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standfucker · 6 months ago

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Post-Injury Hurt/Comfort Series - Monster Trio

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji

Reader: GN

Word Count: 3.3k

CW: blood, gore, graphic depictions of injury, stitches

Ao3 Link

After writing The Break, I've always wanted to do drabbles of the same scenario for other characters, so here we are. ( 0v0)/

Luffy

It happens in an instant. One moment, you’ve brought your mace down on the head of the lion Zoan, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. You collapse next to his body, exhausted from the fight.

The next moment, the lion Zoan lunges at you from the floor, one massive paw smashing into your face with all the strength of their devil fruit, sickle claws tearing your flesh open.

You go flying. You hit the ground hard, leaving a smear of blood from your body skidding. Dazed, you try and get your bearings, berating yourself for letting your guard down early, praying it didn’t cost you the fight. The lion Zoan snarls and charges you.

“Gum-Gum Whip!”

The sight of your captain intercepting your opponent brings a heavy relief–if Luffy’s finished with his own opponent, that means your part is done, too. You can finally catch your breath.

With the rest comes the dull, burning pain across your face. The enemy mostly got you in the nose and mouth, miraculously missing your eyes. Blood runs from your nose and mouth and drips from your chin, bleeding as heavily as a head wound. Still, you’re not too concerned. It’s only when the rest of the crew catches up to you and you try to talk that you realize how much damage the lion did, because not only does speaking hurt, but Nami makes a face at the sight of you.

The local anesthetic that Chopper gives you helps a little bit, but it still hurts when he realigns your nose and stitches up the gashes. Luffy holds your hand the entire time, knowing you hate needles.

“Good job, Y/n!” Luffy says after Chopper’s done. “You’re real tough!”

“Thanks, Captain.” You sigh. “I would have been fine if I hit him again, but I thought he was down. I forgot how resilient Zoans can be.”

“You didn’t want to kill him.”

“I know, I shouldn’t take these fights so lightly–”

“Y/n, that’s a good thing.” Luffy stretches an arm around your shoulder. “You’re a good person. Besides, I was able to take him out easily because of the damage you did.”

“Nami looked horrified when she saw my face,” you say. “I must look like a mess.”

“You do,” Luffy says honestly, making you smile–which pulls on your stitches.

“Owww, oh…smiling hurts.”

“Then don’t smile!”

“I can’t help it. You make me smile. You know this.”

Luffy rubs his chin, eyes rolling up as he thinks. “Then I should stay away from you.”

“Nooo, don’t do that! I need you around to cheer me up! Especially now.” You take his hand that’s hanging around your shoulder, feeling your chest lighten when he squeezes back.

“Well, in that case, I’ll just not make you smile!” he says.

“I don’t think that’s possible.” You chuckle, then look at the mirror hanging on the wall. If you need to lower your mood, there’s an easy shortcut–the combination of your inflamed, swollen skin, plus the stitches make you look nothing short of monstrous.

Luffy notices your face falling. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s going to scar. And not even in a cool way.” Living with severe facial scarring probably won’t be that bad–you are a pirate, after all–but it’ll still be new. And, to be honest, you’re not ready for your appearance to change so dramatically.

“What are you talking about? It’ll be super cool!” Luffy says earnestly. “Everyone will know what a strong pirate you are!”

He’s trying to cheer you up. You don’t want to bring him down in the dumps with you, but you can’t help but be bummed out.

“But what if I don’t want to look cool?” you say. “What if I just want to look like me? I mean, who could possibly find a face like this appealing?” You ghost your fingers over the stitches on your lips. “Who would kiss lips like mine?”

You think you’re holding it in okay, but the admission has you tearing up. You’re being ridiculous–you should be happy to be alive. But why did it have to be your face? Why…

Luffy stares at you in that way he does when he’s thinking. You can’t tell what’s going through his mind.

It happens in an instant.

One moment you’re sitting next to each other in silence. The next moment, he wraps his other arm around you, pulls you in close, and lightly presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

It hurts a little, but it also feels so good that your tears break free and sting where they roll over your cuts.

“Did that hurt? I’m sorry, Y/n,” Luffy says when he pulls away.

“No, no! It was nice! It was really nice.” You have to fight not to smile.

“Oh, good! I liked it too!” he giggles, looking overjoyed.

“When I heal up, will you do that again?”

“I can do it right now!” Luffy says eagerly, but you clear your throat and tilt your head toward the doorway.

Chopper is standing there, little hooves on his hips, thoroughly unimpressed with the both of you and your method of boosting morale.

Zoro

Zoro was always one to downplay his injuries. Next to Chopper, you gave him the most trouble for it out of anyone in the crew. He figured that so long as he got medical attention, the extent of the injuries was no big deal.

He never expected to be on the receiving end.

In the heat of battle, he’s entirely focused on his opponent. This enemy crew is tough, but not the strongest they’ve faced. Strong enough to demand his full concentration.

However, Zoro knows the unique sound of a sword cutting through flesh. When he hears the shhk! noise behind him and remembers you’re also fighting a sword user, he’s so badly distracted he almost gets hit. He has just enough presence of mind to finish off his enemy before turning around.

That’s when he sees you fire a bullet into your opponent’s leg, your free arm wrapped around your stomach. There’s blood seeping between your fingers. In the time it takes him to rush to your side, you shoot your opponent again in the other leg, making him crumple, then once in each arm, rendering him completely unable to fight back from where he lays.

“Yo,” you say casually, but you’re trembling all over. Your torn shirt is staining quickly.

“You got cut,” Zoro states. He tries to pull your arm away so he can see your wound better, but you step back.

“I’m okay,” you say. You and Zoro both look down at your abdomen as you pull your arm away just slightly, and Zoro sees the unmistakable grayish-pink of your large intestine before you quickly plug up the gash with your arm again. You look back up at him. “It’s just a scratch.”

Zoro’s about ready to stab you himself, his eyes going wide with horror and rage.

“Are you insane?!” he shouts. “A scratch?! Shit, where’s Chopper–?!”

“Ha ha–ow ow ow, hurts to laugh.” You grin, but Zoro notices you tearing up from the pain.

“Okay, just, stay still,” his hands are held up hesitantly, unsure of what to do, and he calls over his shoulder. “CHOPPER! Get over here right now!”

Once Chopper arrives, he applies an emergency field dressing and instructs Zoro on how to safely carry you back to the ship’s infirmary. You act like you’re in high spirits the entire way there, smiling up at Zoro like everything’s fucking dandy.

“This is kinda nice,” you say. “I haven’t been carried since I was little.”

“After you heal,” Zoro says, “I’ll carry you around as much as you want, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he says gently. “Does it hurt?”

“Of course not,” you say, and Zoro curses himself for having asked–he can see you wince with every harsh step he tries to avoid.

“We’re almost there. Almost there.”

“Relax, big guy. I’ve been through worse.”

You haven’t. He’s been in every major fight you’ve been through, and it’s never been this bad. Your blood is still warm on his skin, and your color’s getting paler, and it’s all because he couldn’t protect you.

The surgery takes longer than he thought. He’s pacing the hallway outside the infirmary so much that even Sanji starts to make a comment, which would have started a fight had Robin not intervened and sternly told them both that everyone was worried.

When you come to, it’s to the sight of Zoro standing over your bed. You don’t manage so much as a ‘yo’ before Zoro gets onto his hands and knees, bowing so low his head touches the floor.

“I’ll never let it happen again!” he says, minding his volume–Chopper is only allowing him to visit because Zoro promised he wouldn’t stress you out. “It’s my fault! I’m sorry–”

“Get up.”

He peers up at you. Your face is twisted up like you’re holding something back, but you force it into a sneer.

“Get up right now, or I’m going to make fun of you,” you say. He hesitates long enough for you to roll your eyes. “Don’t be a pussy.”

That brings him right back to his feet. “What’d you call me?!”

“You heard me,” you say. “I’m alive, aren’t I? So relax.”

“I can’t relax!” Zoro snaps. “You got hurt because of me! I was too weak! I couldn’t–couldn’t stop this from happening!”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever?!” He no longer minds his volume. “How can you be so–so calm about this?!”

“How can you be making this about yourself?”

That shuts him up real quick. Realizing his mistake, Zoro starts to get a sour feeling in his stomach, but you only smile.

“Now you know what it feels like,” you chuckle and wince, “ow–what it feels like to have someone be dismissive of your injuries. So the next time you get hurt, you big dumb idiot, how about you have some self awareness and let me worry?”

Zoro deflates a little. “I still can’t just forgive myself like that.”

“I’ll do it for you.” You hold out your hand until he takes it. “Roronoa Zoro, I forgive you–so long as you do one thing for me.”

He leans in. “Anything. What is it?”

“Even with the pain meds, I’m still sore. Kiss it better?” You smile the way you do when you’re joking, but it soon turns to a look of surprise when Zoro leans in even closer. He hesitates for a moment, face hovering above yours, before his free hand comes to cradle the back of your head and he presses a firm, intent kiss to your lips.

You stare at him when he pulls away, your expression slowly morphing into a smile–not a playful one, not a masking one, but a real smile.

“W-What’s with that look?” Zoro says, flustered now. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“I meant kiss my stomach, dummy.”

Zoro’s eyes widen, but before he can remedy his mistake, you weakly pull him back in for another kiss. This time, he obliges without question.

Sanji

Sanji barely dodges a brutal strike from his opponent, then finishes them off with a flaming kick to the skull. You grin at him as you down your own opponent with a heavy strike from one of your tonfa.

“Careful there, Hotfoot! He almost got you!” you yell gleefully, only to narrowly avoid getting hit yourself.

“Worry about yourself, Sticks!” Sanji calls back, mirroring your grin.

“They’re not sticks!” you say yet again, smashing one of the tonfa into a pirate’s head and knocking them out cold. “You’re just jealous I can fight with my hands!”

“I choose not to fight with my hands!”

“Sure you do!”

You were well aware of Sanji’s commitment to only use his hands to cook, but it was still fun to pretend it was a skill issue. Sanji knew it was all teasing anyway. The two of you greatly enjoyed your banter, whether in or outside of battle. As physical fighters, your rivalry was a friendly one. After all, out of everyone in the crew, you spent the most time talking to each other.

The next wave of pirates comes, this time stronger than before–the enemy’s commanding officers. The battle becomes too serious for you to go on making comments, and your focus gets pulled toward your opponents.

It’s a hard, bloody fight. As soon as he defeats his opponent, he worries about how the others are faring. The rest of the crew is almost done with their own one-on-ones, and he finds himself rushing to find you first, his pace hurrying when he finds one of your tonfa lying off to the side.

You’re straddling your opponent on the ground. Your non-dominant hand is broken, held crookedly against your chest, and you’re bleeding from your hairline and mouth. With your good hand, you beat your tonfa into your opponent’s skull, over and over, a broken cry tumbling from your bloody lips with every strike. Your opponent is no longer moving, but you don’t stop, tears streaming from your eyes as you mash his face to a visceral pulp.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Sanji skids to a stop next to you, grabbing your wrist before you can strike again. “He’s dead! It’s over. It’s over. You won.”

You look at him with wide eyes. Your mouth is held open, and at first, Sanji doesn’t realize what’s wrong, but he can tell you only won by a hair from the way you’re trembling. He gets down and pulls you into a gentle hug. “I got you,” he says. “I got you. You’re okay now.”

He holds you at arm’s length and checks over your body for any injuries, finding none. Mouth still open, you pull away from him and start patting the grass with your good hand, searching for something.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” he says. “Please, say something.”

Sanji expects something tired and sarcastic, like ‘you don’t look much better.’ Instead, you make a strange, groaning noise as your response, and he feels a chill run through his body. You always had a quick retort for him, even when things were dire.

You seem to find what you were looking for, your hand closing around something. Sanji helps you stand up, and when you open your hand, he sees a few teeth in your palm that must have gotten knocked out.

“Your jaw’s broken,” Sanji realizes aloud, and you nod, and suddenly the way you hold your mouth open is deeply unsettling.

The silence that follows your surgery, however, puts Sanji at an even greater unease. Your jaw is wired shut to let the bone heal, and Chopper says that for the next six weeks, you won’t be able to speak at all.

You carry around a notepad with you, but for a while after you wake from the anesthesia, you don’t write anything down except to answer Chopper’s questions, opting instead to sulk.

“Come on, Sticks,” Sanji says lightly as he signs the cast on your hand. “I know you have something to say.”

You flick him off with your good hand, then seem to regret it, your face fallin along with your hand. Sighing through your nose, you grab your notepad and scribble something down, then hold it up for him to see.

‘I look like a chipmunk.’

The lower half of your face has, naturally, swollen up. Sanji shakes his head. “No, no, you look fine! You…” A pointed look from you makes him concede. “Okay, yeah. It’s swollen. What did you expect?” You look away, and he pats your shoulder. “Ah, come on, it’s not so bad. Most people find chipmunks cute, you know.”

Your eyes widen slightly and you give him a look of surprise. Sanji stiffens.

“Um, well, I mean…” he stammers. Though he doesn’t leave, for the rest of that day, you both avoid looking at each other.

From the beginning to the end of your healing process, Sanji stays by your side, always finding a way to make you feel better. He’ll hype you up by doing a drumroll while he’s waiting for you to finish writing out a thought, something which the rest of the crew picks up as well. When you’re hanging out with him in the galley, he’ll do hibachi tricks with the food he prepares to cheer you up.

The food he makes for you especially helps you get through the long weeks. You were severely bummed out at having to miss his cooking for weeks–until the first sip of the soup he cooked. You never knew a liquid diet could be so delicious. Sanji takes the time to roast and blend anything you’d wanted. Thanks to him, being unable to chew food doesn’t affect your nutrient intake at all.

He also indulges you in your favorite drink without you having asked, which is surprising. It’s not the first time he’s gone out of his way like this, but it does feel more special when you’ve been in such a vulnerable state.

‘Maybe there’s an upside to this after all.’

Sitting in the galley while Sanji cooks, you hold up your notepad for him to read.

“And what is that?” he says, walking around the prep table with a mixing bowl in his arms, looking down at what you’re writing.

‘I love y’

You pause, staring at your notepad with a weird, dumbstruck look. Sanji’s eyes widen, slowing down his mixing for a second, but you quickly recover and finish scribbling.

‘I love you treating me extra special.’ You hold up the notepad hesitantly, avoiding his eye.

Though feeling warmth rise in his chest, Sanji plays it cool. “Well, I’m glad you’re finding the positive in this,” he says. “I personally miss the sound of your voice.”

You drop your notepad and fumble to catch it with only one good hand, accidentally smacking it to the floor. Both you and Sanji crouch down to pick it up, and freeze when your hands touch.

The urge to say ‘sorry’ is strong, though you can’t speak. Face burning, all you can do is look at him apologetically and hope he understands. But when you do, he’s looking back at you with the same expression he has when he reads a brand new recipe. Like he’s figuring something out.

You go to pull your hand away, but his fingers close around yours. “I, uh… I really mean that, you know.”

Swallowing, you glance down at his hand holding yours, then back up at him, and nod.

“Y/n,” he says, letting go of your hand to instead cup your cheek tenderly. “Would you… I mean. Can I…?”

With your heart pounding, you nod again, and Sanji leans in. You close your eyes, and a moment later, his lips brush yours, feather-light. Just that barest contact makes your head spin almost as bad as it did when you got your injury in the first place.

Sanji breaks free, and you stare at each other. A slow smile spreads across your lips at the sight of his nose starting to bleed. You both stand up, and you write something down quickly.

‘I’m sorry I can’t kiss you back.’

“That’s okay,” he says, reading the note over your shoulder. He rubs the back of his neck, grinning. “I’ll gladly do all the work.”

And Sanji does, in the quiet, private moments where it’s just the two of you. And yet, when the day finally comes for Chopper to remove the wires, and the first thing you do upon leaving the exam room is call out Sanji’s name, he’s so elated that he picks you up with a spin, kissing you in front of everyone before he can help himself.

#one piece imagines #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #x reader #reader insert #zen writes

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elronds-meleth-nin · 1 month ago

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Healing Hands

This is just a short little fic, based on this post here. The tall, broad High-King demanded a drabble aside from the ones I'd already started about him, so what else could I do? He is the High King, after all. 🥰👑

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Gil-Galad (RoP) x Half-Elven!Reader

[A/N: This is just fluff.]

Warnings: Spoilers for RoP s2e8, non-graphic descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, soft!Gil-Galad, affectionate teasing, romantic tension, healing injuries, Gil speaking Quenya, battle aftermath, minor angst with a happy ending.

~*~

Did she truly think she was being subtle with such a limp in her step? The High King and his Herald had led their soldiers and the survivors of Eregion into a valley, establishing around it a protective, magical barrier using the rings of power.

Together, the pair had healed Lady Galadriel, but as they settled her in a soft, flat spot to recover, Gil-Galad saw his lady, clad in her own black-splattered armor, attempting to limp away unnoticed.

"Go. I'll stay with Galadriel," Elrond volunteered quietly, and with a grateful nod of acknowledgement, the King hurried through the trees after her. He hadn't even remembered seeing her struck, but obviously she had been if she was limping.

She didn't get very far. At the edge of a small clearing, he found her sitting with her back against a tree, struggling to remain conscious. His breath caught when he saw how pale she'd become. She'd clearly been hiding this for quite some time.

Without a thought beyond healing his lady, Gil-Galad dropped to his knees beside her and began slicing a window into the leg of her trousers. The cloth parted easily at the behest of his dagger, and at the waft of cool air over her skin, her eyes fluttered open.

"Ereinion?" Her voice was so shaky and quiet. "I'm sorry. Didn't...want to bother you..."

