#i used to dream about washing your hair and taking care of you

[raspberrysgod]

it still so crazy that one day you just don’t love someone anymore like after a year i just can’t feel anything that i once had when staring right in front of the person i want to spend everyday with.

[innerfare]

I Love You - Part 1

Summary: Who says I love you first? How do you say it?

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy: He showed it first, asking you to join his crew, making sure you had a safe and healthy place to be yourself, fighting anyone who stands between you and your dreams, saving his funniest jokes until you're around to hear and giggle at them, even going so far as to share a little (really, only a little) bit of his meal with you, but you were the only who actually said it first. He gets severely injured after a nasty fight, and you stay by his side while he sleeps it off like he normally does, though it takes him longer than usual to wake up. When he does finally wake up looking for you and something to eat, you fling yourself on him and tell him how much you love him. You didn’t intend on confessing, but you were so worried about him and the words fell from your lips as soon as you knew he was okay. Your brows are still furrowed, and when Luffy asks why, you voice your insecurity that he doesn't feel the same way. Luffy just laughs at that and ruffles your hair. “Of course I do.” With that, he crawls out of bed in search of food. He quickly falls into the habit of telling you in the morning when you wake up, and it fills you with so much joy, it’s like he’s giving you a happy vitamin to start your day. And saying those words bring him so much joy that saying them is like he's taking a happy vitamin, too.

Zoro: To your surprise, it was Zoro who said it first. Though Zoro seems the type to bottle up his emotions, he’s actually not, he just doesn’t seem emotional because he’s really good at dealing with his shit. And he knows all too well how temporary arrangements can be, how quickly life can be snuffed out, how easily the people he loves and cares about can be taken away from him. So one late night when he’s alone in the shower, washing his hair (using Nami's expensive shampoo and conditioner because she left it in the shower and Zoro just uses whatever's within his reach) and thinking about you, he realizes how he feels, and he doesn’t even consider not telling you. He climbs into bed afterward in just his boxer briefs, his hair still damp and smelling extra good, shakes you awake, kisses you a few times, and mutters that he loves you in your ear before passing out, not even waiting for you to say it back. He doesn’t say it often after that because he doesn’t thinks actions matter more than words, but he always says it when one of you is injured or after an argument. 

Sanji: Sanji technically confesses first, but you’re the one who actually says those three words. He’s holding your hand in both of his, clutching it close to his racing heart, as he looks down at you, telling you all the ways you make his life better, all the things he’s looking forward to doing with you, all the energy he’s going to put into keeping you happy, healthy, and safe. And the words just sort of fall from your lips. He stops mid sentence, eyes wide and mouth open. The seconds drag on in silence before he’s pulling your lips to his. Both of you are very generous with these three words, saying them often and in public. If you ever hang up the transponder snail without telling him you love him, he’s calling you right back to make sure everything is alright. (Also, not really relevant, might do a separate post about this, but Sanji is definitely a heart-shaped jewelry sort of guy. He just is. Certified lover boy.) 

Ace: Your first, more implicit confession came one night before you two were ever in a relationship. You noticed he was a little off and saw him slip away from the crew as they were drinking the night away. You found him sulking by the water and sensed he was hurting, especially when you asked to say and he told you he’d rather be alone. Before you leave, you tell him, “I just wanted you to know that I’m happy you’re alive.” You had no idea that it would strike a nerve, just got the feeling he needed to hear it, and this was confirmed by him grabbing you by the wrist as you walk away and pulling you into his arms. You continue finding implicit ways to tell him you love him such as, “I think the world is a better place with you in it,” and, “I’m so glad you were born,” and Ace is never really sure how to respond, but he soaks your words up like they’re sunlight and he’s a plant. This culminates in him blurting those three words out one day when you’re sitting in a tree together, Ace avoiding your eyes for fear you’ll reject him. When you lean in and kiss his cheek, instead, he almost cries (and he does when he’s alone later on, your love the purest thing he’s ever known). 

Sabo: Sabo is always taking risks. He lives a dangerous lifestyle as the Chief of Staff of the Revolutionary Army, and on top of being one of the most wanted criminals in the world, he is an incredibly reckless individual who thrives when his life his threatened. He does not, however, thrive when your life is threatened. So accustomed to being the one others are fretting over, so used to Koala telling him off for taking this risk or making that dumb decision, he is completely blindsided by the anxiety he experiences when he finds out you’ve been captured. Naturally he launches a rescue attempt, and when it succeeds, he wraps you in his arms and tells you how much he loves you. He always makes sure to say it after that, telling you in the morning when you wake up and at night when you go to bed together, the memory of not having you there to hear it all too fresh. 

Law: Law is pretty bad with words, and, for lack of a better term, he sort of lacks a bedside manner. Needless to say, this carries over into other aspects of his life, including his love life (or lack thereof; Law has little to no experience in this arena). One afternoon, though, the two of you are fighting because you want to accompany Law somewhere and he insists it’s too dangerous despite all of your qualifications and skills as a fighter. You keep pressing and pressing, demanding to know why he won’t let you go when you are perfectly capable, until finally he blurts it out. “I love you! Alright? And I won’t lose you.” You aren’t even in any sort of relationship at that point, the two of you just sort of stewing in unresolved tension. His irate confession is the tipping point, and you become an item after that. When you hear it from him after that, it’s always in private, usually in the late hours of the night when he slips into bed and buries his face in your neck. Other times, it’s when you two pass each other in the hallway aboard the Polar Tang and he catches your hand in his, placing a warm kiss on your knuckles, muttering the words, and moving along quickly for fear someone might see despite the entire crew knowing about your relationship. 

Kid: You say it first. You say it a couple of times, actually, before you ever hear it back. You’re sitting in his workshop watching him build something, and you just sort of blurt the words out. You swear Kid hesitates before picking up the next piece of metal, but he gives no real acknowledgment you uttered those three words. Knowing exactly the sort of man he is and not expecting to receive anything in return, just wanting him to know how you feel in the moment, you aren’t actually offended, but you are wondering if he didn’t hear you. So, the next day in his workshop, you say it again, once more receiving no response. The third time you say it to him, catching him while he’s painting his nails, you receive a grunt in response (Kid is a man of grunts, not a man of words). Only in the heat of battle do you hear it back. He catches you around the waist and picks you up, and you fight thinking it’s an enemy, only for him to say, “I love you,” in your ear before deflecting a canon ball headed straight for the two of you and then setting you on your feet like nothing happened. From that point forward, he’ll say it, but only at inopportune times.  

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[artyandink]

hyperthermia

Summary: Based on a request by @yinorathedragontamer. You needed a break from hunting, so you didn’t go on the latest one, but found you needed something to occupy your time. Just your luck that the Winchesters happened to return home when you were washing Baby, and you caught the eye of a certain someone.

A/N - Banners in use by @cafekitsune, first entry for Jensen-A-Thon!

TW: Set in S9 (so hot, scruffy Dean guys), and blatant checking out/fantasising

Want to request something? Drop a message in my ask box!

Want to join my Dean Winchester (or any other Jensen character) taglist? Go to my main master list and find the Forms link!

Dean and Sam ambled back into the bunker, duffel bags carried by their taut arms like they’d done a million times before, so what should be a bag of bricks was a feather. Dean swept his hand over his mouth while Sam’s went through his hair, both ready to crash from the wear and tear of the hunt.

“I swear, m’ready to goddamn pass out.” Dean chuckled, nails scratching over the scruff that had grown on his cheek. He’d been hit a few times - not enough to cause bruises and whatnot - hard enough to cause fatigue once the adrenaline of the fight was used and faded.

Sam could only grunt in agreement, trying to rub the effects of a long drive from Oregon out of his eyes, paired it’s the disgruntlement of having to listen to rock tracks in the car. “You and me both. But hey, we should at least visit-”

“Roger that.” Dean cut Sam off before he could finish, in search of you. You were always a sight for sore eyes after a hunt, no matter what you were dressed in or if you were covered in blood; he enjoyed the vision that you were. More than he cared to admit.

He checked your bedroom, but he only found an unusually neat bed and a clean room, which was a rare occurrence for you and had him thinking that you were kidnapped, which prompted him to take out his gun.

You never did up your bed.

He crept through the hall, hoping to the good God that his boots didn’t squeak, but then familiar humming of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ caught the attention of his ears, originating from the garage. Followed by his arrival there, where he spotted you. And it wasn’t only just the sight of you that had him standing up straight.

You, in nothing but a soaked through plaid shirt tucked into some tight denim shorts, the sleeves of the plaid rolled up to your elbows and drawing his attention to your pretty hands. Hair damp and falling just right and had him biting his lip and fighting off the urge to ruin your friendship entirely. Droplets of water running down your neck, that damn sexy curve of your slightly bent legs and trailing beneath the v-shaped neckline that the collar of your shirt made that he was starting to think was made on purpose to make him go insane.

The image was too damn sinful. And he was suddenly not so tired and ‘ready to goddamn pass out’, more like licking his lips and biting the bottom one as he folded his arms over his chest. Eyes trained on you. Yeah, not so tuckered out anymore and ready to catch the full nine.

His bed can go to hell, he wanted you pinned against the bonnet of his Baby, legs spread wide so he could fit in between and show you how much he appreciated the job well-goddamn-done. Did he mention you were washing Baby? Probably not, he was too distracted with the way your hips were swaying as you stepped to cover another part of his beloved Impala with soap suds that then trickled down your own body and made your attire that much more see through and you that much more delicious.

Holy Jesus of Nazareth, you were giving his self control a run for its money. And his self control was likely to lose the money and go bankrupt if he wasn’t distracted pronto.

Wait- but why was he objectifying you? You were doing him a solid by cleaning the other girl of his dreams, why the hell would he think about your legs like that? And your body clearly outlined by the wet, clingy material of your shirt that he was starting to feel jealous of because he wanted to be that close to you.

No. Bad Dean.

He licked his lips again, his hips shifting slightly as he fought a clearing of his throat in case it’d alert you of his presence. His mossy eyes trained so precisely on you, it’d probably let you know he was there anyway, heat radiating from his gaze.

He didn’t want to think about the curve of that pretty neck. Or the way it’d feel under his lips.

Neither did he want to think about those delicate hands - that he knew were tough as hell - holding the sponge that was lathering up his Baby. Or the way they’d feel working his - nope, too far.

Definitely not the way the shirt looked like it now had to be peeled off your skin to reveal the treasure underneath, because god-holy-damn he had managed to catch a glimpse of black lace underneath that plaid. He’d happily unwrap you like a frickin’ present and it wasn’t even Christmas for about six months.

“Damn, pretty girl.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair that was begging to let his feet walk over, grab your hip and pull you into him so he could lick up your neck to collect all the water droplets running down them. What he wouldn’t give to just pop the button on those shorts, get to his knees and work you until his tongue ached.

Right there. Right-frickin’-there. Against his Baby-

“Pretty girl? That’s what we’re calling her now?” Sam muttered into his ear with a snort, not loud enough for you to hear as you bent over Baby’s bonnet in just the right way to have Dean’s eyes sliding down to that gorgeous ass framed in those shorts that should damn well be illegal.

Dean was snapped partially out of his thoughts, left embarrassed and disgruntled and somewhat still ogling that God-blessed ass before he followed Sam through the halls, the latter of which was sporting a smug smirk. “H-Hey, I was just-”

Sam raised his hands in surrender with a small laugh, looking back to Dean knowingly. “Hey, if you wanna check out her ass, do it at your own risk.”

“I wasn’t checking out her…” Dean got an image of it again and smirked slightly, jerking his head to the side, “yeah, maybe I was, so what? Can you blame me? That thing’s-”

Sam held up a finger, shivering in borderline discomfort as his mind filled the blank. “I’m gonna TMI you before you say it.”

“I’m just sayin’, I’m a man. I have needs, where a female who’s a badass hunter and also happens to be gorgeous and also happens to live with us is concerned. And it’s worse when she’s handlin’ my Baby.” He gave Sam a sheepish grin, but the younger Winchester only shook his head in mock disapproval, grabbing the duffel with his pyjamas.

“I’m going to bed.”

“You do that.” Dean grabbed his own duffel, heading to his room which, to his luck, passed the garage and you working on the car. You managed to lock eyes with him, and you gave him a cheery wave. He returned it, and as you turned, his eyes slid down to the curve of your ass again, eyebrows pumping once as a smirk stretched his pouty lips.

“I’ll see you in my dreams, sweetheart.” He muttered before he disappeared off to his bedroom to live his fantasy.

Meanwhile, you dried your face and neck off with a chuckle, going back to your room to change into some get into some drier and more comfortable clothing with a smug smirk on your face.

You’d noticed Dean through Baby’s newly cleaned mirror that you could probably sing ‘Reflection’ from Mulan in. His eyes taking you in and licking his lips like you were the latest snack he wanted to devour. His hands itching to touch you, his mind going blank when you pushed out your ass on purpose in order to catch his attention.

That was just phase one of your multi-step plan to strip Dean Winchester of his self control where you were concerned.

“Mission accomplished.” You muttered under your breath with a giggle.

I’d really appreciate feedback, loves! Have a great day!

TAGLIST: @k-slla @hobby27

[slttygeto]

to love you is to grow old with you - GOJO. S

synopsis: satoru learns to appreciate the little things in life thanks to you.

c.w: just tooth rotting fluff, wrote this w fem! reader on mind but there are no gendered terms, physical touch being gojo’s love language, slow mornings with pookie bear himself, he deserves all the love.

note: im on a ROLL.

to age is such a blessing and a privilege in itself, and gojo only learns how much he loves it when he notices it on you. it’s not too obvious, he never points it out to you, but over the past couple of years of dating you, he’s noticed a few changes in you, all positive.

your smile lines have gotten deeper with him around, and when he stands in front of the bathroom mirror first thing in the morning to wash his face while you were still fast asleep, he notices how his own dimples have gotten more prominent. he glances at your skin care products and although he appreciates how much you take care of yourself, he is not looking forward for the day where you start buying “anti-aging” cremes or face masks.

he wants the full experience with you, and for the very first time, gojo wants to live for a long time and is certain that he wants to die with you next to him. he doesn’t fear death, he knows it’s inevitable, but something about dying in a boring manner has always irked him—until he met you.

now he doesn’t mind if he gets sick, because he knows you will be there to take care of him. he doesn’t mind when he gets fevers because he knows you’d immediately notice based on his reddened face and would quickly but surely treat his fever and ask him to lie down and be careful, as if the man wasn’t the strongest himself.

he finds himself so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice when you start waking up from sleep and your first instinct is to look for him.

“satoru?” you call out sleepily and satoru snaps out of his thoughts and walks towards your bedroom.

“oh look who’s awake.” he grins when he sees the sleep lines on your arm and face. his hand goes towards your hair as he takes a seat at the edge of the bed and strokes it before leaning in a planting a kiss to your forehead.

“did you sleep well?” he mumbles against your forehead before planting another kiss. “any dreams of me?” another kiss to your nose. “did i look handsome in them?” and another on your cheek before going down to your neck. “were you always my pretty girl in them?” he mumbles against your pulse and you giggle at the ticklish feeling.

“satoruuu,” you whine out loud. “I just woke up,” your hand rests on top of his head when he keeps peppering kisses all over your neck.

“and plus, what were you doing in the bathroom just staring at yourself?” your fingers scratch his scalp and the man immediately melts on top of you, making you lie back down on the mattress.

“i think i changed my mind about aging,” he replies and your other hand rests on the back of his neck before sliding upwards to feel his undercut and scratch the hair there as well.

“changed your mind how?” you feel the man wrap his arms around your middle and pull you tightly towards him. he pushes his face down and plants it on your chest, enjoying the way he gets to hear your heartbeat that seems to have a nice rhythm to it.

“i wanna grow old as long as i get to do it with you,” he mumbles again and his arms unwrap from your middle and you watch as his hands push up the shirt you were wearing to kiss your stomach. “i want us to get wrinkly and ugly together,”

“you can never be ugly,” you say as you roll your eyes at your man but he strongly disagrees and pinches your sides.

“my hairline is receding.”

“please stop taking what nobara tells you so seriously,” you chuckle at how serious he is and a hand rests on his cheek. “in my eyes, you can never be ugly.”

“even when I forget to put my socks in the laundry basket and accidentally use your shower gel?”

“you’re only ugly when you do that.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[daisymbin]

more blackmail material? - choi seungcheol

read pt1 first: look at me!

warnings: none i think?

pairings: choi seungcheol x reader (use of she)

genre: friends to lovers~

wc: 2.2k

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

you wake up to the familiar weight of seungcheol’s hand clutching yours tightly; that being the only part of your body that feels comfy. your back hurts & your legs are numb. you had fallen asleep while sitting on the floor by the bed, holding his hand. you look over to him, his brows furrow slightly as he mumbles something intangible as you tried to escape his grasp, and your heart squeezes at the sight. for a moment, you wonder what he’s dreaming about, his expression so peaceful yet intense.

his hair tousled and his expression adorable. a small smile tugs at your lips as you take in the sight of him, feeling an overwhelming sense of affection.

you gently try to pry his hand on yours, but that was proven difficult when seungcheol unconsciously tightens his hold. after a good 10 minutes of trying, you managed to get him to let go, careful not to wake him, and make your way to the kitchen. the apartment is still, save for the soft sounds of the world outside waking up. as you prepare a light breakfast, your mind races with thoughts of what to say when seungcheol wakes up. would he remember anything? would he regret his words?

your heart races at the thought. just as you’re pouring a glass of apple juice, the soft sound of shuffling interrupts your thoughts. you turn to see seungcheol standing in the doorway, bleary-eyed and slightly disheveled, his hair in all sorts of direction but with a small smile on his face that sends a flutter through your chest.

“morning,” he mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep.

“morning,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light, despite the weight of what’s unsaid hanging in the air.

he rubs his eyes, stepping further into the kitchen. “what time is it?”

“almost 11,” you tell him, watching as he yawns and stretches, the sight somehow both adorable and mesmerizing.

“11?” he echoes, clearly surprised. “how did I sleep so long?”

you chuckle softly, knowing the answer. “you were pretty tired from all that dancing and… other activities last night.”

the blush creeping across his cheeks is immediate, and he glances down at the floor, avoiding your gaze. “did I… say anything embarrassing?”

you hesitate, a wave of uncertainty & disappointment washing over you. you see the sincerity in his eyes, and despite the urge to tell him the truth, you weren't sure if its something he had meant to let out, or if he even meant it. maybe he was just…drunk? or maybe he'll come to remember it in a few hours? “no, not really,” you reply, a soft smile gracing your lips.

he seems to relax at your words, though a shadow of confusion still lingers in his expression. “thank god. I was worried I made a fool of myself or said something I shouldn't have.”

just then, his phone buzzes loudly on the table, interrupting the moment. he glances at it, his brow furrowing. “it’s jihoon. he wants me to come help with something.”

“now?” you ask, feeling a twinge of disappointment at the thought of losing this moment.

“yeah, I should probably go,” he says, though he seems reluctant to leave. “but I’ll text you later, okay?”

“sure,” you reply, trying to hide your disappointment. “just…be safe. drink lots of water, you need it.”

“i will.” he promises, a soft smile on his lips before he grabs his things and heads out the door.

as soon as he’s gone, you let out a sigh, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. what now? you wonder, glancing at your phone and deciding to take a break from it all. you text seungkwan to see if he wants to grab brunch.

when you meet seungkwan at your favorite café, he immediately senses something is off. “so, what happened after you sent seungcheol home?” he asks, leaning in, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “did anything…happen last night? did you guys talk it out this morning?”

you shake your head, stirring your latte absently with a sigh. “he doesn’t remember anything, he asked if he said anything stupid last night & I just told him no.”

“he doesn’t remember?” seungkwan looks flabbergasted. “are you serious?”

