

“There you go, love.” He praises. He presses more kisses on your cunt, and brings his thick fingers up to rub against your clit. “Let it all out.”

Your release washes over you with his reassurance, a long string of whines leaving your lips as it does. You can feel how your juices cover John’s face. When you open your eyes and look down at him, you can see the sheen it leaves behind in his beard.

You shimmy yourself down his body, delegating yourself to rest your bare cunt on his stomach. You lean down to kiss him, and John cups your face to keep you there, thrusting his tongue into your mouth for a longer session.

He finally pulls away, giving you one more quick peck. “We’ll have to do that again soon, won’t we?”

“If you insist,” you answer teasingly as you giggle and burrow yourself into the crook of his neck.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #john price x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #john price smut #cod smut #call of duty x reader

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ange1sang · 5 months ago

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kinktober d.1: gallavich + cockwarming

minors + under 18s pls do not interact ty

gallavich (ian x mickey); 572 words, smut, fluff, cockwarming, pouty mickey milkovich

eek excited to participate this year, some days will be for other fandoms so won't be shared on here <3

The neighbours’ music is bleeding through the walls of their condo, slow and curling around them like lingering summer heat on an early autumn night. The TV is on, has been all afternoon, and glows in blues and oranges along their furniture and wallpaper. Ian particularly likes the way the colours move along Mickey’s skin, dancing along his ribs and thighs. He smiles where his face is pressed into the crook of Mickey’s neck, breathing in the soft scent of their shared shower gel as he does.

“What’re you smiling about?” Mickey mumbles. His chest shifts when he speaks, sticky against Ian’s, and when he inhales his hard dick moves just the tiniest bit against Ian’s stomach, smearing more precum against it.

“It’s been almost thirty minutes,” Ian replies, fingertips moving up and down Mickey’s spine languidly. It’s a precious sort of touch, the kind Mickey usually only permits when he’s asleep or fucked out beyond complaining, but if tonight is teaching Ian anything it’s that there are still things he doesn’t know about his husband.

“Yeah, well that’s your fault for being gone so fuckin’ long,” Mickey mutters. Ian rolls his eyes. He’d only been gone a week to visit Fiona, but Mickey had quickly turned out to be a terrible military wife. Ian couldn’t blame him, not when they’d spent so much time apart before, but he wasn’t prepared for what was supposed to be a quick, ‘missed-you-so-fuckin-much’ fuck to turn into nearly half an hour of them sitting perfectly still with his cock buried in Mickey’s ass.

“I don’t get it, your dick doesn’t hurt?” Ian asks, smirking when he feels Mickey twitch against his stomach.

“Yeah, but that’s not the fuckin’ point,” his husband continues in that frowny, pissed off tone Ian knows is only a front.

“What is the point, then?” he asks, chancing a slow roll of his hips up into Mickey. The reaction is instant, a long, slow groan pouring from Mickey’s lips and his blunt nails digging into his biceps.

“You were gone too long,” Mickey mumbles, but his voice is strained now, teetering on the verge of a moan. Ian lets his hands wander, kneads his fingers into Mickey’s ass, drags his thumb over the gunshot scar that’s there because of him. When Mickey doesn’t protest he grinds up again, eyes rolling back at the relief of finally getting some real friction.

“How ‘bout you let me fuck you now”— Here he pauses so he can kiss his way up Mickey’s neck and along his jaw, finally meeting reluctant lips when Mickey lifts his head from his shoulder. —“and next time you come with me?”

Mickey raises an eyebrow as though he’s debating this, but already he’s moving to meet Ian’s small movements, grinding his dick down against his stomach not-so-subtly.

“Yeah?” he asks, serious and breathy and sulky. Ian grins and leans forward to kiss him, punctuating it with a rough thrust that has them both moaning into each other’s mouths.

“Yeah,” Ian grits out, not just because he wants to get off but because he missed Mickey just as badly. Relief washes over him when Mickey finally smiles and nods, a silent little come on then. Ian groans and flips them over so Mickey’s on his back, pressing deep into him and pulling out just to do it all over, the way he’s been wanting to since he got back. “Fucking finally.”

#shameless fanfiction #shameless fic #gallavich fic #gallavich smut #ian gallagher smut #mickey milkovich smut

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hivemuthur · 1 month ago

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Wait Ten Seconds

Okay, a tiny little break from Viktor, as I present you a request for my awesome friend, @aristenfromwarsaw! Thank you for having faith in me to write this, heh. Also, this is my fav screenshot of Astarion and Aristen, her Durge, just look at them :')

spawn!Astarionxfemale!redeemed!DU (fandom: BG3), explicit!

word count: 2,5K

summary: set in act III, after defeating Cazador and Orin. Not specified, but I can imagine them having a date before the doomed day of confronting the absolute and chilling somewhere in Rivington, away from people and the rest of the team :')

author's note: so nervous about publishing this, that I forgot to mention the undeniable blessing by my smut fairy, @rennethen, thank you!