"Hush, I am here, now," he murmured as he beheld the broken-off shaft of an arrow embedded in her leg. She'd lost quite a bit of blood if the dark, drenched fabric of her trousers was any indication. Thankfully, the arrow was not lodged too deeply, and she'd left enough of it exposed for a healer to grip in order to remove it. "Fool of a girl, you should have come straight to me."

She let out a weak laugh at his affectionate scolding.

"Calling your favorite patient a fool? Ondórëa ingaranya," she murmured cupping his cheek and drawing his eyes to her own. There was no real acidity in her tone. Gil-Galad took courage in the fact that she still had enough clarity of mind to tease him. He had, in fact, healed her before, but the injuries were always insignificant and superficial. And, she'd never actively hidden them from him before.

What cause had he given her to do so? Had she been embarrassed?

Without hesitation, he turned his head just far enough to kiss her palm.

"I humbly beg your forgiveness, meldanya." He hoped that she knew he referred to more than his playful jab. He also knew that to call her such, to allow such a slip, would be tantamount to a confession for which he was not certain that he was prepared. But, to call her anything less than his beloved would be a lie. Furthermore, to do so in the aftermath of such rampant death and destruction would summon within his heart guilt in such quantities that he could not abide.

Turning his attention back to her leg, he laid his palm as lightly as he could over her thigh. He whispered in Quenya, allowing the magic from his ring and from his own healing abilities to seep into her skin and numb her pain. Working quickly, he removed the arrowhead and pressed his hand over the wound, murmuring some of the same healing spells he and Elrond had used on Galadriel.

Fortunately, though, this was not a cursed wound as the former had sustained from Morgoth's crown, nor was it as severe. Her skin glowed readily beneath his touch. Within moments, the skin bound itself shut and his lady shuddered in relief as a trickle of light penetrated the canopy of trees overhead to mingle with their own.

Her hand had fallen limply away after mere moments, but Gil-Galad retrieved it once his work was complete, grasping it gently between his own blood-stained fingers. Her pulse beat steady and strong in his grasp, and his eyelids fluttered shut as he breathed a sigh of relief. She would be alright. She had survived.

"Did you mean it?" She breathed, and he was so surprised that she was conscious that his eyes snapped immediately to hers. Despite the dirt and grime coating them both, he felt entirely exposed beneath her gaze - vulnerable and transparent before her.

He relished the sensation of being known so completely. To everyone else, he was Gil-Galad, the High King of Lindon, the bastion of strength from which his people drew their courage when darkness threatened.

To her, he was simply Ereinion. The feeling was more pleasant and intoxicating than he could possibly express.

"You called me your beloved," she continued. "Did you mean it?"

How could he deny it? He loved her. He had for centuries. Since the moment she set foot in Lindon nearly three hundred years before, Gil-Galad had surrendered to the realization that his heart would settle for no other. Her light was beyond compare, shining into even the most uncertain parts of his heart which he hid from all others. She drew him out so easily, comforted him simply by smiling in his direction. She was his strength, his courage, his most luxuriant pleasure and joy.

But, he was a king. Because she knew him, she also knew better than any other how taxing his position was. Over time, he'd convinced himself that she would not wish to bear the burden of ruling by his side, so he'd remained silent - reluctant to steal her own contentment and joy by forcing the responsibilities of a ruler upon her. She deserved to have a life unburdened by the weight of a crown.

In his secrecy, however, his heart had grown accustomed to a more profound loneliness than he'd ever previously known. On too-silent nights in his chambers, he longed to hold her close and whisper poetry in her ear - he'd composed more verses in her honor than he'd expected his heart to harbor. On tranquil mornings before the rush of the day's duties began, he ached with the need to see her curled peacefully in his arms as the light of the sunrise spilled in through the windows.

No longer. After today's battle, Ereinion could no more hold his tongue than the pair of robins who sang so freely in his gardens each morning.

"Yes. With all of my foolish heart, I meant it," he admitted, his heart singing with every word, and she lifted her free hand, threading it lightly into his hair. The King savored the feeling. Never before had she touched him so brazenly - he'd made it clear that she was more than welcome to, of course, but she never availed herself of such liberties.

He bent lower, hoping to encourage her by making his person easier to reach. He felt her bare wrist brush against the tip of his ear - sharper than her own, thanks to her half-mortal parentage - but he could not hide his blush nor the light groan she tugged from his chest.

"You have tempted me...enchanted me since our first meeting. I have eyes only for you, but if you do not feel the same, I swear on my honor that I will not torment you further." The King's oath came from the most sincere depths of his heart. For her, he would. Much as it would pain him, if she wanted nothing to do with his feelings, he would bury them deep so that only he would feel the ache. She would suffer no discomfort at his hands.

Her lips met his, stopping his spiraling thoughts in their tracks, and all his worries fell away beneath the most delicious relief. They were as soft and sumptuous as they looked - as he'd imagined them to be - and Ereinion didn't hesitate to return her affection. He may have healed her leg, but with that once simple act, she had healed the King's heart.

~*~*~

Elvish Words (Quenya):

ondórëa ingaranya = my hard-hearted/pitiless high-king

meldanya = my beloved

~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @gandalfthepimp @horta-in-charge

#elronds-meleth-nin fic #gil-galad x reader #gil-gadaddy x reader

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peachetteprice · 4 months ago

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Call of Duty - Masterlist:

The Complete Masterlist of: peachetteprice.

Asks and submissions are open!

Feedback Policy

External Links | Ao3 | Wattpad: Peachette_Price

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Key

× NSFW content - ranging from sexually suggestive themes to explicit smut. This content is not to be interacted with by minors. I give you my partial trust to adhere to this, but I will regularly check the age of the blogs following me and block when necessary.

// This is an ongoing work.

< / > This work is unlikely to be completed now and/or in the future.

(REQ) This work is published as a request by a user.

TF141 Headcanons:

Driving Habits - How would the boys usually drive? What are their habits when in the hot seat?

Cheating Partners - POV: I let an anon down by not fulfilling their request and still posting it anyway. Ft. Phillip Graves. ×

Captain John Price:

42-Year-Old John Price - He isn't as sprightly as he used to be. ×

Eighth Date - John reveals to you about his profession, but you're much too taken by something else!

Speak Up, Love - Uh-oh. John's lost his voice. Wouldn't it be such a shame if someone teased him about it? ×

Stern Captain John Price - He really... really... becomes accustomed to the life of a cat owner despite his penchant for dogs. ×

How it Should Be - John's a hardened war veteran... but he still gets flustered every time you call him handsome. ×

A Deal of Cards - (REQ): How might Price deal with his gorgeous, talented partner: a spiritulist, working in the creative field with a rather earthly aesthetic? With love, of course.

What a Bargain - John is a man who loves bargains. That's it.

Jeweller!Price - Uh... John's a jeweller. That's it. Pretty straight-forward, innit. Pt. 2 ×

Accountant!Price - He's an accountant. You get it by now, right? ×

The Gloves are On - The gloves stay on, even when he's finger-fucking the ever-living daylights out of you. ×

Neuroscientist!Price - Price is a neuroscientist with a dark present. ×

Coworker!Price - don't get it twisted. This isn't 'accountant' Price. ×

Domestic!Price - He's just a little guy with fuzzy socks on.

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

Strangers in the Night - Simon has a waking nightmare; you're always there to provide comfort.

A Hand for Radio - You're not just on the team to dilly-dally, something that everyone, including Soap, finally needs to understand. ×

Some Days - (REQ): Simon and Reader have a spat. Reader feels invalidated and rightfully tells him so, because what a bitch, honestly.

Fisherman!Simon - it's Simon... but as a fisherman. I don't know what more you want from me.

Full-length works:

27 Hawthorn Court - Simon "Ghost" Riley finds himself in hot water after the Greater Manchester Police suspect him of murderering his family: his brother, his brother's wife, and their son. < / >

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Could Have Been - Didn't you know, Gaz could have been a professional footballer?

One of Those Nights - It's your favourite thing about him, truly. ×

Born For It - Oh, but he's just so rich and handsome, whatever shall you do? ×

Morning Brew - Kyle likes his coffee like he likes his coffee, and his mornings, entirely unlike his coffee: full of lazy sex! ×

Backshots with Kyle? - The one thing he loves to do more than anything ×

John "Soap" MacTavish:

The Ever-forgetful John "Soap" MacTavish - Poor bastard never remembers not to use the water when you're mid-shower!

A Dream to Build a Life On - It's tough to have almost everything you've ever wanted right at the tips of your fingers, but have one thing... just one thing... that seems entirely out of reach. ×

Days of Old - It's never easy to watch something drag the life out of a loved one's eyes. ×

The Highlands - A short drabble about Johnny coming back to Scotland every once in a while to re-live the simplicity of rural life. Ft. Part 2

Charity Dinner Ball - Soap relieves his OWN Charity Dinner Balls... pause... after being drawn to you the entire evening. ×

Needy Soap - I need him biblically, I fear. ×

Phillip Graves:

Full-length works:

Mister Commander - (DBF) Winnie Collins knows better than anyone that a homestead requires up-keep. When she returns home to Texas, following the dissolvement of her engagement to the man she thought she loved, there's a stranger on her parent's ranch, during the height of May heat, in a town where nothing but dirt and sweat remain. Phillip Graves. He's her father's best friend - and he's here to stay. × //

Ghost x Soap

Two Men in a Boat - A boat bobs along the ocean. Within, there are two men.

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dollfaceksj · 1 year ago

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taste of a poison paradise | jjk (m) MASTERLIST

➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: Jeon Jungkook is your junior and a great student, obsessed with anime and video games. To you, he’s a Grade A geek. However, you soon find out the reason why he’s so quiet around you is because your mutual friends have told him to stay away from you for your sake, not his. Why? You wish you weren’t so curious because now you’re determined to find out.

➥ GENRE: slowburn ⋆ angst ⋆ fuckboy!jk ⋆ e2l

➥ CATEGORY: crack drabble series (bullet-point format)

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, (eventual smut), plot twist, improv, interactive, angst, love triangle cause theres a bit of yoongi x reader, reader is curious and nosy, arguing, jealousy, jk is TOXIC and so is READER, switch!jk & switch!reader, spit kink, spanking, hairpulling, slapping, protected sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), sad childhoods, trauma, lots of trauma, sensitive topics, minors DNI

➥ STATUS: completed

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

— i n d e x ↓

♢ #1 jungkook gets down like that

♢ #2 jungkook likes role-play

♢ #3 jungkook doesn’t like you

♢ #4 jungkook wants to apologize

♢ #5 jungkook doesn’t like being called a fuckboy

♢ #6 jungkook wants his expensive sneakers back

♢ #7 jungkook can only offer good dick and math notes

♢ #8 jungkook wants to talk

♢ #9 jungkook buys you a bar of kinder

♢ #10 jungkook wants you to take his bait

♢ #11 jungkook wants what’s best for you

♢ #12 jungkook doesn’t know what to do when he’s nervous

♢ #13 jungkook has some mud on his clothes

♢ #14 jungkook accepts your challenge

♢ #15 jungkook thinks you have a filthy mouth

♢ #16 jungkook can’t stop himself

♢ #17 jungkook has experience in being quiet

♢ #18 jungkook craves love and affection differently

♢ #19 jungkook wants your phone

♢ #20 jungkook doesn’t think he bares all the blame

♢ #21 jungkook thinks you have fallen for him

♢ #22 jungkook is up to date with your instagram stories

♢ #23 jungkook knows more about you than you think

♢ #24 jungkook doesn’t want to hear another word from you

♢ #25 jungkook hates everything about you

♢ #26 jungkook thinks you should end it

♢ #27 jungkook might as well admit defeat

♢ #28 jungkook wants just a little bit

♢ #29 jungkook is never drinking again

♢ #30 jungkook wants to be good to you

♢ #31 jungkook wants you to be sure

♢ #32 jungkook doesn’t want to leave

♢ #33 jungkook and mia

♢ #34 jungkook and the significance of the fallen angel

♢ #35 jungkook and his only friend

♢ #36 jungkook and his enemy

♢ the end.

— s i d e d r a b b l e s ↓

♢ #1 the one in the elevator

♢ pending…

— e x t r a s ↓

♢ playlist

♢ f.a.q.

♢ cross-posted on ao3

♢ pending…

➸ request here

➸ support me by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

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turtletaubwrites · 10 months ago

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One Shots & Requests Masterlist

18+ ONLY. MDNI. SOME FICS CONTAIN DARK CONTENT. Currently writing for One Piece. All of these fics are NSFW and Fem!Reader unless marked otherwise. Content warnings and Ao3 links can be found on each post. This post updates frequently! Check out the main masterlist for completed and ongoing series, as well as WIP updates and announcements! One shots related to the poly fic We've All Got Needs can be read on their own, and are marked with a 💜

Ace

The Only One I Want ~ (1657) ~ You have a delicious dream about a certain swordsman. Your boyfriend, Ace, is not pleased when you wake up. (Brief Zoro x Fem!Reader in a dream.)

My Pretty Little Thief ~ (2004) ~ Ace knows where he left his hat. But when it's not there, he hunts it down, only to discover the culprit. How can he convince the thief to return his precious hat?

Buggy

You’d Do Anything For Me, Wouldn’t Ya, Doll? ~ (2104) ~ You are Captain Buggy’s Vicious Dagger, his blade tossing beauty that recently became his lover. You’d do anything for him, and tonight you prove it.

Crocodile

Wrong Side of the Bars ~ (3990) ~ Your promotion landed you in hell, otherwise known as Level 6 of Impel Down. All you wanted to do was work this shit job so you could move on up, but there's one prisoner that won't leave you alone. It turns out those long nights go by faster with a bit of company.

Cross Guild

Numbers Game ~ Masterlist ~ (Oops. Turned into a series.) ~ You left your stable/boring life as an investment banker to have some adventure. Unfortunately, that sweet Warlord of the Sea didn't follow your financial advice, and now you and your clown are at the mercy of his biggest lender and his new business partner.

Katakuri

Sweet Abduction ~ (4084) ~ Part 2 ~ (2175) ~ Part 3 (End) ~ (3781) ~ Times are tough, and you're afraid you'll have to give up the family business, until you find people who cherish your work. Who knew making doughnuts would gain you the attention of an Emperor of the Sea, and her second son? Will your new life be as sweet as it seemed?

More fics below the cut 🖤

Law

See How You Like It ~ (1927) ~ Law is back from another fiasco with the Straw Hats. You think he's cute when he's grumpy. He thinks you should have some more respect for your captain.

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist ~ (Oops. Turned into a series. Completed) ~ !! YANDERE!Law x Fem!Reader !! DARK CONTENT !! ~ You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.

Misty Eyes ~ Masterlist ~ (Oops. Turned into a series. Ongoing) ~ (Includes Doflamingo x Fem!Reader in the past & flashbacks) !! DARK CONTENT !! ~ You were the weakest member of the Donquixote Family, so Doflamingo found another way you could serve him. Until your childhood crush found you, freeing you from those chains. What will Law expect in return?

Such a Softie ~ (461 ~ Drabble) (SFW) (GN!Reader) ~ Law is struggling to help you with your pain, until he has an idea. This is the coziest treatment you've ever received.

Luffy

My Favorite Kinds of Nights 💜 ~ (2375) ~ Part 2 ~ (3625) ~ You are enjoying a quiet moment away from the feast while the crew celebrates another victory. Your three partners, Robin, Sanji, and Zoro are occupied for the evening, so you take time to relax. Until you receive an unexpected request from your captain.

Multi and/or Character x Character

Same Time ~ (1123) ~ Zoro x Fem!Reader x Sanji ~ Your boyfriends are always arguing, but sometimes you're the one that wins the fight. Tonight the battle is for who gets to go first.

So What? ~ (SFW) ~ (1096) ~ Zoro x Sanji ~ An enemy catches Zoro eying Sanji in the middle of a fight. Zoro doesn't care, until they make the mistake of threatening the cook.

One Piece x Introverted!Reader (SFW) ~ Headcanons & Drabbles ~ Zoro, Sanji, and Robin

The Sounds You Made 💜 ~ (1422) ~ Sanji x Fem!Reader, Zoro x Fem!Reader ~ Sanji overhears you discussing and enjoying your casual arrangement with Zoro. He doesn't like the way Zoro talks to you, so he listens in to make sure you're okay.

Lucky Boy 💜 ~ (2561) ~ Sanji x Robin ~ Robin and Sanji have been dating you for a while, but tonight is their first date together. How will the cook and the archaeologist get along?

In Control ~ 💜 (2599) ~ Zoro x Robin ~ Robin and Zoro have been dating you for a while, but tonight is their first date together. How will the swordsman and the archaeologist get along?

You Never Shut Up, Do You? 💜 ~ (1323) ~ Zoro x Nami ~ Nami has watched you enjoy your poly relationships with Zoro and Sanji for a while. She's got an itch that needs scratching, and she decides to see if Zoro can help her out.

I Saw You First 💜 ~ (1451) ~ Part 2 ~ (1309) ~ Zoro x Fem!Reader, Sanji x Fem!Reader ~ You have a casual arrangement with Zoro, but he isn't happy that you'll be seeing Sanji tonight. He tries to get his mind off of things, but overhears you enjoying your time with the cook. Can he control his anger?

Touching What's Yours 💜 ~ (815) ~ Part 2 ~ (2344) ~ Part 3 ~ (6048) ~ Zoro x Sanji, Zoro x Fem!Reader x Sanji ~ You have a casual arrangement with Zoro, but he isn't happy that you had your first night with Sanji tonight. Zoro overheard some of your time together, and his rage kept him from sleeping. Instead, Zoro has gone to confront the cook for taking what's his.

Sanji

Sleeping Beauty 💜 ~ (2646) ~ Your boyfriend has yet another kink he'd like to explore with you. You tell Sanji that you trust him to take care of you, even while you're sleeping.

Filthy Little Angel 💜 ~ (1323) ~ Sanji requests to try a new way to worship your body. You know your boyfriend will take good care of you.

