#what if that's the straw that breaks the camel's back for me!!!

[ancientnames]

lowkey scared Lord Huron is gonna release another album and I won't even be able to listen to it. like at all. whatsoever. bc I know that if I listen to it I'll have a wholeass Breakdown and I cannot handle that right now

[serpentface]

What’s the Janeys/Brakul death scenario?

So like upon review I mostly just was going to kill them off for Couya + Faiza + Hibrides’ character development (#FEMINIST WIN!!!!!!!).

The background situation of their death scenario is something that will happen either way:

Throughout the story, the pilgrimage requests tribute from the towns it passes through (mainly food and other supplies). This is a common practice for pilgrimages and the travels of royalty, and Imperial Wardi civilians are used to the concept (just not so much during a famine). Some people give fully willingly (a lot of people believe in the pilgrimage's goals/and or the necessity to keep its high status participants fed), most are at least partly coerced (usually not via direct threats, but the pilgrimage contains a couple hundred soldiers, the Usoma, and Odonii leadership. The threat is implied), some are Fully coerced via threats.

In the latter third of the story things are not going well. There’s been a lot of internal struggles among the soldiers and dissatisfaction with pilgrimage leadership (mostly Stavis), men are starting to defect and a large body are getting outright mutinous. The group has also lost much of their food supplies and things are getting desperate (they've been starting to eat their own pack khait and oxen)

With this going on, the pilgrimage sends three soldiers to exact tribute from a farming village in the province Lobera. They meet a group of men acting as representatives for the village, who flat out refuse to give tribute. Things escalate into an outright fight, the soldiers are better armed but few in number and are killed.

One of the village elders finds out that this happens and panics, knowing that the men who killed three of the Usoma’s soldiers (one of which is her son) have signed their own death sentences, and possibly that of others. She attempts to persuade the families to preemptively flee, and then takes the village's one remaining skinny old plow ox to carry the bodies of the dead soldiers back to where the pilgrimage is camped. She supplicates herself before Stavis Amanti and begs for mercy, saying they don't even have enough food stored to feed themselves, much less to give, and that the men thus considered the killings righteous self defense. She shows that she’s returned the bodies for rites as an act of goodwill, and offers the ox in tribute, the most valuable thing she can provide. She begs that the Usoma accepts this as tribute and spares the men's lives, and that the pilgrimage moves on without taking anything else.

Stavis bids her safe passage away from the camp (without confirming or denying that he's accepted her plea), and the heads of pilgrimage confer on what to do. The killing of the soldiers is a violation punishable by death, but this would be like, a notably bad PR move. Meanwhile a contingent of soldiers (including some major side characters I haven’t introduced) break off and lead a raid on the village to avenge their fallen brothers and loot supplies. Others get drawn into the fighting, and it devolves into a full on massacre.

A couple families had fled at the elder’s suggestion, but most refused to leave their homes. Some of the villagers believed they would be left unharmed if the killers were given up, others had been preparing for a reprisal and armed themselves with everything available. But they have few actual weapons and none are trained combatants. All of the remaining men and adolescent boys get killed, one woman manages to take out a soldier using a shovel but is killed, most of the other women and girls are spared murder but several are assaulted. The village is looted for supplies and kindling for funeral pyres.

Stavis Amanti has no fucking idea what to do. The soldiers defied orders and killed Imperial Wardi civilians, but the current climate amid the pilgrimage would make it EXTREMELY Bad for him if he demanded their punishment (but also potentially very bad if he didn't- not all the soldiers participated in the massacre and many were horrified). Faiza encourages him to exert authority in a measured response by having the ringleader of the mutineers killed but sparing the rest, and offers to publicly back him in hopes of avoiding full on mutiny.

The raid reveals that the villagers had been hiding more grain than they claimed they had (as in like, enough to feed their people on starvation level rations for a few weeks). Stavis takes this as an opportunity to justify not punishing the mutineers (as the villagers DID technically have something to give, and execution IS technically the punishment for refusing the order of tribute (though not execution of the entire community)), but insists that their Galenii bless the village dead and their men build pyres for the civilians as is honorable conduct. (This attempt to make amends is not particularly appreciated by the survivors.)

The pilgrimage holds a funeral for their own dead soldiers. The village ox that was given in tribute is killed and butchered for the funerary feast.

----

In the Bury Your Gays route, Brakul is one of the three that gets killed during the tribute extraction. Janeys loses his fucking mind when his body is brought back, and tries to slit his own throat on the spot. Couya stops him by wrestling him to the ground while Janeys screams threats at her and the old woman in a very pathetic public spectacle. He is deprived of all sharp objects.

While the pilgrimage leaders are conferring, he hovers miserably around Hibrides (who is also not feeling so great about all this). He's suddenly very interested in her pregnancy for the first time ever, asks to feel the baby (which has been just starting to kick). She's like "fuck off", but he strongly implies he's planning to commit suicide asap and she concedes and then is like Okay I Let You Feel The Goddamn Baby Now Leave Me Alone Holy FUCK.

Janeys turns his attention to fucking murdering anyone tangentially involved in this happening. He’s among the initial raid party, plays a major hand in it turning from its ostensible 'find and execute the ones responsible, subdue the rest, steal their food' directive to a full massacre by directing his men to immediately attack the first man he sees. He and his group capture three young men as prisoners and demand that they be slain at the soldier's funerals as is wartime custom (this isn't wartime). Janeys additionally demands that he should get to do it, as the only kin of any of the dead men. Once that's done he immediately cuts his own throat and bleeds out. They wind up getting cremated at the same time so things work out how Janeys wanted it.

At one point I realized that this is kind of just The Iliad?

----

So like obviously whether they die here or not has little impact on THESE events, but a lot of the endgame revolves around Couya Faiza and Hibrides and these deaths would be very significant to THEM in varying capacities. It affects the trajectory of the final stretch of their arcs and adds a lot of layers to the ultimate Couya/Faiza conflict. I also liked their deaths being kind of random and shitty and meaningless because that in of itself is kinda ~thematically resonant~ with the story. (A lot of tension between the lack of intrinsic meaning to events and the profound levels of meaning ascribed to them).