—

She was fidgeting, to the point of Astarion wincing as he brought the wine and plopped down next to her on the blanket. The closer they were to their final goal, the more layers were peeled back, revealing the truth underneath. And Aristen’s truth lay very close to Astarion’s. The parallels were almost uncanny—two powerful creatures, made and shaped by another, more powerful, to be stripped of will and judgment and commit crimes nearly beyond redemption. Both beautiful, nearly deadly so. Both now free, though at a horrific price that included a lot of death, and their friends close to bleeding out.

And Astarion knew. He knew what it was like to swat away that extended hand, the one that carried a promise of eternal power and greatness without limitations. He knew how hard it had been for him when he held his dagger over Cazador’s head, his eyes darting to all his friends, who froze in fear of what he was going to do next. Their questioning faces, minds grinding gears, silently pleading with him not to do it. So he didn’t. And a mixture of relief and grief washed over him as they walked back through the corridors of the musky dungeon, their shirts soaked in blood, grime, and the dusty remnants of undead bodies. The stench was unbearable, nearly as bad as in the temple of Bhaal.

But after that came true reprieve. And suddenly, the price of his freedom felt small. Who needed the sun when he could have her? So he confessed his love and giddiness, and Aristen accepted it—all of it. Living under the stars and figuring out what would come next. If, of course, they survived the Netherbrain.

She kept fisting the blanket and biting the inside of her cheek. So he waited ten seconds before being an absolute freak and licking her face to snap her out of it.

“Wha— Why are you being gross?” She blinked, wiping the spit off her face with the top of her hand. But there was a smile, and Astarion sighed, relieved that such a thing could still take place.

“Copper piece for your thoughts?” he asked, passing her a carafe of Amnian Dessert. She took it wordlessly, their fingers brushing, and Astarion winced at the warmth of her skin. She gulped down three sips and forced herself not to burp.

“I… I feel you already know what I’m thinking about,” she said, offering him a sad smile.

“Humour me. Consider me a half-wit that needs everything spelled out for him.” His hands travelled up her knees to her hips, pulling her to slot between his spread legs. Once a safe space was created between them, Astarion tilted the bottle to her lips, pouring some of the wine down her throat.

She chuckled and shot him a look. “You don’t have to get me drunk if you want something, you know that, right?”

A drop of red streaked from the corner of her mouth, sliding down the side of her throat, and Astarion kissed it away. He purred at the rhythm of her heart, beating for the both of them, before nuzzling his nose into the crook of her shoulder.

“Hmm, I know that. But for this particular something, I feel you might need some liquid courage,” he murmured, entwining his fingers at the small of her back. “What is bothering you, my love?”

“Sometimes… I pray for the Netherbrain to win, so I don’t have to… remember,” she whispered into the silver of his hair, the words bitter on her tongue.

Astarion shifted. His eyes shot up to meet hers, and his hands cupped her neck. Again, with the drumming of that heart. He pressed his thumbs into her larynx, gently, a warning. He gritted his teeth, words balancing on the scale in his head, and asked, “What is more? Love or self-loathing?”

“What?” she croaked, her brows furrowing.

“Which do you feel stronger? The love or the hate?” Astarion’s voice was firm, as though he needed to insist. “And why, of all people, would you be the one beyond redemption?” He waited another ten seconds. No response came, only blinking.

“You get to start over. To be the person you want to be—not what someone else made you to be,” he whispered, his tone dipping dangerously low. Not sultry. It was the same tone he used when he was being honest. The same tone he used when he tried to wince away from an attempt to bite her, all those months back. “As do I. And I want to start over with you. Do you?”

“Oh gods, you know I do,” Aristen breathed finally, her voice inevitably cracking, tears pushing their way through the corners of her eyes. “What if I am, though? Beyond redemption?”

“Am I?” As usual, a precise shot. A rogue instinct took over, and Astarion planted his trap skilfully. He intended to wait another ten seconds, but she was faster.

“No, of course not.” Her warm hands were on his cheeks so fast, thumbs rubbing into the hollows of them, and if Astarion could flush, he would have. He shifted closer, caging her in.

“Then why would you be?” Seeing a thought forming, words already dripping off her tongue, he placed his fingers on her lips. “I will talk, and you will listen. You're no monster. You’ve saved me more times than I can count—” a sound from between his fingers cut him off.

Astarion shifted again, letting a single "but" slip away from her. He wrapped one hand around her waist, while the free palm moved to cover her mouth completely. “You will listen to me now.”

He waited ten seconds, and Aristen nodded, her eyes glued to his. His hand slid to cup her neck instead, their foreheads touching. Cold breath fanned her face as he spoke.

“I come from a life I cannot remember, which in itself proves how unremarkable it was. That life ended, and another began, and that one I remember very well. I remember every torture, every rat I was given, every slap, and every lover I led to their death. And it’s all very harrowing—the way it reminds me I do have a soul,” he confessed on a fabricated breath.

“And then you come. And you undo it all, piece by painful piece. Two centuries of pure shit. In a span of time that is merely a glimpse compared to two hundred years, you manage to defy a god, defeat my jailor, and yet you sit here crying—I wish you would stop; it’s utterly distracting,” he murmured, wiping the tears from her cheek. She allowed a hiccupped chuckle to escape her throat.