Parted Lips (SFW) ~ (1734) ~ Sanji has made another meal just for you, but it's still too painful to eat. You open up to Sanji about your jaw pain, and he offers to help you work through it.

Sanji's Super Birthday Present 💜 ~ (988) ~ Part 2 (End) ~ (1105) ~ You work up the nerve to ask Franky for help with a gift for Sanji. You hope your birthday boy will like his new toy.

Gag Order ~ (3268) ~ You catch your boyfriend flirting with another woman, and you can't stop your worries. Until you decide to use your talents as a hypnotist to make sure you're the only one Sanji flirts with. He told you he only wants to be with you, so what's the harm in helping him keep that promise?

Shanks

A Good Catch ~ (4367) ~ Part 2 ~ (5030) ~ Part 3 ~ (4613) ~ Part 4 (End) ~ (4275) ~ You are an unlucky fisherwoman having a bad day, until a red haired pirate captain offers to help you out. You're pretty sure he only makes it worse.

Zeff

My Lovely Patron ~ (1300) ~ Part 2 ~ (1922) ~ You are a journalist following a story about fishmen attacking a floating restaurant. You try to ply the head chef with wine for some details, but end up getting something else instead.

Zoro

Just a Dream ~ (1288) ~ You have a delicious dream about your captain's brother. Your boyfriend, the first mate, is not pleased when you wake up. (Brief Ace x Fem!Reader in a dream)

Hogging the Blankets 💜 ~ (1210) ~ Zoro hogged the blankets, so you try to wake him. He tells you what you need to do now that you've woken him up.

Fighting Dirty 💜 ~ (2341) ~ You can’t help it when you get distracted by Zoro during training sessions, so he brings the sparring mats to the bedroom to teach you a lesson.

Mama Bear ~ (2606) ~ (Modern AU) ~ You're a gogo dancer, and you bring Zoro to a rave on your night off, wanting to show your boyfriend what that part of your life is like. Zoro can't help but notice how much you like to take care of people, and he has some thoughts on the matter.

Zoro x GN!Swordsman!Reader (with a powerful/unique sword) (SFW) ~ Headcanons & Drabble

A Swordsman's Shame ~ (SFW) (GN!Reader) ~ (1530) ~ You and Zoro have the same dream, and it's built a passion between you. But something has been holding you back, keeping you from opening yourself up to your crewmate, your rival, your fellow swordsman.

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dragonfly0808 · 4 months ago

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How the Squad Found Out About that One Time Riven and Flora Kissed

First part of the chapter takes place during s4, second part is back in s2 ch28, right after the end of the chapter.

I’d originally planned to have Flo and Riv kiss in that chapter but decided against it last minute cause I just wasn’t sure how to make it clear that, while there could’ve been something there, and they both feel that, there are no actual romantic feelings between the two.

The possibility of them? Yes. the reality of them? No.

I feel like Riven and Flora have the most distinct platonic soulmate relationship, mainly because they’re the main ones I really could see falling for each other if things had been different and if they hadn’t meet Musa and Helia and I wanted to get that across in a poetic way but not a tragic way ya know? They didn’t lose anything for not falling for each other in this universe and they are still a huge part of each other’s lives if that makes sense?

Whatever, I’ll stop rambling, hope u enjoy this little drabble! I will be posting it on AO3 probably later on

***

It’d been a slow week, no activity from the Wizards and Roxy’s classes progressing nicely.

The squad had decided to have a quiet game night, with some alcohol coming into the mixture at some point.

At the moment, they were playing Truth or Dare.

In all honesty, there was very little they didn’t know about each other, but even after so long, there were still a few things that could surprise them from time to time.

Stella considered her turn, the bottle on the ground dictating that she’d gotten Riven.

The coward had chosen truth.

There were few things she could ask him that could result in anything majorly interesting.

Unless… Stella glanced towards Flora, who was leaning against Helia, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Anyone who had eyes could tell Flora and Riven had adored each other since their first year. That was obvious. At this point it was also obvious that, while they didn’t see each other as siblings, they didn’t see each other in any kind of romantic light either.

…but she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t curious about whether or not they ever had, even for a fleeting moment. Especially since she did remember one particular evening during their second year in which they’d both seemed… almost bashful with each other.

Should she?

Stella slowly leaned back against Brandon’s chest, meeting Riven’s challenging look, “Okay, I know what I want to ask.”

Riven spread his hands, “Go on then buttercup.”

“Have you ever… kissed someone in this room-” she ignored the snorts, continuing, “who wasn’t Musa?”

Riven froze for a split second, clearly flabbergasted before casting a single quick glance towards Flora, who had sunk into Helia’s arms, covering her face as she flushed.

“Listen-”

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Stella shouted, slamming a hand against the ground.

Musa broke down into giggles as she turned to Riven, “What?”

“No- it- it was before we were dating obviously. It was dumb we just…”

“We were fucking up a lot with you two so we got a little drunk and we kissed to seal our depressing marriage pact.” Flora explained.

Helia chuckled under his breath before turning to Riven with mock anger, “You got a marriage pact with my girl? What happened to the bro code?”

“We were drunk, depressed and hating on love. She was obsessed with you, I was obsessed with Musa but we were fully convinced we’d just fucked everything up for good- cut us some slack man!”

They all burst out laughing, clinging to each other as they Flora somehow sunk further into the floor and Riven hid his face in Musa’s neck.

***

Flora was thinking, unable to focus on the book in her hand. She could feel the alcohol at the base of her skull, a dull thump, barely there but just present enough to make her think.

She’d freaked out on Helia.

Riven loved her. He was her person.

Did that mean something? Or did she just want a connection that her baggage didn’t impede?

She turned to him, watching him as he tinkered on one of his projects, trying to think objectively.

He noticed after a moment, meeting her gaze, “Something wrong?”

“No, I was just… thinking.”

“About?”

He’d freaked out on Musa.

Flora loved him. She was his person.

But how did she love him? Was her mind playing tricks on her?

“Have you ever thought… that maybe… you and I should try?”

One of his eyebrows slowly rose up as he set down his tools and fully turned to face her, crossing his arms and leaning back, “I won’t lie… the thought did cross my mind once or twice… before I really started catching feelings for Musa. You?”

“Same. Before I fell for Helia… I don’t know, maybe I thought about it in passing.” But she would’ve never acted on it even back then because she knew Musa had a crush.

“It’s weird isn’t it… if not just sad. That we’ve had so little love in our lives that now we’re doubting what we have.” Riven muttered under his breath, letting his head fall back as he sighed.

“Yeah… should we… do something about it?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

Riven raised his head, inspecting her before going to join her on the small couch, sitting besides her.

“Should we kiss?” He asked, it sounded like he was asking himself just as much as he was asking her.

Flora considered, “I mean… could be like… sealing the marriage pact?” She took a deep breath, shaking off her nerves, this was her person, worst case scenario, it might be a bit gross, “Okay. I’m in if you’re in.”

Riven nodded along, “Okay.”

He leaned down to meet her halfway. It was a hesitant, yet gentle kiss, soft and slow as they both tried to figure out how they felt about it.

Seconds passed and they pulled apart, both leaning against the couch, staring at the wall before them.

“I mean… it didn’t feel… wrong.” She started hesitantly.

“But it didn’t feel right either.”

“Exactly.”

They glanced at each other before laughing light-heartily. Blushing out of embarrassment and awkwardness.

“If things were different… maybe then.” He said after a long minute.

She shrugged, bumping her shoulder against his, “Maybe in another life.”

He snorted, “Yeah, maybe in another life.”

#veiled wings and shattered panoramas #winx riven #winx flora #flora and riven #riven and flora #winx club #winx rewrite #winx #winx headcannon #winx fanfic #winx headcanons

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caplanbuckybarnes · 2 months ago

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A Taste of Royalty (prince!Stephen strange x reader)

Summary: The prince comes to visit your food stall at the market

Warnings: fluff

WC: 469

A/N: im trying to write more lesser written characters from marvel :) this might not get many notes, but I'm okay with that. the nxt one I post should be a logan howlett drabble.

I have plenty of characters on my tag list if you like to be on it!

Read on Ao3!

The scent of freshly baked pastries filled the air, sweet and buttery with a hint of cinnamon. You wiped your hands on your apron, your heart fluttering as you packed the last of the treats into a basket. Today, the prince himself was visiting the market—Prince Stephen Strange. The thought of him tasting your pastries was enough to send a nervous thrill down your spine.

You had never seen the prince up close, only heard stories. People said he had a rugged charm, much different from the polished princes you read about in fairy tales. His hair was a little messy, his smiles quick and easy. It was hard to imagine someone like him eating something as delicate as the pastries you baked.

Still, you had heard rumors from the palace staff. “The prince enjoys my pastries?” you had asked in disbelief when a maid had casually mentioned it last week. She’d grinned and nodded. “He always asks for more,” she’d said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Now, with the basket in hand, you stood behind your stall at the market, waiting. You could hear the murmurs growing louder, the excited whispers signalling the arrival of royalty.

And there he was.

Prince Stephen moved through the crowd confidently, dressed in clothes that didn’t scream royalty but still commanded attention. His eyes, sharp with delighted interest, scanned the stalls before landing on yours. For a split second, you thought you were imagining it, but then he smiled—directly at you.

Your breath caught as he approached. “You’re the one who makes the cinnamon tarts, right?” he asked, his voice friendly, not at all what you expected from a prince.

You nodded, words failing you for a moment. “Y-Yes, Your Highness. I—I have some right here if you’d like.”

Stephen grinned, leaning casually on your stall as if you were old friends, his face reflecting absolute delight at the news. “Perfect. I’ve been craving them for days.” He reached for one, his fingers brushing against yours as he took the tart. “These are the best in the kingdom.”

You blinked, hardly able to process his words. “The best?” you echoed, cheeks warming.

“Absolutely.” He took a bite, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment in bliss. “I’d eat these every day if I could.”

Your heart soared, the nervousness melting away. “I… I could make sure there’s a fresh batch at the palace whenever you’d like, Your Highness,” you offered, your voice small but hopeful.

Stephen’s eyes twinkled as he looked at you, swallowing the bite of pastry. “You might just have to, or I’ll keep coming to the market just to find you.”

Your heart raced at the implication, and for the first time, you dared to smile back. Maybe this prince was more than just a distant figure after all.

#stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x y/n #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #doctor strange y/n

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tojisbbygworl · 1 year ago

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My Wife is a Stoner and a Bitch and it’s Driving Me Crazy - Toji Fushiguro x Black!Reader ~ FFL Series

Summary: Megumi is finally out of the house which means it’s time to spark up. Toji - 33, You - 30, Megumi - 12

Characters: Toji, Megumi, Yuuji, Sukuna, Gojo

Words: 6,215

Tags: 18+, 2nd person, Fluff, Established Relationship, Marijuana, AU-No Curses, SMUTTTT, Car sex, High Sex, Cunnilingus, Toji is Whipped, DILF, Toji is a Good Dad, Soft Toji

Disclaimer: This work is part of a Black!Reader x Toji series I started called Fushiguro Family Life. It's basically a slice of life series with you, Toji and Megumi. None of them are in order and can be read on their own unless stated otherwise.

AO3 Version

My AO3

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

author’s note: So basically the great AO3 DDOS attack of 2023 sent me into a panic and now I’m considering cross posting all my stories. I mayyyy post my other darker Toji stories here but I’m not sure. Probably not.

This is inspired by a reddit post I saw a while ago and couldn’t find again with a similar title. This work is the 1st part of a Drabble series called Fushiguro Family Life (great name Ik shut up). All the stories are cute, fluffy, and/or smutty and will be mostly one shots. A couple may have two chapters. Okay I’m done talking now. Enjoy!!!🩵

Toji was very excited to get back home tonight.

He had just dropped off Megumi at his best friend Itadori Yuuji's house. The kid's birthday was tomorrow and he practically begged Megumi to come to his sleepover. Megumi was a quiet and introverted kid who liked being alone. It's hard to get him out of his shell which makes Toji wonder how the hell those two even became friends in the first place. When Toji overheard Yuuji pleading for Megumi to spend the night while they were playing in his room, he knew he had to get Megumi to go. He loved the kid but God, Megumi was home way too often. Yes, he was only 12, but he had ample opportunity to leave the house. Megumi never joins his friends in walking to the DQ by their middle school after school lets out for the day. He never wants to carpool with Yuuji and Nobara to the nearby high school's games where Yuuji's older brother Sukuna is the football captain. He doesn't go to the fair when it's in town, or Six Flags on the weekends. He would much rather stay at home and have his friends come over. Which means Toji has to constantly deal with at least 3 little shits fucking up his house. It's a situation that's less than ideal.

Megumi has a habit of asking Toji or his stepmother to say no to the prospect of him going out because he doesn't want to hurt his friends' feelings. Sometimes he would come into their room and hold up his phone while it's on speaker. Usually either Yuuji or Nobara will be asking if he could go somewhere and Megumi would be mouthing 'NO' and shaking his head. Toji would repeat the word aloud and that would be the end of that. Well, not this time.

When Yuuji asked Megumi to come to the sleepover, Toji quickly jumped into action. He hopped, skipped, and jumped over to his room where he pretended to be on his phone waiting for Megumi and Yuuji to come through the door. When they did, he looked up.

"What?"

"Mr. Fushiguro, can Megumi come to my sleepover next week? It's gonna be the day before my birthday." Yuuji asks, slightly melancholy from expecting a firm 'no' like usual. Megumi was standing behind him, his face completely relaxed. By this point, his parents should know how this works. A friend asks if Megumi can do something and they say...

"Sure thing."

Megumi's eyes burst wide open while his friend jumps for joy. Yuuji immediately turns around and hugs his best friend who is still frozen in shock and staring bug-eyed at his father. Toji is grinning cheekily. Yuuji starts to guide them away from his room and Megumi takes two of his fingers, points them at his eyes then points them right back at Toji. The door shuts.

Toji immediately texted you, his lovely wife, about the great news.

babe guess what

Wifey

what

i hope u ready to have the house to ourselves next week

Wifey

???

sir what are u talking abt

the little shit is finally out of the house dammit

Wifey

!!!

say on god

on my mom

Wifey

u dont even fuck wit her

i dont fuck with no one but u baby

Wifey

...what abt ur son

what abt him?

Now why are you and Toji celebrating the absence of your amazing son? Well to put it simply, to get high as a fucking kite. You two have never really gotten a good opportunity to do so since you started dating so many years ago and Toji even longer before that. Having a kid put a hold on indulging vices. Not that Toji or you minded, Megumi is a wonderful kid. But before having and gaining custody of Megumi when he was 3, he had always anticipated the days he could sit down and light a blunt again.

The last time you and him had smoked frequently was when you two had started dating. Toji was very fond of you so he strived to see you all the time. His baby mother was willing to watch Megumi while he went on dates with you despite how often they were. And he attempted to impress you with his smoking skills. Unfortunately, it had been a long time since the last time he smoked and on the 4th date he ran out of weed and backwoods. Imagine his surprise when he pulled up to your house and you pulled out an airtight jar that was packed full.

"What-what the hell is that?" He exclaimed.

You looked at him with a concerned face, wondering what had gotten him so shook. "Huh? It's Bubba Kush." Toji had never even heard that strain before.

He proceeded to watch you roll the most beautiful blunt he had ever seen in his entire life. You took two large hits and handed it to him. All he could do was look at you. You thought he was cute, but he was taking too long to take it from you. You scrunched up your face and shook your hand. "Take the shit before it goes out, stupid!"

He was smitten.

When he asked you to move in is when the smoking sessions came to an abrupt stop. Something that you completely understood. Megumi was 6 at the time. He was still a pretty young kid so you or Toji always had to be around. And you were. And you both raised a great kid together. And when he finally reached the age of 11, you both thought he would be leaving the house much more frequently like other kids his age were doing. This is when they start going home on the bus together and hanging out at arcades or small restaurants. How could you have known that Megumi would grow an attachment to his parents and never want to leave the house? How would you know that he enjoyed spending time with his dad and stepmom? What preteen likes hanging out with his parents?

Now as it stands, it had been pretty much 8 months since the last time you and Toji smoked and he was tired of it. He prides himself on successfully hiding weed from his son, but if the only thing holding him back was because his son never fucking left the house, then something had to change. This would be the start of many 'yeses' to come.

The day came and you were coming home from work when Toji dropped Megumi off at Yuuji's. Megumi had let his displeasure with the situation be known all week and he was still irritated while Toji drove.

"You know I like being at home."

"Yeah. You're a damn hermit and the shit is weird."

"You're weird."

"I'm not the one who likes hanging out with his parents."

"That's only because grandma and grandpa suck. Your whole family sucks. Mom and Y/N's families are cool."

"What, so you're saying I'm cool? Is that why you like hanging out with me?"

"So you want me to think you're lame?"

How could Toji answer that truthfully without explaining why? "No, I just want you to hang out with your friends. They really like you. Even if you are a loser."

"You're the loser!"

This bickering continued until Toji finally pulled up to the Itadori household. He almost had to force Megumi out of the car and practically pulled him to the front door where he rang the bell. Itadori Sukuna answered and Toji scowled down at him. He didn't like the 17 year-old asshole.

Sukuna looked down at Megumi and grinned. "Hey, my little brother's emo friend arrived. He won't shut up about how your dad finally let you out of the house for once. What changed, Mr. Fushiguro? Huh?" He raised his brow while his smile grew. Toji's face remained stoic although he was starting to get ticked. He tapped his finger against his thigh.

"Just let the kid inside. I don't have time for your nonsense." Sukuna obliged and moved to the side so Megumi could enter the house. The kid turned and waved at his dad before getting jumped by Yuuji and Nobara.