I'm almost definitely not going with this version of events though. Janeys and Brakul don't have much active involvement in the endgame and don't Really need to be alive for it as it stands, but I think the version where every main character (except Faiza she's doomed) survives to see What Has Been Wrought and living to experience the fallout ultimately works better.

[dyvimwhitehart]

[FURTHER COMPLICATES YOUNG WIZARD'S LIFE] is so real and true btw . i love complicating my yw's life. put that wizard in situations

PUT THAT WIZARD IN SITUATIONS 2K24‼️

no fr one of my favorite things about everyone having their own young wizard oc is watching all the different ways we ruin our wizard’s lives. please feel free to tell me how YOU 🫵 have contributed to your child soldier’s stress at any time

[saints-who-never-existed]

Still thinking about Jopson after the other day and I feel like there's a wee bit similarity between he and David Young that I want to discuss and weep over more.

Young clearly had an incredibly difficult, poverty-stricken upbringing 'at the Foundlings' and it shows in the way that just keeps on trucking until he breaks down completely. Enduring all the hardships and misery of Victorian Britain had been ruining his health so much from the day he was born and had been doing it so insidiously that he didn't even think much of all the horrible symptoms of illness that had been inflicting him. They were simply par for the course. He'd been enduring them all his life.

And I think Jopson's deterioration very much echoes all of that. We know he's from a working class background and endured many hardships throughout his life also whether it be, again, the usual awful vagaries of the time period or the additional mental/emotional stress related to his mother.

Like Young, Jopson seems to just keep on trucking until he breaks down completely. One minute we see him help to lift a whole adult man into a whaleboat and then, seemingly in the blink of an eye, there he is in bed going downhill fast. It's not hard to imagine that his hard life would also have had him thinking little of the horrors his body was going through and being destroyed by.

It's not hard to imagine that he also had been enduring those kinds of things all his life...

[momentomori24]

I don't believe liking immoral and downright evil characters says anything about you as a person, but I think acting like this definitely does.

"The HH fanbase will defend Valentinoto the moon and back" this and "Val is praised by a majority of the fandom" that, except said majority of the fandom fucking HATES that moth and fans have been harassed, had their art scribbled on to "fix" it, repeatedly called "rapist apologists" and "abuse romanticisers", get questioned or accused about condoning him irl, received graphic death/rape threats and are in general mistreated by the fandom. A Val cosplayer was mistreated and had a gun pulled on them IN REAL LIFE not even a year ago. Even the VA got repeatedly asked or assumed to be like the character he plays because "why else would he want to voice a rapist??" and told they deserve for choosing that role (fucking WILD btw). People that like Valentino as a character are the minority of the fandom, and even there NO ONE defends him. We all realise he's a disgusting individual whose actions shouldn't be defended in any capacity. What kinda bullshit lie is that?

I'm also in the Mouthwashing fandom, and it too has a bunch of issues. Infantilising Curly and minimising his actions, making Swansea to be better than he actually is and ignoring that he knew of the SA, people still debating or not realising that Jimmy raped Anya in the first place, shipping Jimmy and Curly (which isn't even a bad thing or a real problem but this person would see it that way), ect. But sure, conveniently don't bring that up. Anything for the Hazbin Hotel hate, right 💀

These next comments especially piss me off (nevermind how they're talking about an abuse survivor which is gross already). This might be a hot take and I don't care if that's the case, but I think people refusing to call Jimmy by name and excluding him from the cast is not show of a "good" fandom, actually. Jimmy has a lot more to him besides being a rapist. Rape culture, toxic masculinity, capitalistic exploitation, misogyny, male dominance-- there's sooo much more to explore and discuss about his character besides him being a rapist. And he's an incredibly disturbing character in a fucking horror game. If you can only refer to him by some stupid nickname (which takes away the seriousness of his character imo), ignore the significance of his role and themes in the story and the rest of his character and reduce him to a single trait that's BAD. That's not a good thing, and in fact, probably makes you worse than the people that do like his character because they can at least separate fiction and reality and not scrap well written disturbing characters for the sake of "comfort" or moral standing (again, in a horror game of all things). People shouldn't feel bad for liking Jimmy because he's a very good character, and ignoring that completely and acting like there aren't people who could like him... kinda sucks?

Moving over, Valentino is not and has NEVER been portrayed in a positive light in the show. I can't wrap my head around people that genuinely think that. Whenever I hear people say that the arguments I always see are "he shouldn't be attractive" and "he's just a cartoon villain" and "he acts silly and quirky even tho he's a rapist" among other things, and I don't think these people realise they're spouting eugenics bullshit and demonstrating that they don't know anything about his character simultaneously. No, Valentino isn't a "positive" portrayal of a rapist because he's attractive (way to tie morality to appearance btw). No, Valentino isn't a positive portrayal of a rapist because he acts goofy and funny and silly. Those traits are intentional and important to his character. Val is the Overlord of lust and depravity, hell's most famous pimp. His beauty is how he lures in unsuspecting sinners, and his personality is how he gains their trust and gets them to sell their souls for him to exploit (notice how Angel signed his soul away willingly). He's supposed to be appealing. He's supposed to be charming. He's entire persona is meant to be disarming. If he were like Jimmy or just a one-note unlikeable guy, his position in the show and his relationships with the characters wouldn't make sense, so he isn't. That doesn't make him a more positive portrayal or anything, it just means he's more fleshed out and written more complex than you want him to be. He's a very real depiction of an abuser, of their two-faced nature and how being attractive and charming to others doesn't make you less of an abusive monster to someone else. For context, I have been abused by someone extremely similar to Val, so his depiction feels very real to me and it's extremely tiring seeing a bunch of assholes who have probably not even seen the show or have been abused act like he's "romanticised" or "unrealistic" or "bad" simply because he was written by Vivziepop (who's ALSO an SA survivor like what is wrong with you 💀).