“Nothing ever gets undone, not entirely. But we get to rebuild ourselves from the rubble. So I ask again—what is more?” Astarion waited one second. Less than one second.

“Love. Love is more,” she said, nodding, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gave him a kiss full of salt. “Love me,” she pleaded, her hands fisting the frills of his collar, fingers ghosting over the two puncture marks on his neck, and Astarion’s unfabricated breath hitched.

“I do. With all of my eternal undead heart, I do,” he murmured against her lips, his fangs dangerously close to the tender flesh of red, but he was careful. Mouths touched, his tongue doing most of the work—licking, fighting hers for dominance. His hands had already travelled under her skirts, working to rid her of an offensive pair of breeches. He swung her legs to one side to slide them off, fumbling at her ankles as she tried to help but only caused more trouble than if she hadn’t.

While Astarion fumbled with those, she began unlacing his trousers, her breath stuttering at the coolness of his skin. Every inch of Astarion was so beautiful and she had it all memorized so well, she didn’t have to look, but she did, always, nevertheless. And Astarion remembered her as well, but he wasn’t looking. Too busy leaving open-mouthed kisses all the way up her legs, one of his fangs catching on the lace of her skirts in a rush.

Aristen couldn’t help a chuckle, having done her part of undressing him as she pulled him closer by the laces of his pants, now hanging loosely from his fly.

“First she cries, then she laughs me out, the audacity,” he rasped, placing his hands on either side of her waist and meeting her in a kiss. Deep and unhurried, Astarion let his tongue slip between her lips once again, as his hands travelled up her ribcage to cup her breasts through the material

Aristen let out a gasp and quickly unbuttoned her shirt, welcoming his cool touch against the heat of a summer night. Astarion growled at the motion and splayed himself flat on top of her, hooking one of her legs with his knee. The kissing deepened, and soon his mouth travelled with no particular destination, sucking on the pulse point below her ear, ghosting over her collarbone and flicking at each of her nipples.

He pulled himself up to cage her in, gently tracing her jaw and cupping her cheek. Another kiss lasting ten seconds, all tongue and as little teeth as Astarion could do, emotion seeping from it. When his lips left hers, it was only so his mouth could travel to her jaw, throat and sternum. His hands cupped her breasts, and oh, the weight of them, the softness, felt so sweet against his cool skin.

Astarion was very good with both—the words and the body. It was all very much rehearsed and carefully constructed into a self, that would shield his other self from showing. But with Aristen, his other self was slowly crawling out, so he let it. He let himself be desperate and wanting, to meet her unsure, wounded self. As equals.

His thumbs brushed her nipples, causing her spine to arch into the touch. “So needy,” Astarion teased, spitting on one of her breasts to ease the friction and pressing his mouth to the other. The contrast between the callouses of his thumb and softness of his lips made parts of her clench on nothing. She tugged on his hair, scraping his scalp and Astarion hummed into her skin.

The hum evolved into a chuckle, once Aristen released a muffled whimper and it only got worse for her. His lips travelled to the other side, leaving her skin glistening with his spit and exposed. She could feel featherlight kisses being placed all the way from her nipple, down, down to her ribcage, stomach, hip bone, until his mouth reached the crease of her thigh. And there, Astarion waited ten seconds.

Mouth hovering over her core, breath fanning, nose smelling. Then, a kiss, and she gasped. And then, finally, his lips closed around her, tongue teasing, licking into her slit. A gentle suck, to make her breath stutter, only to release her with a wet pop and Aristen whined.

With a ghost of a smile, Astarion’s mouth went back to roam up and down her rib cage, hands trailed down her sides to rest in the creases of her thighs. He then pulled away to sit on the balls of his heels and seeing the look on her face, he just said, “Patience, my love.”

He picked up her leg by the foot and placed a soft kiss at the flat of her ankle. Then, an agonizing lick to her pulse point. And agonizing for both of them, Astarion could add. Then, hot fast kisses all the way down her calf, her thigh, to finally splay himself flat between her legs.

Their eyes locked as he gave her cunt a reverent kiss. Both obscene and loving, as he stared into her soul and Aristen chuckled, trying to chase the flush away from her cheeks.

He licked against her clit, and feeling her body jerk he splayed a flat palm on her stomach to pin her down, the other arm wrapped around her thigh. Working her slowly until her sweet scent filled his nostrils, Astarion slid his fingers down her belly and teased her entrance. Once inside, he curled them, and Aristen moaned, her neck tensing, throat exposed.

Feeling her closing in on her climax, he made a switch. Mouth travelled down to fuck her with his tongue, thumb spreading her slick around the clit. And if this was his last meal, he would die fed. He would also die deaf, as her thighs closed in around his ears, her body tensing and flexing, fingers curling in his hair desperately. Her heels dug into his shoulder blades, and she felt her soul leaving her body, travelling straight into Astarion’s mouth, her voice echoing in the night around them.

Astarion waited ten seconds, just to watch her. To watch her chest rising and falling, to watch her eyes gloss over him, over his cock hanging free, painfully hard. He gave himself a few slow strokes, spreading precum from the tip to the root. Then, he shifted to all fours, reaching out for her hand to guide it between his legs. A warm hand replaced the cold one as she rubbed his tip with her thumb before flicking her wrist down to a long stroke against his length.