“sadly, yeah.” you reply, feeling a bit defeated. “I thought he would, but I guess not.”

“that’s not good,” seungkwan muttered softly, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “shall we have have some cake? the red velvet from here is really good, i’ll go order one.”

before you can even answer him, seungkwan already got up, he subtly pulls out his phone and steps away. “just a sec, I’ll be right back,” he says, heading towards the counter of the café.

“since when did you like red velvet?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, but he waves you off with a laugh. “oh, you know.. just the one they have here is good so….” he replies. you can sense he’s hiding something but you dont ask

—

jeonghan wastes no time. after receiving a few messages from an exasperated seungkwan, he heads straight to jihoon's place, excitement & mischief pulsing through him. he arrives, knocking briskly on the door until jihoon opens it, looking surprised to see him.

“jeonghan? what’s up?” jihoon asks, stepping aside to let him in.

“where’s seungcheol?” jeonghan demands, scanning the room until he spots him lounging on the couch, looking rather confused.

“he’s right here. what’s going on?” jihoon asks, glancing back and forth between the two of them.

jeonghan strides over to seungcheol, a teasing grin on his face. “shouldn’t you be taking your girlfriend, no, future mrs choi on a date right now? why are you here with jihoon?”

seungcheol blinks, utterly bewildered. “what are you talking about, jeonghan? I don’t-”

“you don’t what?” jeonghan cuts him off, pulling out his phone. “you don’t remember what you did last night? what you said?”

seungcheol’s expression shifts to confusion, and he rubs the back of his neck, trying to recall the events of the night. “what do you mean? did I do or say something embarrassing?”

with a smirk, jeonghan taps on the video he recorded the night before. he hadn't planned on pulling out his stored blackmail material so soon but thank god he recorded it.

as he hits play, seungcheol’s eyes widen, watching himself stand on the table whining about all the other boys you paid attention to instead of him, followed quickly by a tipsy grin plastered on his face as he confesses his undying love for you.

“what..what is this?” he exclaims, staring at the screen, the realization dawning on him.

“you confessing, you idiot,” jeonghan says, barely holding back laughter. “you were all mushy and everything!”

jihoon, who had been completely unaware of the events from the night before having stayed home, watches the video together, mouth agape. “wait, he really did that?”

“yoon jeonghan did you use A.I to fabricate this or something? there's no way I did that. I wouldn't….” seungcheol tries to push it onto jeonghan, trying to deny reality.

“really? you wouldn't? you think the chances of me using A.I is higher than you drunkardly confessing whilst standing on a table in a club?” jeonghan asked as he tried to hold back his laugher.

jihoon steps closer as he says, “honestly the A.I sounds more believable, you pull stupid pranks all the time, i wouldnt be surprised, but then again….if it's really A.I and it isn't real then thats kinda… nah. yoon jeonghan wouldnt joke about something like this. yup, looks real to me.” jihoon finishes as he pats seungcheol on his back.

jeonghan, seeing as seungcheol still doesn't believe him, pulls out his messaging app, opening his chat with seungkwan, “it's not A.I you idiots, who do you think i am? i love a good prank but this A.I shit is too much work, i dont have enough energy for that. here.” jeonghan then slides his phone over to seungcheol, messages from seungkwan earlier in its full glory.

roommate boo 🍊:

[12:17 PM] I can't believe that idiot can't remember what he did last night!!! hyung, do something!!!

[12:19 PM] I thought he lost his mind when he stood on that table crying over her last night BUT NO, NOW he's lost his mind! i thought some sense finally went into that head of his, how can he forget???

[12:22 PM] hyung!! do something! this isn't right and it's not fair to her! she looks so sad!!!!! show him that video you recorded last night!!!! 😡

“yup,” jeonghan says, enjoying seungcheol's mortification. “and now you can’t just let it slide. you need to talk to her and make this right. tell me, was she still in your apartment this morning?” he asked as he folded his arms. at a small nod of seungcheol’s head, jeonghan continued “that silly girl. I texted her to come down after putting you to bed, i even offered to send her home but she was worried about you and said she'd stay. how could you forget?”

seungcheol feels a rush of embarrassment & guilt flood through him as he stares at the screen which now shows jeonghan's text from you. “I can’t believe I did that,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “and I can't believe I forgot…did she..does she-”

“does she like you?” jeonghan finishes for him, “you're such an idiot. for someone who claims to be looking at the love of their life all the time, you sure are blind for not seeing how she looks at you just as much.” jeonghan says with a satisfied smile on his face. “you owe her a real date after that confession.”

“and an apology.” jihoon added.

“i thought she’d tell me if i’d done something like that, but she didn’t. maybe she’s just… sparing me from rejection.”

jeonghan scoffed. “please, she looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky last night. she’s probably overthinking, just like you are.”

seungcheol lets out a sigh he didnt know he was holding, his resolve building as he processes everything. “I need to find her.” jihoon could only smirking at his friend’s flustered state.

—

after brainstorming with jeonghan and jihoon, seungcheol decided on a plan. he’d cook your favorite, miyeok guk (yall remember cooks coups? lmao) it wasn’t just for birthdays, after all, and he knew you'd appreciate the thought. jeonghan offered to help, though he teased relentlessly about how much was riding on this meal.

it was almost doomed when seungcheol managed to burn the soup, the kitchen filling with a slightly charred smell as he looked on in horror. jeonghan swooped in, shaking his head with an exasperated grin. “good thing i’m here,” he muttered, salvaging the meal with a few choice spices and a lot of patience.

once the miyeok guk was safely simmering, seungcheol added a few finishing touches around his apartment: candles with her favorite scent, a small bouquet of her favorite flowers, and warm lighting that made the whole room feel like a cozy haven.

finally, he texted you, saying he needed help with something. you arrived, clueless, expecting a favor and absolutely not prepared for the sight of him standing there, nerves showing slightly as he shifted from foot to foot.

before you could ask, he cleared his throat. “so… about last night…”

you froze, realizing he might remember. “last night?”

he gave a small, uncertain smile, looking at you with a soft intensity. “i know you didn’t say anything, but… jeonghan showed me the video. i just… i thought maybe you didn’t tell me because… maybe you don’t feel the same, and you were trying to save me from that.”

you stared at him, heart racing. “no, i… i thought you might regret it,” you admitted softly, glancing down. “i didn’t want to bring it up if… if it was something you didn’t mean.”

seungcheol stepped closer, reaching out to gently lift your chin so you’d meet his gaze. “i meant every word,” he murmured. “and this time, i want to say it sober; knowing exactly what i’m saying. i like you… so much. and if you’ll let me, i’d like to take you on a real date.”

a smile spread across your face as you let his words sink in. “then… i’d like that, too,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper.

the uncertainty melted from his expression, replaced by a soft warmth. reaching out, he took your hand in his, holding it as if it were something precious. he chuckled softly, still a little shy. “so, um… how about some miyeok guk? i might’ve had a bit of help from jeonghan, but it’s your favorite.” he refused to let you know about how he had actually burnt it & jeonghan had salvaged it. but little did he know, jeonghan had been recording his friend again when he was panicking & making a mess of the kitchen while whining, more blackmail material perhaps?

“i’d love that,” you replied, heart swelling at the gesture.

as you both sat down, laughing together over the slightly imperfect soup, you felt a contentment settle in, the kind that only came from being exactly where you were meant to be, with exactly the person you were meant to be with.

[entitled-fangirl]

Manhood. (P3).

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT

Summary: Cregan fulfills his wet dream, doing something the two lovers haven't done before

Warnings: Oral (f receiving), dry humping, heavy makeout, dirty talk

part 1, part 2

Masterlist

...........................................................

Now becoming comfortable with one another, the two lovers spent little time outside of the bed chambers.

It became a fun game of trying a new position every night, eager to find their favorites. 

But it left them utterly exhausted when the adrenaline died down. 

It caused the burly northern man to fall asleep in odd places.

…

She found him in his study, his head resting on the wooden desk as he slumbered peacefully. A light snore came from his lips. 

She chuckled and stepped into the room as quietly as she could.

Her fingers brushed over his shoulder over his clothing, savoring the shudder that came over him and the small whine that echoed in the room.

She smirked and leaned over him, pressing herself against the back of his chair. Her lips brushed up his neck to his ear, "Cregan, my love."

Still fast asleep, a fluttering behind his eyes began to occur. 

And judging by the way his hips began to lightly rut against nothing, she could tell what kind of dream he was having. 

Whines and groans began to string from his lips as she trailed her hands over his shoulders and arms.

She tried to rouse him again, "Cregan, wake up."

He let out a soft breath. 

She gave it one last try, kissing fervently up his neck and jaw. "Cregan." Kiss. "Wake up." Kiss. "C'mon." Kiss. "Awaken, handsome man." Kiss.

She sucked a sensitive spot under his jaw, and Cregan tilted his head to give her more room. The feeling began to wake him up.

He whispered her name lightly, and his eyes fluttered open. 

She rubbed a hand over his hair comfortingly. "Sleep well?" A teasing smile came over her face.

"Hmm?" He was thoroughly confused. He pushed himself up and began to take in his surroundings. "W…" It only then really washed over him the dream he had and the reality around him.

"You alright?" She teased further as her hands continued their movement.

He smiled sheepishly. "I'm better than alright."

"I noticed." She tugged his hair playfully, "Wanna tell me what you were dreaming about?"

"Why?" He grinned. "You wanna know what my mind imagined?"

"Dare I say I want it to be about me and only me?"

He hummed. "Would you?"

She grinned. "Are you still tired?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine."

The two grinned from ear to ear. Y/n spoke first. "To bed?"

Cregan stood, knocking the chair over but not caring. He grinned and grabbed her roughly by her waist, pulling her against him. He kissed her deeply.

He pulled away. "To bed."

…

The two pulled the other's clothes off in a rush, not caring if they tore.

The kisses were so forced that their teeth clashed together, only caring to feel the other as close as possible.

She pushed him onto the bed, straddling him as her hands wandered over his bare chest.

"T… Tell me what you dreamed of…" she panted into his mouth.

He took a moment to drink her in, enjoying the thoroughly dazed look in her eyes. "You."

She smirked, "What about me?"

He pulled his face away from hers. He kissed her cheek, then down her jaw, teasing her by repeating her motions from earlier.

"I imagined your pretty thighs wrapped around my head," he whispered in her ear. 

Still straddling him, she froze in place. "W…What?"

"I have dreams of devouring you in the most sinful ways," he admitted.

They had done every position they could think of. Any way to bring the two pleasure. But never had they done that.

"But… why would you do that?"

Her quiet, confused ask took him out of the moment. "What do you mean?"

"Is that… pleasureful? For both of us?"

He reached up with a hand and caressed her cheek. "Oh, I'll find pleasure it in. Don't you fret."

"Are you sure?" She asked hesitantly.

"More than anything," he grinned.

He slowly laid down, resting his back on the bed. His head wasn't far from the headboard, but it would do. "Come, sit."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Are you only going to ask questions, or are you going to sit on my face, sweet girl?" He chuckled.

"But-"

He sat back up, holding her to him, "Do you not want to do this? I won't be angry."

"I do, but…" 

He tilted his head, playing with her hair as he waited for her response.

"But… how will you breathe?"

That was the one question he was sure of. "I'll be fine. If that's your only worry, then you might as well not worry at all."

She reached down to pull the rest of her small clothes off, and Cregan laid back down with a beaming smile.

Up on her knees over him, she began pulling her garments down, then hesitated. "You'll tell me if you want to stop?"

He let out a growl, grabbing the back of her thighs and pulling her up his body until her core hovered over his face, "I won't wanna stop. You're gonna tell me when you want to stop."

She held onto the headboard for balance, not expecting his sudden manhandling.

He reached up and tore her garments, revealing her to him. His mouth almost watered at the sight. "Got that?"

She nodded, "Alright."

"Now sit."

Still holding to the headboard, she slowly lowered her body.

Cregan leaned up a bit, bumping his nose against her clit.

She whimpered immediately. 

"C'mon. You can do better than that," he spoke against her slit. His breath sent a shiver up her spine.

"Cregan, please," she whispered under her breath.

Her body still hovered over him, and he was getting annoyed. He reached up to her waist and gently pushed her down, connecting his lips to her core and licking a long stripe up her folds. 

She let out a small shriek of surprise. Her hips instinctively moved back up to escape the pressure. 

Cregan mouth followed, breaking apart for only a moment before his hands wrapped around her thighs and pulled her down onto his face completely. 

As he began to suck and lick like a starved man, she held to the headboard as her only lifeline. His beard scratched at her just right. Her hips tried to jerk away, but Cregan's iron grip on her thighs kept her from doing so. 

Deep guttural moans came from her, encouraging Cregan to continue. "D… Don't stop… I c… oh, gods…"

She could feel his teeth against her, an obvious grin on the man's face as he ate her out.

One of his hands wandered up, the other keeping a firm grip on her leg. He caressed up her stomach and cupped her breast.

She placed her hand over his, encouraging him further as he began to tweak her nipple. 

He knew her body more than she did. He knew she wouldn't last much longer. 

His hand moved to her backside, and he flipped them, now pinning her down onto the mattress and beginning again from this new position. 

Her hands reached out to the sheets, grabbing at anything she could to help the pressure subside. 

Cregan pulled away for just a moment to see what he'd done. His lips and beard were smeared with her juices, and a hungry look remained in his eyes. "You want me to keep going?" He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her.

Her chest moved up and down with shaky breaths, "Please, Cregan…" He leaned down, pausing just centimeters from her again, "This is exactly how the dream went."

Learning from before, he gripped her hip bones tightly to hold her still, his shoulders keeping her legs open. He then continued.

She reached down, grabbing his hair and tugging, as if it would pull him away. They both knew neither of them wanted him to do so, but the pleasure that was building up in her made her instinctively try to escape it.

But the harsh tugging caused a guttural groan to leave his lips. The vibrations caused a jolt up her spine.

Cregan began to lightly hump the mattress, trying to relieve the hard on he had gained since his dream in his study.

"So good," he muttered against her as his hips moved in a steady pattern.

"I need to… I…"

"I know, I know," his muffled coo sounded out.

Her entire body tensed, the feeling of her orgasm washing over her. She tried to pull at his hair again to get him away from tasting her, but Cregan was quicker. He held her down and drank up everything she gave him.

Finally giving in to her, he pulled away. 

She was utterly spent, a light sheen of sweat over her features, but her eyes shone brightly as she looked down at him. "Was this truly your dream?" She panted.

He pushed himself up and crawled over her to kiss her. The slick covering the lower half of his face came in contact with her face, but neither cared. 

His tongue pushed past her lips, exploring her mouth just as he had with her most intimate parts- both with the intent to please her.

"Just like it," he answered when he pulled away. "Only, your sounds are much sweeter when I know for certain that they're real."

 "Oh, they're very real," she grinned. "How did you know how to do all of that?"

His confidence turned to sheepishness, "I didn't. I was faking my confidence mostly. I just did what made you feel best."

She nodded, surprised by his honest confession. Her hand wandered down his chest to his small clothes, "Perhaps it is y-"

She paused, looking down at her hand.

Cregan's small clothes were wet. 

She paused, "Did you-"

"You tasted so good," he admitted with a cocky grin. "Couldn't help it."

It filled her with pride to know that her husband found his own pleasure from merely eating her out.

"Next time," she promised. "I'll focus on you, my love."

"Your attention is all I crave in this life," he smiled, kissing her again.

.......................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver,

[harunovella]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ safety net; t.f.

synopsis: when toji decided to be a good man and rescue two puppies for his son... content: canon divergence (I want a happy story for the fushiguro's!), fem!reader, reader is mamaguro, in this world your last name is fushiguro and toji took it bc f*ck the zenin, megumi is ur son (he's just a baby!), domestic bliss, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: seeing how successful my gojo anthology series is going (only two parts but going strong), I wanted to do one for toji bc I've always wanted to write his story with mamaguro (aka you!) and do a bunch of one shots that can be read as stand alones or together! pls lmk if you want more and if u wanna be tagged in the future <3 p.s. the divine dogs are actual dogs that inspired megumi's later manifestation of his shikigami in this au

It was one of those late nights for Toji. A summer evening with a heavy downpour to blur his path before him. The windshields were moving as fast as they could, swiftly clearing his vision with every wipe across the glass. He was quite used to this, running around town in the wee hours of the night, nothing new to him. It just annoyed him how difficult it could be driving in the rain when his windows fogged up and the headlights could only do so much. 

He wasn't too far from home, running a quick errand before returning to his abode, wanting nothing more than the warmth of his bed. 

A bed... A home...

Toji couldn't help but sigh and lean his head back against the car's headrest. Had this all been a dream? Was it real? Him, Zenin Toji, living a normal life? It had been quite some time now where he left it all behind to be domesticated—as if he were a wild animal. He didn't mind, though, a part of him was begging for a simple kind of life. 

Sat at a red light as his pointer finger tapped away against the leather steering wheel, his eyes wandered the environment around him—well, as much as he could see during an evening shower. From building to building, the empty sidewalks and dim storefronts, his eyes suddenly bounced back to a bus stop. Squinting, he leaned in before turning on his blinkers. 

This was very unlike him, his curiosity getting the best of him... Maybe it was because he was a changed man. Maybe it was because he had someone to go home to. Someone who made his deflated heart triple in size; someond who made him care about little things that he never did before.

Pulling over and parking his car next to the bus stop, Toji pulled up his hoodie and reached for the small umbrella that sat on the floor of the passenger seat. Rushing out and popping open the coverage, he stood before a small, cardboard box. 

It was falling apart, the rain tearing at the flimsy material as the little towel beneath was completely drenched. Hearing the faint whimpers and cries of the tiny creatures that stared up at him, Toji took in a sharp breath and shook his head. He was a good man now. Better than he ever was before. He had a heart. He had a home. He had someone who loved him. These little bodies did not. 

Lifting the box, he quickly maneuvered it underneath the umbrella before carefully placing it in the backseat of his car. "I hope she won't mind..." he said before making his way to the front, closing the umbrella and shutting the door after, resuming his route. 

The drive home was quicker this time around, zooming to gather the bags and box he had within the car, shutting the doors and locking them behind him before he made his way towards the front door. Taking the steps and fumbling with his keys, he unlocked the door and slipped inside before kicking off his shoes and making his way towards the living room. 

Settling the box down before moving towards the kitchen with the bag, he washed his hands and emptied the contents within it. Pulling out the small device, Toji made his way upstairs, ruffling his dark hair as he pressed a few buttons on the gadget. "Babe, this one should be fine," he spoke as he approached one of the two bedrooms. 

"Oh, good," the voice responded as he entered the room. You were sitting on your son's rocking chair, holding him close to your chest as you caressed his little back. He was about six months old and the constant change in weather was getting to him, causing a slight cold to disrupt his immunity. It pained both of you to see your boy anything but happy and healthy... but, he was such a little trooper. Both of you weren't sure where he got his calmness from, seeing as you nor Toji were such a way, but you thanked the heavens for blessing you with a child like him. 

"How's Megs doin'?" Toji asked as he handed you the new thermometer, squatting and gently caressing his son's head. His hand practically engulfed it, always entertaining him how tiny his boy was. It brought a small smile to his face. "Doesn't seem so fussy."

"A bit better, I got him to fall asleep. You weren't gone for too long, thankfully," you sweetly smiled, settling the small device down before caressing Toji's face. "Raining hard, huh?"

"Yeah," he nodded, only to widen his eyes. 

"What is it?" You furrowed your eyebrows. 

Scratching the back of his head, Toji stood up. "Got a surprise along the way... hope you don't mind."

"What do you mean?" You tilted your head. 

"Let's go downstairs," he nudged his own, waving you to follow him. 