This is a broader point and not entirely related to this specific case, but we don't give people shit like this over people liking murderers and serial killers-- acting like all a sudden liking a rapist character says something negative about their writing or about the people that like them is INCREDIBLY stupid. People don't talk like this about Alastor and Vox-- who are both VERY despicable people. Both of them are also abusers among other horrible things, but they're not (or at least Alastor isn't) rapists so they're "not as bad". This is a sentiment I see all the time in both the fandom and hatedom whenever Valentino discourse comes back up, and this line of logic that rapists are a unique evil that can't be liked as characters in fiction but murderers and cannibals and serial killers are totally Ok is so dangerous and backwards. Liking evil characters says nothing about you as a person aside from the fact that you're a freak in the fun way. Liking evil characters but then going after others who do as well because you consider their character "too evil" and watering down the crimes of yours to justify liking them says a lot about you tho. Saying that the characters you like says something negative you in general does too.

We seriously need to stop bringing morality into fiction and saying that "normal" people wouldn't like certain immoral characters. We need to stop ostracising people for their "problematic" ships, proudly brag about ostracising them and justify it by calling them "weirdos". We need to stop saying villains are "badly written" because they're not written how YOU want them to be written, regardless of whether or not that opinion is valid (which in this case it isn't). We need to stop putting fandoms in some weird competition with each other about how characters are written and spit on people who actually enjoy them, are comforted by them or felt seen by them (gestures at the whole Angel dust situation barely a week ago). And honestly we need to stop giving attention to people like this, who spread a false narrative and kick others down for being fans of a media they don't like or know squat about for whatever reason. Who spread lies about the media or fandom in question in way that's blatantly in bad faith.

This crappy post is sitting a 17k while I'm typing this. The way people can just say ANYTHING about Hazbin Hotel and its fandom-- doesn't matter if it's valid or true or if they watched the show or know anything about the fandom at all, it just has to be negative-- and others will eat it up no questions asked needs to be studied at this point. We saw that in the months the show first aired. We saw that with the Angel Dust video. We're seeing this again here. I don't think we should be harassing anybody over fiction and in general (and needless to say don't harass any of these people) but calling out bad actors who pull shit like this more often and making it uncool to shittalk Hazbin Hotel and its fandom (and any fandom from unapologetically dark media where the people deal with enough bullshit already) for no reason and in bad faith is a change I'd be down with. Like, wash your mouth of its name and disappear into the shadow realm, goddamnit.

[tohrus]

welp . due to "unforeseen" circumstances, imma have to leave my toxic ass household :D

[imma-lil-sunshy]

I've been forgetting like regular everyday words and stopping mid sentence a lot lately. ... googling if I should be concerned

[vvelegrin]

squidward voice i am NOT 'on the mend' and i NEVER WILL BE so stop CHECKING UP ON ME

[astarlightmonbebe]

it was a day. and there was anxiety too.

[floatyflowers]

Dark Genderbend Cruella De Ville x Soft-Hearted! Reader

In a dimly lit, luxurious office, Cruell paced back and forth, his soft bi-colored hair cascading over his shoulders.

His dark brown eyes, usually filled with mockery and disdain, now burned with pure anger from the fact that he is waiting for his new late secretary.

The door to the study creaked open, and you, a young, curious individual, stepped in.

The air filled with tension, as the fashion disgner's eyes locked on the you, like a predator sizing up its prey, ready to attack.

"You're late," Cruella growled, her voice a sultry, smoky whisper.

You flushed, nervously adjusting your clothing.

"I'm sorry, it was the traffic and I-"

"The Traffic? Really? you chose to use an elementary school excuse for your deliberate negligence, how pathetic."

His insult caused your eyes to glisten with tears, as his words were the straw that broke the camel's back for you today.

And under any stress, you break into tears, yet you try your hardest to hold it in fear of getting fired.

You have been told that in career fields nobody considers your feelings, and that you need to handle pressure if you wish to survive.

And Cruell seems like the perfect example to step on you without any care.

You gulped, feeling the weight of his disapproval, as you quickly plead with him.

"Please, Mr. De Vil, give me a chance to make it up to you, I'll work twice as hard to ensure everything is perfect for your next collection."

"You are danse in every way possible to think that I will allow a naive stupid girl like you near my work"

At his words, you break down completely.

"I'm sorry, I know I'm not the best... I will leave right now"

The fashion designer stays silent for a minute before smirking.

"I will give you a chance, but not to become my secretary, no, I want you for a much greater cause"

You wipe your tears before looking up at him with hope in your eyes and asking.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to become my wife"

Your eyes widens in shock at his proposal.

"What if I don't want to become your wife, Mr. De Vil?" you ask with curiosity, not trying to tease him.

Cruell narrows his eyes at you, chuckling in disbelief.

"I will destroy your life and reputation to the point where nobody accepts you in work nor social life"

That's how you end up as the wife of the villainous fashion designer.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

"Big Girls Cry Too"

The LADS Men walking in on you having a good cry after bottling everything up and that one bad day at work was the final straw. Look even the baddest bitches cry doesn’t change the fact that mc (all of us) is still the baddest. [Requested by: Anon]

Zayne

Zayne: Are you hurt?

MC: I'm just tired

Zayne: Did you not sleep well last night?

MC: Mentally Zayne im just.....I don't know

Zayne: Talk to me what’s troubling you?

MC: I can’t find the words

Zayne: Well then just say anything I'll piece it together as you go

MC: I just .... I feel so ..... but I can't .. and today was just ..... I don't know

Zayne: You're just overworking yourself to keep your mind off your grandma and Caleb but you want a break however you can't seem to catch one and today was the straw that broke the camels back?

MC: What are you a mind reader?

Zayne: No I'm an MC reader

He would sit with you and hold you in his arms while you were a blubbering mess.

Zayne: I'll stay right here for as long as you need

Rafayel

Rafayel: I told you to stop abandoning me for that place look what its done to you

MC: Not now Raf im tired

Rafayel: I know

MC: So stop making jokes

Rafayel: Do you want to talk about it?

MC: No

Rafayel: Do you want me to leave?

MC: *sniffles* No

Rafayel: Good I wasn’t going to *throws you over his shoulder*

MC: Where are we going?!

Rafayel: For a swim it always makes me feel better

MC: I just want to lay in bed

Rafayel: Trust me a dip in the water with me is like free therapy

MC: ….

Rafayel: You trust me?