Toji would have chuckled at the scene if it wasn't for Sukuna straining his neck to look past him. Toji realized he was trying to look into his car. "What, do you want a kiss or some shit?" He teased. He raised a bag that had Yuuji's present and put it to his chest. "Here if that's what you're looking for."

Sukuna's face didn't falter. "Y/N couldn't deliver it herself? That's a shame. It's always nice to see her."

Toji scowled. He doesn't know when, but you had become the designated gift giver at some point over the years. Every gift from the Fushiguro household was from you. You made it or bought it with your own money and always delivered it yourself. Toji hated it for this exact reason. He knew this little shit Sukuna had a crush on you. And you just thought it was the most adorable thing in the world as if he wasn't almost a grown man. You would never go for him so it was hilarious, but Sukuna didn't see it that way. He genuinely believes he has a chance of taking you away from Toji and it fuels his already massive ego.

"No. She told me she's tired of you always trying to flirt with her, so I'm gonna be the delivery boy from now on. So get used to it." He lied. Sukuna called his bluff and laughed heartily.

"Yeah alright. Just tell her I missed her today and that I can't wait to see her at the championship game. I'm assuming she's finally taken that stick out of your ass so you can let Megumi go to my games now."

"I'm not gonna tell her shit. You stay the hell away from my wife, delinquent." Toji spat at him through gritted teeth. He turned and walked away before he could respond, but of course, the teenager just laughed and shut the door. Toji was still fuming when he got back in the car, but then he remembered what awaits him at home and he relaxed.

im omw babe

Wifey

okay bby. i just got home

hungry?

Wifey

always

let's go get sum to eat

Wifey

what we getting

idk

Wifey

well figure it out

maybe

You don't respond, most likely trying to figure out what you want to eat. You still hadn't decided on what to eat when Toji pulled back up to the house. You came outside and got in the car. You got out of your work clothes and put on something comfy and casual. You had on a white graphic tee that you cut into a crop top and black cotton shorts. Your gold anklet accentuated your pink crocs and your bleached locs were in a high ponytail. All you brought was your phone and house keys. Toji sped back off when you entered and didn't give you time to adjust causing you to lose your balance and fall back against the door.

"Um, excuse you?" You exclaimed. Toji put his hand on your thigh.

"Sorry babe. I didn't mean to." he said while trying to hold back his laughter. You glared at him.

"Stop laughing." He let out a snort.

"I wasn't laughing at you, baby."

"You just did, liar." You finally put on your seatbelt and sat back. Toji's hand still didn't leave your leg while he drove to your designated smoking spot. As much as you two would love to smoke at home, you didn't want your house to reek and the neighbors were nosy assholes.

You put on your favorite music during the drive. Toji loved listening to your playlist. You always managed to surprise him with the raunchiest and most explicit songs you could possibly think to put on. Every time he thinks he’s heard them all, you have a new one to show him, such as the one that was playing now.

Boy this pussy talk,

English, Spanish, and French

Boy this pussy talk,

Euros, Dollars, and Yens

He kind of recognized the voice. This was that group you really like called City Girls. You’ve played their songs a couple times before. He might have to add this one to his playlist, though. They’re really riding the beat.

You lift your head up when Toji stops the car. He rolls the front windows down a bit and turns it off. You reach into the glove box to get all the materials, the grinder, the papers, the rolling tray and, of course, the weed itself. Toji watches you intently as you work your magic.

He doesn’t just stare at your hands as it breaks the buds apart and stuff them into the grinder, he also looks at your face, your hair, your jewelry, and your body. You were such a beautiful woman.

”You could really be unwrapping the woods and dumping out the tobacco but you wanna sit there and look at me like you stupid.”

And you were such a bitch. Not that he was complaining.

When you and Toji met, it was his day off and he wanted to spend it working out. Most people don't really choose to spend the day at work, Toji didn't really have a choice in this case. Plus, he owned the place, so he could really do whatever he wanted.

You walked into the gym just as he was finishing his last set. He was all sweaty and gross and you looked really cute with your locs in pigtails. You had on a matching gray set that he's seen on a number of girls. It never looked this good on any of them, though. He prides himself on not being a creep, but he stole plenty of glances at you when you were checking in. Your butt looked really, really good. It was when you had walked into the women's locker room when he realized he hadn't taken his eyes off of it. He blinked, then looked to his left to see Gojo Satoru smirking at him.

"You're such a weirdo." He joked.

"Fuck off." Toji had the smallest blush on his face and he grimaced in embarrassment. He really hadn't meant to be checking you out, but he couldn't help it. You were pretty.

It took you only a couple of minutes to come out of the locker room with nothing but a water bottle and Airpods. Toji wasn't paying attention as he had refocused on finishing his workout, but you caught his eye again when he turned around to leave. You were punching in settings on the treadmill.

Toji paused with his towel and water in his hand and deliberated what his next moves should be. He was tired, wet, and smelled gross. He had been here since he dropped Megumi off at daycare and he wanted to spend some time relaxing at home before he had to get the little menace. But then you started speed walking and your boobs were bouncing so nicely that he just had to get on the treadmill next to you.

Toji is no better than every other man.

He successfully ignored the look that Gojo had thrown at him before unsuccessfully pulling off a casual walk over to where you were. Toji purposefully walks into your line of sight, sweating inwardly knowing that he caught your eye. You look away when he gets on the treadmill right next to yours. He gives you a nod and a smile expecting a small one back. Instead, the aloof look on your face remains and you look him up and down. Then you go right back to speed walking.

He blinked. Okay, he wasn’t expecting that. Maybe he was coming on too strong by choosing the treadmill next to you. It’s too late now. He punches in the same stats on your treadmill and starts walking as well. He’s taking glances at you but you don’t look over to him even once. Or maybe you’re looking when he’s not looking. From how annoyed your face is, he doubts it.

After a couple minutes, you increase your speed to a jog. Toji decides to play a little game for your attention, and does the same, ending on the exact same speed you’re on. He can’t tell if you notice, but it doesn’t matter to him one bit. He could do this for ages.

Every time you increase your speed, he does the same, and Toji knows he’s gotten you when you increase it significantly and you’re full on running. He’s impressed that you’ve gone this long, but he’s gone longer. He follows suit, as expected. And that's when you give him a glare. And it only gets more sinister when you see the cheeky grin on his face. You turn up the setting to the point where you’re full on sprinting. Toji, and some onlookers, has never seen a woman more determined to outperform a man in his life. And he’s had his fair share of lovers. And despite the deeply confused and slightly frightened look on his face, he's having a lot of fun.

And your reaction to him keeping up with your very impressive speed was worth the strain on his body. You press the stop button on the machine slowing you down to the perfect yet quick stop. You stare at him with your hands on your hips. He smiles and does the same. You’re both staring each other down.

“Yes ma’am?” he grins.

“You think you’re cute?” You say, panting heavily.

“No. I think you’re cute.” He responds, smoothly. You jerk your head back and blink.

“Hmph. Well I don’t.”

“How could you not think you’re cute?”

You roll your eyes. “You know what the fuck I meant.” You grab your water and start to walk away. Toji, even though he doesn’t want to look desperate, follows you. You head to the paper towel dispenser and begin to wipe away your sweat, Toji standing behind you ready with the excuse that he needed the paper towels too. You were very frustrated, so you were punching the dispense switch very aggressively.

Toji couldn’t help himself. “I thought I was the one who pissed you off. Don’t take it out on my dispensers. I’ll have to replace them.”

You paused for a second, then turned to look at him. “...You own this gym?” He nods. “Oh hell no. This is the last time you’ll see me here.”

Toji grabs his heart. “You’re breaking my heart, miss…?” He lets the sentence linger so you can finish it for him.

But instead you almost look offended. You really are cute. “I’m not giving you my name!”

He grabs his heart with his other hand and pretends to stumble back. “Agh! You’re breaking it even more.” He leans his hand on the wall and holds himself up, then looks at you smiling. He managed to catch the end of a slight laugh that escaped you. You cover your mouth, but it’s too late. Toji knows he’ll see you again.

And he does the week after while sitting at the receptionist desk filling out some paperwork. Just when he was starting to think you weren’t joking, you walk right in with your Airpods and duffel bag wearing a different matching set, but it looks just as good on you. He puts on a huge grin and watches your face fall as you walk up to him.

“Good morning, are you sign-”

“Getting on the treadmill again today, sweetheart?” He rudely interrupts his employee, who just rolls her eyes and goes to the back room to get on her phone.

“I don’t know who the hell ‘sweetheart’ is, but I’m not her." Ah. And you brought your attitude with you as well. More fun for him.

“Me neither. Maybe if I knew her name, I wouldn’t have to call her that.” He smiles widely.

“Well I hope you figure it out one day.”

“Oh, I’m about to right now.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“She has to give me her name to sign her in. That’s how.” He got you looking stuck and somewhat embarrassed. And that fuck ass smile has not left his face.

“Oh, shut the fuck up…” Your eyes shift downwards slightly and you meet his gaze again. “Toji.” You tell him your name afterwards and he signs you into the computer.

“Have a good workout…sweetheart.” He immediately lets out a boisterous laughter seeing the daggers your eyes are shooting at him and he makes it his life mission to annoy you until you say yes to a date and annoy everyday afterwards.

And he has. So, how can he complain about his wife being a bitch when he chose you because of it?

He does what you request, and hands you the leaf so you can finish rolling. Watching you bring it to your lips and start to slick the wood down with your tongue was always a spectacle. Not just because it look cool, but because he never failed to joke about it. “Why can’t you do that to my wood?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not this shit again.” The both of you stared at the flame from your lighter while you used it to seal the leaf. “Are you always gonna make that joke?”

Toji grinned stupidly. “Yes.” You tried, but failed to hold your laughter.

”I hate you, babe,” you giggled. Toji laughed with you and the both of you proceeded to get super duper high.

You guys were halfway through it and you were in the midst of discussing the new drama in your girlfriend group chat when he interrupted you. “Hey. Hey. Hey-“

”What? You see I’m not done talking.”

Toji pauses and just stares at you, making you even more irritated. “Man, what?”

”Let’s have sex.”

You looked at him like he was crazy then shifted your gaze to his crotch. There, in all of its glory, was a tent in his pants. Typical. He always does this. He becomes very talkative when he’s high, so whenever he goes quiet, you knew something was up.

Toji was staring you down ever since he took the first hit. He looked at your breasts and smirked upon seeing your nipples poking through your shirt. He saw how smooth your neck looked and thought abt how nice it feels to sink his teeth into it. The sounds you make are absolutely gorgeous.

Then he stared at your hair. It was so soft and pretty. The blonde was extremely cute, but he liked them the most when they were ginger. He thinks the color is called Cajun Spice or something like that. It matched well with your skin tone.

At some point while you were talking he put his hands on your thigh and started stroking it with his thumb. You didn’t notice, you subconsciously put your hand on top of his grabbing his fingers. The action filled his heart with warmth, smiling at you while relaxing his head on the seat. Just listening to you talk.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t listening. He was imagining how loud you would be if he opened up your door and bent you over the passenger seat. Hm, that sounds like a really good idea.

You look back into his eyes after seeing how hard his dick had gotten and you couldn’t help but smirk. You were clearly trying to keep your smile down, but it wasn’t working. “So you’re not hungry?”

”I am. For something else.”

“…You’ve charmed me,” you say, making Toji laugh.

”Oh, I have?” He takes off his seat belt.

”Yeah, you have.” You say, following suit.

”Then come here.” Toji grabs you as soon as your seatbelt snaps back, pulling you over the center console to kiss you passionately. It’s kind of uncomfortable for you, you have to kneel onto the seats from the way he pulled you over. You would have said something about it, but you were already so wet and he was grabbing you so tightly that the thought left your head.

Toji was moaning in your mouth so much you could feel it vibrate through your body. You could tell he was really getting into it from the way he shifted himself forward to grab your ass and thigh. He decides that he’s had enough. He needs you now. “Take off your shorts.” He opens up his door to come to your side of the car. You can feel yourself becoming giddy while slipping off your bottoms and shoes.

When Toji opens up your door, he sees you in all of your glory. You were bare from the waist down. Your legs are so shapely and smooth, they look beautiful in the moonlight. So were your perfect thighs that he desperately wanted to grasp and never let go. Your glistening cunt tied the whole thing together. He could only imagine how soaked your panties must have been.

But the best sight was the bright and excited smile that stretched across your lovely face. He was falling in love all over again.

”You look happy,” he teased, kneeling onto the hard ground.

“Speak for yourself.” Toji’s smile was just as wide as yours. He made it very clear that he absolutely adored eating you out. He once described it as his favorite pastime. And he was fucking good at it.

Toji took sometime to rub your legs, leaving kisses leading up to your hot center. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. He savored every single smooch as if it was the last time he would get the chance to kiss you.

He spread your legs the closer he got. The fucker slowed down as well, leaving you to whimper pathetically. He smirked and chuckled at you. You had a mouth on you yet when he made you wet you were like puddy in his hands. He gave you a small, but firm bite, his dick twitching when he hears you hiss.

When Toji finally tasted your sweet center, he moaned. He gave it a small kiss, then tenderly licked it, spreading your lips slightly with his tongue. He looked up at you and saw your head fall backwards along with your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your mouth refused to close, a sound of satisfied pleasure leaving from it. You were so beautiful.

Toji encloses his mouth around your pussy in an extremely sloppy kiss. His mouth is covered in slick and he finds that he likes it so much that he continues making it sloppier by the second. The little squeaks that you’re making in your throat are really cute, but he wants more. He takes his thumb and begins to rub your clit up and down, making sure to get your wetness all over it. It was effective in making you even louder.

”Oh, shit.” You whine. Toji removes his hand just to replace it with his tongue. “Fuck, baby.” You get even louder and your hips begin to grinding into his mouth. You grab his hair in an attempt to keep him still even though you love what he’s doing. Toji loves it and he goes even harder. “Mm, Toji it feels so good.”

He removes his mouth to suck on his fingers. After he wets them up, he inserts on of his digits into your wet pussy. It goes in with ease. You feel his thick finger enter you and as much as you love it, you want more.

”Put another one in, baby.” Toji smiles and bites his lips.

”Anything you want.” He yields to your request, inserting a second finger and pumping them. That makes you moan even louder.

”Yeah, just like that.” He doesn’t take his eyes away from yours. Yours are lidded but he can still see the want in them. The longer he looks, the more he wants you. His fingers pump you harder and harder and you get louder and louder, all while staring him in the eyes. The familiar feeling of release builds up in your abdomen. Your breathing picks up.

”Oh, Toji…Toji…”

”Yes baby?” He starts to smile at you. Your cunt starts getting wetter. He knew what was about to happen.

”I’m gonna cum,” Your voice is so breathy it’s beautiful.

”Go ahead and cum on my fingers, baby.” You do exactly that. As much as he loved keeping eye contact with you, watching you throw your head back and curse while feeling your cum drip from your pussy onto his seats was a much better alternative. He couldn’t wait any longer.

Toji removed his fingers from you and held them up to your face. You flick your tongue out before wrapping your mouth around it. You look at him while maneuvering your head back and forth sucking them dry. Toji stares down at you smiling.

”God, you’re a slut.” He tells you. You release his fingers with a pop and nod your head, smiling.

”What am I going to do with you?” He takes his shirt off before pulling down his pants and briefs, his thick and throbbing member slapping back onto his stomach. He looked amazing. His face was glistening with cum. You took your time to stare at him and his body. His muscles and abs were on display for anyone who had the misfortune (or let’s be honest, fortune) to pass by with their headlights on. His pants and underwear pooled at his ankles and you can’t help but think about how nice his butt looks right now. Just sitting out in the wind. You giggle.

”What’s funny?” He asks, tugging on his dick preparing to lean over you.

”Your ass probably looks so good right now.”

”Why you wanna bite it?” He holds himself over you and pushes your legs up. You lick your lips.

“A little bit. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.” Toji smirks then kisses you sweetly. Without even warning you, he pushes himself into your pussy refusing to let up from the kiss when your mouth instinctively opens wide. The feeling of Toji sinking into you is euphoric, and it gets even better when he’s fully inserted inside of you. He sighs. The two of you are connected at the hip and it feels just as good as the first time.

Toji looks down at the two of you. Your stomach is so beautiful when your thighs are pressed against it. Your ankles were laying on his shoulder pushing your abdomen down and making you feel full. He can’t stop looking at it as he slowly begins to pull himself out of you. You start to whine desperately, grabbing at his back to keep him inside of you. But Toji slams himself back into you making you practically scream. He starts a steady pace of fucking you into his seats. You sound delicious grunting into his ear with every thrust.

“You like that, don’t you?” Obviously.

“Oh my fucking God, yes.” You respond looking at him. He’s holding your hip with one hand and brings the other behind your head putting his body weight on your elbow. Toji pulls your head up to his to kiss you once more. You swallow each other’s moans and his thrusts become more intense. You scratch at his back leaving new scars amongst his old ones.

“Does my pussy feel good, Toji?” You whisper into his ear. He groans into yours and you clench your cunt around his dick.

“So fucking good, baby girl.” It’s his turn to sound breathless. It tickles your ear.

“Will you moan for me? Will you say my name?” You ask. He nods and begins to whine. He sounds desperate for your pussy, as if it he would die if he stopped fucking you for even one second.

“Ngh…(Y/N), I fucking love this pussy.” He whimpers. He sounds so hot, you can feel your release coming soon.

“I know you do baby.” You taunt. Toji weakly lifts his hand from your hip and it crawls up your torso between your breasts to grip your neck. You can’t talk and your head remains still. Toji’s breath is hot on your cheek while he turns his head.

“You’re a dirty fucking bitch you know that?” He tells you. Toji thrusts into you one more time and stops. You look at him in desperation while he pulls himself out of you. “Open your mouth.” As soon as you do, he drools onto your tongue then leans down to make out with it. It ends with your tongue being sucked into his mouth.