“No one touches me like you touch me,” he murmured against her mouth. “Take me and keep me forever,” Astarion said, meaning Take me and love me forever.

“Only if you take me and keep me forever,” she replied, her voice already fucked-out, bedroom eyes staring back into his. With that answer, he removed her hand, kissed her knuckles in gratitude and placed his hips between her legs. He rubbed his cock against her wetness to coat himself in her slick before teasing the entrance. The first few thrusts were shallow and Astarion glued his eyes to her face, watching her mouth fall open wider and wider, before sinking fully inside.

Once buried up to the hilt, he begun to thrust slowly and deeply into her. His movements were unhurried, his pubic bone pressing on her clit, rebuilding the pressure within her. His arms wrapped around her, chests pressed together, mouths touching, exchanging breaths. Her legs encircled his waist to seal the bond. Rocking their bodies toward completion, Astarion whispered, “I love all of you.”

She mouthed his name back to him, voice lost in her throat, as her walls clenched around him, and they reached the peak together. Bodies shook, fingers dug into flesh. He spilled himself inside her, head falling into the crook of her neck. And Astarion waited ten seconds, and then another ten seconds, and another, before sleep took both of them over, entangled, connected by their cores, and their hearts.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x durge #astarion smut #astarion x female tav #astarion fluff #astarion fanfic #my writing #requests

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asirensrage · 4 months ago

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kinktober entry 9: Shower Sex

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen Warnings: pretty much what it says on the tin. shower sex. comfort sex. unbeta'd.

notes: this one was for @ambiguouslady42 I hope you enjoy it!

kinktober masterlist

You know it’s been a hard day by the way he comes home.

He’s quiet outside greeting you softly with a kiss on your cheek. He takes off his suit jacket and folds it carefully before he heads for the shower without much else. You watch him close the bathroom door and hear the shower run.

You check on the dinner, turning off the heat and setting it to stay warm before you follow him. You open the door to the shower, seeing his silhouette through the glass door. You undress quickly, a pile of clothing compared to the neatly folded ones your husband left to the side.

Nanami doesn’t turn to face you, keeping his head under the water. A really bad day then. He’s gotten them more since he’s gone back to Sorcerer work. You wrap your arms around his waist, leaning against his back as the water slips down his muscles. He touches your hand.

“Sweetheart…”

“You don’t have to talk,” you say softly. “It’s okay, baby. I got you.” You grab the soap and lather a washcloth before washing him. You go slowly, careful to get the blood and grime off of him, paying special attention to his hands. He works with his hands so you like to take care of them when he lets you. Kento turns to face you, watching you as you work diligently.

“You don’t have–”

“Shush, Kento. Let me.”

You take the time to wash his hair, pulling him down so you can reach him. You scratch your nails against his scalp, massaging it as you rub the conditioner in. By the time you’re finished, he’s clean and the tension you’ve felt in his muscles has washed away.

You’re not done. “Missed a spot,” you tease. You keep your eyes on his face as you wrap your hand around his cock. The soap on your palm and the warm water helps keep it slick and easy to move.

He groans, leaning back and holding himself up with one arm braced on the shower wall. “Sweetheart, you don’t–”

“I want to. Can’t I take care of the one I love?”

He reaches for you, tilting your face up and shifting forward until he’s kissing you, the spray of water ricocheting off of his back.

You hum into the kiss, smiling against his lips as he groans into your mouth when you tighten your grip. He cups your cheeks as he gazes at you, love clear in his eyes. You know it’s not because of how you’re touching him, at least not only because of that. It’s small moments like these that remind you of how lucky you are. You love a man who risks himself to protect people. You can take care of him.

🚿

It doesn’t take long before Kento has enough of your teasing, unwilling to let you have all the fun when you’re naked and wet in front of him. As much as you enjoy the sight of him coming undone, he enjoys every moment he has with you. Especially if he can take care of you as well as you do him.

Under the spray of warm water, he holds you carefully with your back pressed against the wall as he thrusts into you. Slowly at first, taking the time to memorize the way you feel with languid kisses. It’s not just a moment for a quick release of tension, it’s slow and soft and careful. It reminds you both of the love you have for each other and when it’s done, when you’re laughing about how you slipped and nearly pulled Kento down with you, the two of you clean each other up. He takes longer to dry you off, but he murmurs a thanks against your lips when he kisses you again.

“Like I said,” you whisper back. “I want to take care of you. You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“I always will.”

🚿

taglist: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

@themaradwrites @kingsmakers @thatmagickjuju @awkwardchick87 @hayatoseyepatch

@scythegal

network tag: @pixelcafe-network

#nanami x reader #x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujustsu kaisen x reader #kinktober 2024

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darl-ingfics · 8 days ago

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Feveruary Day 24: "Don't you think you should stay home today?"

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: S.Coups (stomach bug)

Caregiver(s): Woozi, Hoshi

Word Count: 527

Notes: Content Warning - someone is forcibly made to throw up in this fic as a tactic to coerce them to stay home. It's not graphic, but it is there!