MC: I trust you

Rafayel: Good I'll do anything to see those tears stop

MC: You’re too good to me

Rafayel: Next time you need to cry call me … I have two shoulders just for you

Xavier

Xavier: Who upset you?

MC: Everything

Xavier: I can’t fight everything

MC: Why not I’m tired of it all

Xavier: What’s going on?

MC: I just need a good cry from time to time

Xavier: How often is ‘time to time’

MC: …..twice a week

Xavier: Come here

MC: *lays on top of Xavier as he rubs your back*

Xavier: Feeling better?

MC: actually ….. yea …. Is this why you lay on me all the time?

Xavier: You’re like a human battery recharger … my personal charger

MC: Are you sad every time ?

Xavier: Not every time but sometimes

MC: Oh I never noticed

Xavier: That’s because being around you makes me happy

MC: Can I lay here for a while ….. please

Xavier: Will that make you happy?

MC: *sniffles & nods*

Xavier: I’ll be your human body pillow whenever you want

Sylus

Sylus: Are you crying?

MC: *sniffles* no

Sylus: You’re a terrible liar sweetie

MC: I had a tough day at work

Sylus: A tough day at work huh?

MC: ….yea

Sylus: Sweetie it’s okay to cry in front of me I know you’ve been bottling up your emotions

MC: You don’t know anything

Sylus: I know this will help *Starts giving you a scalp massage*

MC: You don’t know if it’s helping …… but don’t stop

Sylus: I didn’t plan to …. come here

Sylus takes a seat on the bed and moves you to straddle his lap. You lay your head on his shoulder while he continues to massage your scalp with one hand and rub your back with the other.

MC: Don’t you have work to do?

Sylus: You are always a top priority princess

[the-everqueen]

wow. maybe raising your kid with a religion that's supposed to hinge on unconditional love but instead making it very very clear that all love is actually intensely conditional will seriously fuck them up.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Your Witch (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: It's your hand in marriage in return for ending the terror against your town, and your parents have decided. The Witch of the Westview Woods is to be your wife. No matter how much you might protest.

Words: 7k

Warnings: Arranged marriage, shades of self harm, toxic family relationships, virgin R, oral (R receiving), shades of a praise kink

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme@grilledcheeseandguavajelly

“I will not.”

You glared at your parents, arms crossed over your chest, lips pursed. Anger was coursing through your veins, hot and acute, making you vibrate. You had to keep from growling at them, or lashing out. This was a level of disrespect you weren’t willing to live with. This was a step too far. This was the straw that was breaking the camel’s back.

“It’s already been arranged,” your father said, his arm around your mother’s shoulder, providing a united front.

“I won’t,” you said.

“It’s your duty,” your father said.

“Duty?” you scoffed, “and what of your duty as my parents?”

“What would you have us do?” your mother demanded.

“Not sell me off like some farm animal for your own comfort,” you spat.

“The Witch of the Westview Woods has made her request clear. If we give her you she will leave our town alone,” your father said.

“I doubt she even knows who I am,” you muttered.

“You are more than aware of your reputation in town. She made her choice. You are to be hers and in exchange our safety will be ensured. You should feel honoured to be serving our town,” your father said.

“I’d be more honoured if I wasn’t the sacrificial lamb,” you said, “you would never have agreed to this if it was James she asked for.”

Your younger brother was the favourite. You knew it. You parents knew it. Everyone knew it. If the Witch had demanded him, your father would have fought tooth and nail to keep him. But the moment it was you being asked for, he was shoving you out the door. James was the heir, you were just a measly daughter. No one needed you except to increase the social status of your family.

No wonder you were being sold off to the first witch that came along.

“And I don’t see why it has to be a marriage,” you said before they could give a half hearted excuse.

“We’re not risking you running off after you’ve been collected by her,” he said.

“I can run off when I’m married to her,” you muttered.

“You’ll do no such thing,” your mother snapped, “now, stop this silliness. This a show of good faith. An exchange. She receives something precious to us in return for our safety.”

“You don’t have to pretend as if you’re not excited about this,” you said.

“It’s a great honour to be chosen by her,” she said.

“Then you do it!.”

You stomped away, hiking your skirt up to speed up. Slamming your bedroom door behind you, you let the entire household know exactly how you felt. Falling back on the bed, you buried your face in your pillow and screamed.

The Witch of the Westview Woods had been terrorising your town for as long as anyone could remember. Children stolen in the night, fires set, storms tearing the roofs off homes. Floods and locusts and droughts. One thing after another that no one should be capable of. But she had magic and no matter who was sent to slay her, she triumphed.

And you were being handed right to her.

If you survived to the years end you would be surprised. It made no sense for you to be the exact thing that would save the town. If it all it took was marrying her, how hard could it be to vanquish her?

This whole thing reeked of something. You just wish you knew what it was.

And yet you found yourself being shoved into a white dress the next afternoon, your hair pinned tight enough to bring on a headache and makeup painted over your face. Poked and prodded, your mother’s servants got you ready for the moment your life was going to end.

Walking towards the church, your father was your guard, his hand around your arm keeping you from slipping away and living life as a vagrant. Anything would be better than the fate that awaited you at the end of that alter.

The organ music began and on heavy feet you were dragged down the aisle. Fuming, you refused to even look at your bride as you were forced to stand in front of her. You were slow to drag your gaze up her body, over her bare feet and deep purple skirts, over her laced up bodice and into bright blue eyes. Your mouth fell open, shocked by the woman staring back you with an assessing gaze and lips curling up into a smile.

This was not a wild hag living in the woods. This was a woman beautiful enough to steal your breath. This was a problem.

One way or another, the Witch of the Westview Woods was going to kill you.

Her voice was husky as she repeated the vows, blue eyes burning you as her gaze rested on your face. You stumbled through your own vows, the wind taken out of your sails. The anger had fizzled out in the face of this woman, so unexpected, so unlike anything you could have anticipated.

Her hand took yours, warm and steady where you felt unbalanced. She slipped the ring on your finger, the cool metal heavy and you found yourself having to swallow past a lump in your throat. You whispered your I do and then her hand was grasping yours and she was dragging you out of the chapel.

“Come on, hon,” she said, “we have a wedding night to get to.”

Your cheeks heated.