Standing up carefully as to not wake your baby boy, you followed your man down the hall and staircase, towards your living room. You were confused at first, unsure as to what surprise he could've gotten you. But then you heard it. The faint cries and rustling coming from a box. The box in front of you. "Toji..."

"You've changed me, y'know?" He said. "I wouldn't have cared back then, would've left them suffer... but, guess it's because I'm a father now and I have you... I couldn't let them die out there..." rubbing the back of his neck as he stood by the box, you curiously peeked over before gasping. "Thought it would be nice to keep 'em... give Megs something to grow with."

"Toji... there's two," you nearly whispered, eyeing the puppies. One in pure white and one in all black, both equally precious. Tiny, scared, cold... you couldn't deny them either, even if you were currently raising your own baby. 

"Yeah..." Toji sighed. "I was thinkin' about giving them a quick bath now and take them to the vet early tomorrow. Don't have much to feed them but we can make it work, right?" He said, keeping his eyes on them, a bit afraid of your reaction. 

As upset as you should've been, seeing as it was two more mouths to feed, instead, you felt... elated? You weren't sure why, maybe it was because you were seeing more and more sides of Toji you didn't think would exist. Or maybe you loved the idea of giving your son two furry best friends to grow with. It could've also been that you were just happy that your son was okay and getting through his cold that you couldn't be as bothered. 

It also didn't help that you may or may not have mentioned a few times (while taking your strolls during your pregnancy) that your little blessing should have some furry friends around. You just didn't think it would happen... this way. 

"So?" Toji asked, looking at you with timid eyes. "Can we keep 'em?"

"Toji," you chuckled. "I'm not going to abandon these poor babies. You brought them here, you're gonna have to do a lot of raising. You're now a father of three," you teased as he nodded. 

"I'm well aware."

"I'm surprised you're okay with this, let alone, brought them," you pointed out. 

Shrugging, he looked back down. "Like I said, it's cause you changed me and I'm a father now. As scary as that is... I dunno... guess I want that normal life and normal people have dogs, right?" Seeing you nod with a small smile, Toji couldn't help but reflect your facial expression. "I wanna give him everything I've never had," he nudged his head in Megumi's direction. 

"Such a good dad," you softly spoke, caressing your sons back before stepping closer and kissing Toji's arm. "Then I guess we have two puppies now. What should we name them?"

Eyeing the two, Toji hummed. "Kuro and Shiro."

[soleilapproves]

Nanami is in love with his best friend who saves him from a creepy woman. Honestly, I’m not sure what the plot is. I just wrote this because I was procrastinating my chem assignment.

Notes: reader referred to as wife

main masterlist

Nanami Kento didn’t know when he fell in love with you. Maybe it was when you giggled and pulled him out of the house to jump around in the rain with you. Or was it when you fell asleep on his shoulder after a long workday?

He didn’t know that you found so much solace in him. 

His breathing was shallow as he watched you prance around your shared kitchen, singing a generic pop song about… love, was it? Or heartache. He didn’t know or care; all he knew was that you were wearing his shirt like it belonged to you- like he didn’t spend his hard-earned money to buy something for work, and you just plucked it out of the laundry room like it had your name on it.

He half expected you to be all bashful once you turned around and saw him, but no, you just pointed the whisk you used to mix your pancake batter at him and began lip-syncing the song's lyrics to him. He scoffed as he walked around the kitchen island and held on to your waist. Your singing slowed down as his grip tightened on you.

“What? You were hogging up the space in front of the coffee machine. Don’t stop on my account,” Nanami nonchalantly said as he dragged you away from the coffee station. Bewildered, you went back to singing again, facing away from him as you looked for cinnamon in the spice cabinet. 

Nanami bit the inside of his cheek as he noticed your ears looked redder than usual.

It all felt oddly domestic. Your work shoes were strewn by the door, he was comfortable with his hair being disheveled, your unapologetically tone-deaf singing, and of course, the fact that you were making breakfast for him unprompted. 

‘I could live like this forever,’ the blond thought. Of course, minus the whole best-friends-who-live-together-and-aren’t-in-a-romantic-relationship situation.

But was confessing to you a good idea? What if you both broke up and never wanted to see each other again? What would happen to your living arrangement then? He can’t handle not seeing you for a day. It would be horrible for his sanity. 

But then again, you both have been friends for so long that it only felt natural to be with each other all the time.

He ignored his heart, screaming at him to confess to you. The man was clearly too far gone; if he spent another day in your presence, he would surely go mad. In love and in vain.

He ignored his thoughts when he saw you accidentally pick up his cup and place your lips exactly where his were a few seconds ago. You scrunched your nose, and it took everything in him not to kiss it. “Dear God, this is bitter. I’m sorry, Ken, but I will never enjoy your tastes in food.” 

Ken

He could hear you say that all day, all night, and in his dreams. Fuck, weren’t you a magnetic being?

He ignored his heart while brushing his teeth later that night. He put his hand on his chest and rubbed it when he saw your toothpaste next to his. Yours was pink, and his was blue. A silly little cliche among most couples. He looked at the shower shelf in the bathroom- you used the same body wash as him because you said men’s shower gels smelled better. He simply complied and brought you a few bottles because it gave him the illusion that you had slept in his bed. 

The two of you were polar opposites. He preferred a quiet night in, while you’d take advantage of your weekends and go out with friends. You hated cooking while he cooked elaborate recipes for fun. You were very outdoorsy while he preferred to use his treadmill.

There were so many differences, but you both complemented one another so well. So much that it confused mutual friends. People often asked why you both weren't a couple instead of if you were one.

He would also ignore his heart when it thrilled him to see men walk away from you as soon as he was in your space, hands naturally sitting on your waist while you whined about being single. ‘I’m right here!’ he wanted to scream. ‘Look at me!’

But his heart reached its wits end when you pretended to be his wife to protect him from an uncomfortably touchy woman.

Nanami is a simple man; he gets excited when he hears about food. Especially when it has to do with trying new dishes. So it was only natural that he dragged you to a global food festival in the city. It was pleasantly warm in the outdoor space for a cold winter night, thanks to all the cooking going on in the stands. You were a little overstimulated by all the smells, but the excitement on Nanami’s face was well worth the temporary discomfort. By now, you both had traveled to France, Turkey, and India via flavors alone.

The bar at the food stand you both were eating was getting increasingly crowded by the second, so it was only natural that there would be some unintentional physical contact with strangers. Nanami wrapped his arm around you to prevent the old man beside you from rubbing all his nauseating cologne over you. You ignored the way your body fit right next to his. And dare you say- like a puzzle piece with the silhouette of your breasts pressing up right beneath his pecs. 

You both decided to share a bowl of spicy noodle soup, but you couldn’t handle the prickly taste of peppers on your tongue. “I’m gonna grab something sweet. You want anything?” 

Nanami missed your warmth as you climbed out of the booth’s eating bench. “I’m alright, I’ll wait for you.” 

You also needed a few minutes away from him so your body could catch a break. The rush of adrenaline you’d get when he’d touch you was unlike any other.

He didn’t touch his noodle soup in your absence. It felt tasteless to him without you pressed up next to him. 

He continued his wallowing while staring at the bowl of soup until he felt someone slide in next to him. Excited, he turned around only to be met with a stranger. “Oh my, I really want to try the spicy noodle soup, but I’m scared it’ll be too painful.” 

“I’m sure the owner can give you a sample, and this seat is taken, so I’m gonna have to ask you to move to another place.” 

The insistent woman placed her manicured hand on his bicep, and Nananmi’s posture stiffened. “Oh, come on, I’ll just take a sip from you- I mean, your bowl, and I’ll be out of your hair.” 

This was turning into sexual harassment, and he was about to pull out his sanitizer spray to put her in her place until he heard a familiar voice. “Hey, lady! Leave him alone.” He let out a breath of relief when you arrived, ice cream in hand. 

“I can do whatever I want; it’s a free country,” she sulked.

“So can he, and he asked you to leave him alone,” you argued back. 

“Who even are you?”

“His wife.” Nanami’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. By now, the people at the booth had turned towards the three of you to observe the spectacle. Before the creep could counter your answer or ask you for proof, the booth’s owner spoke up. “Hey, you buyin’ or not? I have customers waitin’ who actually wanna eat!” 

The lady quickly tucked her tail between her legs and briskly walked out of the area. Never to be seen again. “Fucking hell, some people really need to learn about consent. You okay?” Nanami wanted to reply to you, but no words came out of his mouth. 

You had basically declared to the world that you were his wife. Well, not the world, but all eight people in the booth (excluding you two) believed that you were his wife! It probably meant nothing to them, but to him it was like you had hung the stars in the sky. 

“Ken?” 

Ugh, you said it again. 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” His eyes simply couldn’t look away from your spice-swollen lips. If you’re his pretend wife, then it’s okay for him to kiss you, right? 

He mentally slapped himself at that thought. If he was going to kiss you then it was going to be the real deal.

—

Honestly, I like it when reader protects the character. Like yes, come here, my 6’4 baby girl, I’ll beat that person up for you.

[citrinae]

forgive me, for i love being bad for you.

sanji x reader (ft. platonic!zoro)

summary; everyone agrees that you and roronoa zoro are like two peas in a pod: cool, unbothered, hitting pubs on the regular. everyone, except your boyfriend sanji—who’d try anything to distract you from your visibly chaotic lifestyle. even visiting a potion shop. or: sanji needs to get out of his head in four acts. 

contents; angsty vibes, lowkey love triangle, miscommunication™, abandonment issues, drinking, sex pollen, a little dubcon tbh, piv, oral sex (both receiving), facesitting, multiple orgasms, creampie, college/modern!AU, witch!sanji, jealous!sanji, afab!reader, wc: 7.3k (wheezes), mdni. spooky carnival is still in town, go catch it if you’re in for a bad time.

masterlist.

i. 

Zoro sets his glass back on the table with a forceful clink. There’s liquor rolling to the corner of his lips. 

“I still don’t get it,” annoyance hangs from his voice as he speaks. “How the fuck you put up with him?”

Your reflection looks back at you from the amber in your glass. 

“He’s sweet and he cooks for me,” you mean it. Despite Zoro’s lack of trust in your newfound romance, slightly taking to repulse, Sanji has been nothing but a dream to you. Resting his cheek on yours as you were watching some movie you borrowed for the night, swinging hands as he took you grocery shopping. Everything about him buzzes with the type of comfortable affection one meets in magazines, or in Christmas commercials, and you’re sure to fall harder for him by the day. “Have you taken the time to cook for someone you dated?”

“Yeah?” Zoro washes the accusation away with another sip. “You into cooks?”

“Apparently.”

“‘s he a good cook?”

A smile, prideful. “Nothing but a wizard in the kitchen.”

“Christ, you’re even starting to sound like him,” he teases further. “Putting random words together and expecting to make sense.”

“He’s a good cook, Zoro,” you tell him again. 

There’s a pause. 

“No kidding.”

At a loss of what to say, you clumsily try to fill the silence.

“Yeah.” 

“As long as you like him or whatever,” defeated, waving his hand. “Just keep him outta my sight, will you?”

“Deal,” you say, downing your drink as you do. Bitterness lingers on the roof of your mouth, throat burned and numbed out. Suddenly your mind wanders somewhere else. “Care for another round?”

Zoro’s smirk is sly, devilish. “Now that’s more like my language.”

So you get yourselves a second refill that turns into a third, and a forth, until there’s no more use to bother about keeping count. Your surroundings seem to start whirling for a second. You close your eyes, then open them. And everything gets back into place.

On the day you met him, somewhere around campus, basking in the sun like a stray cat on trim lawn, you and Zoro hit off immediately. Scruffy hair, bomber jackets, eyes looking like he’s about to fall asleep any minute, Zoro is the type to never dwell on things for longer they’re worth. Always a guy of instinct, speaking truths others might opt to stay away from. On the other hand you have a knack for chaos he easily complements, so for over a year now he’s been a good and loyal friend to you, your time together something neither of you would regret or give up on.

He’s the one who introduced you to Sanji. Now it’s clearer to you that Sanji had most probably asked him to. Neither of them expected it when you agreed to go out with him, “It’s just a fucking date, chill out. Free meal you know?”; and to your own surprise, your heart skipped a good beat when you saw him that night.

Sanji. Annoying, perverted, absolutely fucking delusional Sanji, lighting up a cigarette in front of his car. Light fell nicely on his rings as he kept a hand around a flower bouquet—the pretentious kind, with a wrapper and ribbon and all. Red button-up, black jeans, coat. Heart-warming smile. 

Everything about the scene felt like something taken from those really sugary rom-coms you and Zoro make fun of when drunk. Yet somehow you admired Sanji for putting in the effort. His hand quivered on the door handle, “You look sensational, my dear.” Adjusting your seat belt, you told him that he didn’t look so bad himself, and by the pink crossing his face as you did, you deduced he might not be used to having flattery thrown his way. 

At dinner he told you he was raised in a small restaurant down east, and that they sold soy wax candles and herbs right next door. Wiping up your mouth with a handkerchief, you tried to come up with a quip around it, “And you stocked healing crystals and runes as well, right?” But then he just propped his hand in a palm, a wide smile blooming on his face that made you unsure whether he was playing along with the narrative or simply felt happy to talk about his past. “Sometimes we did, yeah. But we were more into the culinary side of things.”

When, a couple days later, you told Zoro that you and Sanji had spent the night together, he didn’t hesitate to let you know that he thought it a bad idea. He warned that Sanji was weird—not in the sense that he had a wandering eye or spent a rent-worth on cigarettes. He was simply weird. Fingers drumming on wood, “Caught him mustering some nonsense crap to a jar once. Like he was enchanting it or something.” Soon you were reliving the conversation you had on your first date. “You mean he’s, like, Sabrina the Teenage Witch?” Zoro didn’t catch it. “Who?” he said, and you waved him off. “Nevermind.”

The sneer he wore back then was similar to the one he makes now, seeing the blue light of your phone fill the room with a notification. 

“It’s him,” you say, fingers instinctively hovering to your lock screen. Neither can you help looking at the hour displayed in blinding white: 01:51 A.M. 

Zoro keeps himself from rolling his eyes. “Tell him I’m bringing you to your dorm.”

You text; the reply comes in a beat. 

“He asks if you even know where my dorm is.”

“Of course I—” Zoro clicks his tongue. Then he snatches the phone from your hands and presses ‘record’. “Of course I know where to go you jackass,” he snarls, throat pulsing. 

Taking your phone back, you check the message popping in not long after. “He says he’s coming over.”

“Fine then. Whatever.” It’s low. He sounds irritated. “Let’s pay and we’ll wait for your princess outside.”

And that’s exactly what you do; take care of the bill, grab your jackets and throw yourselves out. Feeling the crisp air on your cheeks, you realise you’re so much drunker than you’ve felt inside. You’re light, feathery, persistently on the verge of being blown out. Concrete flounders around you and you have to put in some additional effort to maintain your balance. Time becomes harder for you to register or something Zoro has just said made you cackle for too long because here is Sanji, your sweet boyfriend Sanji, parking his car not too far away from your forms. You can tell he put on himself the first things he saw in the wardrobe. His hair is slightly disordered, his step heavy as he rushes to your direction. 

“Evening Angel,” Sanji chirps, pulling you into a hug, and you cannot help but dig your nose into the soft fabric of his hoodie, closing your eyes, glad to finally have something to lean your weight onto. His tone drops when he looks at Zoro. “Mosshead.”

Zoro’s hands are sunk into his pockets. “Told you I got everything under control.”

“Pardon me if I didn’t believe you.” Sanji is sardonic. “Looking at the state of this slump, seems like I was right not to.”

“Not my idea to come here, bitch,” Zoro drones. His breath fogs the air as he speaks. “Next time get your head outta your ass and listen to people before running your mouth.”

Some of Sanji’s cologne still hangs from the soft fabric. “This was the only place that allowed us to play cards,” you say against his chest.

“Aha,” he flattens his hand across your back. “At least tell me you played for money and bled this loser dry. Tomorrow will get yourself something pretty with stupid mosshead pocket change.”

“You done talking?” Zoro says through gritted teeth. 

“Yeah,” Sanji’s lips press into a thin line. He’s slowly urging you towards the car. “We’ll be off in a beat.”

“We didn’t play for money,” you tilt your head to look at him, trying to match his steps as you distance yourselves from the pub. 

“What a pity.” Between wry and affectionate. 

You raise a loose fist in the air. “Till the next one, Zoro!”

“See ya daredevil,” Zoro shifts his weight from one leg to another. “Tuck your princess in and give him a sweet goodnight’s kiss, yeah?”

“Fuck you,” Sanji heaves, closes the door behind you. 

On the way to your dorm, he doesn’t ask about how many you had or lecture about being alone—with Zoro—late at night. Why would he? He’s aware this is a part of you, and he’d lie if he said he doesn’t melt watching the glimmer in your eye and your lips curling into a wicked smirk each time you tell him how much fun you had. Though he does worry about you, sometimes, when you willingly throw yourself in all kinds of dangerous shenanigans. Seeing your head slipping down the backrest, silently Sanji casts a spell on your eyelids to make sure you sleep unbothered until tomorrow morning. Tucks some strands of hair behind your ear, yet his eyes are still fixed on the road, and his hands are both rested on the steering wheel. 

Normally, he wouldn’t have been so exhibited with his magic had you been awake. But for now he takes the liberty to carry himself as if he were alone or in the company of the shitty bunch at the Baratie that taught him the craft to begin with. Foliage and plains and cottages move remotely in his wingspan while he continues to think of you. Your smile, your laughter, the nonchalant way you coil your arms around his own to show you around the places that you have so many stories to tell about. To him you are a bundle of new experiences and joy, something pleasant and airy he wishes to emanate himself someday. Always honest, always so easy to approach. Dandelion seeds whirling loosely in the wind. 

But the one thing he cannot seem to take his mind from is that having a bent for partying also means having a bent for Zoro. 

Lazy, shabby, perpetually absent-minded Zoro. 

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. 

Sanji has never really liked the guy, for reasons he doesn’t have the time or energy to list. Tolerance is perhaps too much to describe the compromise he’s willing to take; but he attempts it, for your sake. Because no matter how he tries looking at things Zoro adds something to this life of yours he certainly doesn’t have, or doesn’t know how to make up for. No matter how well you fit in his arms, early in the morning with sleep still heavy on your lashes, throaty voice narrating a dream so bizarre it plucks a laughter from his lips, the nights will always be reserved to someone he wouldn’t even bother to understand. Because he doesn’t want to. 

Window rolls down; he lights up a cigarette. 

Moments pass. His car stops by a pair of victorian-esque gates he doesn’t take long to recognise. He carries you on his back all the way to your dorm room, putting to sleep everyone he stumbles upon as he does; he isn’t supposed to be here, and certainly you aren’t supposed to return this late at night. He’s thankful you chose to sleep in the bottom bed. With this thought in mind he arranges your pillow and places you under the covers, slowly, gently almost like you were made of glass. From his tote bag he picks out a flask and a piece of paper he scribbles on: “for your hangover—sanji <3” 

ii.

The sun bleeds through stained glass in dazzling shades of pink and blue and yellow. Wind chimes, cluttered shelves. Dusted books. The air is thick with the smell of wood and incense. Sanji picks at the fingers that he keeps tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. He isn’t allowed to smoke in here, but fuck does he need a drag. Light catches across the variety of bottles and jars lined up in front of him, all displayed in eye-catching colours and labelled in alphabetical order. 

Would I? He tries his best not to pick up the light blue piece lingering a little too at hand not to be a work of fate. Should I? Sanji kisses his teeth; he takes the thing into his palm. 

There’s a piece of paper attached by lace ribbon. Writing is dainty, yet small and hardly intelligible.

Truth shows itself in wicked colours;

betrayal, freedom, promise.