“Turn around, bitch.” He commands. You twirl around and hike your ass into the air, twerking a little bit while smiling at him. He grins and slaps your cheek hard. Then, Toji lines himself up with your pussy once more, and pushes himself into you from behind.

He can’t even hear how amazing you sound, he’s so focused on how wet you are. He tilts his head back wards and groans. “Oh, shit.” He begins to fuck you from the back, getting even more excited seeing your ass clap on his stomach.

He holds onto your hips as if it’s a lifeline. At some point, you turn to look back at him and you look so fucking slutty it’s not even funny. Toji can’t help himself when he reaches for your hair then yanks your upper body towards him, causing you to arch your back. He reaches over to grab one of your tits knowing that they probably looked amazing bouncing from him fucking the shit out of you.

You’re loud and spewing curses, but so is Toji. He can feel your pussy clenching around him again. “You’re about to cum again, aren’t you?” All you can do is nod too busy screaming his name. “Then cum on my dick, baby. Come on.”

“Okay daddy.” Toji smacked your ass again.

“Fuck, say that again.”

“Okay, daddy.” You say while releasing on his member, leaving a white ring of cream around his base. Toji pushes himself down onto you grabbing his seats and ramming himself into your pussy. You’re already slumped, not even trying to lift your head up and just letting your cheek squish into the chair. Your moans are quick and desperate. Hoping that it never ends. But from the speed at which Toji thrusts inside of you, his breath picking up and his moans becoming more wild and loose, you knew it would end soon.

“I’m gonna cum, baby girl. Where do you want it?”

You gather enough strength to tell him, “On my face, Toji. Please cum on my face.”

Oh, he was so glad you said that. He fucks you for a little while longer before ripping himself from you. You immediately turn around and kneel down, face lined up right underneath his balls. Toji pumps his dick and looks at you staring up at him in anticipation. You look so fucking beautiful, he releases a guttural and intense moan while his thick, white seed spills all over your face. You accept it gracefully, then when he’s done you lick the remaining cum from his dick. He shudders.

“Damn, babe.” He laughs. “You’ve never looked prettier.”

You would bat your eyes if he didn’t cum on one of them, so you opt to giggle and pose cutely. “You should take a picture.” You joke.

Well, he takes it seriously. Toji pulls up his pants and underwear to find his phone, snatching it up and snapping as many pics of you as he can. You go along with it and actually start to pose while his semen drops down your face and onto your body, mainly your tits. He makes sure to take a picture of that too.

“Yeah, this is going in the vault.” He puts his phone away, gets the paper towel roll he keeps in his car for this very reason and wipes your face for you. When you’re all clean you look so fucking gorgeous he can’t help but to kiss both of your cheeks.

“What was that for?” You ask, pulling your shirt down and putting on your shorts.

Toji shrugs. “I love you. So much.”

You give him a slight glare and his stupid smile falls. “What?”

“You just saying that because I let you cum on my face.” Toji feigns offense and dramatically puts his hand to his chest and scoffs and gasps.

“How dare you. I love you for you are AND you let me cum on your face.” He says. You roll your eyes.

“Take us home so you can do it again, loser." You slam the door shut and start to light the unfinished blunt once more.

Toji looks at you through the window and can’t help but stare in absolute infatuation. You really are perfect for him.

“Can you come the fuck on?” You open the door to shout at him.

“Yes, baby.”

ending a/n: I started this series to take a break every once in a while from all the angst I write, lmao. I have quite a few story ideas, but none of them are fully written just yet. Be sure to check back for the next installment in the series🩵🩵🩵

Pics are from Pinterest btw

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tilly-tilly-2827 · 5 months ago

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Interventions & Interventions

Reimagining An Offer from a Gentleman #7

Synopsis: A year ago, Sophie would have scoffed if someone had told her that she would be married to Benedict Bridgerton. A year ago, if someone had told her that she would be welcoming a child, Sophie would have thrown herself off a cliff. But now, she doesn’t have to be afraid of anything. The love of her life is right by her side. Everything was going well, wasn’t it? Or, the little drabble of Benophies going through the early days of Sophie’s pregnancy.

AO3 post from here!

The half-read novel forgotten on her lap, Sophie couldn’t help leaping up from the window-side chaise as she finally saw the carriage coming up the road. Yes, she had been staring through the window for about an hour, Benedict had told her in his letters from London that he would be home before noon. Although it puzzled her that not one, but two carriages stopped in front of the gate, she found herself rushing to the door, despite Mrs. Crabtree’s yelps. “Mrs. Bridgerton, Mrs. Radcliff told you complete bed rest was required…”

“Terrorizing Mrs. Crabtree again, my love?”

“Benedict!”

And Sophie was in the warm arms of her adoring husband once again, the familiar smell of sandalwood and soap filling up the emptiness that had plagued her during his absence. Feeling a soft kiss on her forehead, Sophie snuggled on his chest adoringly, his turquoise cravat tickling the edge of her nose.

“I missed you,”

“But I missed you more,”

Looking up to his evergreen eyes, Benedict kissed her lips softly, his hands cupping her cheeks. Sophie diligently opened her lips, feeling him tickling the corner of her mouth, and just as her hands moved to the back of his neck to kiss him more, tasting the sweetness of his lips, the two heard a rather loud cough from the sitting room.

“Ah! Mrs. Crabtree! Delightful to see you again as well!”

Benedict's voice was rather high-pitched as he expertly positioned Sophie in front of him. Sophie blushed, noticing that Benedict was subtly concealing a slight bulge in his trousers that had begun to appear.

“Welcome home, Mr. Bridgerton.” Mrs. Crabtree bobbed a little curtsy, “Should I get the tea ready for you? Mrs. Bridgerton should be back on her rest…”

“Thank you, Mrs. Crabtree,” Benedict replied as Sophie deepened her blush, feeling Benedict’s hands softly caress her behind, “But I’m afraid there is an urgent errand for me upstairs…”

But Benedict’s words were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Mr. Bridgerton? May we come in?”

Mrs.Crabtree saw Benedict’s eyes light up, almost like a little child on a Christmas morning.

“Oh, sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen! Come in, come in!”

“Sophie, you are going to love this,” Benedict whispered to her excitedly as he opened the door. Sophie’s mouth hung open as she saw five men standing; the two holding a wooden cradle frame, one holding a white mattress and a roll of beautiful botanical wallpaper. One had a handsome rocking horse in his arms, trimmed with rich, white manes. The last man was quite sweating, overwhelmed by the size and the weight of the splendid chest he barely managed to hold.

“There is more,” Benedict was grinning ear to ear as he pointed to the carriage outside, “Please, please come on up gentlemen. Upstairs, the room to the right, with the flower craving on the door. And would you carry the boxes in the sitting room?”

Sophie and Mrs. Crabtree could only stand there gaping, as the men carried mountains of furniture, toys, socks, and blankets to the nursery. Sophie was beginning to feel pain in her head as she saw colorful boxes being carried from the second coach, presumably bonnets, scarves, and dresses he had bought from Madam Delacroix.

Sophie loved her husband, she truly did from the depth of her heart. But as she began the blissful marriage with Benedict Bridgerton, the utter differences in perception of money became her constant anxiety. With most of her life in service, it was difficult to understand how Benedict splurged on extravagance and wealth, spending his money as if he had abysmal wealth. Or at least, in her eyes. In his eyes, it was never “splurge” or “extravagance”; he would call it “necessary expenses”. He wholeheartedly felt that way, and Sophie knew Benedict would never be considered a spendthrift inside the ton. But why would Benedict need a new waistcoat when he had 46 in the closet? Half a year ago, she had struggled to buy a new pair of gloves, even though she needed them desperately. Now, Benedict would buy her a diamond necklace if she had even looked at it for more than five seconds. (Sophie had to beg him not to, Daphne looking at Sophie with a puzzled look as Sophie desperately tugged his arms away from the jewelry shop. It had been their first mild argument as a married couple.)

Sophie had hesitantly shared her thoughts about his financial tendencies, and Benedict immediately went down on his knees and apologized, promising he would be more careful. But, his reason or sanity tended to fly out of the window when it came to his child. His baby.

Sophie knew how much the baby meant for him. His elder brother was already blessed with two sons. Daphne already had four children of her own, and Colin had just welcomed the adorable Agatha just a year ago. How Benedict gently cradled his niece in his arms with adoring eyes, Sophie knew that even before she could even imagine he would be her husband, he was going to be a wonderful father.

Benedict had burst into tears of joy when Sophie had timidly told him of her pregnancy, sobbing in her arms for a solid hour. Sophie had softly run her fingers through his curls as Benedict sniffed his nose and promised her he would be there for her every step.

Benedict Bridgerton faithfully kept his word. In every session with Dr. White, he was with her, his hand on hers. He rubbed her back as she reversed every bit of substance in her stomach in a chamber pot, running around the house for a napkin and a glass of water. He would fill the kitchen cupboards with pears and green apples; he even ditched on chicken and beef from the house when he learned that the burning smell was leaving her in torture. He would massage her terribly swollen toes, and Sophie would doze off on the couch in his studio, and Benedict would sketch her, gently waking her up only when Mrs. Crabtree called the two for supper. Benedict was in her every step; in her walks, study, meals, bed, and even baths. Truly, the most considerate husband she could ever wish for. Wasn’t he?

Thus, Sophie felt rather guilty when she felt relief receiving a letter from Sir Henry Granville, asking Benedict to come to London. Lord Wellington had seen his work in the summer exhibition at the Royal Academy and had asked Sir Granville if he could meet the young artist in person.

“Oh, Benedict, how splendid!” Wapping her arms around his neck, Sophie pestered him with kisses, “You once told me Lord Wellington is a patron to many artists! Oh, Benedict, he sees the potential in you,”

“I’m not going.”

“… Whatever do you mean?”

Benedict gently led her to the chaise, making her take a seat. Kneeling himself on the floor, Benedict softly placed his hands on the baby bump that had begun to show several months ago. A gentle roundness on her belly. They both smiled when they felt the baby give a small kick; it was no longer a flutter but a gentle nudge, almost as if the baby was stretching his legs to meet his father.

“My love, I’ll be fine on my own.”

“But I promised that I’ll be by your side in every step,”

Sophie took his hand, placing a small kiss on his fingertips.

“You have already done so much for me, love.”

“But”

“And the baby wouldn’t come out for months, Benedict. You heard Doctor White tell us several months ago that I’m stable now.”

“Sophie,”

“Go to London. Benedict. For me.” Sophie gently caressed his soft brown curls. “I know how much you wished for this,”

Benedict buried his face in her knees, his hands still firmly placed on the bump. Sophie continued to stroke his curls, her fingertips tickling the edge of his ears.

“Two days, Sophie. I’ll be back in two days.”

“Your letters said three weeks, Ben.”

“Three days, then.”

“Benedict, the baby isn’t going to disappear or fly away! I’m planning to keep a close watch,”

“Aren’t you going to miss me, dear wife?”

Sophie averted her gaze, blushing, as Benedict looked up at her with a slight tease. Taking a deep breath, Sophie gently tugged his shirt by the collar and lightly placed her lips on his.

“A week then,” She murmured against his lips, “Can’t let the baby forget Papa’s voice,”

“A week it is,” Benedict replied with a deeper kiss. “And did you just call me Papa?”

Sophie ignored his question, moving her focus to undoing Benedict’s buttons. But when she finished the last one, Sophie cupped his face between her hands, staring firmly into his charming eyes.

“No gifts, Ben”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” and he gently flopped off Sophie’s hand-knitted slippers, moving his lips on her toes.

And Benedict had kept his word. After giving a pair of new boots to Mr.Crabtree and a bottle of rose water to Mrs. Crabtree, Benedict took Sophie’s hand, leading her to the nursery, already rambling on about the purchase he had made with his mother in London. However, Mrs. Crabtree swiftly intervened, saying that Sophie needed immediate rest.

“Why so, Mrs. Crabtree?” With a slight tilt, he asked, “She looks perfectly healthy to me,”

With a firm, yet motherly glare from Mrs. Crabtree, Sophie knew that she had to tell Benedict of the fever she had a few days earlier, and the village midwife had instructed her to stay in bed for a few weeks. Sophie could see the color draining from his face as she hastily rushed through the story.

“I never should have left,”

“Benedict, there is nothing to worry about. The fever broke out in a few days…”

“Few days?” Benedict arched his eyebrows. “Sophie, I know enough it’s not a good sign for the baby. Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Mrs. Bridgerton wanted to greet you as soon as possible,” Mrs. Crabtree added gently from the corner, seeing Sophie’s lips quiver. “Mr. Bridgerton, why don’t take Mrs. Bridgerton up to the bed? I’ll prepare a tea for two upstairs…”

“Why didn’t you write to me, Sophie? “ Benedict carried her up the stairs and tucked her under the covers despite Sophie’s weak protests. His tone was quiet, but Sophie noticed a touch of sadness, “I would have left London in a second,”

“It wasn’t so high of a fever, Benedict,” Sophie gave a soft sigh, Benedict putting an extra blanket on the covers, “I didn’t want to interrupt your work. You told me that you were meeting Lord Wellington on Wednesday,”

Kneeling himself on her bedside, Benedict took her hand, holding it tightly.

“Nothing is more important than the health of you and the baby, Sophie. Not even Lord Wellington or the bloody paintings,”

“Did Lord Wellington ask you for a landscape painting?”

Benedict’s eyes widened.

“How did you know? I was planning to surprise you,”

“Your eyes and tone convey more than you think,” Sophie smiled, placing a hand on his cheeks, “Congratulations Benedict. I couldn’t be more proud,”

But as Sophie pulled herself up for a kiss, Benedict quickly stood up, awkwardly moving to the foot of the bed.

“You need rest, Sophie,”

“Benedict, I’ve been resting for four days, and I remember you saying that I looked perfectly fine.”

“But,”

“Tell me about London,” Sophie said, smoothing out the silk covers, “I’ll be here in bed, resting, as Mrs. Radcliff had told me. Please talk to me, love. How was Sir Granville? What did Lord Wellington say about your paintings? ”

Benedict still looked concerned, his brows knitted into a worrisome frown.

“Aren’t you going to show me what you brought for the baby?”

Benedict burst out of the room in a second, and as Sophie laughed merrily, he was soon back with his arm full, placing the little blankets, wooden trinkets, and tiny knitted socks on the white covers. Sitting cross-legged on the covers, Benedict explained every purchase with so much enthusiasm, his eyes sparkling like spring meadows. As Sophie softly traced the botanical patterns on the wallpaper, Benedict told her that it was imported from Italy, hand-painted by a craftsman. He had also told her excitedly that the cradle was made with the same cherry tree as Miles’ and Edmund’s.

“I might have gone overboard,” Benedict chuckled to himself, scratching his head as he took a small pair of black shoes from the box. “But Mother seemed ecstatic about welcoming a new grandchild as well…”

“No, Benedict this is absolutely beautiful.” Sophie tried to keep her tone bright and cheerful, “Oh, Benedict, the baby isn’t born yet, and he’s already the happiest in the world…”

“What about you?”

“What?”

“Are you angry that I spent too much?”

“No, no, no.” Sophie stuttered, “It’s necessary expenses, Benedict. And I love every item you bought, truly…”

“Then what’s on your mind?” Benedict softly traced the outline of her face, “I’ll pay a grand for your thoughts.”

Sophie laughed, “My thoughts are worth less than a penny, Love.”

“Well, I beg to differ, but tell me,”

Sophie stared at her hangnail, the edge of her left middle finger slightly swollen. With her right hand, she wrapped her finger, feeling a sharp pain as she tightened her grip.

“I should be the one doing this,” Sophie sighed, not quite looking at his eyes, “Ordering the cradle, the blankets, the napkins, the bottles, everything. When you should be focusing on your paintings, Benedict. A few weeks ago, Mrs. Crabtree asked me if I wanted to go to the village to order, but I thought it would be too early…”

“Sophie,”

“And my mind didn’t even go to the nursery, Benedict! The decorations, the wallpaper, the toys, I couldn’t even think about the decorations. I’m already a terrible mother…”

“Breath, Sophie, breath.” Benedict softly moved up to the bed, he plopped himself next to his wife, resting his back on the headboard. “You’re not a terrible mother, Sophie.”

“But,”

“When I first went to Sir Granville’s, I didn’t even know how to set up the easel. I didn’t know where to buy the right paint, and it took years to notice that I was being overcharged.”

“Really?” A small smile crept up on Sophie’s lips, and Benedict felt a bit of relief; he knew that Sophie was on the verge of tears.

��Truly,” Benedict kissed her forehead, “Nobody starts as an expert, Sophie.”

“Yet you are already a perfect father,”

“I’m far from perfection, Sophie. I had siblings, to make me experienced and bestow me with their knowledge. All the things I bought from London? All Mother and Kate.”

“Benedict, are you telling me lies to make me feel better?”

“Is it working?”

With a crooked smile, he peered into his wife’s eyes, and Sophie giggled in response, resting her head on his broad shoulders.

“And you’ve already done a splendid job of raising the little one inside you! I can’t imagine how hard the change must be.” He continued, rubbing her belly affectionately. “Focus on the health of you and the baby, Sophie. Leave me to worry about everything else.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” Sophie softly pinched his cheeks, playfully tugging his skin. “Sometimes I can not believe if you are even real,”

“It would be quite a tragedy if this was all a dream.” Benedict laughed, “I would willingly drink a bottle of poison to keep me in this wonderful dream,”

“But, Benedict.”

Ah, the Benedict in b flat.

“Mmm?”

“The dresses you bought from Madam Delacroix?”

“Oh, she already kept your measurements from the wedding…”

“I’m never going to fit in them, Benedict.”