Jihoon, thoroughly unamused, crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned in the kitchen doorway. “Don’t you think you should stay home today?” Soonyoung, who Jihoon had enlisted as backup, mimicked his pose and intimidating glare.

Seungcheol shook his head, his lower lip pouted as if in genuine thought about the question. “Not particularly.” He turned back to washing up the vegetables he was throwing together for a salad, in the process of packing a lunch. A lunch he should not be packing at all, considering he’d been throwing up for the better half of last night. The maknae line had been down with a bug all last week, having caught it from Mingyu and Wonwoo before them. It wasn’t wholly surprising that their mighty leader (the chosen pillow of all five of those members), had gone down too. It also wasn’t surprising that he was trying to deny it now, playing off his sickness as ‘just dinner disagreeing with him,’ and his unnatural paleness as ‘too many days in the studio,’ and his shaking body as ‘I worked out too hard yesterday.’

All bullshit, in Jihoon’s humble opinion.

The producer heaved a sigh. He leaned in close to Soonyoung’s ear, whispering, “I’m about to do something really mean, and I need you not to judge me for it.”

Soonyoung watched with wide, confused eyes as Jihoon moved into the kitchen. Seungcheol pretended not to watch him from the corner of his eyes as the younger man walked behind him to the mug cabinet, casually standing on his tip toes to dig around inside. After a few moments of rummaging, he came away with his preferred travel coffee mug, and stepped over to the coffee maker. As soon as he turned the machine on, Seungcheol let his guard down, missing the way that Jihoon observed his hyung, calculating exactly how much longer it would take him to longer have any cucumber in his hands. While the coffee maker warmed up, Jihoon turned to the fridge. He dug around in there for a moment. And then, Jihoon shut the fridge door, turned around, and hugged Seungcheol from behind, squeezing his abdomen with much more force than a usual hug.

“THe FU-c…” Seungcheol’s yell was cut off by a sharp gag that had him scrambling over the sink. Jihoon stopped squeezing, but kept a strong hold on the leader as he threw up in the sink. Soonyoung, completely taken aback by this turn of events, rushed in to help too, fluttering to Seungcheol’s other side and rubbing soothing circles against his shoulder blades.

As Seungcheol coughed, spitting the remnants of bile out of his mouth, a shout of “WHO JUST THREW UP?!” rang out from the upper floors. It sounded eerily like Jeonghan.

“CHEOLLIE-HYUNG!” Soonyoung called back, instantly apologizing when Seungcheol winced at the loud volume right next to his ear.

“I’M CALLING MANAGER-HYUNG!” Definitely Jeonghan.

“Well, would you look at that? Guess you’re staying home today,” Jihoon hummed with a sardonic smile.

Seungcheol glared at him. “That was cruel, Jihoonie, and you know it.”

Jihoon shrugged. “The devil works hard, but I work harder.”

#seventeen sickfic #seventeen sick #kpop sickfic #kpop sick #feveruary #feveruary 2025 #svt sickfic #svt sick #sickie s.coups #caretaker woozi #caretaker hoshi

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princess-leaorgana · 8 days ago

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Peacock in the Necropolis smut time you simps

Fandom: Dragon Age The Veilguard Pairing: Emmrich x Leo de Riva (Male Crow Rook/OC) Summary: Smut, After Game Time but no spoilers? I still can't speak Spanish.

“I’d really love it if you could make us that cheddar soup, darling. I know you just made it last week, but it was delicious, and work has been so awful…”

Emmrich rarely made dinner requests of Leo, even when Leo asked for his opinion. Emmrich always came up with the same thing to say: ‘Whatever you think is best, my darling’, along with a kiss goodbye. So, when Emmrich did request anything specific, Leo worked his hardest on those dishes.

This dish he would take the most care of.

Emmrich was given those ten pupils once he was officially back from sabbatical. Apparently, after learning about his heroics, all of those pupils requested to wait for their star professor to return from his adventure so they could learn all about it. Leo wasn’t surprised at all, and Emmrich deserved the prestige, but he was exhausted. Leo would do anything to take that away from him, so if Emmrich wanted broccoli and cheese in a soup, he’d get the best gods damned version of that.

The soup was simmering and Leo was washing up the kitchen when Emmrich did get home. Leo looked towards the entrance, assuming Emmrich would head straight from the door to their bedroom but no, he stopped into the dirty kitchen first. Emmrich walked in, his gold giving his location away easily. Oh, he looked exhausted. Leo pouted at him as Emmrich walked up behind Leo and kissed his cheek. Leo turned his face and gave him a quick peck on the lips. Emmrich smelled like sulfur.

“Darling, I-“ Emmrich began, but Leo wouldn’t hear any apology from Emmrich. He had every right to be tired. Leo’s job was to fill his belly and get him to bed.

“Go wash up for dinner, it’ll be on the table for you. Take your time,” Leo ordered and Emmrich just nodded and kissed Leo’s forehead.