For they who shall drink this wicked brew

take a night in their beloved’s embrace.

Is their bond seen pure and true,

the Garden sees no place for others.

Like the first lovers on Earth— 

runaways from Eden, they shall be.

Sanji takes a deep breath. Flips the flask on all sides, reading and rereading, biting his inner cheek. It’s not like he doesn’t trust you. He does, with all his heart. And yet he cannot help but shamelessly wonder: if Zoro hadn’t introduced you, would you and him have ended up together? Does he stand in the way of something which is meant to be? “I’m pathetic, fuck.”

He tastes blood. 

Talking to you about this is out of the question, since that would mean admitting Zoro is a better match for you. Plus, honesty is one of the things he admires about you. He’s sure you wouldn’t cheat. To bring this up would only lead to conflict and the sort of disappointment he’d rather choke to death than see reflected in your eyes. 

“This shit is ridiculous.”

The flask makes a frail sound as Sanji throws it in his basket. Stomping the floor with his foot, a cold sweat bobbing at his nape, at checkout he’s greeted by a gorgeous woman dressed in a velvet dress and speaking with a faint voice he doesn’t care enough to pay attention to. There’s a black cat sleeping on a shelf behind her. 

“Is this everything you needed?” she asks, carefully placing the goods in a paper pag. 

Sanji drops some cash on the counter and leaves without saying a thing to her. 

iii. 

“What do you think, my dear?” Sanji asks you on the other side of the table. The potion he bought a week ago forms a bump inside the pocket of his dress pants. 

You want to be sure of your answer, so you take another forkful of your food, still steaming hot and methodically arranged on the plate. It’s good. No, it’s tremendously good, better than you imagined it to be. 

“Sanji, this is incredible,” you say, not allowing yourself the time to fully swallow. “And I’m not only saying this because I like complimenting you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” His face brightens, a mix of pride and the unpretentious joy he takes from cooking to other people. However he still looks to be preoccupied by something else you never find the right timing to ask about. 

Embarrassment hitching up your throat, you drag your fork across ceramic. Sanji stays silent for a moment; his plate is barely touched. In hopes to escape the tension, your eyes wander to look at his curtains, his shelves, an enframed picture with a gruff old man and a much younger Sanji cheerily holding out a slice of lemon cheesecake. The apartment is small, but tasteful, with decent flooring and a rent anyone your age can afford. White walls, light blue cushioning. A closed balcony where he grows basil and rosemary. 

You are going to sleep over tonight. It’s not that you've never done this before; have dinner together before deciding on a movie you’ll never get to watch because his hand grips on your thigh a little too tightly and your knee presses itself somewhere too bold to go unnoticed. But something feels different now, you cannot quite tell why. He feels different. With his avoidant eyes and stuttering words and index finger that frequently climbs to scratch an eyebrow. 

“If you wanted to break up with me you could’ve chosen a café, you know?” you hear yourself saying, arms folded. 

“What?” His chair scrapes the floor; he tries not to cringe from the sound.  “No, no.” It's ferm. It's rushed. “Why would you think that?” goes unsaid. 

Fingertips digging into the table, Sanji doesn't know how he ended up on his feet. He takes the opportunity to take the seat next to yours, plate and cutlery clanking along as he does. “No one's breaking up with anyone, sweetheart,” words fight their way through the knot in Sanji's throat. 

Sanji shoves his fork in his food which now looks less parmigiana and more like something a primary school kid would make for their art class assignment. Fuck, adding wasted food to his trainwreck fog of thoughts is the last thing he wants for tonight. After he swallows it down, his tone finally relaxes. 

“I was actually thinking of proposing something, now that we’re soon to move up to dessert. Something I'd like us to try,” he says. 

It registers quickly. “Like in bed?”

“It might sound a little weird, though.” Sanji avoids meeting your eyes. His chest rises and falls in a disjointed rhythm as he tries his best to empty his plate. 

“I like weird,” you say, propping your head on a fist, curiosity pushing your mouth a little higher. 

He cannot help but mimic your smile. “Well I bought us something.”

“You did.”

“Yeah, I did.” Not wasting any more time, he pulls the flask out of his pocket, displays it on the dinner table—clear liquid bottled in cerulean crystal, ribbon unfastened and label removed. Your eyes widen. “I was doing some grocery shopping, and stumbled upon this,” Sanji explains. 

You take it in your hands, blinking, carefully not to damage the contents. “Is this an aphrodisiac?” 

“You can call it that,” he says. “It stimulates the senses, so everything should feel a little more intense than usual. I know I haven’t been necessarily adventurous with you, dear,” looking into his plate, then at you. Inevitably he starts thinking of Zoro. “Thought maybe I can start from somewhere.”

Your hand reaches his. “You don’t have to go out of your way for me. You’re perfect for me, yeah? And I have fun with you. Lots of it, actually.”

“I know—” heat rising in throat, he reaches to loosen his shirt collar. “I mean, you’re perfect for me, too, hell I cherish each and every moment we spend together. Kind of felt intrigued to experience this with you, is all. However it’s definitely ok and understandable if you don’t feel comfortable doing it.”

Inspecting the flask in your hands, you give it a second of thought. You know the kind of shops Sanji frequents: equipped with dust and smoke and mysteries. The between-buildings types you have asked about before, and received a response either too vague or too straightforward to be taken seriously. Even still, trust has never been an obstacle. You trust Sanji; he has trustworthy eyes and a soothing voice that feels like a kiss on one’s eyelids. He’s good to you, always has been, when he cradles your face in his palms and calls you his sun and moon and stars, stardust dripping from his eyes as he assures you’re the best he’s had. 

“Does this have any side effect or some sort?” you look up to search for his gaze, and like pulled by a magnet Sanji returns it. 

“No,” he says. “Wears off in the morning. Like nothing happened.”

If you don’t end up running to Zoro, that is. There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach as the thought snipes through his mind. He’s not sure how to feel about lying to you, either. But maybe it’s for the best; if it turns out he isn’t your meant-to-be after all.  

Decisive, “Fuck it. Let’s do it, then.”

Sanji’s smirk fades out the anxiety. “In this case our next course will consist of one more secret ingredient.”

Feet swinging, tapping against the floor. Walls drifting apart and closing in. Moments have passed through you like sequences from a dream, and you fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater as Sanji sets the dessert on the table—two delicate things, like they were long intended to play the highlight of your night, light pink and beautifully decorated with dried rose petals and pomegranate seeds. For a minute you marvel at Sanji’s attention to detail, the love he puts into any dish as he turns them into something special and palatable. 

“Baby,” your laugh is a casual play at fragrancy Sanji takes in with a one-sided smile. “There’s no way I can run my teaspoon into this.”

He takes the seat to your right. “The real deal happens when you taste it, sweetheart,” he says, reaching for a teaspoon of his own, strands of blonde hair brushing one cheek as he does. 

And when you eventually do it, run tableware through moulded cream, you relish the sweetness that melts on the roof of your mouth. Sanji asks if you can tell the other thing apart from the dish. You say no, I don’t, do you? I think it’s the pomegranate, he acts like he’s uncertain even though you’re sure it shouldn’t take more than a few seconds. I only used some as decor. But here it’s rather pungent, not that I’m complaining. Child’s play. Halfway through your tasting, a second question comes. 

Do you feel anything? 

I don’t. 

Do you?

No.

Sanji’s heart clutches in his chest. He’s impatient, laughable even, he knows he is, since spells like this should take longer to surface. Three times he mouthed the chant and the potion gracefully vanished into steam as it poured down the servings, no drops left. By the look of that, Sanji might at least expect something to happen. Either bad or reassuring. 

Yet you stay your familiar comfortable selves even after you’ve eaten the whole thing, carrying on as such when you help him—at least attempting to, he never lets you lift a finger—clean the table and watch him washing the dishes from one of his counters. Sleeves pushed to elbows, fingers sunk into the sponge, hair pushed into concentrated, concentrating eyes. Water rolls off his wrists—drip, drop. He tells you something, but you cannot hear him. It hovers towards the ceiling and in the back of your head, a muffled sound engulfing you not less like the numbing feeling of being underwater. Shamelessly you ask him to repeat. 

Okay, maybe you do start feeling some way. 

Sanji turns off the tap. A crushing silence. 

“I was wondering if you thought of something to watch tonight,” he turns to look at you, and stops. 

He cannot tell if it’s your eyes, suddenly looking bigger, or your collarbones, stretching in and out in anticipation, wet lips looking wetter, slightly parted as you breathe, but he feels helplessly drawn to you, like you’ve been tied up by some invisible rope that keeps rolling up, more and more, thinning the space between your bodies. Air catches in his lungs as he lets himself be torn apart by his awe and not knowing what to do with it. 

Just as indiscreetly you wrap your eyes around his shoulders, his chest, his biceps, looking so much more strained under his shirt. Watching him make a step towards you, it seems like his eyes have gotten brighter, cheeks catching a faint tinge of pink, and you have to fight the impulse to dip a hand under your sweater and see how those long fingers of his would feel on you. 

Your fingertips bite into the front edges of the counter. “Not yet, no,” you say, a little disconnected from yourself. Sanji’s scent is an intoxicating mix of rosemary and sandalwood. “Guess we’ll have to browse and see what comes our way.”

“Sure. We’ll look.” Stepping forward, Sanji is the most relaxed he’s felt in days, his limbs and shoulders so much lighter as he moves, comfortably numb in the absence of a thought which has weighted on his back like a fiend draining him of his life force. He knows he has been waiting for something tonight, an answer, you calling a name he cannot bring himself to remember, and yet his mind is blank with nothing but the image of his lips crashing on yours. 

His presence radiates need, and it sends an electric shiver down your spine as he comes closer to you, fingers running over your knuckles. When your eyes align with his, you find it impossible to look anywhere else. So you sink into the blue and drown. Sanji leans further in, and his breath is sultry against your earshell as he speaks. 

“Fuck knows what’s happening to me, dear,” he says, a hoarse sound that makes your thighs squeeze together. “But please tell me you’ll ride my face before anything else.”

But he sure knows what’s going on. He put a spell on you; or something along these lines. 

Your body moves by its own as you push forward, biting your bottom lip, pressing your chest against his. “Want me to fuck your mouth, pretty?” your tone echoes the urgency of his request. 

His lips trail down your ear and across your neck. Suddenly your legs are wrapped around his torso. “Oh, and even more,” he tells you. “I want you to cream on my mouth so much that you’ll never find any other to please you just as good.”

“Then why am I not in your bed yet?” It comes out more desperate than it should. Without realising your fingers have unfastened at least two of his shirt buttons, and now they seem to cling onto his collar for dear life. 

Something flares in him; powerful, primal, which he hasn’t been aware he’s had before, sliding a hand under your hips and picking you up before slamming his lips against yours. The kiss is deep, all tongue. You return it with closed eyes and a breathy moan that pulls Sanji in a frenzied daze. Hands curled at his nape, you lose yourself in the taste of nicotine and pomegranates as you let him carry you past dim lit walls and into the bedroom. He doesn’t bother to turn on the lights. When he hurls you in bed, it’s with a deliberate movement, careful not to bruise you in any way but not the less forceful altogether. 

Then you take care of the rest of his buttons and belt, and he moves his focus to your pants, tugging them off while your mouths can’t gather the resolve to leave each other. Your fingers rake themselves through his hair. Smoothing the skin under your sweater, his hands stop to flatten around your breast. As Sanji presses his weight on you, it becomes impossible not to notice how fucking hard he is, greedy and throbbing against your soaked panties. He’s at his most unbridled tonight, and yet he touches you with the ritualistic devotion of a priest, mouthing syrup into your ear like lighting candles on an altar. The full moon spills in her light through the window, blue and delicate, and for a moment there you are sure Sanji’s contours have caught a prismatic glow, colourful flashes whirling in your vision, wavering around him like some sort of aura. 

After he breaks away, you are still tied together by a thin thread of saliva. He pushes your panties aside, and your back arches when he slides a digit, and then a second one, into your slit. There’s lust in his eyes, the kind you’ve never seen on him before, drinking in the sweet faces you make while his fingers press in and out of you in circling motions, rubbing your clit just so sweetly as he does. 

“Look how wet you are, dearest,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “Always such a lovely mess for me.”

“I want you, Sanji,” you say, aware that you cannot hide the way he makes you feel by looking at him alone. 

It’s you, Sanji.

Your voice echoes in his heart like water dripping in a cave, let it melt inside him with something close to relief. He wants to thank you; and yet he cannot tell exactly what for. What he does instead is pull you into another kiss, less vicious and more affectionate, keeping you close with a hand flattened on your nape. 

The more you kiss him the brighter the room looks. Spectral rainbow fading behind his form. 

“Could you shift your hips for me?” Sanji eventually suggests. “Let me taste you, honey.”

It doesn’t take long to figure out what he means by that. Like a thing of habit, you let Sanji take your spot on the bed, then climb your way onto his face. You take yourself a moment before starting to move, but all wariness disappears the moment he drags a flat tongue across your slit. His voice vibrates into your core as your taste has him mumbling seared praises against your folds. Further you drop yourself on his mouth, and more he laps at your pussy, wet and desperate, coaxing you those sounds that fill the room and blend in with the moonlight. 

Sanji’s tongue has always managed to make you shiver. But this time is different, because you can feel everything; nose and beard and lips, drenched in your slick, white-hot as they rub themselves against your favourite spots. You can feel it when his eyes close and open, taking his time to savour the moment, and when he lets out a pleasured sigh to let you know how grateful he is to be allowed the luxury of tasting you, there is a delirious sensation rushing from your heat and climbing to your back like an electrical shock. It makes you thrust your hips harder against his mouth, call out his name with the urgent solemnity you didn’t know your voice could be able to reproduce. 

Looking at the way Sanji’s lower body tries to helplessly grind against nothing, cock straining in the confines of his boxers, bulging and stained with precum, you come to realise he must be feeling the same as you do. Oh, but Sanji revels in seeing how sweet you can be for him, and how good he can make you feel when he eats you out. He doesn’t mind the pain as long as he gets to lick you off his chin after he’s done. Never someone to dismiss your pleasure over his own. And yet. 

As his mouth diligently works on the heat that is now building in your stomach, and your movements pick up in pace to reach the high, you cannot help not to stare at his cock, thrusting the air to catch up with your rhythm. Hands running a touch across his stomach, you lick your lips. Sanji moans into you when you lean down to tug at his boxers. 

“Angel, what—” you hear him saying. 

Not allowing him the time to protest, you press yourself onto his face. “I’m so close, please,” you inform him, in a voice you don’t recognise. “Please don’t stop.”

So he doesn’t, running his tongue around your clit, not letting a single drop go to waste. You’re almost there. 

“Good goddess, fuck,” he huffs, feeling your hands on his balls, and shortly after your mouth kissing him at the tip. 

He comes that instant; let heat shoot in your mouth and down your throat as you wrap your lips around him, swallowing and licking off everything you can. There is something wrecked in his voice as he’s taken through his crescendo, something like a prayer sent to an all-mighty, and even then he continues to kiss your folds and drag his tongue across you until you come to climb a peak of your own. With Sanji’s taste lingering on the roof of your mouth, tears begin to well up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you call for him, over and over again, enveloped in pleasures you never thought that existed. 

Only when you’re brought back, a panting mess, you realise Sanji remained just as hard as you left him—something only that weird sex drink could’ve made it happen. You take the opportunity to lift your hips from his mouth and better adjust yourself at his crotch; he starts shifting awkwardly the moment you do. 

“There’s no need to, really.” Sanji is hesitant as he looks down at you, lips red and goatee still soaked with your slick. 

“But I want my meal,” you say, already licking at the tip. “It’s only fair you let me have one too.”

He’s having a hard time saying no to you; but how can he, when you talk with that voice, and when you look at him with those pleading eyes that reflect the gates to Heaven and more? Your mouth takes a little more of him, hot tongue trailing up and down his cock, and his eyes roll back into his head in visible defeat. 

Sanji runs his fingers through your hair. His tone takes to yearning, “So my precious darling is hungry, huh? Cute and silly for my cock?”

“Mhm,” bottom lip rolling up, wetly.

Half smug, half dazed. “Then it’d be cruel of me not to keep you fed.” 

Deeper you push your mouth around him, until he’s twitching in your throat and you start to gag. Sanji’s thumb finds your cheek—please don’t do anything you don’t want to. But you wouldn’t stop. You cannot stop. Not when you get to hear the whimpers he makes as your lips press around the skin ever so slightly, when you look up at his heaving chest, his parted lips, pushing out a broken exhale, the eyes that now flood with wavering reflections of the moonlight and tears threatening to wet his lashes. 

“Oh, my angel.” It’s coarse, struggling for air. His eyes shut close. “My sun, my everything. Yeah, like that. So fucking good.”

Hands coated in spit, you reach to give his balls a gentle squeeze, continue to fill your throat. Once praises have started to spill from Sanji’s mouth, they don’t stop, and they touch a point at which the words feel like no more than babbling, trashed and incoherent, with his hair blown in both of his eyes. His hand sometimes runs to his forehead, other times he uses it to caress your face and pet your hair, but no matter what Sanji stays loud in letting you know how good whatever you’re doing to him feels.

The moment he sets both of his hands on your head, you know it’s because he’s getting close. With a fearful thrust of his cock into your mouth a growl leaves him, and soon after his second release spills down your throat, warm, somehow sweet. You swallow; his chest expands and contracts in attempt to catch his breath. 

Specks of light dash off Sanji’s lips. Pulling you at his level, he clashes them against yours into yet another kiss, sloppy and greedy as he runs his hand down your curves, sinks his fingers into your skin. The touch sears everywhere it reaches; and you cannot do anything but melt in his arms, let yourself be moulded by this growing need that somehow can never quite satiate you. 

“Hope you don’t think you won’t be rewarded for that,” Sanji breathes into your mouth. 

Your lips rolling to his jaw, you say, “Hope you don’t think I’ve had enough of you.”

“I’m here for you to take,” with a quivering hand Sanji squeezes your pussy. “Will always be.”

His fingers send a delightful shock throughout your body. Something close to a moan tears from your throat. “You're such a whore for me, Sanji.” 

“Can you blame me?” Sanji rubs his tip against your inner thigh. “Darling, please look at yourself.”

“For the love of god—” wet and breathless against his ear. “Don’t make me wait any longer.” 

Your impatience endears him, has his heart beating so much faster than it already does. Still he starts slowly, pushing you onto the pillows, taking his time to relish your expression as he lifts your legs and lovingly sets them atop his shoulders. Sanji almost laughs at himself, because even under the influence of this potion that brings out anything wild and viscerally troublesome he has in him, nothing delights him more than getting to unravel you with the same care one deseeds a pomegranate in the kitchen. 

Placing a kiss on your calf, he croons, “Say, sweetheart, what about you? Who do you crave for just so?” 

Not wasting a beat, “You, Sanji.” It’s you. 

He could get off by these words alone. 

“And what do you want from me?” he starts to coat himself in your slick, pressing the tip on your clit every now and then. “Do you want me to fuck you, maybe? Fill you up and call you beautiful?”

You can only nod, legs coiling around his neck in anticipation. “Yeah, yeah. Please fuck me.”

Then you can feel him burying himself into you, and it rips a sound from your mouth as soon as he does. Your hips lift to increase the friction. You accommodate him easily, trembling under him and through the persistent knot in your stomach that has you wanting for more. 

When he bottoms out, his voice is low, hypnotic. “Like this?”

“Like this,” you echo, drowning yourself in the wild glimmer flaring in his eyes.