Damm, Benedict cursed under his breath. He finally understood why Genevieve was so reluctant to sell them, and why she repeatedly kept asking for the new measurements. “I know my wife,” Benedict had told Geneville rather impatiently, “She was beautiful in my shirt and breeches, I’m sure she will look splendid any dress…”

"Don't worry about those dresses, love. We can always have Madam Delacroix adjust them as needed.”

“And pay another grand for just the adjustments?”

“… Necessary expenses?” Benedict suddenly felt the need to switch the topic, “Now why don't you get some rest while I start setting up these toys for our little one?"

Sophie knew his transparently obvious tactic, but with the comfortable warmth of her husband, and his tone filled with gentle reassurance, she found herself too tired to start an argument. With a soft smile, Sophie nodded, watching as Benedict started to fiddle with the wooden toys. As she drifted off to sleep against his shoulders, she could hear the soft hum of Benedict's voice, whispering promises and dreams to their unborn child.

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

Violet had been rather startled, receiving a letter from her second son, begging her to visit him and his wife at Wiltshire. Benedict had been in London just two weeks ago, dragging her to every street of London for baby supplies, and even Violet herself had been exhausted by all the shopping. The baby wasn’t due in a few months, but as she got to the end of the letter, telling her about Sophie’s declining health, she quickly packed her bags. It was a relief that Hyacinth was visiting her sister in Scotland, and Eloise had not even dropped a word of sarcasm as the two rushed into the carriage.

But Violet noticed that Benedict didn’t exactly tell her the truth when the two arrived at Wiltshire. As Benedict had written, Sophie did look rather feverish, her cheeks awfully crimson, and she was at least several stones thinner, despite the huge swell on her belly. She did not look well, but not as terrible as Benedict had explained in his letters. Sophie, although still in bed, had greeted the two with a smile, apologizing for how she wasn’t able to welcome them at the door.

“Do not worry, my dearest. I’m more worried about your weight, my dear, have you been eating enough?”

“I have been trying, but my stomach seems to be rejecting everything…,”

“I bought plums which saved Daphne from starvation, Sophie, and this oatmeal is said to be more nutritious than the regular ones…”

For a week, Violet diligently cared for Sophie, overseeing her meals with Mrs. Crabtree. Whether it was the oatmeal brought from London or the new jugs of milk from Mrs. Crabtree’s sister, they weren't sure, but Sophie seemed to be regaining her strength day by day. When Sophie's fever finally broke, Benedict, Eloise, Violet, Mrs. Crabtree, and Mr.Crabtree all breathed a sigh of relief. Dr. White also finally smiled with satisfaction, declaring that she could leave the bed.

Unlike Benedict, who had leaped from his chair and was beginning to pester Sophie with kisses despite Eloise’s eye roll, Violet noticed that the dark shade of worry and fear didn’t leave Sophie’s deep forest eyes with Dr. White’s words.

For another week, Violet had promised to stay in Wiltshire, to keep an eye on Sophie’s condition. Violet silently observed her second son flocking around his very pregnant wife every second, simultaneously preparing for the arrival of their baby, painting the nursery, assembling the crib, and even knitting tiny socks. Violet was quite amazed by the wall painting Benedict was working on in the nursery, a cherry blossom that spread across the wall, adding violets and hyacinths on its foot.

But what mildly concerned her was how Sophie never seemed to actively touch what Benedict had bought from London, or what Benedict had assembled or made for the baby. Yes, she would smile and giggle as Benedict playfully smudged the Castleon green paint on her cheeks and her rounded belly, and her constant worried gaze would soften as she looked at Benedict, reaching out his arms to tenderly stroke her roundness.

But when Violet surprised Sophie with the baby blanket she had done tulip embroideries on the hems, Sophie’s fingers were shaking, almost as if she were afraid of breaking the soft material. And at that moment, Violet finally understood why her loving son had desperately begged her to come to their newlywed home.

It was the last night of their stay in Wiltshire, their bags already packed and placed ready on the doorsteps for the carriage tomorrow morning. The two were alone in the drawing room, the fire cracking peacefully in the fireplace. The warm light was enough to see the small tremble on Sophie’s thin lips.

“This is beautiful, Violet. I don’t know how I could thank you for everything…” Despite her shaking hands, there was a smile plastered on Sophie’s face, her fingers carefully tracing the red petals.

“No need to thank me, Sophie.” Violet gently said, “I have done everyone for my grandchildren, and there is no reason to leave this little one out,”

Thank you, thank you, Violet saw Sophie mouth the words of gratitude several times.

“May I?”

“Oh yes, please,”

Gently stroking Sophie’s belly, Violet felt a warm flutter as she sensed a firm kick, remembering her first days of pregnancy, and the bright smile Edmund showed when he first felt the presence of a new life.

“So eager to meet his Mama,” Violet smiled as Sophie’s belly tumbled again. “As a former vessel to the Bridgertons, I am afraid to tell you that he might resemble his Papa more.”

For the first time Violet had seen her in weeks, Sophie laughed, a bright cracking laughter that vibrated merrily in the room.

“I believe so,” Sophie replied, gently caressing her roundness. “He is going to have Benedict’s curls and his nose,”

“But he will have your eyes, Sophie.”

Sophie smiled, imagining for the first time, the little bundle of joy cradled in her arms, the little version of her loving husband. Perhaps he would flutter his long eyelashes, dazed by the soft sunlight, or reach out his little hands to wrap his hand around her fingers. Or he might cry out a little, wailing for his mama,

“Do you think I will ever be able to meet him?”

“The baby?”

Sophie nodded, her eyes still placed on her belly.

“Oh don’t be silly, Sophie. Of course, you’ll meet your baby. In three months time my dear…”

“My mother never got to see me,”

Violet’s hands on the teacup froze.

“Or at least, that was what I was told.” Sophie’s tone was oddly flat, as if she were trying to repress any emotion, “That when I came out, there was too much blood and she had already passed away,”

“Oh, Sophie,”

“I’m not afraid of dying,” Sophie continued, smiling weakly, “I’ve already had such a blissful life,”

“Don’t say that Sophie, you are still two-and-twenty,”

“My Mother gave birth to me when she was much younger,”

Violet found herself at a loss of words. How lucky she was, to have given birth to eight children, and she knew she had been blessed by god for surviving each one. But she also knew many mothers left the world without ever feeling the warmth of their newborn child. Maria Beckett, whom Violet had never met, had been one of those mothers.

“I don’t fear leaving this world, Violet. Because I know for sure that Benedict would love and adore the baby no matter what. He would love the baby twice as much, for the amount that I wouldn’t be able to deliver,”

“Sophia,”

“And your son is the most charming man,” Sophie’s smile grew even bigger, but Violet saw the corner of her lips trembling, “Far, far, better a man than I should deserve. He would have no trouble finding a new mother for the baby, someone much more suitable than myself,”

“No, Sophia,” Shaking her head, Violet took Sophie’s trembling hands, firmly holding her hand in hers. Violet felt the roughness of her hands, the skin harder, coarser than any hand she had ever held. “I will tell you a million times how lucky my son is to have you as his wife, no matter how much you deny it.”

Sophie tried to raise the corner of her lips.

“Thank you, Lady Bridgerton,”

“Violet, Sophie.”

“Thank you, Violet.”

The two silently looked at the small fire in the fireplace, the flickers of sparks crackling in the darkness. Violet heard Sophie take a deep breath, almost as if she was letting down a big piece of luggage from her shoulders.

“But, what fears me the most,” Sophie continued slowly, but her voice was shaking, her breath was short and breathless, “Is if I can’t give Benedict his baby.”

“Oh, Sophie,”

“I still have three months to go, and I know that my body isn’t catching up,”

Tears were running down Sophie’s crimson cheeks, her shoulders shaking, her lips trembling. Violet gently took her daughter in her arms, rubbing the back of her delicate shoulders.

“Sophie,”

“And when the time comes, when he has to choose between me and the baby,” Sophie broke out into a sob, “I know that he’s going to choose me before the baby. After years and years of wanting a baby, after months and months of preparing, all his time, money, and effort wasted, ”

Her words were bearly audible between sobs and tears,

“I hear him, humming lullabies in his sleep, with so much love and anticipation. He’s already a father, mother, and it breaks my heart if I can’t give him what he wished for years, that I’m going to leave him devastated,”

I promise you and the baby will both be perfectly fine, those exact words almost slipped, but she stopped herself, knowing the gravity and the reality of Sophie’s fears. Violet noticed that she couldn’t find the right words for the poor girl who was crying and crying in her arms, the eight childbirths she had experienced weren’t enough, the depth of her fear, Violet noticed, was far deeper than she had imagined.

“Benedict had a swing set up in the gardens several weeks back. Violet, he was so happy and excited, saying that it was the same as the one he had in Bridgerton House.”

“Sophie, I am so sorry,”

“And I wanted to be happy, Lady Bridgerton. Tell Benedict that it would be lovely if the baby could share moments on the swings with his siblings, just like with Ms. Eloise. But I couldn’t say anything, because I’m so afraid that I’ll disappoint him so miserably,”

“Oh, I love him so, Lady Bridgerton.” Sophie sobbed in her arms, “And I’m so ashamed of myself that I can’t appreciate the love that he’s given me so much, I’m ashamed of myself that I’m so afraid of his love,”

From Violet’s eyes, Sophie had always been an honest, honorable young lady, with an innate sense of kindness. But Violet suddenly saw a little girl with blond curls and almond eyes, crying herself to sleep, shivering with fear and loneliness.

Violet knew Benedict always slept in a warm bed along with his brothers, and he never slept without a bedtime story and would beg her to cuddle him even when Violet had to leave to nurse Colin. For Violet, it had been one of the happiest moments of her life, gently stoking Benedict’s chubby cheeks, who looked so breathtakingly like his father, snoring happily as she left a soft kiss on his forehead.

But Sophie had no one to listen to her, even if she feared the monster under her bed. With no one to tuck her in bed, no one to tell her a bedtime story, no one to leave her with a goodnight kiss.

But suddenly she had someone who would listen to her every word. Who would delight in her beauty, who would honor her being in his deeds and words. Who would curl her in blankets and leave her with a sweet kiss. When she spent a lifetime alone and abused because of her mere existence.

Of course, she should feel afraid,

“There is nothing wrong about feeling afraid, Sophie,” Violet said calmly, gently stroking her blond curls as Sophie continued to weep in her arms, almost breathless from her tears. “There is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, my dearest.”

“Love can be difficult, my dear. Loving someone, you risk the hurt, the pain…the loss. Of course, you would feel afraid Sophie, because you are risking your body and soul to something that is far above your control. Fear is a quintessential part of love.”

“But perhaps,” Violet smiled, softly wiping the tears from her daughter’s cheeks. “you can trust Benedict a little more. Trust the love you have for one another. My son loves you dearly, and I love you dearly, with or without the baby. The two of you have already been through so much, and you both take so much care of the love you share. Those kinds of love grow and thrive, Sophie. It doesn’t wither after a fire. It doesn’t disappear after a storm. Because the love you two have, has strength to overcome them,”

“Allow yourself to have faith in your love, my dearest,”

“And you will be surprised how powerful it can be,”

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

“Eloise Bridgerton.”

Eloise froze for a brief second, the strict stern voice sending a sharp shiver down her spine. But seeing the floral vest and a teasing smirk in the corner of her eyes, she hastily returned the cigarette between her lips, feeling the nicotine deep in her veins.

“This swing is exactly the same as the one on Bridgerton House, isn’t it?”

“I had it made just several weeks ago,”

“So your daughters and sons can smoke behind their mother’s backs?”

Benedict scoffed, a wry smile on his face.

“Because,” He seated himself on the swing, gently rocking himself forward. “I thought my children could have chats like us,”

“Benedict, Sophie still has three months to deliver her baby. Isn’t it too early to be planning for more?”

“Please don’t tell Sophie,”

“You’ve already built a pair of swings, Benedict. And Sophie is one of the quickest women I have ever known,”

“Did I make a fool of myself again?”

“I believe you did.”

Benedict groaned, drilling his head into his knees. Eloise only laughed wholeheartedly, tapping his shoulder to offer him a cigarette, but she was quite surprised when he waved it off.

“You managed to quit?”

“Sophie doesn’t like the smell.”

“So perfect, aren’t you?”

But Eloise knew he was craving for one as his finger twitched. And as Eloise took another smoke, languorously blowing the Sidestream in Benedict’s face, he snatched the packet from her hands, lightening up a cigarette in practiced hands. Eloise crackled with laughter as Benedict gazed up at the sky in relief, his whole body relaxing with just one puff.

“Remind me to change before I go back,”

“Mmm.” Eloise only hummed in response.

The two smoked in silence, watching the shimmering stars in the night, and listening to the lonely tunes of the owls in the distance. Soon, the lonesome hoots were replaced by Benedict’s low hums, the nostalgic tune engraved in her childhood memories,

Lavender's blue, dilly, dilly, lavender's green,

When I am king, dilly, dilly, You shall be queen.

Who told you so, dilly, dilly, who told you so?

'Twas my own heart, dilly, dilly, that told me so.

Call up your men, dilly, dilly, set them to work

Some to the plough, dilly, dilly, some to the fork,

Some to make hay, dilly, dilly, some to cut corn,

While you and I, dilly, dilly, keep ourselves warm.

Lavender's green, dilly, dilly, Lavender's blue,

If you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you.

Let the birds sing, dilly, dilly, And the lambs play;

We shall be safe, dilly, dilly, out of harm's way.

“So, happy, aren’t you?”

“Happier than ever, El.”

Eloise missed those quiet moments with Benedict. Truly. Eloise had told herself a million times that Benedict was happy with his new life in Wiltshire. That her brother didn’t miss his past life in London. That he’d rather protect life with his Sophie than to be in London close to his family. Throwing away the comfortable life in London. Throwing away their time together as siblings, throwing away their time on the swings, replacing her with new memories of Sophie and the baby. But Eloise knew deep in her heart that he would never have been happy if he had stayed in London. Without Sophie.

It was quite lonely to be at No.5 with only her mother and Hyacinth; who rather liked to do talking on her own. Benedict was the only sibling who truly listened and understood her, or at least she thought, and it was quite lonesome when he was miles and miles away when she wanted to talk with him desperately.

“Do you know why I don’t get married?” She said, abruptly.

“Because men are too inferior to match your superior mind?” Benedict teased her in a mocking tone, and Eloise had to crack a smile.

“Close, but I have other reasons as well,” Eloise said, “But do you promise not to tell Hyacinth? Or Anthony or Mother or anyone else?”

“I will swear an oath by my daughter’s name.”

“How could you ever know the sex of the baby?”

“I just know.” Benedict hummed happily, “Enlighten me, Eloise. The reason why you keep refusing every proposal.”

Eloise took a deep breath.

“I don’t want to get married because I want something that you have with Sophie. That kind of love and passion and drama. I want more than just, homes, estates, or hounds.”

“You have everything I desire in a relationship. The mutual love, respect, care, compassion. I’ve never seen the two of you quarrel like Kate and Anthony. Always so calm and relaxed.”

“Is that truly how we look like?”

“Mmm.”

“Were you ever a romanticist, Eloise?”

“Well you certainly made me one,” With dimmed eyes, Eloise dropped the ashes on the ground, “ I never believed in fairytales. I didn’t even believe in love, Benedict. Until it blossomed in front of my eyes,”

“It was beautiful, seeing how you fell in love with each other at No.5, despite living in two different worlds. You didn’t even hesitate to face the consequences, Benedict.”

“And you literally saved Sophie from death, brother. She could have been hanged if you weren’t there. You are Sophie’s shining knight of armor.”

Benedict gave a low laugh, blowing out smoke from his lungs, but Eloise continued,

“I pride myself on having read quite many books, but no story had been as romantic as yours. It’s almost as if it were right out of a fairytale.”

“Eloise,”

“What?”

“It’s not a fairytale.”

“Don’t you dare say that, brother. It’s quite a miracle the lady in silver happened to be the maid you saved from Cavender…”

“You can say that because you don’t know the full story, Eloise,”

And Benedict finally told the truth between Sophie and Benedict; that he had first asked her to be his mistress. And that Sophie had rejected his offer, and he had blackmailed her to come to London. But he did remove the part when he took Sophie’s virginity on the sofa. How much he loved and respected her; she was still his younger sister. But even without the most scandalous bits, Eloise’s crisp blue eyes dimmed and dimmed, her face crunching in disgust as she continued on with the story.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Eloise’s tone was laced with disgust and annoyance.

“Anthony stopped me,”

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“Because,” Benedict stopped for a second, a drop of hesitation, “I want my dear sister to know that love stories are not always perfect,”

“But it is,”

“I just said that I asked Sophie to be my mistress,”

“Yes, but you came to your bloody senses and married her in the end. And Sophie forgave your stupidity and kept loving you despite your awful behavior. Now carrying your child. It’s still a perfect story, Benedict. Happily Ever After!”

Benedict blatantly stared at his little sister, almost taken aback by her pure naivety. Almost as if she were trying to worship the perfect love story between Sophie and him. That, he knew, was far too dangerous. To romanticize an ugly reality.

“Sophie and I…yes, I’ll admit that it is a miracle that we are together, but El, we are far from perfect.”

“But you two are,”

“Do you know it took weeks for Sophie to tell me that she was pregnant?”

“What? Why would I know…,”

Benedict interrupted her words, breaking the one rule he always kept when he was talking with Eloise.

“I only realized that she was pregnant when Anthony and Kate subtly asked me if Sophie wanted to see the family doctor. And do you know what she said when I lightly asked why it took so long to tell me? She said it was “too soon to be sure.” But what did she think we were doing every night?”

“What were you doing every night?” A wave of panic hit his breath when Eloise’s sharp blue eyes stared at him with a look of innocence and utter curiosity.