You didn’t even glance back at your family as she practically flew out of town. Her hand was steady in yours, gripping tight enough to hurt. She plunged into the forest, branches whipping at you. Any time you stumbled, her strong arm would curl around your waist and steady you before taking off again.

The house that emerged from the trees was small, a cottage covered in ivy, plants snarled together in the garden, a soft light glowing in the window. She shoved the door open, pulling you into the interior of the home. It was comfortable, a fire burning in the hearth. Books were in tumbling piles and there was an armchair draped in a soft looking blanket. She dropped your hand, stepping further into her home.

“Home sweet home,” she hummed.

She flopped down into her armchair, grinning up at you. You hesitated at the door, the lace of your dress scratching at your skin, buttons pinching, too tight to breathe properly. She was watching you from behind wild hair, assessing you.

“Are you going to stand there all night?” she asked.

“No,” you said, taking a step forward.

“C’mere, hon,” she said.

On unsure feet you drew closer to her. Long fingers reached out, snagging on the skirt of your dress, the lace dirty and ripped from your flight through the forest. Her fingers ran over the material, looking up at you from under lowered lashes.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to slip into something more comfortable?” she asked, voice a low rumble that had your knees turning to jelly.

“I didn’t bring anything with me,” you said.

“Even better.” She brightened, “do you need any help?”

You squeaked, cheeks aflame as your eyes widened and your mouth fell open. She chuckled, falling back to slouch in the chair.

“Feel free to wear anything you find upstairs,” she said, nodding towards the stairs.

You lingered a moment before making your way upstairs. It was only one room, a large bed dominating the room. You skirted around it, doing your best to ignore it. The wardrobe had clothes spilling out, a mishmash of materials, all in shades of purple.

You tore the buttons from the dress, doing your best to get out of it. You didn’t bother trying to be careful, never wanting to see the torture device again. Reaching in, you grabbed the first dress you could find. Lilac was not a colour you were often given over to wearing, but you supposed it was the best you had. You opened the window, throwing your heels outside into the garden, your feet thanking you for it.

Padding downstairs on bare feet, you found the Witch curled up in the chair, a book open in her lap. A bunny hopped past and you found yourself smiling.

“Señor Scratchy likes you,” she said without even glancing up from the page she was reading.

“You have a pet bunny?” you asked.

“Every witch has to have a familiar,” she replied.

“Is that a rule or a guideline?” you wondered.

Her gaze finally dragged up to you and something in it darkened, sweeping over you in her dress. You froze but her grin was pleased.

“Well, aren’t you a vision in purple,” she purred.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

Lingering by the stairs you let her look her fill. Your weight shifted from foot to foot, not quite sure what she’d be expecting from you. It was your wedding night. You knew how these things usually went.

“Do you cook?” she asked once she was done.

“Do I…? I can,” you answered.

“Good because I’ve been missing that skill for more years than is polite,” she said.

“I can do that,” you said, nodding to yourself.

The kitchen was small and pokey, washing up needing to be done before you could even begin cooking. Having something to do with your hands made it easier being in that cottage. You could focus on that rather than the woman in the other room.

She was nothing like you’d expected. She was hardly the horrifying figure of legend you’d spent your entire life hearing about. She wasn’t even particularly mean as far as you could tell. Disarming, flirty, overwhelming, sure. She was all those things. But not horrifying.

You passed her a plate of food once you were done, doing your best with the ingredients you could find. She didn’t look up, taking it from you, fingers picking at the food. You lowered yourself onto the rug in front of the fire, eating your own meal.

“Not bad,” she muttered, mouth half full of food.

You looked up from the flickering flames, watching her eat. She hardly had the manners that had been drilled into you by your mother. Eating with her hands, she tore through the meat with her teeth, looking half wild. Her eyes were roving over the pages of her book, not paying you any attention.

The sky had darkened outside the window, the only light coming from the lamp lit beside her and the fire you were sitting in front of. The light played over the planes of her face, cheeks sunk beneath sharp cheekbones, eyes shadowed, skin pale. She truly was beautiful.

Maybe you could make this marriage work.

“You’re staring,” Her voice was a low rumble.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“Just say whatever is going through your pretty little head,” she said, finally looking up at you.

She pinned you under her gaze. Her tongue dragged along her lips, and you found yourself considering all the things that tongue could do. Your cheeks flamed and you had to remind yourself this was a woman who went out of her way to hurt people.

“You’re not what I was expecting,” you blurted out.

“Were you hoping for some wizened old crone?” she asked.

“The stories were hazy. No one’s seen you in a while,” you replied, “and you’ve been around a while so…”

“So you naturally assumed I would be ravaged by the hands of time,” she said, “aren’t you lucky I wasn’t.”

You pressed your lips together, fingers wringing at your skirts. You hadn’t anticipated flirting. You hadn’t prepared for it. You hadn’t figured out how to respond to it.

“Aren’t you just adorable,” she hummed, “I promise I’ll make you a very happy wife.”

The implication of her words sent a spark of heat through your veins, right between your legs. If she kept talking in that voice, it would be so easy to ignore all the evil acts she’d done and let her have her way with you. No one in your town had ever elicited this reaction in you.

“Yes, that’s the look,” she said, “I picked well.”

She settled back in her chair, smirking at you. You ducked your head, not able to handle her scrutiny. Although, if the way your heart was racing was any indication, the wedding night with your new bride wouldn’t be as bad as you’d thought it would be.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you stood, collecting her empty plate from the arm of her chair. Washing up, you ignored the sound of her in the other woman. This was hardly the life you were expecting to have for yourself. Even in the last 24 hours, you’d grown used to the idea of spending your life with a hag whose company you could never enjoy.

The Witch had turned out to be both beautiful and charming, if not incredibly disarming.

“Come here, hon,” she called through the door.

On unsure feet, you returned to her. She was standing by the fire, staring down into it. You paused behind her, waiting.

“It’s been a long day. You must be tired,” she said.

“I suppose,” you said.

“Come on. Bed time.”

Her hand slipped into yours, tugging you up the stairs. Anticipation curled in your stomach. It wouldn’t be so bad. You might even enjoy it. With the Witch. And not the hag you’d been expecting. There would be no need to close your eyes and think of something else as she got on with it.