“I don’t deserve you,” he muttered and Leo watched him walk out of the kitchen and down the hall. Leo finished wiping down the counters and washing the dishes. With help from Manfred, he set the table. He did hope that Emmrich would take his time cleaning himself up for dinner. If not, Leo would run him a bath. Maybe he should just do that anyway. He kept the soup covered for Emmrich to keep it warm and sat down at his seat, taking some bread he had also made and casually dunked some in the soup for himself. Leo ate about three slices of bread before Emmrich called him from the bedroom.

“Is dinner ready? I’m sorry I’ve been out so long!” He called and Leo smirked, chucking a small bite of bread at Manfred. Manfred’s mandible opened quickly and he caught the piece of bread. Sort of. It fell out of his skull, but it was still a fun trick. Manfred hissed happily.

“Dinner’s ready for you, handsome,” Leo called back. Leo heard Emmrich’s usual jingle and turned to look at him from Manfred and his mouth fell open. In a beautifully tailored pair of black slacks, purple suede shoes and a shirt Leo would bet came from his side of the closet, came Emmrich into the dining room. His blouse was a deep maroon, silk, tucked in but completely unbuttoned, showing off Emmrich’s full chest and stomach. His gold chains on full display across his neck and chest, usually hidden from view. Emmrich never dressed like this, it was how Leo usually dressed. Leo wasn’t dressed very differently than Emmrich was, his top was chiffon and a little louder in color, and his pants were tight and leather, so it was very strange to Leo to see Emmrich so casually dressed like a peacock.

“Handsome!” Manfred called and Emmrich smiled, sitting down.

“Thank you Manfred,” he said cheerfully and took his napkin from the table and placed it in his lap. He looked at Leo with his normal, cheerful smile. “Everything smells delicious; I have been looking forward to this all day.”

“Manfred, go to the green house and pick me four red flowers with blue thorns,” Leo said, staring at Emmrich. Manfred hissed and obeyed.

“Yes, dad!” He said happily and bounced off. Emmrich’s face fell and he tilted his head.

“Leo, we don’t have any red flowers with blue thorns,” he said and Leo nodded.

“Yeah, I need him gone for a while so he doesn’t watch us fight,” Leo said and sat back in his chair as Emmrich’s eyebrows raised in shock.

“Fight? About what? Is this about me being late again? Oh, my love, you know I cannot help that. I did not want this many pupils, even for my own sake. I knew it would begin to erode your patience as well,” Emmrich said and Leo shook his head.

“No, no, it’s about that outfit you’re wearing. You asked me this morning before you left for me to make for dinner a heavy dish with dairy and broccoli. And then you show up here, at the dinner table dressed like what I would really, really like to have for dessert if I weren’t having such a heavy meal,” Leo said, sounding irritated, but his words betrayed him. Emmrich’s eyes just grew and his mouth opened a bit as Leo ranted. He glanced at his empty bowl and looked at Leo’s almost full one.

“Well, uhm…how much have you already eaten?” Emmrich asked and Leo pushed his chair back and stood up. Emmrich mirrored him and followed Leo to their bedroom. The men paced themselves quickly and Leo all but slammed the door behind Emmrich. Emmrich took Leo’s arm and pulled him close. Leo’s lips met Emmrich’s and he sighed happily as they kissed. Emmrich smelled like lavender. Bastard had shaved, he had known exactly what he was doing. Leo’s hands sat on Emmrich’s hips, and Emmrich took Leo’s cheeks in his hands. “Oh your poor dinner,” Emmrich said, whining and feeling a little guilty and Leo nipped at Emmrich’s bottom lip.

“It’s fucking soup, I can heat it back up,” he grumbled, not giving one damn about dinner anymore. With Emmrich’s stress went their sex life, as well, so Leo was a little more focused on getting Emmrich naked and in their bed than having soup. He backed up a little from Emmrich and looked him up and down. “I need to bring you shopping back in Antiva. Maker, you look delicious in this,” Leo said and dipped his head to kiss Emmrich’s neck. Emmrich’s hips rolled towards Leo’s and Leo slowly kissed under Emmrich’s jawline. The older man moaned softly, one of his hands on the back of Leo’s head, the other on Leo’s hand. Leo's body burned when he heard Emmrich whimper as his tongue met the sensitive skin under Emmrich’s ear.

“Oh Leo,” Emmrich whimpered and Leo’s hands moved to the front of Emmrich’s trousers. Leo’s hands fought with Emmrich’s grinding to untie Emmrich’s trousers. Once he had won the small battle, his lips connected with Emmrich’s once more.

“On the bed,” Leo commanded and Emmrich walked to the bed and sat down. Leo watched him slip off his shoes and trousers and Leo bit his bottom lip, watching Emmrich. “Me vuelves loco,” he muttered and ran his thumb down Emmrich’s cheek as he got close enough. Emmrich looked up at him. Leo placed his hands on Emmrich’s cheeks gently. “Tell me you understand how gorgeous you are, and how lucky I am to get to share a bed with you every night.” Emmrich’s face fell at Leo’s words.