“T, talking.” He managed to stutter, “B, bonding, I would rather say…”

“When is anyone ever going to tell me the bloody specifics?” Eloise muttered angrily, and Benedict thought it better to swiftly avert Eloise’s interests.

“Did I ever tell you that Sophie loathes my lavish expenditures?”

Just as he thought, Eloise’s eyes widened in surprise and a little bit of delight to hear their marital conflicts,

“But you never ravish money!”

“She had different views,” Benedict smiled weakly, “And I know I’ve upset her in some kind or other when she says my name in b flat.”

“Huh,”

“And do you know that I almost made her cry because of the baby supplies I brought in London?”

“I don’t understand Benedict. Why would that upset her? Shouldn’t she be pleased?”

“She thought she was an unworthy mother because she didn’t prepare them herself,”

“Then why didn’t she tell that before?”

“There are so many things she doesn’t tell me, Eloise.”

Eloise sank into silence, processing the aspect that she had never imagined in her brother’s perfect relationship. To Eloise’s eyes, they just seem so perfect, like they were born for each other,

“Has Sophie told you that she was afraid of dying?”

“WHAT?”

The cigarette dropped from Benedict’s fingers. There was genuine hurt and shock in Benedict’s voice, as he buried his head in his head yet again. The half-burned-out cigarette lay forgotten on the dirt. Eloise stretched her legs to snub out the last remaining flame.

“In her letters, she kept repeatedly writing about how she wanted me to visit My Cottage more; to take care of you and the baby. If she can’t make it through,”

Eloise tried not to look at a tear that dropped on Benedict’s worn-out yet perfectly mended brown boots.

“She didn’t exactly say that she was afraid of dying,” Eloise’s voice came out more like an excuse, seeing his brother shrunk and defalated second by second, “But she sounded so desperate in her letters, and her fear, was, well, implied…”

“I just knew something was troubling her but I should have known…”

“Is that you asked Mother to come?”

Benedict hitched his breath, his throat making an akward noise.

“Yes.”

“Because you can’t ask Sophie?”

“…Yes.”

“You’re a coward.”

“A little harsh, Eloise.”

Benedict finally looked up from his hands, but his green-grey eyes were wavering,

“I always want Sophie to tell me everything, but she tends to keep everything inside herself. I’ll ask, but she’ll answer it’s nothing. And if I push too much, she flees away.”

His tone was filled with guilt, almost as if everything was his fault.

“Why don’t you just ask her to just spit it all out? I always thought honesty and transparency is required in any form of union…”

“El. She had a difficult childhood. A traumatic upbringing. Much harder and gruesome than we could ever imagine.”

Eloise grimly nodded, remembering the time she encountered Araminta Gunningworth at the modiste after her brother’s marriage. The verbal slander she slashed on Posy was both alarming and horrendous, sending chills in her bones. Eloise was shocked at how it could be addressed to her very own daughter. And Sophie had been the bastard. Eloise shuddered, imagining the horrifying extent of Sophie’s destructive past.

“And no matter how hard I try…” Benedict’s words trailed off in the darkness. Eloise saw Benedict clench his fist, gripping the coarse ropes, “There are parts of Sophie I could never understand. Even how desperately I yearn to understand,”

“But I love her El. So ardently that it burns me to the core. And it kills me that I can’t take any pain, any burden for her. And I want to make it work, And I know she’s trying her best to make this, make us work.” Words were bursting, a flooding river on a stormy night, “And I feel terrible that I can’t understand everything about her…”

“But isn’t that everyone?” Eloise found herself saying, words nonconsciously slipping from her lips, “I never understood why Colin suddenly fell in love with Penelope when he had known her for years. I didn’t even know that they were in love even though I have known them for a lifetime, and I don’t understand why Fran married John when they just sat in silence, when she is practically my twin,”

“And I bet,” Eloise continued hesitantly, “Sophie doesn’t understand why you have to have 60 waistcoats in your closet.”

“It’s actually 48 now.”

“You threw them away?”

“I gave them away to the servants when I left London,”

“Sophie did really make you into a changed man, didn’t she?” Eloise muttered to herself, but, no, she still wasn’t finished with her point.”

“Anyway, I just want to say that nobody understands each other. Yet, you hold on to each other. You and Sophie. Despite your flaws. Despite Sophie’s flaws. So desperately and so adoringly. Isn’t that perfect enough?”

Eloise heard a lonely howl from the distance, perhaps a hound crying for its mate. Eloise can remember Benedict’s drunken slurs a year ago, whining about the memories of his Lady in Silver,

“You two are just too perfect.”

“Perhaps we are, Eloise. Like you say. Perfect.”

“Mmm.”

“But do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because we know our imperfections.”

“What?”

“And we try our best dispite of it all.”

“I truly don’t understand what you are trying to say.”

“You will when you are older.”

“I hate you, Brother”

“And I love you too, Eloise.”

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

Just like I said, just like a bloody fairytale, Eloise thought to herself again as she watched the couple in the sitting room, snuggling together on a sofa. Her mother was knitting quietly beside the fireplace, a content smile on her lips.

Sophie perched on Benedict’s lap, excitedly showing the tulip-embroidered blanket her mother had given to her. Benedict stroking her golden locks, clinging to every word, looking at Sophie with the most adoring eyes.

No other word could explain the loving couple other than perfection. The honest, honorable wife and the absolutely besotted husband. There could be no secrets or conflicts between them, Eloise just knew.

Perhaps Benedict had lied to her about Sophie’s flaws or Sophie’s frustration with his habits. Perhaps Eloise had misread her letters, the ones she thought were dripping with fear and dread of death.

Because in Eloise’s eyes, Sophie was shining through the darkness, the glow in her whole presence, the lively, excited expression. There was no angst, no fear but just utter happiness and content between the two.

So, so, so bloody perfect,

#Writer’s Notes

“Love isn't something natural. Rather it requires discipline, concentration, patience, faith, and the overcoming of narcissism. It isn't a feeling, it is a practice.”

—Eric Fromm

“But if I know what love is, it is because of you.”

—Hermann Hesse

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #benophie #sophie beckett #benedict x sophie #an offer from a gentleman #benophie fics #bridgerton fanfiction

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chigirisprincess · 1 year ago

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Flowers Never Bend with Rainfall⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

— Wriothesley

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, fem! reader, mentions of reader wearing a corset, gown and earrings, arranged marriage, original characters; reader has an unnamed family and older sister, nobility and high society's conventions, allusions to gendered familial roles, sfw. ⊹ Run time. 1.3k ⊹ Note. I have had such brainworms for this man since seeing him for the first time. I had to write something but didn't want to get too ahead of myself since we know nothing of him yet sooo I decided to start a new series of drabbles that will follow this plotline, reader, and Wriothesley. You can find it under the tag # flowers never bend and it will eventually be posted to my ao3 as a cohesive story <3

Your sister beams as she gives your appearance another once over. It's the fifth time in the past ten minutes that she’s turned to you with scrutiny in her eyes, adjusting a strand of your hair or smoothing out the crisp neckline of your dress– you must be perfection. Today you’re meeting him, the man your parents sold you to when you were no more than six years old. He had been a boy then too and just as much of an unwilling participant in the whole affair as you had. Perhaps it was cruel to blame him for your misfortunes. At least the two of you had been given the courtesy of a meeting, a single chance to rectify the will of your parents before they made plans to force the two of you down the aisle.

The day after her eighteenth birthday, your older sister had been married. A gaggle of small children soon followed. They made quite the army of troublemakers but she continued to grow round with one every few years because they were just so cute when they were little. She fancied herself a matchmaker and believed that she knew everything there was to know when it came to matters of the heart. But, what did marriage have to do with the heart when it was nothing more than a political arrangement? Your father had made thousands of those in his lifetime and he’d do thousands more by the time by the time his earthly body was returned to the waves.

There was nothing special or romantic about standing in the middle of the lobby at the Hotel Debord being primped and preened over like a porcelain doll. The seafoam-coloured walls make the contents of your stomach curdle uncomfortably though your favourite gown as a child had once been spun off the very same shade. Today you wore pink taffeta topped off with a lace-trimmed neckline and a little white bow placed carefully at your décolletage. It as though your childhood bedroom threw up on your seamstress and out came this dress.

“Did you know that your fiancé is a Duke?” your sister whispers as she ushers you over to one of the plush chairs, “That mean’s he comes from a very wealthy family, mhm, and is a very well respected man.”

The whale-boned corset beneath your dress keeps your spine straight as you sit and still your sister makes a point of pressing your shoulders back before taking her own seat, “Does he have a name?” You ask, placing one delicately gloved hand over the other.

A myriad of people file in and out of the hobby with what appears to be a purpose. You can’t but watch with curious eyes and the childish hope of discerning him from the crowd before he’s able to spot you. Like a flower, you’d wilt beneath his gaze and learn nothing more than the facade people like you and he were taught to wear like a second skin. Instead, you’re met with swishing skirts that ooze refinement and galloping pups in gaudy costumes. There is little to be gained from people watching carbon copies that chased the latest trends as if that would appease their archon.

“Wriothesley,” Your sister states as if the answer should be obvious to you.

The name hardly strikes a chord of recognition within you, you may have heard it in passing years ago but no new memories surface as you search for an inkling of familiarity. It was futile, your days within the court were limited as you much preferred the solace of your family's countryside estate. The quiet was nice. With no nightmare-inducing machinations to tower over you. The servants were friendly too and even with the tendrils of gossip that filled their quarters, they never seemed to judge you too harshly for having the privilege to shirk societal expectations.

“Does he have a surname?” Focusing your eyes on the ornate glass chandeliers that swing with each gentle breeze pushed in through the ever-revolving doors, you quell your growing need for some tangible information into a dismissive interest, “Or shall I just be known as the lady duke?”

Your sister's gaze is sharp as is how quickly she turns her head to face you, “Come now, you know it is inappropriate to make such comments,” She smiles at a passing stranger, and they smile back, “He is a good man, that much I know.”

Despite the sunny disposition that is quick to replace her annoyed expression, you can feel your sister’s ire simmering within her gaze. Light splinters from the artfully crafted crystalline chunks and dances along the slick tiled ground. The sight of it makes you dizzy but you enjoy the head rush as you settle your focus onto the reflective floor. A gloved and idle hand comes up to twirl the dangly earrings that weigh heavy on your lobes, smoothing your thumb against the drop pearl.

“How can you be certain that he is a good man if you do not even know his family’s name?”

It’s difficult to stifle the giggle that rises to your lips when she glares at you. You found in that moment that it was good she had not been blessed with a cryo vision because it would pale in comparison to the chill that settled over the table.

“If you were so curious perhaps you should have asked father,” she gritted out, “I am just here to ensure that you do not embarrass yourself in front of Wriothesley.”

“How kind of you dear sister,” you grin the way she hates, showing her all of your teeth, “Surely I could not know how to talk to a man at my advanced age of twenty-two without your steadfast guidance.”

“It is a wonder why Mother and father chose you for the duke and not I,” your sister muttered beneath her breath, hoping you did not hear her.

Green was an ugly shade on your sister but you supposed it couldn’t be helped. It was human nature and adults were far more like children than they liked to believe, coveting toys that didn’t belong to them.

Though, her ego would balloon to be ten times the size of her body should you ever dare to admit that you wished your parents had chosen her for their political gain and not you. You weren’t well suited for the things you supposed this Wriothesley would expect of you. Most days you spent more time with your nose buried in long-forgotten tomes than you did in etiquette lessons. Those were important, your mother once said, a man of such status had much social responsibility and as his wife, so would you.

“What time did Father say we may expect his grace to grace us with his presence?”

If the two of you were at home, she might have snarled at you, “I do not find you amusing!”

A well-dressed man carrying a shiny silver platter approached the table. If he heard your bickering, he chose not to comment on it, “Your tea has arrived, ladies.”

“Sir, I fear you are mistaken” you stated, your voice growing timid as he began to unload the contents of the tray into your table, “We did not order any tea.”

“No, but he did.”

The “he” in question was an imposing man who hovered behind the waiter. Neither of you had noticed but your sister began to smile demure at him the moment she took notice of his presence. The first thing you noticed was the glinting silver handcuffs that hung off his belt like a warning and then the metal-clad fingerless gloves. The chains and chunks of alloy made the deep red tie he wore look silly and out of place but his keen, pale eyes made you shrink in your seat as they slid over your visage.

“May I present to you his grace, the Duke Wriothesley.”

Oh.

So this was the man your family intended for you to marry.

#flowers never bend #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley x you

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daddy-dins-girl · 1 year ago

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First Date: Frankie Morales

HAPPY FRANKIE FRIDAY Y'ALL!

Masterlist

AO3 link

Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Summary: Based on this tumblr Ask. A full one-shot based on a quick little headcanon drabble I wrote about what a first date with Frankie Morales might look like. There's a little of backstory for Reader because it's me and you know I just can't help myself.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Fluff and smut (because we like to strike a delicate balance here). Porn with a sprinkle of plot (again, delicate balance). Cuteness overload during your date with Frankie (sign me up for this date please). Heavy makeout session. Mutual masturbation. Fooling around in the back of Frankie's truck because of uh... reasons. Read to find out! I think that's it for warnings. As far as my stuff goes I'd say this is pretty tame? lol. But if I missed anything lmk!

Notes: I hope there aren't any glaring mistakes here. If I find any I'll come back and edit. Tbh I wrote 99% of it on my phone because our wifi was down for THREE DAYS here (RIP me!). It finally came back this morning just in time for me to post this for Frankie Friday ❤️

You tap your phone’s screen to illuminate it and check the time for probably the fifteenth time in as many minutes to make sure you’re not running late yet as you stand over the bathroom counter putting the final touches on your appearance, wanting to look perfect for tonight. Nerves flutter in your tummy like butterflies and you have to constantly remind yourself to calm down, take it easy.

“It’s just Fish, nothing to get yourself all worked up about” Benny had offered earlier, unhelpfully.

Sure, to your cousins Benny and Will it was just their longtime friend and military buddy, but to you it was the very cute, though very shy, sweet guy that you had met for the first time only recently since you came to “temporarily” crash at your cousins place.

Temporarily had turned into three months far faster than you anticipated. You needed a fresh start, to get out of a not great situation and it was actually your Aunt who had suggested the move to you during your phone call to her on her birthday. Your mother had already been filling her ear with your personal drama it seemed and though she didn’t want to pry, she did want to help and she suggested getting away for even a couple of weeks, that her sons had lots of room at their place and would be happy to have you for a while. After a few phone calls with both Will and Benny they had settled any doubts you might’ve had and welcomed you with open arms when you showed up at their doorstep with little more than a single roller suitcase and a small potted plant under your arm. It was about all the possessions you had left after the less than amicable split with your ex that left you couch surfing at your friends for months before the transition to Will and Benny’s.

So now here you stand, in the bathroom of the guest bedroom you have been calling your own for three months, getting ready for a date with the painstakingly handsome pilot himself, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales.

You know how badly your cousins have been teasing you about the date, you can’t even begin to imagine the ribbing Frankie must have been taking from them since he’d asked you out last Sunday at a barbecue Will and Benny had been hosting and they’d somehow gotten wind of it. You’re surprised Frankie even kept the date, to be honest. Your cousins, you love them with all your heart, but they can be… a lot. You’re very glad Frankie didn’t back down to the pressure though. You’d seen him a fair bit in your few months here and have been dying for him to finally ask you out. You’d flirted enough and though he’d been quiet and shy in the beginning, the more you got to know each other, the more he seemed to come out of his shell around you.

So now here you were, moments before Frankie was due to show up at your door and you silently cursed yourself for not being as ready as you should be. You wanted to be ready and standing outside by now so that Will and Benny couldn’t get any more jabs in to poor sweet Frankie if he had to stand at the door waiting for you, but as you pull on the short, light denim jacket over your sundress you hear a bark of laughter from Benny and already you know you’re too late.

You quickly press some lip gloss on, run your hands through your hair to make sure it’s falling exactly how you want it to and then take a deep breath in the mirror and quickly scurry out of the bedroom to hopefully save the man that is standing outside on the porch.

“No keeping her out past curfew, no drinkin’ and drivin’, no crazy parties or gettin’ too handsy on the first date”

Benny is listing things off on his fingers to poor Frankie like he’s your father scalding your prom date and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Will, you said you’d both be nice” you complain out loud to the older of the two brothers. Will wasn’t much better, but sometimes talking to Benny was like talking to a toddler amped up on a pack of Skittles, there was no getting through when he got over excited about something.

The most ridiculous part about it was that you and Benny were about the same age so it was a little comical, though sweet in his own way, how he tried to ‘big brother’ you.

“Ah c’mon Ace, we were just joshin’ him a bit” Will replies, bright white smile gleaming at you with a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Ace of course being the nickname they had stuck you with since you were old enough to remember. Any family event you’d ever attended whenever there was any sort of game or sport going on the two boys always ensured you were on their team, likely because you were the only one close in age to them but you liked to tell yourself that it was also because the three of you always had fun together. They have always been so competitive and any time they won (largely due to their own efforts) they were sure to tell everyone that it was all because of you, that you were ‘the ace up their sleeve’ even when you barely did anything. Hell most softball games you preferred to sit in the grass picking flowers while they ran circles around you like pro athletes, but it was sweet how they always made sure to include you and make you feel good about yourself.

“Well we agreed you two goons wouldn’t scare him away” you remind them with a playful roll of your eyes and a swat to Benny’s shoulder when you finally reach the doorway.

You can see Frankie’s appreciative gaze roam over you from head to toe and as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nervously adjusts his ball cap you know he’s itching to say something to you but probably weighing the pros and cons in his head about the two extra sets of ears hearing what’s meant only for you and so you decide for him. You shove past your two cousins, quickly tell them you love them and not to wait up and push them far enough back in the house so you can slam the door shut, finally leaving you on the porch with just Frankie.