“Here,” she said, shoving a gauzy piece of fabric at you.

“You want me to change?” you asked, staring down at it.

“Unless you want to sleep in that dress, but I promise you that will be more comfortable,” she said.

“Oh.”

“Sleep well, hon,” she said, one foot already on the top stair.

“You’re not staying?” you asked.

She paused, eyes sweeping over you.

“I appreciate the enthusiasm, but you should get your rest,” she said.

She left you standing by the bed, clutching a negligee, wondering what you’d done wrong. Trying to ignore your disappointment, you changed into the nightdress, the lace and gauzy material sexier than anything you’d owned back home. You left those thoughts, slipping into the large bed. It was comfortable, more so than you’d been expecting, the blankets soft and warm, the sheets smooth. Laying your head on one of the pillows, you stared up at the ceiling.

Many hours passed, alone in the bed, ears straining for the sound of the Witch down below. The stairs creaked as she climbed them, padding on soft feet. You closed your eyes, not wanting to be caught disobeying orders. The soft thump of fabric hitting the floor, a shuffle, and then the mattress was dipping beside you.

“Does the bed not meet your standards?” she asked into the darkness.

You sighed, eyes blinking open.

“It’s very comfortable,” you said.

“Were you waiting for me?”

The bed shifted. Her warmth brushed against you and a hand slid over your waist. You stiffened, then forced yourself to relax. This was more what you were expecting. Touches and a bed and the cover of darkness.

“Relax, hon,” she whispered, the hand retreating.

You turned your head, staring at her in the darkness. She rolled over, presenting her back to you, leaving you nothing back dark hair to look at. You watched her breathe for a moment.

“What should I call you?” you whispered across the distance.

“What?” She rolled to look at you.

“I can’t keep calling you the Witch,” you said, “I don’t know your name.”

“Huh.” She rolled back to where she was before, not giving you an answer.

You watched her for a moment more before you sighed. Rolling over, keeping your back to her, you closed your eyes and did your best to relax.

“Agatha,” she whispered. You froze, “my name is Agatha.”

You settled down, holding her name close to your heart, like it was something precious. No one in town knew her name. This was just for you.

From that day you settled into some kind of routine with Agatha. You’d wake early while she luxuriated in bed long after the sun had risen. You’d clean and cook and tend to the garden, doing all you could to turn her cottage into a home. Agatha would swan in and out of the house, sometimes gone for hours, singing under her breath, or muttering curses.

In the evenings, she’d curl up in her chair and you’d sit on the rug, whiling away the hours in companionable silence. You’d embroider or begin the process of drying herbs, or stare at the flames as you thought with Señor Scratchy in your lap.

You hadn’t been back to town, nor had you heard from your family. They’d well and truly abandoned you the moment you’d said I do. Truth be told, you weren’t sure you wanted to see them. They’d given you up so easily and clearly weren’t missing you. In your cottage deep within the Westview Woods, you were comfortable and safe and calm. You knew your place and you were never forced to do anything you didn’t want to do.

Sometimes you’d catch Agatha watching you. Blue eyes peering out the window as you worked at taming the garden or glancing up from a book as you cuddled with Señor Scratchy. Each time it made you self conscious but you never asked her about it. The relationship was tenuous at best. You didn’t want to upset her.

She would still flirt with you and she still seemed to gain enjoyment from flustering you. But she wasn’t doing anything to treat you like a real wife. You had no clue what it was she was getting out of this arrangement other than a maid. If that was what she’d wanted, she could have just asked for it. The wedding wasn’t necessary.

And yet you were her wife and you would be until one of you died.

It took about a month before you cracked open one of her books one night. You had no idea what she could be reading and your curiosity got the better of you in a moment of boredom. Looking down at the page, the incomprehensible symbols made no sense to you. Flicking through more and more pages, you tried to understand.

“Interested in magic?” she asked.

Startled, you dropped the book. Apologising, you snatched it up, turning to look at her. She was standing in the doorway, night pressing in behind her, returned from wherever it was she disappeared to for those long hours. There was an errant leaf tangled in her hair. Standing, she froze as you reached out, tugging it free and throwing it behind her, out the door.

You hadn’t realised how close you’d gotten to her. Her face was so close to yours you could count the shades of blue in her eyes. Your breath froze in your chest and you stilled.

“It’s not safe to learn magic on your own,” she whispered, reaching for the book in your hand.

You let her take it without argument, a sense of shame from being caught reminding you how this conversation had started. You stepped away from her, putting distance between the two of you. After weeks together, you thought her ability to fluster you with just her presence were gone, but your heart was thundering and you felt breathless.

“If you’re looking for a mentor, I’m more than happy to teach you,” she said, voice softening.

“You’d teach me magic?” you asked.

“What are wives for?” she said, sweeping into the room, depositing the book on top of a tilting stack. If the way you were feeling was any indication, wives were for a lot more than teaching magic.

She settled you on the rug, taking her usual place in her chair. At her feet, you gazed up at her, trying to ignore the way there was a throbbing between your legs and fire in your veins. She reached out, taking your hand, delicate fingers manipulating it until it was in a position that met her approval.

“Alright, the first thing you should know is that your power comes from deep within you. Not everyone has enough to create even a spark of magic. Do not feel disappointed if you can’t. It takes a very special woman to do even the most simple of magic,” she said.

“You must be the most special woman in the world then,” you said, looking at the point where her hand met yours.

When she didn’t respond to you, you looked up. She was staring down at you, something unreadable in her eyes you hadn’t seen before.

“I suppose I am,” she replied, but it wasn’t with the cocky little tilt of her head you’d grown used to, “now, burrow down deep into yourself. Find that well of power, see what you have.”

You closed your eyes, feeling her finger stroke over the palm of your hand, trying to find what she was talking about. All you found was the fire she brought out in you, the anger still simmering at your family, the disappointment and hurt you’d been carrying for longer than you could count at your place in the world. It was why you kept your hands busy, refusing to look too deeply into the way your family had let you down.

It burnt. Lingering on it hurt. The scars left on your soul were sore to the touch. You pressed harder. The pain, at least, was a relief from the feeling of shame you carried with you at all hours of the day.