They hadn’t been together for very long, and Emmrich simply did not believe Leo when he complimented him. “Hey, hey, I mean it. I’m an assassin and a bastard, but I’m no liar,” he said and Emmrich sighed. “You are irresistible, Emm.”

“Oh, Leo, I hate to hear you talk to me with such pity in your voice, I know how old I am-“

“Andraste, hear my words and let this man trust me,” Leo prayed with playful annoyance in his voice. Emmrich gave him a sideways smirk. “You are beautiful, Emm. You take care of yourself, just you baring a little bit of your chest drove me to madness. Let me prove that to you. Lie back,” he said softly and Emmrich did as he was asked. As Emmrich crawled back on the bed, Leo kicked off his house shoes and unlaced his pants quickly.

“Have you ever worn anything under your trousers?” Emmrich asked playfully and Leo chuckled as he pulled his top over his head.

“Probably not since I was…twenty,” he said, walking over to Emmrich, fully naked. Emmrich was still wearing that silk shirt. Leo would make him keep it on. Emmrich laughed at Leo and shook his head.

“What was that, last year?” He asked and Leo snorted and crawled on the bed.

“If sixteen years ago is the same as one year ago, then yes,” he said with a playful sarcasm and crawled between Emmrich’s legs. He lowered his head and easily took Emmrich’s half erect cock in his mouth. Emmrich didn’t have the ability to react to what Leo said. He just hissed and threw his head back as Leo coated him in his hot wet mouth.

“Oh, my love,” Emmrich muttered and looked down at Leo, watching the younger man suck and bob his head up and down on his hardening length.

“Slow…slow, dearest,” he whispered.

Leo was excitable, and peacocked his sexual talents, whereas Emmrich didn’t need much; he liked a softer approach to sex. Leo was enthusiastic, but more happy to do whatever Emmrich wanted.

Leo slowed down immediately, using his tongue to apply pressure to the underside of Emmrich’s cock. Emmrich placed his hand on Leo’s head, affectionately playing with his hair. Leo moaned as he felt Emmrich harden in his mouth. He sat up a little and licked his right hand, bringing it down to pump Emmrich’s cock gently. “Oh, that’s a good boy,” Emmrich moaned again and Leo grinned, keeping eye contact with him.

“You are so pretty when you moan for me,” he muttered and Emmrich’s mouth opened a little as his eyebrows knitted together. Leo lowered his mouth to lick gently at Emmrich’s tip and Emmrich only sighed. “My professor is speechless?” he asked.

“Leo…” Emmrich attempted and Leo grinned and lowered his head again, wetting Emmrich’s cock again. Emmrich’s grip on Leo’s head tightened slightly. Leo closed his eyes and just concentrated on the feel of Emmrich in his mouth, against his tongue. Concentrating on his rhythm, keeping his motions slowly and deep. It was torture; as much as he loved pleasing Emmrich however he physically could, hearing Emmrich moan and sigh, feeling his grip get tighter in his hair…he wanted release for himself, too.

He glanced up at Emmrich, who was looking right back at him. Once they made eye contact, Emmrich threw his head back with a groan and Leo closed his eyes, moaning. He removed his hand and took Emmrich deep, concentrating on breathing through his nose. “Oh Leo, that…” Leo stayed down for a beat and lifted his head completely, catching his breath. Leo crawled over Emmrich, straddling his narrow hips before leaning over to kiss Emmrich deeply. Emmrich kissed him back and ran his fingers through Leo’s dark hair.

“Just watching you enjoy yourself…” Leo muttered in a deep voice, fighting for dominance in their kiss. Emmrich nipped at Leo’s lip and Leo groaned, grinding his hips against Emmrich, eliciting a moan from the older man. Leo sat up and placed one hand on the headboard and the other on Emmrich’s chest. His fingers played with the gold chains around Emmrich’s neck and he continued to roll his hips against Emmrich’s.

This was torture for Leo; this seduction, feeling Emmrich’s body against his own, most sensitive parts. But that look on Emmrich’s face, that devoted, obsessive, almost tortured look was worth it for Leo. He felt powerful, being the source of those lidded green eyes and open mouth, but he felt genuinely good, making Emmrich feel good. He would go without, if it meant Emmrich was happy. That was a new thought for Leo: completely unselfish, devoted love. He couldn’t help but touch himself, dragging his hand down Emmrich’s chest and long torso. His skin was terribly soft, pale like the moonlight. Even more pale against Leo’s tanned skin. Leo grasped his own cock and sighed, pumping his hand in the same rhythm as he moved his hips.

“You call me the beautiful one,” Emmrich sighed, his hands on Leo’s thighs. Leo smirked down at Emmrich. “You are a sculpted statue, a masterpiece of strength, all while having the beauty and grace of a dancer in water. Leo, you are positively divine,” he said and Leo leaned back down, kissing Emmrich tenderly. He moved his lips down to Emmrich’s neck, nipping his skin possessively. Leo reached behind him, taking Emmrich’s cock in his hand, and angled it up. Leo braced himself as he slowly moved himself back, sliding Emmrich slowly inside of himself. Leo grunted loudly against Emmrich’s neck and Emmrich whimpered. Emmrich’s hands reached around and grabbed at Leo’s hips and backside, holding onto him with a tight grip.