Fingers dug into your legs, his temples sweaty, Sanji pulls out, then drops himself back in, each motion steadier than the other. Wet sounds fill the sheets as your bodies coil and flatten together like nothing matters in this world but you and this moment and the moon capturing your contours in ethereal glow. Nothing, no one. Sanji speeds his hips, chest flushed and sweltering. Usually you’re not as permissive with your sounds as he is, but tonight they seem to just pour themselves out of your mouth, every sigh and moan and whimper, sugar waterfalls thickening the air as Sanji moves you into each thrust. 

“Ah,” you hear him say, a man aflame. “Refresh my memory, would you, angel? Who did you want to fuck again?”

Through an exhale, “You—” a pause. “Only you.”

“You feel so good,” he whines, collapses with a slapping sound. “So sweet, so perfect for me.”

Blue and pink and yellow; just as vivid when you close your eyes. He goes in deep, deeper, and your thighs are shivering against his torso. 

“Yeah? You like that?” legs tightening their grip around him. “Like it when I take you good and confess?”

“More than that,” Sanji is breathless. “Makes me insane. You’re making me go insane.”

You wouldn’t admit it, but you know how it feels. To have your sanity run scarce by a voice telling you how faultless you are, that no matter how you see yourself you will always be a cosmos in someone else’s eyes. If anything, you should know this better than anyone else, the maddening feeling of being fed honey and sugar glaze as your thoughts are pressed against body heat. Lost in his trance Sanji picks up the pace, and there’s a wet, debauched mewl that overrides even the careless crash of your skins. 

Lip caught under your teeth, “Want to, mh—wanna hear another confession, baby?” 

“What’s on your mind, my sweet?” Sanji’s lips ghost over your calf. 

“Think I—” with a thrust your eyes are hurled to the ceiling. “Fuck, I think I love you.”

Vulnerable. 

Suddenly his chest drops against yours, a chance for your legs to flatten across his back, pulling him the closest you can. His fingers interlace with yours as he sinks into the crook of your neck. 

Reckless. 

The pace doesn’t slow down, but you can very well tell it’s become sloppier than before. A lost rhythm. When you look at him again, you are quick to notice the dampness pushing at the corners of his eyes. 

“I love you too,” glad to finally word it this way. “I love you so much.” 

Then he continues to rut into you, shaky voice fogging your neck the moment your nails pierce into his back. Your hips thrust themselves up, desperate for tandem. Heat erupts inside you. Another peak you’re yearning to chase. 

“‘m gonna come, ‘m gonna come,” you tell him, cheek brushing over his hair. 

“Let go, my dear,” in a frail tone. “Let me hear you.”

With a squeeze of your hand Sanji fucks you the way you need him to—viciously. 

He could try. He could at least try to make you fall so hard for him that you will keep your words even after the spell wears off. 

You pull at his hair, mean and senseless as a sudden burst of pleasure tears through you. Your lips move without being able to hear the words. There must’ve been something you said, though, you’re sure there was, because Sanji’s soon chasing after, hung on a mournful vowel, flooding you through his end. 

The moon soaks into your bodies.

iv. 

Sanji wakes up with tinnitus. He blinks, once, twice, waiting for the specks of colour before his eyes to rearrange into furniture. The next thing he recognises is your breathing, small and lukewarm on his chest. Instinctively his arms wrap themselves around you, and there’s a long exhale when they do. You’re naked, both of you. His head becomes heavy with flashes of last night, lips pressed together, bending sternum, and soon they are replaced with the sound of a name he thought he couldn’t remember. Sentiments he thought he discarded. 

He thought he would lose you. 

But you are still here. 

Before knowing it, his arms are shaking, and like he’s done many times when he finds it impossible to contain himself, he covers his eyes with an elbow. 

He starts crying. 

Muffled, subtle, more worried about waking you up than about having to figure out an excuse for his tears. Droplets roll off his cheeks and onto his collarbone. His chest jerks up and down in a pathetic staccato. He wishes he were someone with more control over his emotions, sometimes, during moments like this. But he isn’t, and he cannot change, just like he cannot be many other things. 

A soft rustle beneath the sheets. Arms squeezing his torso. 

“Sanji, hey.” The words come out rasp, still filled with sleep. When he doesn’t answer, there’s a thumb wiping across his cheek. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I’m sorry,” is all he can manage. 

Warmly, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry,” he hiccups again. “I’m so sorry.”

Because he doubted you. Because he cannot fucking stop doubting himself. Heaven knows he’d tell you all these things, were he a braver man. Instead there’s only one thing that seems to be coming out of him, a broken record.

“I’m sorry.”

You wouldn’t want to pressure him. Without saying anything else you keep Sanji in your arms, squeeze him tighter as his tears blend with your hair and your fingers move to soothe his frantic shoulders. Salt pours on his bottom lip. Sanji accepts the comfort despite his better judgement, burying his face into your neck, trying to focus on the sound of your breathing. You stay like this for a while. 

There are so many things he’d want to tell you; the kind of things that eat through his guts and tear him apart. Silly images of him taking you to the Baratie, teaching you the way around potions, topping your hand as you sign your name in blood and knowledge, are you to feel rebellious enough. 

And he will, one day; talk to you about everything he’s ever seen and touched. Now, however, he closes his eyes and hopes you will somehow catch a flicker of all the love he has in him; everything that makes him foolish. 

by far the longest thing i've written in years & it's a boring au. now excuse me but i need to go lie down for a while.

[hrdenha]

— prize possession | p. js

in which, your boyfriend, Park Jongseong comes home not knowing he has a prize to collect. A prize you willingly give for him to possess

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ⚠️ consented somno, mentions of alcohol, use of undergarments as a signal, penetration, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP!), oral (f receiving), curses, cockwarming, JAY (yeah, bc he's dangerously HOT), not yet edited - sorry~

NOTES — ! this one's short but I hope y'all will enjoy

It was late, he was late. A deal that made jay busy for the whole week finally ends with them successfully getting it. He wanted to run home and celebrate with you the moment the deal was sealed but, the fate has its own idea on the situation. He called you this evening, telling you the result of their work and his plans to go home right then. But, you enthusiastically told him to celebrate first with his workers, saying they deserved it after a week long sleepless nights. Thus, it's only now that he made home. 1 am in the morning, and he was exhausted through the bones.

As he expected the house was silent when he came inside, the only thing that lights the path for him is the moon. He then finally came through your shared room. You were there laying on your side, back facing him as you sleep soundedly. Jay smiled, taking off his coat, his shoes and belt next in line before diving down the bed letting himself touch and be close with you. Of course, knowing jay he wouldn't let himself sleep without cleaning himself first. One of those things you love about him.

As promised, when he felt recharged by your presence, he finally stood up and took a hot shower for himself, leaving you in the bed still sleeping. The shower definitely refreshed both his body and mind from the hectic schedule that just occurred, even washing away the remnant of alcohol in his system in the process. He's not drunk, but of course, he did take a few shots offered to him by his workers. It's only polite to accept.

Once his hair was dry enough, he again joined you on the bed. Caressing your body in his hands, as he listens to your soft breaths. Planting soft kisses on top of your shoulders, getting drunk on your presence instead of the alcohol. He's wrong though, the hot shower he just took washed away everything aside from the hot blood he's feeling down there. Most especially now that you're responding to his touch by practically moaning his name in your sleep. Not a shocking one, but he was damn turned on about it. He was still in dazed when you started moving quietly on your sleep, snuggling the long pillow close to your body and raising your right leg on it causing your sleepwear to ride up on your hips.

Jay eyes followed it, his breath cut off when he realized. You were wearing THE lingerie. The one jay absolutely loves and adores that grants him a certain privileged. It's not just a piece of seductive clothing but rather a go signal for him.

You wanted him to take you as you sleep and... "Damn, baby." He planted open mouth kisses on your shoulders again, down to your neck and then your cheeks. Pulling your body closer to him with conviction but at the same time care not to hurt or wake you up. And, while his right hand massaged your breast, "You never ceased to amaze me" His other hand started to travel southward, massaging your hips before sliding a finger on your clothed line. Your position just made it all easier, jay can even feel the hot blush on his skin as you started responding to his advances.

"You're wet, baby... even in your sleep you're still a slut waiting for a cock, my cock." He slides the strap to the side revealing your pussy with slick. Jay didn't even wait, he immediately plunged his tongue taking advantage of how wet you are. You started raising your hips in contact, moaning in your dreams as the pleasure started to spread widely.

Jay started maneuvering your body, now as you lay flat on your back taking your panty completely before he gladly played on your pleasure. Drowning on your wetness and scent, he continued working his way. His eyes occasionally opening and glancing upwards whenever he hears a sharp whimper. He can feel the tightness on his hips, how his loose sweatpants became tight at the growing bulge he had. It's twitching, so thirsty to feel your tightness but jay had other plans.

He's still downing your juices, as if making a statement that other than alcohol, he too can get drunk on your essence. "J-a...y" You whimpered his name more clearly than the last time but still incoherent. And, he took it as a signal. It's the best time to fucked you lazy when you're still in the middle of consciousness and sleep.

His clothes swiftly took their landing on the floor leaving their owner naked, he's painfully hard and erect. And, the only cure effective for this is you. Jay took the place beside as he positioned you in a spoon, your back on his chest as he possessively hug you from behind. He then started dragging his head on your slit coating it with your mixed fluids. He groaned at his antics, and more than ever when he finally pushed his tip inside.

"Hm... baby" He whispered on your ears, the hand that encircled your waist raised your right leg causing him to push his cock again. It was deep but jay wasn't in fully, he knows it can be deeper than that and even if he wanted to just push it, he wouldn't. He wanted your brain to realized on its own that someone's using your body amidst its rest. What's more exciting than your reaction realizing his assault?

Jay started thrusting, it was painfully slow and tender, he might as well teasing himself. His right hand playing on your breast as he did. "Wake up..." Thrust. "It's time to wake up, baby" His pace started picking up, and so are your whimpers. From the way your body jolts up in every thrust is an equivalent of glass shattering from your sleep. You were floating, in the middle of a medium where no one can disturb your peace. Then, a pair of gentle hands appear out of nowhere, stroking... kneading your body. You start chasing those hands, desperately searching for more. The strokes only get hungrier, yet patient and collected. One that takes its time while you, on the other hand, are getting impatient. Thus, you revel in the pleasure you're given while the touch becomes more demanding.

With one particularly hitting your spot, you started stirring up from your sleep. Half-consiously basking on the bliss that are given much to jay's anticipation. He pushed himself more fully enjoying your pussy in its glory earning a sharp breath from you as the numbing feeling of pleasure started spreading out your system. "Jay...?" You shift having a sharp inhale when he hit the spot again. "Fuck, jay... baby. yeah th— that feels..." Jay's thrust never falter even when he started his kissing escapades with you anchoring your neck at best just to taste his lips as he continues rutting from behind. It even helped Jay in advantage when he started grabbing you by the neck causing his dick to push deeper than ever. You moaned in response, leg rising on its own to feel more while your hand — on a desperate attempt to find support, found its way on jay's nape.

"...always wanted to wake up with your cock inside me, jay"

"Ah! Shit..." You hissed. Jay chuckled, darkly. "You like that baby? I bet you do. Pussy so tight when I hit this spot even when you're asleep."

"Jay... Jay!"

"But, I might say... f-uck! You're tighter when you're awake." That made everything intensify, even you, felt how your pussy tightened around him at that. Jay groaned, immediately laying you on your back rutting his cock again. The room is filled with moans and wet skin slapping. You started seeing stars in your eyes, can't do anything but to curl your toes and repeatedly call jay's name.

"Ugh! Baby, baby! I-I think I'm gonna... I think I'm gonna" like a broken record, holding him close as if it will help not to lose your sanity. "Fuck, y/n! Fuck!" His hips rock harder and firmer, adding pressure to the prominent feel of sex. And, with lines of curses coming from both of you, he thrust deeper past your rear as you finally feel a warm feeling flooding inside you while your soul starts to fly apart from the rippling waves of your high. Jay whimpers at ecstasy, his muscles relaxing from his own release before facing you. He silently took your cavern, sharing a passionate kiss as if it was his way to show appreciation and how thankful he was. After that he goes limp, holding you while still on top. At the same time, you felt his cock going soft within you but jay didn't mind, and that goes both ways. He didn't pull out, he even pushed it further as if trapping your mess and for some reason, that made your heart full. You let him use you in any way he sees fit. Jay deserves a price, after all.

hrdenha, 2024

likes, reblogs, and comments are deeply appreciated 💖

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: oral smut, sexual comments, awko moments, kissing?

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6- part 7 - part 8 - Part 9!!

————————

It was the best night of sleep John price has ever had in his life. He wishes deeply his early bird tendencies hadn’t woken him from it. You lay facing opposite of him with his chest pressed snuggly up against your back spooning you. He thought he was dreaming at first, or maybe he died and went to heaven, but your steady breathing and warm skin was much too authentic for that. 

He gently brushes the hair from your neck to kiss at the smooth skin, not in means to wake you, simply cause he just can’t help himself. 

“Goodmorning.”

“Didn’t mean to wake you.” He says while peppering kisses up to your jaw.

“Are you sure?” 

“Not anymore.” You turn over in your spot to face him, he’s a big man, a wall, even as he lays down. He peers down at you as you place a hand on his cheek. 

to your misfortune he’s borderline obsessed. 

“Shower with me?” He asks.

“Sure.” He pulls you with him as he rolls to get off the bed. He’s about to walk into his bathroom to get it started when he realizes you're about to walk out of his room.

“Where are you going?”

“To get my shampoo and conditioner.” 

“I have shampoo and conditioner.” You laugh, confusing him.

“John, I'm a hairstylist, I wouldn’t be caught dead using head and shoulders. I’ll be back.” He watches you leave, still not completely sure what you mean by that.

When you return steam has already filled the roof of the bathroom. You carry your toiletries in both your arms trying not to let anything drop. 

When John takes notice he goes to help you, except you’re not focused on the help he’s offering, you're focused on his bare chest, strong arms and slightly soft belly.

“There will be time for staring doll just not right now.” He says plucking your stuff from your hands. You roll your eyes at him trying to suppress the blush climbing up your neck. 

He undresses fully and steps inside waiting for you to do the same. Suddenly you feel awfully nervous while lifting your shirt. You pause when it gets to your rib cage suddenly feeling self conscious.

“You okay?” He notices your absence and peeks out of the glass door.

“Uh yeah.” You say, willing yourself to pull it over your head. Your pants come off next and you pray soap gets into his eyes so he doesn’t really look at you. 

You step in trying to keep your eyes on his out of politeness even though it feels like your eyes are magnets and the other magnet is in his southern region. He turns the two of you so you're the one mostly under the shower stream. His lustful gaze can’t help but look at the way the water runs down your shoulders and over your breasts.

“You’re shameless.” You say to him with a smile, you couldn’t feel self conscious under a gaze like that.

“Very.” He replies while leaning in for a kiss. He’s awfully warm, the shower at a temperature you like and one he’s not used to, but he couldn’t care less as long as he gets to have you like this. 

“Can I wash your hair?” You ask.

“If you let me wash yours.” You hum in agreement, grabbing your overly expensive bottle of shampoo and pouring some into his hands. You tell him to lather it in his hands before he puts it in your hair and he entertains it even though he bets it does nothing. Lacing his fingers through your hair he watches the way your shoulders relax and your mouth slightly parts. He tries to stop it, really he does, but he can’t help the way his cock begins to harden. He prays you don’t notice, not because he’s insecure, it’s a totally normal human reaction, but because he doesn’t want you to think he can’t enjoy a wholesome moment without getting turned on. 

“Feels good.” You sigh out as he begins to rinse it out. A groan is threatening to spill out and with all his might he is fighting it. 

When you open your eyes you notice the stone cold expression on his face. The way it looks like his eye slightly twitches for a second. And just like his human tendencies have troubled him yours too make you look down to see what may be the biggest dick in your life resting against his lower stomach. 

You look back up quicker than you looked down and it seems he hadn’t noticed. 

“Your turn.” You say scooting closely by each other so now he stands under the water. 

“I’m going to use my shampoo so you can see the difference.” You say as you pour some in your hands. It’s a bit of a reach to get all of his head so he slightly lowers it for you. You run your slightly long fingernails on his head scratching soothingly. He groans at the immensely good and foreign feeling as you make sure to not miss any hair. 

When you’re done he begins to rinse and this is the chance you take to really look at him from head to toe. Do you feel a little perverted, yeah you do.

“Look who has the staring problem now.” If John’s going to do anything he’s going to own it. 

“Who?” You say as you stand on your tip toes for a kiss. He gladly obliges, holding your head at an easier angle for him. You place a hand on his chest, which is normal, nothing that’d raise suspicion. Until it starts slowly dragging down his body. 

He's pulled apart from your swollen lips carefully watching your fingers continue to trail down. When they reach his happy trail you hesitate.

“Go on.” He says softly.

Your fingers softly brush against the soft velvety skin of his awfully gorgeous cock. Your mouth instinctively watering at the sight, and his falling open at the tease.

You grip him in a mostly closed fist giving a gentle squeeze. His hips jolt slightly forward as a pearl of precum appears at the tip. Impatiently you swipe the pad of your thumb over it bringing it to your lips. You sigh softly at the salty taste, spitting into your palm you bring your hand back down to his cock. You give him a firm stroke as your hand slightly shakes. His groans and shut eyes encourage you to continue. You find a steady pace as your hand dedicates itself to providing him pleasure. He tries to control his breathing but it loses its pattern when you quietly moan at the way it twitches in your grip. 

“You're so pretty.” You say quietly.

“Me or my cock?” He sighs out breathlessly 

“Both.” 

“Can I try my mouth?” You ask kindly he chuckles not humorously simply cause he can’t believe this is real life.

“I mean I don’t have too.” You say suddenly which he objects too.

“No, please.” He says watching the way your eyes light up. You waste no time lowering your knees onto the tile floor not caring about how they might hurt later on. 

You grab him eagerly, in your lustful subconscious nature you paint your lips with the tip. He squeezes his eyes closed to try and calm himself down but you’re doing nothing to help his case. 

“I’m losing it up here doll.” He says while leaning a hand against the wall for support. You begin to lick and suckle just to get comfortable, planning a course of action in your head.

Then you take him fully into your mouth bit by bit. His girth causes the dry corners of your mouth to slightly crack. Your eyes close as you try to focus. The sounds of slurping as you try to take him fully is sinful. He watches drool run down your chin and water droplets fall down your whole body almost cinematically. 

“You’re a sight.” He groans out when you pull him from your mouth to simply kiss from base to tip. It’s never been done to him and he would’ve never thought of it, but after that he’s not sure anything else can occupy his mind.

You suck him back in, determined to make him come. You might just want it as much as him. You're putting in your best work, ignoring the ache in your jaw. He has a hand on your cheek stroking the tears that fall from your eyes away. He tries to stop himself from thrusting into your mouth as your hand on his thigh flexes subconsciously. 

He’s so close but is greedily holding it in to keep his cock in your mouth for a bit longer. Your eye lashes bat up at him to watch his slackened features grunt and moan your name. With lidded eyes he watches the hand that once rested on your thigh slide down in between your legs, as you moan into him when he sees the way you slightly part them to give yourself an easier access.

“Mmmf fuck.” You hadn’t expected it quite yet, lost in your pleasure and his. 

He pulls from your mouth as his cum splashes onto your lips, cheek and for his personal pleasure your breasts. When he’s done he pulls you from the floor, sucking your slick fingers into his mouth with a satisfied groan before kissing you long and hard. It’s a mix of you and him as he pulls your tongue into his mouth. His thumbs rub his spend into your cheek like it’s a facial cream as he looks in your big eyes. 

“Shall we finish this elsewhere?” He says with a hand resting on the curve in your waist.

“As much as I’d love to, we can’t, I have to go grocery shopping and have to buy and restock some things at work.” You say with a small smile.

“But you haven’t gotten to finish?” He says with a little discontent.

“I don't need to.” You say giving him another quick kiss.