“Hi” you breathe out, a smile spreading across your lips. He looks casual but deliciously handsome in a pair of dark tan khaki pants and an untucked light blue button down with the sleeves rolled up, putting his tanned and muscular forearms on display. He still has his infamous Standard Oil hat on, hints of chocolate brown curls peeking out from underneath it. You don’t think you’ve actually ever seen him without it, come to think of it. You try to picture him without it and an image just doesn��t come.

“You look beautiful” he tells you, a hint of shyness in his tone and a blush rises in your cheeks that didn’t come from a makeup stick.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about tweedle-dee and tweedle-A-D-D in there” you joke, gesturing a thumb over your shoulder at your two cousins who are currently fighting each other over who gets to look through the small pane of glass next to the door to watch your interactions with Frankie on the front step.

“Unfortunately I’m very used to it” he quips, giving you a warm smile. “Shall we?” He asks, sweeping an arm out towards his truck idling at the curb and you nod your head and lead the way.

Before you reach the truck however Frankie jogs up behind you to brush past and ensures he reaches the passenger door handle before you do and opens it wide, offering you a hand to help you up and inside. You both decide to ignore the whooping yells and hands slamming on the glass next to the door at the top of the walkway behind you.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, shall we?” You offer once Frankie’s climbed into the driver's seat next to you and he chuckles but nods his head.

“With pleasure” he agrees and pulls the truck away from the curb.

You’re driving for nearly an hour. Frankie had apologized already on several occasions, admonishing himself for not preparing you beforehand to make sure you wouldn’t be too hungry when he picked you up. You tell him it's fine countless times but he still admits he should’ve discussed his plan with you ahead of time.

“Hey, if what you say is true and these really are the best tacos I’ve ever had, you’ll not only be forgiven but I’ll be glad I was ravenous by the time we get there” you tell him and finally he seems to accept it and offers you a small smile, hand going to the dial on the radio to turn the classic rock tunes up just a little bit for the last few minutes of your drive.

The drive is nice. The ocean follows along in your journey when you look out your window and the way the sun sits in the sky you know it’ll be threatening to set not long after you arrive at your destination. Truth be told you were a little nervous when you first started driving and Frankie mentioned how long the trip would be. You worried that you wouldn’t have much to chat about or that it might get awkward but it had been anything but. Besides Frankie’s little bouts of anxiety about whether or not he should’ve mentioned to you what time you’d actually be eating, everything was going better than you had expected. The conversation seemed to flow easily between the two of you. You had enough jumping off points, with both of you having more than your fair share of stories or anecdotes about Will and Benny. You shared stories of your youths while Frankie caught you up on some of the more recent goings-on with them that you hadn’t been privy to since, before recently, you obviously spent a lot less time with them in your adult years versus the childhood ones. Before long the conversations shifted more to yourselves and your own personal lives and before you knew it Frankie was pulling the truck into a crowded parking lot in front of the beach.

You make your way through the throngs of people on the boardwalk, Frankie’s warm hand on your lower back a steadying presence as he guides you through the crowds towards the brightly painted green and yellow food truck off in the not-too-far distance. Your mouth is watering already and you’re not sure whether it’s for the tacos or the man on your left with the broad shoulders and thick arms but a gentle, calming touch.

If you had to venture a guess, it would be for the latter.

Frankie, to his credit, was absolutely right about the tacos. You’re halfway through your third one when you finally tap out and call it quits, unable to possibly stomach another bite - despite how delicious they are.

“I can’t. I want to, but I can’t” you admit defeat to what’s left of your dinner, tossing your napkin on top of your paper plate and holding your hands up in surrender and the corner of Frankie’s mouth curls up into a smirk.

“They’re good right?” He grins at you from across the picnic table while he stuffs the last bite of his own into his mouth and you roll your eyes dramatically at how good in fact they were.

“They were amazing, seriously. Well worth the drive and the wait” you tell him sincerely and then before you can talk yourself out of it you reach across the table to place your hand on top of his and give a little squeeze with your fingers.

“Thank you for dinner. I’m um… really glad you asked me out tonight”

That confession earns you an ear to ear grin from Frankie who swallows down the last bit of his dinner and then turns his hand palm-up so he can hold your fingers in his grasp.

“Me too. But, the night’s not over” he offers with a playful quirk of his eyebrow.

“There’s more?” Your brow line lifts to your forehead. “I’m going to need a few minutes to digest first” you laugh, placing a hand over your stomach and Frankie chuckles but nods his head in agreement.

“Take all the time you need,” he tells you.

The sun is beginning its descent from the sky as you sit at the table a while longer, happily chatting about everything and nothing. You ask Frankie more about his young daughter and can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips the way his face lights up when he speaks about her or shows you his favourite pictures or videos of her on his phone.

With your food finally settled you’re back to wandering the boardwalk again with Frankie leading the way. He stops you at an ice cream truck and you groan at the idea of having to shove more food into your stomach but the childish grin and teasing nudge to your side with his elbow convinces you to take him up on his offer anyway and you ask for small scoop of the bright orange Tiger Stripe flavour in a dish while Frankie opts for a waffle cone of classic Mint Chocolate Chip.

With no small effort you manage to finish the sweet dessert and toss your garbage into a nearby receptacle and Frankie nudges your shoulder with his and gestures with an outstretched arm towards the beach.

“Wanna go walk it off?” He suggests and you give him an easy smile, more than excited about taking a romantic walk down the beach at sunset with him.

The warm sand squishes between your toes as you walk the length of the beach. Frankie had insisted on carrying your shoes for you when you opted to take them off; the strappy sandals hanging from the fingertips of his right hand while his left brushes experimentally against the back of your right and you turn your palm towards him and he wastes no time taking hold, your fingers interlacing. You smile and press a little closer into his shoulder.

“This is perfect” you sigh as soft waves lap at your feet and the sun bids it’s final adieu for the evening, disappearing just past the horizon on the other side of the ocean.

“So I did good?” Frankie smirks at you and you let out a little laugh, nodding your head.

“Ten out of ten would recommend” you answer without hesitation.

“Recommend to who? If you think I’m taking Benny on a date next you’re poorly mistaken” he jokes and it earns an outburst of laughter from you as you grab onto his forearm with your free hand and lean further in still.

“You guys could make a pretty cute couple” you tease and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head in laughter.

“Already got the prettiest Miller on my arm, thank you very much” he affirms and your giggles die down as the blush re-emerges and you turn your gaze down to the sand at your feet and squeeze his arm just a little tighter as a thank you to his easy compliment.

You walk a little while longer, your fingers still entwined and your free hand wrapped around his arm that’s holding your hand, snuggling as close as possible while you continue to chat and joke and tease each other.

Being with Frankie seems so easy. Normally you were so nervous during first dates and it’s been so long since you’ve actually been on one you could barely remember what it normally feels like but you’re certain it’s never felt like this. You felt comfortable. And maybe a lot of that had to do with the fact that you’ve already met with and hung out with him on numerous occasions now there was less to be nervous about. But you think it’s mostly him. He’s so easy going and calm to be around; he just puts you at ease with one upward curve of his lips or the way his soft brown gaze seemingly bores into your very soul with a single look.

Besides that, you knew he must be a pretty decent guy or Will and Benny would’ve had something (aside from friendly teasing) to say about it. They were the big brothers you never had growing up, always looking out for you until your lives took you all down very separate paths and if they trusted Frankie with you, you knew you were in good hands.

Hands that were currently, mind you, smoothing up and down your sides as Frankie pressed you into the passenger door of his pickup as you stood on the street outside your temporary home saying your goodnights.

“Kiss me” you breathe into the limited space between your two bodies that are thrumming with unspent energy.

Not bothering with a verbal response, Frankie closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours finally for that first kiss you’ve been craving since he picked you up hours ago. He tastes like mint and chocolate, and although normally it would be one of the last options you go for at the ice cream shop, the way it tastes on Frankie’s tongue instantly makes it your new favourite.

The energy in the cab of his truck the whole ride back had been tangible, his right hand on your thigh, yours trying not to dig into the plush material of the seats as you tried to focus your mind on anything other than ordering him to pull the truck into park so you could crawl into his lap and thank him properly, the way you wanted to so badly.

“Hermosa,” Frankie groans, his mouth trailing now from your lips down your jaw and to the side of your throat as his hands grip your hips. The scruff of his beard brushes the delicate skin of your neck when he nuzzles further into you and heat instantly pools in the lower part of your belly, causing a little moan to slip out. You feel your breath quicken, heart rate speeding up to keep pace with Frankie’s that you can feel through your clothes with how closely he’s pressed against you. Your arms raise to wrap around his neck, hands playing with the soft curls at the back of his head, running your fingers through them (something you’d been dying to do since the first time you met him, if you’re being honest with yourself).

“Should’ve taken me back to yours” you whisper against his ear as he continues to nip, lick and kiss at your throat.

“Santi’s on my goddamn couch” he groans, annoyed.

You remembered, now that he’s said it. Santiago, another military buddy of your cousins that you’d met a few times and one of Frankie’s best friends, had been having problems with his girlfriend and a week ago she had actually kicked him out of their shared apartment and with you taking up residence in Will and Benny’s guest room, that left Frankie’s couch.

“Shit” you mutter. You don’t dare take him inside to your room. Though the house looks dark and the boys are probably asleep, that’s not something you’re going to chance. At least not on a first date. You don’t need their judgment, nor do you need Frankie holding anything back from you due to the unfortunate circumstances.

His mouth is back on yours, unable to stay away from it for long it seems. His tongue pushes inside and strokes alongside yours, causing a little shiver to run down your spine. He licks into your mouth, exploring every cavern and swallowing all your little whimpers and whines. Frankie was an amazing kisser. You can’t help but wonder how talented his tongue may be elsewhere; the thought alone sending a fresh wave of arousal through you and causing another moan to slip out which Frankie responds to with one of his own. His right hand leaves your hip and goes to your thigh next, gently raising your leg off the ground to wrap around him and a gasp escapes you when his hand slips under the hem of your dress and trails upwards towards your hip.

“Fuck, Frankie” you breathe, pulling back just enough so you can start peppering kisses to his strong jawline.

“Tell me to stop, fuck, you need to tell me stop” Frankie pleads. You can feel his obvious desire for you pressed into your stomach as his left hand moves down to grope your ass and pull you even closer against him.

“Mmm, don’t want to” you hum into his throat and he groans in desperation, rocking his hips into you and causing a delicious bit of friction where you need it most. Your whole body is tingling, feeling like you could combust at any moment. Your muscles are tense, hands fighting for purchase on any part of him they can grab onto, eager to keep him from convincing himself to pull away from you.

Just when you feel him begin to pull back you do the only thing that comes to mind and turn in his grasp and reach for the back passenger door of the crew cab, swinging it open and pulling him back towards you by the collar of his shirt.

“Fuck, Sweetheart” he stops dead in his tracks, feet outside on the ground still while your ass hits the back seat so you’re seated sideways on the seat, facing him.

“Look, I might not be up for Gentleman of the Year Award or anything, but I’m not… I can’t have our first time be in the back of my truck. You deserve so much better than that”

Your brain doesn’t miss how he says ‘first time’ like it implies that there will be more times, and god you hope there is. And while you don’t disagree with him that fucking in his car like teenagers isn’t maybe the most romantic way to do this, you still need something and you don’t want this night to be over yet.

“Just… come fool around with me a little bit” you shrug, coy little grin tugging at the corners of your lips and you see on his adorable face the moment his resolve crumbles. He’s hopping up into the truck in a flash, slamming the door shut behind him. He pushes you back onto the bench seat so you’re flat on your back and finally rips his hat off his head and tosses it carelessly somewhere to the floor and you’re in a fit of giggles at the playfulness of it all. The laughter dies on your lips however when he’s kneeled before your spread legs and drags your knees up to his hips and presses himself down on top of you, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss while his lower half grinds into yours.

“Is this OK?” He murmurs into the side of your face as his kisses trail towards your throat.

“Mmm hmm” you nod frantically. “More than OK” you promise.

He hums into your throat and brings his right hand to your breast, his large hand covering the mound and gently massaging the soft flesh, kneading and squeezing just right as your little moans and the way your back arches to push your chest further into his touch encourages him.

“Fuck,” he growls before shoving the front of your dress and cups of your bra down so he can get his mouth on bare skin.

He pulls away from your throat and shuffles down slightly, leaning down to swirl the tip of his tongue around the pert bud and then gently pull it into his mouth. He alternates between sucking it into his mouth and teasing with quick flicks of his tongue while nimble fingers pay the other equal attention and you writhe underneath him, grinding into his leg, desperate for any friction you can create.

“Perfect tits” he mumbles into your skin before his mouth switches sides. Your hands are in his hair, gently tugging and scratching over his scalp and the way he occasionally groans and grunts at your actions you know he likes it. You wish you weren’t shoved inside the back of his pickup right now. Oh the things you would let his mouth do to you if you weren’t…

After long minutes of attention spent on your breasts his mouth is finally back on yours. He moans into you when his tongue wraps around yours again and you decide to play a little dirty yourself and wrap your lips around his tongue and suck it into your mouth, just for a moment and then you release. You feel his hardened cock twitch against your hip when he grinds it into you.

“Tell me what you want, Baby” he asks between ragged breaths as his lips create a hot trail of open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone.

You decide to show him, rather than tell him, and reach for his right hand and bring it underneath your dress to the aching need between your thighs and he practically growls into your throat when he feels the damp spot that’s already formed on your panties.

“Oh my god” he groans, taking his first two fingers and rubbing your lower lips over the soft, soaked lace.

“Oh fuck, Frankie, you feel so good” you whine, not caring how wrecked you sound already.

His mouth covers yours again, his kiss hungry and needy as his fingers bravely dip under the waistline of your panties to finally touch your naked sex and push through the warm slick folds.

“Oh my god, make me come baby, please. Fuck.” You beg, your hands wrapping around his neck again and grabbing on for dear life. It’s been far too long and Frankie is quickly unraveling you into a mewling desperate mess.

“I’ve got you, Hermosa” Frankie promises, his breath hot against your ear now and you don’t doubt that he does. His skilled digits are already driving you crazy and he’s barely begun. Maybe it’s because it’s been a while, or maybe Frankie just really knows his way around a pussy.

He plunges two fingers inside of you and you cry out at the welcomed intrusion, whimpering into his shoulder at how he’s nearly got you undone already.

“God you feel fucking amazing” he groans into your heated flesh.

“Fuck Frankie, don’t stop, please” you whimper.

He doesn’t. His fingers continue their torturous assault, pumping in and out of you and occasionally coming out to rub tight little circles around your small bundle of nerves that causes your arm to shoot up in the air, palm of your hand pushing hard against the ceiling of the truck cab as your impending orgasm lingers threateningly.

“Let me touch you, please” you beg and Frankie growls in response before his free hand goes to his pants and nearly rips them open so he can push them down to his thighs and your hand immediately wraps around his throbbing length.

“Holy shit” you breathe. Your fingers failing to quite reach all the way around his impressive girth. He’s warm and heavy in your hand, precum steadily leaking from the head that you gather in your hand to use to coat down the rest of his length.

“Christ” Frankie grunts, unable to stop himself from thrusting his hips once to fuck into your hand. “Shit I’m sorry it’s um, been a while” he confesses shyly and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“For me too” you tell him, easing his nerves. “God Frankie, I’m so close”

With that he pulls his hand away from you for only a moment, bringing it to his mouth to wet his fingers with his tongue and then they’re back on your clit, experimenting between rubbing and circling and pressing and even lightly pinching until he finds out exactly what makes you squirm under him and he doubles his efforts, working you faster and faster with the pads of his fingertips until you’re coming hard and fast with his name on your lips as you rock into his hand to chase the pressure of his touch.

“Oh fuck, that’s it” Frankie groans into the hollow of your throat, his fingers sticky and slick with your release. “God you’re so beautiful” he praises, pressing kisses to every inch of flesh he can reach.

His fingers continue to languidly stroke through your folds, easing you down from your high while his own breathing picks up at your continued actions below; practiced strokes of your hand wrapped around him while your thumb occasionally ghosts over his slit, gathering the evidence of his arousal and smearing it all over the thick and sensitive head.

“Fuck, I’m close” he warns, eyes screwed shut in concentration, his forehead now resting against yours. “Fuck!” He curses again and then quickly sits up on his knees, causing your hand to fall away from him and he takes himself in hand to finish himself off, not wanting to make a mess all over you or your pretty dress. Not having much option he yanks his shirt up instead and coats his own stomach with white hot ropes of his release until he’s left heaving and panting on his knees before you, free hand clutched tight on your knee beside him, fingers digging in deep enough you think they’ll leave bruises.

You’ll wear them like a badge of honor.

“Shit,” he breathes and then huffs out a little laugh. His eyes dart around for a moment and then he reaches into the little pocket on the back of the front passengers seat and pulls out a somewhat squished little pack of wet wipes (one of the conveniences of having a small child you presume, always lots of supplies around that adults might not otherwise think of keeping handy) and grabs a couple sheets and wipes up the mess he made of himself before shoving the wipes back into the pocket. You’re staring up at him, tip of your pointer finger between your teeth and a coy grin playing on your lips.

That was by far the absolute hottest make out session you’d ever had. Where has Frankie Morales been all your life, and what had you done to deserve him now?

“Are you still OK? That was… OK?” He asks and it’s sweet how he doesn’t even know how badly he just rocked your whole world.

“Ten out of ten would recommend” you retort teasingly, lifting your foot to push gently at his hip and he rolls his eyes playfully and lands a little swat to your thigh.

“Smartass. Maybe I oughta trade you in for Benny after all” he quips. “Get a lot less lip I bet”

“Hmm, but probably a lot less tongue too” you tease right back and he groans as you yank him down on top of you by his collar once more.

You’re not quite finished with Frankie Morales just yet.

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