“Oh, f-fuck me,” Leo moaned loudly, breathing out slowly and began rocking his hips back and forth. He wanted to go faster, to show Emmrich how much he truly desired him, but he would be selfless. He sucked gently at the skin under Emmrich’s jawline. Lucky for Emmrich to be a fan of dressing up to his jawline in public. Leo was aiming to mark his partner.

“Leo, you’re so…” Emmrich moaned, and Leo felt him move his own hips up, aching when Leo moved forward. Leo sat up, returning his hands to the headboard and his own cock. The feeling of being penetrated and touched was always overwhelming. Emmrich moved his right hand to replace Leo’s. Leo had no problem giving over control to Emmrich. He sighed softly at Emmrich’s warm touch, his thumb teasing Leo’s tip.

“Do I feel good, mi vida?” Leo asked and Emmrich whimpered, closing his eyes.

“You feel so wonderful,” he replied with a heavy breath.

“Ah fuck,” Leo groaned as Emmrich’s grip tightened around him. Ever impatient, Leo took his hand and placed it back on Emmrich’s chest, using him and the headboard to help him quicken the pace. “Oh Maker, Emmrich…I-I can’t-” Leo felt a heat rush from his head to his fingertips, and he felt his body naturally tighten up.

“Relax, darling, relax,” Emmrich whispered and Leo threw his head back, feeling that heat grow in his feet and crawl up his ankles. Emmrich’s hand motions quickened in pace. Emmrich knew what Leo liked: fast and quite rough. Leo groaned again and sighed out; he couldn’t help but quicken his own pace on Emmrich, seeing white as he craved release.

“Yes, yes, come for me, come with me,” Emmrich muttered as he breathed heavily. Leo’s eyelids fluttered and he groaned out, cumming in Emmrich’s hand, getting some on Emmrich’s stomach, and unfortunately, the shirt that led to this activity. Leo felt his body relax as the warmth quickly redistributed itself. Emmrich thrusted himself up into Leo roughly and Leo shouted, overstimulated, but attempted to stay still so Emmrich could finish. Emmrich’s beautiful face contorted and his mouth opened, letting out a beautiful groan. Leo rotated his hips on Emmrich to help him ride out his orgasm. He placed a thumb on Emmrich’s bottom lip and Emmrich kissed it gently. After a beat, Leo smiled and chuckled lightly, as it seemed Emmrich was calmed down, relaxed. Leo felt dizzy, dizzy and heavy headed.

“Oh, mi vida, mi alma, Emmrich. Your beauty is unparalleled. Your face, your voice, your love,” he said and leaned down and kissed Emmrich gently. Emmrich kissed him back, wrapping his left arm around Leo’s shoulders. Leo sat back up and reached over the bed to Emmrich’s nightstand, and reached into his drawer for two handkerchiefs. He handed one to Emmrich and used the second one to clean up Emmrich’s abdomen. Leo smirked at his mess, a little proud of himself, but he quickly wiped it away. Maybe a second wash up was in order. Emmrich cleaned himself off and ran a hand through his hair. Leo grunted as he climbed off of Emmrich.

“Leo, that was incredible,” Emmrich said and looked up at Leo, who was one his side, leaned back on his pillow.

“You are incredible, Emmrich,” he said and pulled Emmrich close to him. Emmrich chuckled, sounding sleepy. Leo smiled, certainly proud of that. He was tired as well, or maybe just calm. He could always use a nap after sex. Though, he would need to clean up their dinner. Maybe he would heat it up and serve Emmrich his dinner in bed. Though, he was sure Emmrich would recoil at the thought of eating in bed. Emmrich laid his cheek on Leo’s shoulder and Leo snaked an arm under his head and over Emmrich’s waist.

“I am still remiss about our cold dinner and the care of this shirt,” Emmrich said and Leo laughed.

“It’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.” Leo laughed again. He kissed Emmrich’s forehead.

“It looks wonderful on you. And I’ll heat up dinner,” Leo said, but neither of them moved. Leo just relaxed, enjoying this calm with Emmrich. He did miss him. Emmrich came home every night, of course, but the poor man was always terribly tired. He just hoped that Emmrich’s tutors understood how lucky they were to have him as their professor. Leo held Emmrich close, stroking Emmrich’s back lazily. Emmrich’s scent was dulled by the scent of sex and sweat, and Leo closed his eyes. Just before his body could get heavy with sleep, Emmrich moved a little.

“Darling, we should really let Manfred back inside,” he said and Leo laughed. Leo kissed Emmrich’s forehead again and sighed, letting him go. Emmrich sighed and Leo felt a cold absence, but he sat up and stretched his neck and groaned when he felt a crack. He fumbled around the room a little to grab one of his silk robes.

“I guess we should let go of dreams of parenthood then, hm?” Leo asked with a chuckle. Poor Manfred was still in the greenhouse, looking for a flower that didn’t exist. Emmrich snorted and got out of bed.

“Oh, don’t you start with that, now.”

#mine #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age #emmrich x rook #emmrich #emmrich volkarin #emmrook #leo de riva

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