“Well, would you look at that.”

You blinked your eyes open, finding light reflected in Agatha’s eyes. Cradled in the palm of your hand was a pale blue energy, roiling and rolling in the air. Your mouth fell open, staring at it, trying to wrap your head around what you had done.

It flickered out.

“Apparently I’m not the only special woman in this house,” Agatha murmured.

You cheeks heated, eyes widened as you stared up into her face. She lent forward, fingertips brushing over the apple of your cheeks, soft and gentle, barely there, making you shiver.

“Yes, I chose very well,” she said, drawing back.

Under her assessing gaze, you did it again and again and again, until your head began to hurt. She put you to bed, tucking you in, fingers gently running through your hair until you fell asleep. Just a month ago, you could have never imagined being treated so comfortingly by her.

So began the next phase of your routine. Your days were your own but your nights were Agatha’s. In front of the fire, sitting at her feet, a desperate need to please her, she taught you to wield and control your own power. Her murmured praises and her soft touches made your head spin, addictive and heady, only spurring you on for more.

Watching from the window one afternoon, the sunlight streaming through the boughs of the trees above, you focused on Agatha wandering through the garden. You’d tidied it since arriving, giving it more order, planting things you found out in the forest to go with what you already found strangled under the weeds. Your hands had been in the dirt, coaxing life back into the garden.

She bowed her head over a flower, you thought maybe smelling it. A smile bloomed over your own face, watching her as she moved around the garden. She was so gentle with the plants, pausing occasionally to look at the work you’d done. You wished you knew what she was thinking but she was always so enigmatic. You never knew what was going on behind her eyes.

When she returned to the cottage, a flower was clutched in her hand, petals soft, a new bloom. You looked up from the book she’d asked you to read, legs curled beneath you, skirt pushed up around your knees to bring some cool air to your skin. Spring had well and truly arrived.

“Are you working for me?” she purred.

You nodded, watching her swaying hips as she approached. All those touches and all that praise had only made it harder to pretend as if she didn’t set you alight. She crouched in front of you. With careful fingers, she tucked the flower behind your ear. Your breath caught. She tilted your chin up, the touch of her fingers against your skin making you heat again. Her eyes roved over your face, drinking you in.

“Beautiful,” she whispered.

It was like being pierced by an arrow. You would have fallen into her in that moment, the words begging for a kiss tingling on your lips. Before they could spill out, she stood, leaving you on the rug, breathless and wanting.

“I’ll be gone for a few days,” she said, turning from you.

Her skirt fanned out around her calves and just the flash of skin had your mouth drying. It wasn’t as if you’d seen the sight before, but every time it only made you more desperate to see more. It took a moment for her words to make sense to you.

“You are?” you asked, scrabbling to your feet.

“I’m afraid so,” she said, fingers tracing over the spines of some of her books, “I have business in the next town over. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” you said, voice small.

“You might want to go visit your family while I’m gone. You must be missing them,” she said.

“Okay.”

“Aw, don’t pout, kitten,” she said, curling her arm around your waist as she turned back to you, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Her hand burned through the thin fabric of your dress. It was these touches that drove you mad. You always wanted more, to feel that touch on every inch of your body. She pulled you closer, soft curves pressing against yours in a way that had your head reeling.

“Try not to miss me too much,” she said before releasing you.

You could only watch as she moved back to the door. She lingered in the doorway, snatching one last look at you before she swept out of the cottage. Despite the fire roaring and the sun streaming in through the window, you felt suddenly cold.

The days stretched without Agatha in the cottage. The bed was too big and although you could sit in the chair before the fire at night rather than the hard flagstones beneath the rug, it left you feeling unsettled. You lazed through the days, perking up at every little sound, hope climbing up your throat only to be crushed back down when it wasn’t her return.

When the storm swept in, you felt the first pangs of worry. Sequestered in the house, you were climbing the walls, not able to drown your worry in work in the garden. The cottage was clean and there was only so much folding and refolding of clothes you could do before you began to question your sanity.

Lying in bed, you did your best to keep your thoughts away from Agatha. With the storm raging outside, it was easy to conjure images of her getting hurt or stranded, flashes of lightning striking her down too far away for you to find her and bring her home. You tossed and turned, the bed feeling huge and empty and cold without Agatha in it with you.

A crash from downstairs had you jolting up. You froze, listening intently. Another bang. Crawling to the edge of the bed, your heart was thundering, fear seeping into your veins. Sneaking to the top of the stairs, you peeked down.

A shadowed figure was standing in front of the fire, burnt down to their embers. You grasped the closest heavy object, a candlestick fancier than anything else in the cottage that you’d never quite built up the courage to ask about, and crept down the stairs. The figure didn’t seem to hear you, bending to stoke the flames. Raising the candlestick above your head, you swung.

A pale hand whipped out in a flash of lightning, grasping your wrist. The candlestick clattered to the floor. You gasped.

“This wasn’t quite the warm welcome home I was hoping for,” Agatha said.

“You’re back,” you said, breathless, heart thumping for a whole new reason.

“You weren’t expecting someone else, were you?”

You threw yourself into her arms, not even bothering to answer her. The joy at her reappearance in your cozy cottage was overwhelming. She chuckled, catching you, pressing her face to the top of your head.

“Now this is more what I was hoping for,” she said.

She trembled in the cage of your arms. Pulling back, you realised she was completely soaked through, wet hair stuck to her skin in a tangle. Her clothes were plastered to her and she was shivering. You ran your hands down her arms, feeling the goosebumps, grasping her hands.

“You’re freezing,” you said, “come here and warm up.”

You sat her down in her chair, stoking the fire until the flames began to blaze again. You turned, finding her gaze locked on you. It was dark and dangerous, roving over you with a level of possession you weren’t used to. Your knees trembled, turning to jelly as she drank her fill.

Glancing down, you realised your negligee was clinging to your body, wet from the embrace you’d given her, see through in all the places you weren’t sure you wanted it to be. Your eyes met hers again, your shiver nothing to do with the rain water seeping into your skin. Her tongue ran along her lower lip, stealing your breath.

“You should get out of those wet clothes,” you whispered.

“Is that an offer, hon?” she asked.