“That’s crazy.” 

“Make it up to me another time?” 

“Oh, yes” he couldn’t have been quicker with his answer.

“Very well then.” You laugh, grabbing your loofah which he plucks from your hands to pour soap on. He washes you tenderly, kissing every spot of your skin he swipes the sudsy soap over. He can’t help the way his eyes threaten to water at how ethereal you are to him. Call it the post clarity or whatever you want but he wants to put you in his pocket and take you everywhere. 

He doesn’t let you reciprocate the favor but does let you wash his back when the time comes. He leaves the water on for you as he steps out to grab his towel. When he returns with yours you turn it off and wrap yourself in it. 

You dress right then and there in the clothes you brought to his bathroom so you don’t have to suffer the cold. Grabbing your hair dryer to plug it in telling John to watch out for the noise. He dresses quickly and goes to the bathroom standing beside you at the his and hers sink. 

He puts on his beard oil keeping in mind that it’ll need a trim sometime this week. After that he just stands there and watches you do your thing. Admires the fact it’s being done in his bathroom. 

“May I join you?” He says amongst the noise. You click off the hair dryer after asking him “huh” for the second time so he repeats himself a third. 

“Of course.” You smile feeling a little giddy at the fact you’ll have his company. John’s not a man who seems to like to go out much nonetheless shopping. 

“Be ready in twenty?” He asks. 

“Yeah I’m just going to finish drying my hair and put on some makeup.” He nods, walking up to you to kiss your cheek before heading outside for a quick smoke.  

When you’re done he’s sitting on the couch watching whatever is on the news. You call for him from the front door and hear the silence from him clicking off the tv and his footsteps begin to approach you.

“Can I drive?” You ask hopefully.

“No.” 

The weather is beginning to become more livable and sunny. You settle into the seat as he shuts the door and gets in himself. Your hand rests above his on your thigh as the radio hums music. There is something so dreamlike about the feeling he has around you. Like the air is smoother and easier to breathe. 

“Where are we stopping first?” He asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

“My work so I can see what I need, beauty store, then groceries.” 

“Okay just let me know where to go once we get near.” He says giving your leg a gentle squeeze. You nod to him as his focus returns back to the road.

He gets out with you at your job, walks you inside passing up all the private booths of other hairstylists as you lead him into yours. He sits patiently on the chair a client would usually occupy and watches you take product out, put it back and write some stuff down. 

“Okay you ready.”

“Only if you are.” He says as you grab his hand and your purse to walk back out. That’s before you’re stopped by one of your coworkers who’s just walked out of her booth. 

“Hey, who’s this?” She asks, giving you a hug and nodding to John. 

“This is John, my roommate.” You reply softly as his hand on your waist tightens.

“Nice to meet you.” He says kindly.

“Yeah you too, so just roommates then?” You wish you could rewind time and keep her stuck in that room a little longer. Cause truthfully you and John technically still were just roommates.

“Um yeah.” You say trying to end this conversation. She glances down to his hand on your waist and then slowly back up you.

“Okay then, have a good day.” She says walking past the both of you. 

John hadn’t realized till this very moment that he hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend or anything official. It’s actually kind of a sickening thought to him that you're not really his. I mean in a perfect world you’d walk around with his name above your head in neon lighting. So he conspires, he’ll drop you off at your little beauty store, leave quickly, buy flowers and cute things, hide them in his car, pick you up and go grocery shopping and cook dinner with you and ask you to officially be his. 

“John you okay?” You laugh as you wait for him to unlock the car. 

“Yeah doll sorry.” He says snapping out of it.

———

You're genuinely a little confused when he tells you he’s got some business to take care of real quick and drives away after you’ve made it inside. Not that you mind, you’ve shopped alone for forever now and it’s kinda therapeutic but it’s unusual. No more than twenty minutes pass by as you continue looking at all the new products from beloved brands that the doorbell jingles as someone walks inside. You don’t look up nor really pay it any mind till strong arms encompass you.

“Where’d you go?” You say looking up at him and the foolish smile on his face.

“Just handling some business.”

“Okay, I’m trying to decide between this conditioner or this one. I love the scent of this one but love the lather on this one.” You say holding up to large bottles showcasing them. 

“Buy both and mix em’.” He says grabbing them from you as he also takes the slightly heavy basket from your hands.

“Yeah right that’s way too self indulgent.” You say while trying to make up your mind. 

“Can I just buy them for you?” You look up at him in disbelief.

“Absolutely not.” You quickly decline his very generous offer.

“Why not?”

“Cause I’m a big girl who has money and should be able to pick a product.”

“I never said you weren’t a big girl with money, I just don’t see the need for you to choose when you can have both.” He retorts back. 

“No I’ll just get this one, fan favorite.” You say hesitantly putting it back and putting one in the basket then looking at your list to see what’s next. He lets you disappear into another aisle before grabbing it back off the shelf and hiding it under the other stuff in your cart. 

You shop for a while longer before heading to the cashier as the lady rings up your items. She makes small talk with you about your day and what not. As she nears the last items John asks you to run to the back of the store for that beard stuff he uses and you quickly do. She finishes up before you make it back and he happily takes his card out and pays for your stuff. 

“I don’t know which one because they all look the same.” you say handing him three different types of the same brand.

“It’s this one.” He says giving it to the cashier along with the extra two. 

“Wait John, where's my stuff?” You ask a little confused.

“In those bags.” He says nonchalantly as he pays for his one item telling the lady to have a good day. 

“I’ll pay you back.” You say as he grabs the bags, heading to the door and pushing it open with his back. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He says ignoring your persistence. 

“I am worried about it.” The bill on your restocks is always over six hundred dollars and you cringe at the idea of him spending that on you. 

“Well don’t.” He shrugs as he hands them to you once you're sat too put in the backseat. There’s no room for disapproval as he shuts your door and heads to his side. 

————-

“Have you been drinking my oat milk?” You ask him as you pass the dairy section in the grocery mart. 

“Oat milk?” 

“Yeah the one in the yellowish carton.” 

“I mean yeah I’ve been drinking it but I just thought it was flavored milk.” 

“No, it's non-dairy, made out of oats.” Although that slightly disgusts him he doesn’t say anything cause he’d enjoyed it up until now. 

You continue to shop around picking up things that you need and different snacks to try. You hate grocery shopping more often than you need to so now’s the time to stock up. 

“Can you grab that for me?” You say point at the top of a shelf for the detergent you use. He does with no complaints as he effortlessly plucks it off the shelf. 

You’re never out of his eyeline, he watches your every move along with everyone around the two of you. Although you don’t stray far from him it wouldn’t even be an option. He tried to trap you between him and the cart that he pushes but unfortunately you escaped quickly. 

“I pay this time, you pay the next.” He says as you load stuff up onto the belt. Although he knows you wouldn’t pay for a thing in his presence. 

“Deal.” It sounds fair to you. Once again he very happily pays and puts the grocery bags into the cart as you stand there and admire him. When you guys are done he tells you to sit inside and hands you his keys as he loads the stuff into the truck.

The drive home is mostly silent. His fingers trail shapes onto your clothed skin as you scroll on your phone looking at other people’s lives through a screen. He peeks over at you from time to time and you smile when you notice. 

When you pull into the driveway you begin to unbuckle your seatbelt and grab your purse. 

“Go on inside I can take our stuff in.” He says, not wanting you to see the stuff he has back there. 

“You know I can help, right?” 

“Yeah but you don’t need to.” He says leaning in for a kiss which you gladly entertain. His mustache scratches your upper lip slightly, it's becoming something you love.

“Ever the gentleman.” You say as he pulls away. 

“For you, always.” If you weren’t experiencing this first hand you’d be giggling and kicking your feet at the thought. 

“Okay.” You say smiling way too hard, something that’s been a recurring situation.

————-

“How do you like it cooked?” You say as you finish seasoning the steaks you guys bought at the store for tonight’s dinner. 

“Medium rare.” He replies, nearly drooling at the sight of you, hair messily put up, apron tied around your waist, as you concentrate all your attention on what’s in front of you. 

“Mkay.” You slightly sway your hips to the tune of the small radio playing music. 

“How’d you learn how to cook?” He asks.

“By spending a lot of time by myself and having a cook book obsession.” He smiles, very you esque.

“I’ll be back in a short minute.” He says as you move onto chopping potatoes. You nod in response as he walks down the hallway. 

As quietly as possible he sneaks back out to his car to grab the flowers, vase and earrings he bought you. And brings it inside walking slowly to his room. You’re too lost in thought to hear a thing. Potatoes in the pot of boiling water and steak in the pan. Your mind was occupied with one not over cooking anything and two not getting splashed by hot butter. 

“John.” You call out. You're thankful he heard you with one yell as he came down the hallway. 

“Yeah doll.” You turn to look at him and tilt your head in confusion when you see a leaf stuck to his half shirt.

“Was just going to ask for help in dumping the water.” You say ignoring it. 

“Of course.” He says walking up to you grabbing the mitts you offer him that were a bit too small for his large hands. He picks up the heavy pot with ease as he drains it. 

“Were you outside or something?” You say noticing another leaf on his pants. 

“No, why?” He asks as he sets the pot back on the burner.

“You have leaves on you.” 

“Oh not to worry, must've gotten there when I brought the groceries inside earlier.” 

After that you pay it no mind as he returns back to whatever he’s doing. You finish cooking and set the table for you two. You plate the food and call for him again. He panicked when he heard you, although he’s going to wait till after dinner. What if you say no? What if you're not ready for a relationship, let alone with him.

“John.” You yell again, he hears your footsteps coming towards him and quickly leaves his bedroom.

“Sorry, I was just picking up.” You know for a fact it wasn’t messy when you guys left. Regardless he follows you back down the hallway and into the kitchen. You two sit in your now assigned seats.

“Looks great, Thankyou doll.” He says caressing your chin affectionately.

“You're welcome.” You watch him take his first bite waiting before you take yours, gauging his reaction then getting distracted by how wide his legs spread out, so much so that they peek out from under the table. 

“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll have to enjoy dessert first.” You look away quickly, beginning to eat your own food. The first 5 minutes is silence that’s filled with chews and clinking. 

“I think I’ll reopen bookings next month.” You say randomly as the reoccurring thought occupies your mind. You took some time off work to get some rest and have been enjoying it too much.

“That’s interesting, what for?” You laugh softly before looking up at him. 

“Because living isn’t free?” It could be for you, he thinks. 

“I could always pick up more bills.” He doesn’t want to push the topic knowing you don’t like to talk about it.

“Or I could just get back to work.” That’s your way of ending the conversation, he ends up finishing way before you do and sits back with a satisfied sigh chatting about some kind of camera he wants to put outside.

“I’m full.” You say pushing your plate away. You’re about to stand up and collect the plates before he stops you.

“Allow me.” He says grabbing them and setting them inside the sink, he washes them quickly and puts them in the drying rack before turning to do the pans you used. 

He’s deep in thought about how he’s going to ask you but  snaps out of it when he feels two arms wrap around his waist and slide under his shirt, then your head on his mid back. It’s so subtle yet so affectionate and foreign to Jonathan Price that he just wants to melt.

“You smell good.” You whisper as you stick your nose deeper into his shirt.

“Thank you?” He laughs.

“I’m sleepy.” You say as he reaches for the kitchen towel to dry his hands.

“Well before we head to bed I’ve got something for you.” Your head perks up curiously. He turns around and smiles softly at your drowsy eyes yet wide smile.

“What?” 

“Well follow me and I’ll show you.” He’s wringing his hands as you both walk toward his room.

“Okay, close your eyes.” He says and you do.

You're both in his room now, you hear him shuffling things around or something of the sort as you stand there patiently.

“Okay, open them.” Once your eyes adjust you see him standing there with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and a little box. 

“Will you be my partner?” You tilt your head at the question until you realize he’s asking you to be his girlfriend.

“Your girlfriend?” 

“Doll, I'm too old for that.” 

“Yes then I’ll be your partner.” You laugh, grabbing the flowers from him. 

“Open this.” He says handing you the small box and taking the bouquet of flowers to set them down on his dresser. Nervously you flip the top open as your eyes go wide. 

“John, these are beautiful.” You say looking at the pair of small paint brushes with a diamond as the bristles.

“Pretty things for a pretty lady.” He says reaching to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

“This is too much.” You whisper truly admiring them, for a man who doesn’t believe in fate finding those in the small jeweler right next to the flower shop is the closest he’s come to it after meeting you. 

“Nothing is too much when it comes to you, doll.” You close the box, setting it down. You look at him for a couple of seconds just admiring the man that’s been nothing but a blessing to you. 

“What?” 

“Kiss me.” It’s nothing sexual, it’s purely out of affection. The way you feel light as a feather beneath his touch, as he feels real against yours. He’s so enamored in everything you, loves the way you breathe, smell, move, laugh he’s obsessed with everything. 

You feel like the heavens have sent him to you. He’s safe, warm and everything you’ve ever wanted. He cares for you truly. He holds you tenderly and gives you all the attention you crave, and you don’t even have to ask for it. 

“Can we sleep in my room tonight?” You say when he pulls away. 

“Yeah, but why?” 

“I feel like this is too boyish for me, I need to see my plants and sleep in my matching sheets with my thousands of pillows.” He laughs as you put your vase of flowers in his hands and lead him towards your room.

-----------------------------

Thankyou for reading, truly you guys are the greatest motivation to contune writing known to man - All my love

comments and reposts are deeply appreciated<3

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[bloomzone]

GLOW UP DIARY:#3 the power of self-care

"If you don't have a dream, that's okay too. It's possible not to have a dream. If you're happy, that's all that matters"

-Suga

heyy sparkles...so today it's the third part of the glow up and thank you so so much T-T for the support in the second part

Edit: haircare,nail care is for apparence part I focused on routines,skincare,body care in this part (I'm so busy these days T-T<3)

© bloomzone

#3 SELF CARE

✉️ : Self-care includes activities like eating well, exercising, and relaxing to maintain physical, mental, and emotional health. It's essential for managing stress and enhancing overall well-being.

Self-care is essential for maintaining balance

﹙ ✿ ﹚Taking care of yourself is about finding simple, comforting routines that make you feel good. Start with small steps, like taking a relaxing bath,do ur skincare , journal...Prioritize these moments and remember that they are just as important as anything else on your to-do list. Celebrate your progress, no matter how small, and choose activities that genuinely make you happy. Listen to your body and give yourself the rest and care you need. By focusing on what brings you comfort and joy, you'll create a self-care routine that feels natural and rewarding.

HOW TO START SELF-CARE ?

Have a routine: It is really important to have a routine because if not you could have bad sleeping, be tired all day, get boredeasily, won't be able to finish responsibilities, it can bring you bad self esteem, unmotivated and in general is a complete mess.

Example of a routine (by me)

summer version.

⏰( wake up at 4:30am to pray ifajr if u are a Muslim :) )

♡ ﾟwake up at 9:30am

♡ ﾟmake bed

♡ ﾟdrink water

♡ ﾟmorning stretch 15min

♡ ﾟskincare/quick shower

♡ ﾟbreakfast

♡ ﾟhelp mom if needed

♡ ﾟphone time

⏰(pray duhr if u are Muslim:) )

♡ ﾟlunch time

♡ ﾟnap

♡ ﾟfull workout

⏰(pray asr if you are Muslim:) )

♡ ﾟstart learning a language,see friends or simply watch a movie

⏰(pray Maghrib if you are a Muslim :) )

♡ ﾟhelp mom cooking dinner

♡ ﾟwash dishes

♡ ﾟcheck social

♡ ﾟskincare

♡ ﾟget ready for bed

♡ ﾟsleep at 10pm

Things u can add to your routine :

cleaning ur room

- wardrobe

- desk

cooking

- I will share my fav recipes in next blogs 🤫

set goals for next year

- academic goals

- life goals ( saving money,body goal ...)

sunday self care day routine

summer version

⏰( salat al fajr + reading Quran for Muslims)

♡ ﾟwake up at 9am

♡ ﾟdo ur bed

♡ ﾟmeditation

♡ ﾟskincare + face mask

♡ ﾟjournal/affirmations

♡ ﾟice coffee/tea

♡ ﾟmorning stretch 15min

♡ ﾟbreakfast

♡ ﾟhelp in cleaning

♡ ﾟwear ur fit

♡ ﾟgo shopping

⏰(pray duhr in masjid if u luv to :) )

♡ ﾟlunch

♡ ﾟfull workout

📍everything shower time

- hair mask

- shave

- body care

📍after shower

- dry your hair

- clean/paint ur nails

- wear ur comfy pyjamas

♡ ﾟwatch a movie

⏰(pray Maghrib if you are Muslim)

♡ ﾟquality time with ur family/friends

📍get ready for bed

- write down what u achieve this week

- affirmations

⏰(pray Isha if u are Muslim)

♡ ﾟskincare

♡ ﾟget ur beauty sleep at 10pm

SELF-CARE BODYCARE AND SKINCARE

1.skincare

﹙ ✿ ﹚ I know that we all love shopping and buying things because it's pink or aesthetic or it's just because it's a famous products NO NO this wroong u don't need to buy a whole truck of innisfree products because it's pink or glow recipe buy products that will work for u if u have acnes and ur face hurt everytime u try to sleep or u wanna just wash it,visit a dermatologist he will give the product that ur skin need to heal again. (As a girl with strict parents hhh they didn't let me go I'm 16yo btw),so I start to buy random products until I found the perfect one for my skin (I have a terrible TERRIBLE oily skin)+ if u are 12-18 don't use serum's without permission of doctor u will just broke ur skin texture I bought ordinary serum and it just make my skin worst + it's an expansive sht ☠️

How to get rid of acne ?

♡ ⠀skincare secrets !

⊹ ‧avoid junk food

⊹ ‧fresh vegetables and fruits

⊹ ‧icing your face

⊹ ‧clay mask (recommended by me)

⊹ ‧avoid using a lot of skincare products

⊹ ‧ simplify ur skincare routine ( cleanser,toner, moisturizer)

⊹ ‧get 7-8 hour of sleep

⊹ ‧rice water

⊹ ‧don't sleep with ur make up

⊹ ‧stay hydrate

⊹ ‧change ur pillowcase (one in a week)

⊹ ‧ cucumber slice as a mask

⊹ ‧don't touch ur face

♡   Item you need

⊹ ‧pimples patches

⊹ ‧silicone facial cleaner (for deep cleaning)

⊹ ‧headband (keep ur hair up always)

2.BODY CARE

﹙ ✿ ﹚ Taking care of your body is a vital part of feeling your best, both inside and out. A good body care routine can boost your confidence and help you embrace your natural beauty. Body care is also about self-love and taking time for yourself amidst a busy schedule remember girlie every skin type is beautiful, and finding the right routine can enhance your natural glow.

♡   Body care secrets

⊹ ‧ don't shave (ur body)early until u are in the right age (+17) , if u are not a hairy girl no need to shave :)

⊹ ‧ shower everyday (don't wash ur hair )

⊹ ‧ choose the right body wash (nivea,vaseline >>)

⊹ ‧ stay hydrate avoid junk foods to protect ur body skin from pimples

⊹ ‧Exfoliate your skin 1-2 times a week to remove dead skin cells and promote cell renewal. Use a gentle scrub suitable for your skin type (coconut oil brown sugar >>)

💌 : How to shave ur leg and have a smooth soft skin

1- soak ur leg in warm water for (3 to 5 min) to make ur skin ready

2- use ur fav body scrub and exfoliate your body from death skin

3- use something like body oil or shaving cream and find a good razor at least 3 blades (venus Gillette is on top)

4- shave with slow don't be harsh,long strock and don't forget to wash the razor everytime

5- after drying ur legs use any lotion u like to give the skin the extra moisture + using baby oil to avoid strawberry legs

⊹ ‧ Choose body care products that are free from harsh chemicals and fragrances Opt for natural and gentle ingredients stay healthy girlie

⊹ ‧ avoid very hot water

⊹ ‧ Use natural oils like coconut oil, almond oil, or jojoba oil for deep hydration. Apply them after a shower or use them as an overnight treatment for extra softness.

♡   item you need

⊹ ‧ dry brush

⊹ ‧ loofah

⊹ ‧ natural soap (for ur 🐱)

⊹ ‧ razor pack

⊹ ‧ body scrub

⊹ ‧ body wash

⊹ ‧ africain exfoliating nets

⊹ ‧ body moisturizer

⊹ ‧ Shea butter

⊹ ‧ Epsom salt

ıllı ⠀ : ⠀Self-care is essential for every girl to nurture her mind, body, and spirit. Taking time for yourself isn’t selfish; it’s necessary. Whether it's indulging in a relaxing bath, practicing mindfulness, or simply taking a break to read a good book, these moments help recharge your energy and boost your confidence. Remember, you deserve to feel good and be happy. Prioritizing self-care allows you to show up as your best self in every area of your life. So, take a deep breath, put yourself first, and watch how everything else falls into place. Ilvy sm ⠀ ♡ ⠀ !!

© bloomzone

[clairdelunelove]

itadori "wear what you want because I can fight" yuuji

he's not a violent person. well, most would claim he isn't. people tend to put him on a pedestal of fairness and morality due to his typical charm. the magnetism of his broad grins and upbeat compliments. always the comedic relief when situations escalated, and feelings were far from composed. and he'd agree that they weren't that far off with their assumptions. he views every individual as a holder of wills and dreams. the desire to strive for the value of life is enough motivation for him. he's a firm believer of sacrificing himself for the greater good– a selflessness that most couldn't fathom.

but by a rare stroke of luck, when the two of you began dating, yuuji noticed a drastic change in the perception he had of himself. he could be jealous. and in hindsight, it sounds silly because of course, there's nothing wrong with your partner being a bit insecure. it's human nature and happens to the best of us. but yuuji didn't lack self-esteem. no, he was just protective over you. guarded, vigilant, and careful about everything that involved you in some shape or form. and perhaps the inkling of keeping you all to himself has run through his mind more than once. these strong sentiments scared him, initially; rattled him enough to where he would ponder if it was normal. guilt was the typical consequence he dealt with and often confided in his mentors about it. conversed with them by using his large, expressive eyes and knitted brows. and when they hummed that his emotions were valid, well, it was like putting a soothing balm over an injury. he was as good as new.

so it isn't surprising when his nose crinkles at the abominable sight before him. he leaves for a minute, literally, to pick up the syrupy milkshake the two of you ordered beforehand. it's filled with candied toppings, a concoction that made your mouth drop in awe and caused him to immediately buy it to make you happy. and there's a bounce in his step when he waltzes over to your table. he's in pure bliss. just euphoric due to the fact that the both of you could spend the day together and it's been a dream come true. he'd taken you to the bowling alley, gotten some impressive strikes, and even snuck in a couple affectionate kisses. it's the equivalent of the cheesy romcoms that he watches when he misses you.

until it isn't.

because there's a guy chatting you up in yuuji's absence and okay, yuuji takes a deep breath and reasons that it's not a crime to talk to you while he's away. but cut him some slack, y'know. he almost feels bad when you catch his stare and a wave of relief washes over your features. emphasis on almost, however. his mouth twitches in response, plastering on a half-smile as he gets closer, until he has the misfortune of hearing what the stranger was adamantly uttering to you.

"you don't have to be coy, 'course you're dressing like that to get attention," the guy pointedly gestures to your outfit with a smirk, "you got mine, for sure."

and yuuji sees red. an intense burst of emotion that licks up into flames of animosity that drive him to the brink. it's instantaneous. scarily so, when yuuji's calloused hand seizes the stranger's before he can sleazily reach to pet at your clothes. because how dare this stranger feel the need to say that. yuuji recognizes the telltale sign of your brows drawing together, your self-confidence diminishing the more this situation goes on. so he snaps.

"what'd you just say to my girl, asshole?"

he doesn't even recognize the gruff, harsh voice that leaves his chapped lips. there's a huff of alarm from the sheer power of his grip on the stranger's wrist and you swear you hear an unnerving crack. you let out a distressed gasp. the blushy haired male doesn't verbalize the same sentiment, though. just blankly stares up through his brows, an ominous and haunting intent in his actions. and yuuji's a completely different person now. you note a muscle in his jaw that twitches. gone is your sweet, doting boyfriend. he's placed by a man with innate concentration and murderous intent to protect your honor– to defend you. the contrast is startling.

"she can wear whatever she wants, whenever she wants," yuuji moves to grasp onto the front of the stranger's shirt and forewarns him with a couple shakes, each word emphasized with the movement, "'cause she's with me."

and the blushy haired male rattles the other grown man like he was nothing. just a speck of dust that happened to get in yuuji's way. a nuisance that he'll willingly dispose of. naturally, the stranger is reduced to trembling and cowering in fear. the sleeves of yuuji's sweater are rolled up to showcase his solid forearms and rippling veins that are only more apparent in how tense he is. hysterical excuses leave the other male's mouth; mentions of who- or rather what- you were dating. how this wasn't right-minded or moral for him to be acting this way. this was just supposed to be a light-hearted 'joke.' but yuuji's not interested in listening. he casts a rather neutral glance to him, the kind where his brows drop in conviction. locked onto his prey and stopping any means of escape. his golden eyes are as sharp as daggers. a manifestation of the stranger's night terrors and much more. there's hostility evident in how yuuji shoves him to get lost and, as quick as the stranger appeared, he vanishes.

and after the whole ordeal, yuuji's busy scratching the back of his neck. the image of modesty and faultlessness being captured by how he tilts his head to the side while he watches the stranger retreat.

he even has the audacity to mumble an innocent, "gee. what was that guy's deal?" like the pink-haired male wasn't just playing violent mind games with him or how he wasn't just the sole embodiment of the harbinger of hell itself. all as an effort to protect you.

your heart skips. breathless, as you're engulfed in warmth that exposes your deepest desires. and you think that yuuji knows; well, with how he leans to press a tender kiss onto your forehead and eagerly takes your hand in his. how his casual display of strength melts you into a puddle. but when you're left flustered, heart pounding and mind racing, you realize that you're the one that's struck speechless on how effortlessly attractive he is. but it dawns on you that this is just how yuuji innately is. after all, he vowed to be yours; in every aspect there is. his commitment to you is unmatched. and it's the utter devotion that yuuji unveils to you in times like this that your love for him only grows with each passing day.

[carmenized-onions]

I Want To. | Wellness Check

logline; Such is life, you go from not being needed at The Bear today to being more needed than you ever have been.

[!!!] series history, this is the fourth; First, Second, Third

portion; 4.7k+

possible allergies; a dash of Tony's former paramedic background (and just medical shit in general) in this one, so, a sprinkle of post-trauma stress (and her usual yikes psyche). Mikey comes up a bit, as usual! despite the ops, we ball.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (pretty unavoidably gendered episode, mb non-fem folks)

we'll talk after babe, have a good time w/ this one.

Falling asleep was easy— par for Carmen fighting to keep his 6:30 am alarm on. When he finds out you don’t have a plug on his side of the bed and he has to charge his phone on your side, he turns it off. Cute.

Well, there’s also the part where you had to ask if he was okay because it sounded like he wasn’t breathing and it turns out —He was not breathing— He then pointed out that it sounded like you weren’t breathing —You were not breathing— Both of you thought the sound of your lungs would bother the other, so you opted not to use them at all. Turns out, counterproductive; you notice each other’s absences pretty well.

But besides that, it's easy. Carmen isn’t an awful bedfellow. He’s not super shifty, he doesn’t tug the blanket, he doesn’t roll all the fucking way over to your side, or anything like that. He’s honestly concerningly still. Is he annoyed that you’ve gotta toss and turn a little to get comfortable? Probably. He's probably dreaming of you exploding right now, he’s so annoyed. He didn’t make fun of your ages old build-a-bear plush nor it’s Cubs jersey, so that was nice. Pity, probably.

...If Carmen wasn’t here, he knows he’d be stirring and kicking and probably sleep-walking to his oven to light it on fire. But he is here. Where kicking would hurt. Where stirring would wake you. Where a fire would cause more anxiety than relief because all your plants and projects would die. Where you washed his hair and told him that taking care of people doesn’t feel like a lot of work to you. Was it not a lot of work, to take care of his brother? Was it worth it, to you? Probably not. How could it be?

He wills his body to not fucking move because if he does it's going to ruin everything. He's going to ruin everything.

He wakes up at 6:30 on the dot, alarm or no. He’d be concerned if his body functioned any differently. But he can’t get to his phone while you’re sleeping in his way and you’re so comfortable. You’re clutching a bear that’s undeniably on a losing team and you’re at peace with it. He’s trying not to make a metaphor out of this in his mind; alas, it’s already there. The only thing he can do is go back to sleep and dream about killing the teenage boy in his head before he can escape again and call you pretty.

It's around ten when you wake up, you try not to wake him when you turn to grab your phone, but the split second of motion makes him flinch like he’s about to get jumped. “Relax!” You hiss, but like, soft, whispered. “I’m doin’ the fuckin’ Wordle, not smothering you with a pillow.”

“You do the Wordle?”

“Oh, fuck you—”

“The first fuckin’ thing you do in the morning is the Wordle?”

“And I do the Crossword too, bitch, what of it?”

“…I like Connections.”

“I fuckin' hate Connections.”

“Alright, damn!”

The Chicago accent in both of you is stronger in your rasping morning voices. As is the laughter. You roll onto your stomach to get closer to him and let him see your screen. Neither of you have entirely woken up yet and that means it’s the perfect time to do a puzzle. If you don't focus on this puzzle right now, you fear you will get too comfortable in this idea of domesticity.

“C’s in the right place. Nothin’ else though.”

He’s the one that figures out its Cumin. You pretend not to be mad about this. You’re furious. Of course, it’d be a spice on the day Mr Food Guy sleeps over. Bullshit.

When you finally sit up, stretch, and say, “I’m just gonna shower real quick ‘nd—”

He’s at a breakneck speed to reply, “I’ll make breakfast.”

“Oh, you cook all the fuckin’ time, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

You blink, then shrug, the man likes to cook, c’est la vie. “Who am I to refuse?”

He looks far too happy about this, as though he’s won a lottery. A lottery of manual labour. He rolls out of bed, grabbing his back pack stuffed with yesterday’s clothes before leaving you to your own devices. In a literal sense, too, since you get a text. Ugh.

‘Gigi called in, can you reach?’

You would prefer not to reach, but this is capitalism.

‘When's the shift?’

‘6:30 to 12:30’

Why couldn’t something else at The Bear be fuckin’ broken today?

‘yeah i can reach’

‘that’s my girl, red tops today, see u’

You have also won the lottery of manual labour today. Look at you and Carm, luckiest people alive. Something like that. Alright, go shower and be normal about the fact that there’s a Michelin Star Chef making you breakfast in your kitchen. And he’s prett—

“You make your own bread.”

“I do.” You sit at your own little breakfast nook, waiting to be served. Towel hung around your neck post shower. You’d offer to help, but based on his urgency to cook for you, it’s gonna be a no. Plus, the gift on the table you’ve got for him is going to piss him off enough, can't poke this bear too much. He's already given you a mile. Too many idioms.

“I like to think in another universe I am a homesteader who makes her own soaps and renders tallow n’ shit. But I settle for growing basil and making sourdough in my shitty little Chicago apartment for now.”

“I like your apartment.” He hums, though amused. He turns and sets your plate—the one black plate— in front of you with a small smile. This smile immediately falls when he pushes the plate towards you and you push a travel bag of toiletries towards him.

“Fuck is this?”

“I don’t want to hear any complaints, Irish Spring.”

“How d’you know I use Irish Spring?”

“It’s all five of your routine, it’s going to be pungent— Now listen.” You pick up the bag; you’d dug through your sink cabinet and found a dollar store pack of plastic travel bottles, unused from cancelled trips of yesteryear. You've decanted your own products for him. It's fine, you buy jumbo sizes anyways...

“Shampoo, conditioner, face wash—They’ve even got labels.”

He takes the bag from you, setting it down on his side of the counter, begrudgingly. Though he hasn’t particularly paid it much mind, tunnelled on something else entirely, “Do you not like Irish Spring?”

"I didn't give you a body wash, you can still use it for that one purpose."

"Yeah, but do you not like Irish Spring?"

"...I think it's fine."

“Fine?”

“I’m more of an Old Spice fan.”

“You don’t deserve breakfast—” He pulls your plate, you pull it back.

“All I said—” “Thinkin’ I smell like shit—” “Did not say that—!” “Just cause you use the fruity stuff—” “I smell good! Deny that I smell good!” “You smell fine.” “Wowww—Whatever, do the thing.”

“Bruschetta with a breakfast twist.” Ah, that makes him give you the plate back. His kink is explaining food. “Sourdough toasted, topped with fresh basil—”

“Courtesy of me.”

“Courtesy of you, yes. Tomatoes, bacon glazed in balsamic, and you didn’t have parm so I used feta. And then, y’know, over medium egg on top.”

“You’re very good, Carmen.”

“Oh, I—Uh—” You haven’t even tried it yet. You’re telling him he’s good for the sake of the effort he’s given alone. He needs an antacid. “Thank you.”

It’s redundant to say his food is good. But what else can you say? It’s a fucking perfect open face sandwich. But he’s eating it with you, and half of it’s your own handiwork, and all of your pantry, so you leave your praises purely reaction based, unsaid.

You're honestly a little distracted, reading too hard into the act of him giving you the black plate and taking one of your shitty plastic ones for himself. Time to talk.

“Itinerary for today?”

“Gotta talk chaos menu with Syd before opening, then, well, running the restaurant all night… And then I’ll—I’ll go home.”

“Yeah? You can come back here, if you want to.” Thank God you took a bite in time to hide your selfish disappointment. It’s good for him to go home, but then he’s not here. Real Catch-22.

He shakes his head, “I think I’m good now. Thanks, though. What’s—What’s uh, your plans for today?”

“I’m gonna drop you off wherever you’re going, n’ then I’m gonna go shopping for Syd’s gift—”

“It’s her fuckin’ birthday or somethin?” It’s a delight how immediately panicked he is by this. You're also thankful because he's so distracted it means you won't have to tell him the rest of your plans for today. You'd like to keep that life separate. For as long as possible, at least.

“Nono, it’s just, I didn’t get her anything for her opening night and I wanna change that. I’ll get you something too.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” The very idea of waiting for his response is freaking you the fuck out, so you’re quick to clear your voice and add. “I’ll give you my number, in case you end up needing to crash.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Ey, text me your invoice too.”

You take both your cleared plates to the sink, and the lie is swift. You've gotten a lot better at that, in the past year.

“Oh no worries, your sister already covered it.”

It is 6:30 and your life is over. Kidding. Unless? You dropped off Carmen at the train station hours ago and, to use his words, ‘it’s hit’. He’s at The Bear and there’s nothing for you to fix there— So you’re not.

You’ve only been there like three times and yet it started to feel… Like your thing!

Like, like you’d just come in everyday and… Dunno, fix something... But it’s not like they’re gonna have a crisis everyday. Especially not ones that Fak can't handle himself if needed— There's no way he's gonna last at hosting, anyways. You’re now realizing the unrealistic dream— Possibly more unrealistic than homestead you.

Speaking of, Homestead You would probably throw up, if she saw the you you’re looking at in the mirror right now. You look good. Objectively, you know you look good. The mug is stamped. Your pants are black, high-waisted, and give you an ass. The bright red leather corset top is… Chafing, but it looks good! It's a sweetheart neckline so you have to take off your long rope chain necklace from Mikey and shove it in your pocket— Which is fine and doesn't feel bad at all. And listen, listen, being an on-call bottle girl is good money!

And you might get put on bar tonight! You don’t know for sure if you’re gonna have to juggle around lit up bottles for a bunch of fucking geezers!

...

God, fuck, it’s 10:20 and your life is over.

This group of geezers have been fucking annoying and fucking Cherry wouldn’t get off fucking bar even though you literally covered for her last week and these stupid grandpas asked if gratuity is included— No fucking shit! Did you take their card and put a 40% tip? Yeah, maybe. Fuck them! They’re too fucking rich to notice! And they took three hours to leave! Gonna bash this champagne bottle over his bald fucking—

“Ey! That’s a face I remember.”

You hear your name— Not Tony, not Chip, not Cousin. Your name.

You turn to see, oh fucking hell, let God kill you—

“Uncle J!~ Good to see you!~ What a surprise! It’s Jack, here.” Jack of all Trades. It was cute at the time of sign up. Your smile is bright, fake, strained, and beautiful.

“Been too long, really.” Cicero isn’t a bad guy—Correction: Cicero isn’t a bad guy, to you, but as Mikey once put it, he’s a fuckin’ ball buster and in your case, you’re one of the few people beneath him that he asks favours from. Always wants free labour and your expertise. And he always has a habit of asking for favours the second you need one back. But you don’t need one right now! So it’s fine! Everything’s fine!

“Do your Uncle a favour,”—Fully not your Uncle—“Could you pair me and my friends here with a good red?”

You let it go that they’re having fish and asking for a red. Stupid thing to get hung up over right now. You make a commission of it anyways; you just pick the most expensive bottle. He won’t know the difference. The Bear would know the difference. Carmen would notice the difference... Alright, relax.

While pouring glasses, Jimmy whispers to his compatriots and one by one they all peel off. It is almost alarming how quickly this group of men turn and leave without a second thought, taking their glasses with them.

You raise your brows and look at Cicero. “Ah. This is the moment where I sit?”

He nods, gesturing to the booth. “This is the moment where you sit.”

You slip into the booth, sitting across from him. “What do you need?”

“Right to the point with you.”

“I hate suspense.” You shrug.

“You liked Mikey.”

What the fuck?

You bite your inner cheek, hard. “Don’t say that shit.”

“I liked him too,” He says it solemnly, like your mutual grief is a proper apology. He takes a long sip of his stupid red wine. “Did you hear? Cousin Vinnie and Mira are gettin’ hitched, finally.”

“I have no fucking idea who Vinnie and Mira are.” You take the glass when he hands it to you, taking a sip. Small. You gotta drive home, after all.

“Really? It’s a big wedding—Destination too, in New York—”

“I hate to remind you, but I was friends with Mikey, not his family.” Not his biological one, at least. The Beef, sure. But you literally only met his siblings two days ago. “What’s a wedding gotta do with me?”

He bristles, and finally cuts it short. “Around three hundred guests, seven-hour shift, open bar—” “Oh, for fuckssake—” “Listen—”

“It’s an easy gig, I’ll fly you out for it, it’s a month and a half away, you’ll get to attend a big fuckin’ Italian wedding— Which will be a shitshow, certainly, so free entertainment; and Michelin Star level catering, kind of.”

You squint. Kind of? “You got Carmy in on this shit?”

“You know ‘em?”

You nod, pressing your elbows on the table, “We’ve recently become acquainted. What d’you got on him for him to cater a wedding?”

“He’s eight-hundred grand in the hole.” “Fuck!” “He gets thirty off for catering. Smart boy, said yes.”

Christ, you massage the bridge of your brow with one hand and pull out your phone with another to check your calendar, you might as well see if you can even entertain the idea. You don’t need a favour right now, maybe you can bargain and get him to actually pay you for it, this time.

“I dunno, Uncle J…”

Oh.

28 unread texts from Syd.

3 unread texts from an unknown number— Probably Carmen.

9 missed calls from Syd.

Uncle Jimmy, always, always, has a fucking way, of asking for a favour when you need one…

You slam your phone, screen down on the table, straightening your posture in your seat. “I have demands.”

He motions for you to continue, taking his wine glass back. “You always do.”

“You and your friends are gonna tip a hundred percent tonight.”

“That why you give me a 2016 Fisher?”

“I like to think ahead.”

“Smart girl.” He shrugs, palms of his hands out. Which means yes.

“If Uncle Lee comes up to the bar I’m throwing a fork at him and leaping over the counter.”

He chuckles, “Thought you 'didn’t know family'.”

“I remember what I'm told.”

His amusement fades quickly, remembering first hand. He nods. “…You’re allowed to jump him if I’m watching first.”

“And you’re friends with my boss, right?”

“We’re acquainted.”

“I’m gonna punch out now and you’re gonna smooth that out for me.”

He perks up, amused, glancing at your phone, “Somethin’ come up, Chip?”

“Don’t call me Chip.” He wants to poke at you, just a little bit more, but there’s a rattled look in your eyes that he’s so rarely seen that he lets it go.

He waves his hand, shrugging, “Be safe. I'll send you the details. December wedding, remember.”

At the end of the day, Cicero isn’t a bad guy to you, someone who loved his nephew as much as he did.

You’re running to your car while you dial back Syd. You don’t have time to read the texts, all you need to know is that it’s an emergency. She picks up just after the first ring.

“Syd what the—” “Code blue!”

You almost fall on your face and eat asphalt. For a flash, you’re in the back of an ambulance being handed a defibrillator at the age of 22, surrounded by faces just as scared and young as you. Then you’re back in the parking lot, slotting the key into your car door because the fob doesn’t work. It’s never worked.

“S-Someone’s having a fucking heart attack!?”

“What?!”

“That’s what fucking code blue means!”

“Oh my god! Sorry! No, I was just saying the thing that scares doctors the most!”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ scared Syd!” You slide into the driver’s seat and slam your car door shut. You take a deep breath, white knuckling the steering wheel. “…I’m-I'm sorry for yelling! Where are you, what’s going on?”

“The—The Bear, the restaurant.” The second you have a location you’re revving off.

“Nat locked herself in the office—” “Like trapped?” This shit again?

“No, no— Like she locked herself in— She did this like two hours ago and I thought she was just taking a breather— But we’ve closed and, and like almost everyone left and she’s still not coming out— And she blocked the door inside— and— And I think she’s trying to hide that she’s basically shrieking in pain every five minutes.”

You take a long time to register anything she’s just said. Her tone is as panicked as you feel on the inside. You’re only now registering the ambient yelling of Richie and Carmen in the background.

“…Did—Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah Syd, I’m just thinking.” You don’t step on the gas on purpose, it just happens. “A pregnant woman is screaming in pain— in intervals— behind a blockaded door?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Have you called an ambulance?”

There’s a much more distinct yell in the background from Richie, “No cops!”

Then from Carmen, “No coverage!”

“Yeah…” Syd shakily continues for them, “The insurance is a problem, and Richie said— Motherfucker—” You hear a muffled scrap over the phone before Richie continues on for Syd.

“Er, yeah, Cousin, Sugar keeps yelling that she’s fine ‘n blocked the door, if we call the cops they’re gonna ram that shit down and take her to the loony bin.”

“That’s not— That’s not what paramedics do.”

“That’s what they all do.”

“Richie, y’know, I was a paramedic, right?”

“…You a fuckin’ fed, Chip?”

“Richie, if I was a fuckin' narc you would be in prison by now. I, I— I'll be there in like, like eight minutes, everyone stop fucking yelling at Sugar!”

You’re there in four. You almost rear end someone and you run every yellow you get but you’re there in four. You don’t park properly in the back, you just drive your car in and turn it off in the middle of the lot. You don’t bother to be let in, you just punch the code in as you remember it. As Natalie told you.

“Oh good you—Oh my, God?” Syd is no better than a man in this moment, going from grateful for your presence to being one intrusive thought away from whistling.

You did not have time to change out of your ...outfit and someone has been hogging your Carhartt. You pass Syd quickly, waving a hand in front of her face. Goddammit, why do your boot heels have to have that incredibly satisfying femme fatale click right now?

“Alright— Relax—”

“Holy shit, Chippy!” Richie was yelling at Sugar through the door along with Carm, but once alerted to your presence is now snapping his fingers. You'd describe him more as impressed than actually attracted to you. “You clean up!”

 “Cousin, are you—” He grabs Carmen’s face, turning it to you— Carmen does of course, immediately slap Richie’s hand away which of course, means they just start smacking each other's hands. Like preteen girls. “Ey, get the fuck off—” “I just want you to look at a pretty girl, Cousin—!” “Stop fuckin’ touchin’ me!” “Are you looking!?” “I—”

“Everyone shut the fuck up!”

You silence the room. You’re thankful most of the staff has left by now since it’s well after close. It's just Carmen, Syd, Richie, Tina, and Fak for some goddamn reason...You can't be mean you're handymen, you have to stick together.

“I look different from the usual jumpsuit, yes, we get it, can we move on? Pregnant woman?”

Syd is the first to speak, “…Were you on a date, though?”

You blink and roll your eyes all at once, twisting your head to her, “Syd—”

“It’s good to see you getting out there, baby.” Tina, deeply unhelpful in this moment, puts a hand around your shoulder. Oh to have a mother’s judgment when she’s not even your mother.

“O-kay!” You drag on the ‘kay’, clapping your hands together, “Everyone, just get your thoughts out in the next five seconds and then we’re moving on.”

“Chippy, I cannot believe you’ve held this out on me—” “—I meant it like-like a concerned, did we interrupt your date—” “—The red is unbelievable on you, Cousin!” “I need you to teach me how you do your makeup—” “Can you— can you yell again—?” “Fak!” “Oh, so that’s too much?”

A cacophony, it continues on. Your eyes glaze over, and you’re waiting for Sugar to let out a scream so everyone remembers the fucking point of being here. But then you look at Carmen. Everyone’s pivoted from staring at you to yelling at each other. But Carmen; Carmen is still looking at you. Stupid soft scary eye contact. And his voice is so much quieter than the yelling but it’s the thing that you hear anyways.

“It looks tight.”

There’s a possibility that when you killed the teenage girl inside you that you also killed the feminist. Because there’s a small sub-sect of you that’s upset that he’s not objectifying you right now. That his vision is focused on you. Not the changes. He doesn’t seem to look at you any differently than when you’re wearing a jumpsuit and utility belt, covered in toilet water. This should not be annoying and yet it is.

“It is.”

He nods, eye contact unshifting, unblinking, “You wanna change?”

“Maybe after we find out whether or not your sister is in labour.”

He nods. He takes a second but he nods.

You approach him, rather, the door, knocking gently. Everyone quiets down.

You clear your throat, and once more, the persona is put on, you’re a paramedic, putting on that soft but firm reassuring authoritative tone. “E-M Rescue, I got a call for a wellness check on Natalie Berzatto?”

“Tony—” A groan of pain behind the door, “I am perfectly well! Everyone go home!”

You grimace, you motion with your hand for Fak to hand you a screwdriver— He keeps one in his breast-pocket, even when wearing a suit. Hey, you should start doing that.

“Nat, I’m a paramedic— Or I was—will you please let me in?”

“I don’t— Fuck! —Need a paramedic!”

“Never hurts to do a check-up, Nat.” You speak calmly, like you always did. “Listen, lover, if you don’t open the door, I’m gonna have to take it off its hinges, and we're gonna lose medic patient confidentiality.”

When she doesn’t reply after a good beat, you start to unscrew the top hinge; she can hear it, “Wait, wait, wait— Fuck-Fuck— I’m opening it!”

There’s another series of pained groans as she exerts herself to open the door, and once she does, it’s only by a crack, to look at you and you alone. She’s absolutely been crying. She speaks in a whispered tone. “Just you.”

You nod, handing the screwdriver back to Fak without breaking eye contact with her. “Just me.”

She cracks it open just enough for you to come in. And so, you do. Everyone is, for the first time, too worried about her shutting down to interrupt or yell a complaint.

You close the door behind you, pressing your back to it. You note the toppled over chair by your feet that she must’ve blocked it with. Plus the puddle of amniotic fluid beneath her. Oh fuck.

...

“You wanna talk or do you just want me to check your contractions?”

“I’m—” She shakes her head, covering her face. She half sits on the desk. “I’m fucking— I am not ready for this.”

“Yeah.” You nod. You’re not here to convince anyone they’re ready to be a fucking mother. But you’re here to listen, certainly.

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“Who?”

“Her—!” Her voice is choked, another contraction. You’re silently taking the time in your head. She points to her stomach.

“And— And we just opened, and— And I’m gonna have to go on maternity leave, which is the last fucking thing we need and— and— If I could just fucking keep her in!”

“Natalie.” You put a hand on her shoulder, she finally looks at you. “This is happening.”

“Not help—fu—ll.”

“I know it’s not. This is scary and there are no take backs—” “Very unhelp—”

“Nat, your daughter wants to meet you.”

You squeeze her shoulder; she looks like she’s gonna cry all over again for a completely different reason. “She probably won’t hate you. Who’s to say. But I know you’ll love her. And that’s enough, isn’t it?”

She nods, emphatically, but something is still bothering her. You squeeze her shoulder again. You whisper, so even if everyone’s ear is pressed to the door— Which you doubt, she’s screaming after all, they won’t hear.

“Carmen will still know you love him, even when you're not here.”

She immediately goes for a hug, you reciprocate with a shuddered ease. She sniffs, head on your shoulder. She stays there for a while before letting you go, nodding. “Okay.”

You hand her the tissue box next to her on the table, she takes it thankfully, crushing it in her hand. Another contraction. Oh, that couldn't have been more than 2 minutes. Oh fuck.

You kneel down in front of her, and you’re simply no longer in your body as a person but just the paramedic. You could not be more thankful that she’s wearing a dress today. Awkward requests of spreading legs and pulling off underwear aside, Natalie’s daughter does in fact really want to meet her. Oh fuck.

You look up at Natalie, between her knees, you speak cool, professional. “You’re crowning. This is gonna have to happen here. I'll have someone call your husband.”

You’re so calm that it doesn’t give Natalie the feeling or need to freak out, she just breathes. “Okay. Okay.”

You stand upright. “Do you prefer this office or somewhere else?”

“I can’t— Move.”

“Makes sense. Makes total sense. Okay. I’ll go get everything we need, I’ll be right back. I might send some people in, okay, love?”

She just grunts in reply, nodding, now that she’s not in as much emotional pain, she can entirely focus on her brutalizing physical pain.

“Oh, hey, I know—” You grab her purse, pulling out her phone and ear buds, handing them to her with haste, your calm demeanour is faltering just a bit. “Listen to some music, loud, y’know, chill…” You put the pods in her ear for her. She’s again, in too much pain to tell you to fuck off, and just plays her music loud.

You softly open the door, smiling just a bit too much as you leave, and very softly close the door behind you. Looking at the motley crew before you, your persona immediately falls apart. You really only wanted her to play music so you could scream. “Oh, my fucking God.”

“What’s happening, she good?” What a sweet, stupid brother, Sugar has.

You purse your lips together, eyes wide, shaking your head. “She’s going to give birth in like— Maybe six minutes. Max ten.” Everyone goes to speak in an uproar of panic, and then you slap yourself in the face. Hard. That stuns them silent.

“Alright!” You press your hands over your eyes, “Tina!”

She’s been around this block before, “What do you need?”

“Can you go sit in there with her? Tell her all the breathing exercises and shit? Keep her calm? Coming from you it won’t seem so—”

“Condescending as fuck?”

“Yes, exactly, can you?”

“Gotchu, baby.” She claps your shoulder when she walks past and into the office.

You clap hers in tandem, “Thank you, Mama—Okay, Richie!”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna need you to call Nat’s husband—”

“Why do I—”

“Because you’re a fuckin’ dad, Rich, and he will need you!” You’re yelling all pissed, snapping your fingers at him, but he does light up when you say it like that. “I don’t care if he wets his fuckin’ bed, tell him to get here!”

He salutes, walking off, “Aye aye, Cap’n Chip.”

You shake off the sting in your hand, God, you really did slap yourself too hard. You turn to the next targets. “Syd, Fak.”

Syd responds hesitantly for the both of them, since Fak is silently enjoying your colonel persona a little too much. “…Yes, C-Captain?”

“I need towels, a lot of clean towels— cloth ones, like sanitized clean— Warm half in water— And then I need a clean sheet— A table cloth or something, I don’t fucking care, something clean and big that you’re fine destroying. I need sterile sheaths, Syd you get those— Other than that, however they get to me, I don’t give a shit— Just scrub in before you touch anything!”

They almost knock into each other the way they run so fast. You yell after them. “Get the big sheet first, she needs to lay down!”

“Yes, Chef!”

You take a deep breath before moving your gaze onto Carmy. The screaming lead EM in you melts off your shoulders, just for the second.

He asks before you can even say anything, “Yes, Chef?”

“I need you to scrub in and get me gloves and an apron—” “On it, Chef—” “And you’re gonna sit in with me for the birth of your niece.”

He cringes, not to refuse, but just the mounting reality of the situation is dawning on him. His sister is going to give birth to his niece in their shared office of his high-class restaurant within it's first week of open.

But you then tag on, “Carmy, she needs you— Frankly, I’m not the one giving birth but fuckin' I need you. T-There.”

He softens instantly, like tranquilizing— Well, a bear.

“Yes, Chef.”

I know the opening probably feels so far away by now, but i do want to note that Breakfast Bruschetta is my own recipe that I used to make like every fuckin' day pre-employment. It's so goddamn good. I highly recommend it, babes. It's balsamic with brown sugar dissolved, btw, Carmy's just a quick explainer.

I wrote like a solid 75% of the labour sequence before deciding it just needed to have the breathing room of it's own chapter, so until next time for that one bbs. But I'm excited for it! And also dreading it! A lot of hard conversations combined with giving birth = nightmare to write, but well worth it, i think. Speaking of: I don't believe at the end of Season 2 that Sugar is at the end of her term of 36 weeks, but in our case here, she is. I'm very much so not interested in a very scary premature birth for our girl!! She's okay!! Dw!! I just wonked with time a little, hope that's okay.

And hey, look at that reveal! Bartender/Sommelier was code for bottle service-- Which is a very respectable career, btw, don't get it twisted-- I was critiquing it only in the way I would critique literally any other job: Misery Under Capitalism. And now we've got that fuckin' wedding in the future midst! Ah!!

Anyways please send me your thoughts ad nauseam, I reload my activity feed every 3 seconds to see what you guys are thinking. If you reblog, tell me what you think in the tags!! Yell at me in the replies!! Send an anon in!! I don't bite, I swear <3

Next Part

[yvvxs]

Early Bird or Night Owl...

‎ ‎↪ ft. argenti. arlan. aventurine. blade. boothill. caelus. dan heng. dr ratio.

Argenti is an Early Bird. He'd help you in the mornings, brushing your hair, helping you wash up and get dressed. He would make sure you looked as beautiful as you always do.

Arlan feels like a Night Owl. Taking care of security matters while any other researchers are asleep. He wants to make sure you and everyone else are safe, but not have anyone else worry. He knows that it'd be futile trying to keep you from worrying about him, so he lets you join. As long as you stay away from any danger.

I think that Aventurine would be a Night Owl. He'd stay up, gambling away with you alongside him. Enjoying the eternal night that the Golden Hour brought to them, the paradise of the dream, with you by his side.

Being a wanted criminal, Blade would most likely be a Night Owl. He's used to doing schemes with the rest of the Hunters in the dead of night. He'd drive the long highways with you sitting beside him. His hand on your thigh, or intertwined with your fingers as you both enjoy the ride.

Boothill would be an Early Bird. He enjoys waking up, seeing the sun enter his room. It reminds him always of a much simpler and innocent time, but it also reminds him that you were there with him, and he was able to experience another day with his love.

Caelus would be a Night Owl, rummaging through garbage cans with you watching his back, cleaning any banana peels or pieces of paper stuck in his hair. He barely needed to worry about being seen like this at midnight. Not like he minded being seen in this state when it was morning. But it was so much more convenient when it was nighttime.

Compiling information for the Data Bank together in his room, late at night. Dan Heng is a Night Owl. He preferred it, he'd be interrupted less, and it was much more quiet. He doesn't mind his thoughts being interrupted when it was you, though.

Dr. Ratio prefers the morning. Being an Early Bird, he gets to get ready for the lectures that he'd be teaching that day. Taking a nice relaxing bath every morning with you was always his favorite part of the day, and he would never give it up for anything.

‎ ‎↪ Part two eventually.. I'm trying to figure out how to write Jiaoqiu, and my IRL stuff first..

Masterlist || Do not repost nor feed to AI. Reblogs & Comments are much appreciated.

[oldsoul007]

beautiful boy

nicholas chavez x reader

summary: your bf comes home from work and just wants to be with you

I was on the couch reading my book trying to contain my excitement for when nicholas came home.

Nicholas stumbled through the front door, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. He had been doing press jobs non-stop, flying from city to city, and the jet lag was hitting him hard. All he wanted now was to see y/n, to find some comfort in her presence.

He dropped his bags by the entrance and made his way into the living room, where he found me curled up on the couch with a book. I looked up as he entered, concern immediately crossing my face.

"Nicholas, you look exhausted," I said, setting the book aside and standing up to greet him.

He managed a tired smile, pulling me into a hug. "I am. It's been a crazy few days. I just wanted to come home and be with you."

Wrapping my arms around him in a gentle hug. Nicholas sighed, leaning into my embrace, feeling the weight of his journey melt away just a bit.

"Yeah, but I'm so jet-lagged," he murmured, his voice thick with fatigue. I pulled back slightly, looking up at him with concern.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," I said, taking his hand and leading him to the bathroom. I turned on the shower, adjusting the water to the perfect temperature. Nicholas watched me with grateful eyes, too tired to do much more than follow my lead.

I helped him out of his travel-worn clothes, my touch gentle and caring. I guided him into the shower, the warm water cascading over his tired body. I stepped in with him, my hands moving to wash away the stress and grime of his journey.

As we worked, Nicholas felt the tension in his muscles begin to ease. He closed his eyes, letting the soothing sensation of my touch and the warm water envelop him. "Thank you, y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude.

"Anything for you," I replied softly, my fingers threading through his hair as I washed it. The moment was sweet and intimate, a quiet connection that spoke volumes about our bond. In that small, steamy space, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us, wrapped in a tender embrace.

I held him tightly, feeling the tension in his body. "I'm glad you're home. Come on, let's get you settled. You need to rest."

…

Nicholas nodded, grateful for my understanding. As we made our way to the bedroom, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. No matter how chaotic things got, being with y/n always made everything better.

Nicholas lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind too wired from the constant travel to fall asleep. Me nestled beside him, my head resting on his chest, our fingers intertwined.

"Can't sleep?" I asked softly, looking up at him.

"No, the jet lag is messing with me," he admitted, running his fingers through my hair. "But being here with you helps."

I smiled, me heart warming at his words. "Tell me about your trip. What was the most interesting part?"

Nicholas sighed, a small smile playing on his lips. "There was this one interview where they asked me the most random questions. It was kind of fun, actually. But honestly, all I could think about was getting back home to you."

I squeezed his hand. "I missed you too. It's been lonely without you here."

He kissed the top of my head. "I'm sorry I have to travel so much. I wish I could take you with me everywhere."

"One day," I whispered. "For now, let's just enjoy these moments together."

They continued talking late into the night, sharing stories and dreams, the comfort of each other's presence making the time pass easily. Eventually, the exhaustion took over, and Nicholas began to drift off, holding y/n close. As he fell asleep, he felt a sense of peace, knowing that no matter where he went, this was home.