You’d missed her. You wanted her. And from the way she was looking at you, she wanted you too. So why not take what you wanted? She certainly had when she’d demanded a wedding.

“Yes.”

Her face brightened before it settled into something more predatory. Holding a hand out to you, she pulled you towards her. You fell into her lap, a small squeak on your lips. Her hand slid up your thigh, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

You lent forward, capturing her lips in an all consuming kiss. She growled, hands grasping you, dragging you closer. You whimpered into her mouth, hands clutching at her shoulders. She burned beneath you, every point of contact making you quiver. Her lips were searing hot as they made their way down the column of your neck. Your head tipped back, giving her more access, fingers burying themselves in her hair. Her name was a breathy moan on your lips. When her teeth sunk in, you groaned, pressing her closer.

“We’ve been married for months,” you murmured, breathless, desperate for her.

“We have,” she said, whispered into her skin.

Her tongue ran over your skin. You forgot what you were saying, luxuriating in the feeling of her worshipping your neck. Her hand was pushing up past the hem of your negligee, seeking out warm skin.

“You were saying, hon?” she asked, lips brushing your skin.

“Oh uh…” Her fingers ghosted over the skin of your inner thigh, “just that you…”

“I?” she murmured, finding the vulnerable spot behind your jaw.

“You never asked me to fulfil my wifey duties,” you sighed.

“I’m not a monster who forces young women to got to bed with me when they don’t want to,” she said before her lips closed over your earlobe.

“But I did want to,” you sighed, “I do.”

“So I’m gathering, hon,” she said.

You kissed her again, already addicted to her taste. With arms stronger than you were expecting, she lifted you, laying you down on the rug you’d spent so many evenings on. The fire was warm from so close, the air heating the chill of the night. A clap of thunder boomed above the house. You jumped, before laughing, self conscious at your own reaction. Her smile was fond.

“You know, when I gave you this nightie, I was hoping you’d look as delicious as I’d imagined,” she said, one hand stroking down your side, “it looks even better when it’s wet.”

She drew back, looking down at you. The front was completely soaked through, practically baring you to her faze. You shivered, breath stuttering. The look in her eye suggested she wanted to eat you alive. Her hand stroked between your breasts, pressing against your stomach when you wriggled beneath her.

“Stay still, pet. I’m enjoying my new wife,” she said.

Both hands cupped your breasts through the lace and silk of the dress you were in. Each nipple was already peaked, pebbling from the chilled water you’d had pressed against your skin. Palming them, she watched your face. You whimpered, not used to someone else touching you like this.

“You make such pretty noises for me, pet,” she said right as she pinched your nipples.

Your back arched up into her touch, offering yourself to her. Your hands grasped her hips, breathing coming fast.

“Have you ever done this before?” she asked, watching you writhe under her touch.

“No,” you sighed.

“Really?” She sat back to look at you, a look of pleasure passing over her face, “I’ll be your first?”

“No one ever made me want to before,” you replied, pushing your hands under her skirts, wanting to feel her skin. It was as soft as you’d imagined, the muscles of her thighs strong under your palms.

“You are a gift,” she said before swooping in to kiss you again.

You lost yourself in it, your entire body a live wire underneath her. She hummed when your hands delved further up her skirt, the fabric still heavy with rain. You pulled away, ignoring the displeased noise she made.

“I wasn’t kidding about getting you out of these wet clothes. You’ll catch your death,” you said.

“Well, if you insist.”

She stood, pulling the dress over her head. In the firelight, she was nothing but enticing shadows and soft curves. You stared, overwhelmed with how beautiful she was. You could spend the rest of your life looking at this view. Pushing up onto your elbows, you let your gaze travel over her, practically drooling. You pressed your thighs together.

“Do I pass muster?” she asked.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” you breathed.

Something shifted in her face, almost as if you’d surprised her. In the shadows, you couldn’t be sure, but you thought her cheeks might be flushed. She lowered back onto her knees, straddling your waist. Your hands skimmed over her ribs, feeling her inhale beneath your fingertips. You cupped her breasts, feeling the weight of them in your palms.

“I think it’s only fair that I return the favour,” she said, “after all, I got you all wet.”

Your cheeks heated and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, but you let her peel the negligee from your body, throwing it aside. Her hands were everywhere, barely touching you. Your whimper only had her grinning down at you.

“Use your words, pet,” she said.

“Touch me,” you begged, “please, Agatha.”

“All you had to do was ask,” she said before her hands were back on your body.

Her lips were soon to follow after, wrapping around one nipple. Your strangled moan only seemed to spur her on. The rumble of a groan vibrated through your body and you arched up into her mouth.

Her hands were sliding further down your body and you felt on fire. When she began to press kisses to your sternum, making her way down your body, you gasped. Her hands were gently as they parted your legs, settling between them. You had no idea how she was doing it, but your entire body was a live wire, sending you insane with how good it felt.

“I need you to tell me if you’re about to change your mind,” she said, her lips pressing the crease of your thigh, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop once I’ve tasted you.”

“If you stop you can go back out into that storm right now,” you said.

“I knew I chose right.”

Your head fell back as her tongue made contact with the hot throbbing between your legs. You cursed, loud enough to be heard over the thunder still crashing up above, and your hips jumped up into her mouth. Her talent didn’t just lie in magic, although it felt pretty magical whatever it was she was doing. You gave yourself over to it, uncaring that you were being too loud or too desperate. Nothing had ever felt as good as her mouth on you.

Your fingers tangled in her hair, holding her there, hips undulating. When her lips wrapped around the bundle of nerves you knew resided between your thighs, you made a choked noise, her name unintelligible. She was moaning, the vibrations driving you crazy, spinning higher and higher. Your legs were trembling where they rested over her shoulders.

When the dam broke, you screamed, clutching at her. Looking up your body, she caught your eye, the smouldering burning in her gaze only making you wonder what she would look like when you returned the favour. She drew back, her grin very satisfied despite you being the boneless body on the rug.

“I didn’t know it could feel like that,” you whispered.

“You’ve never…?” she asked.

“Never like that,” you said.

The fingers in her hair tugged her up your body. Your legs curled around her waist as you kissed her, tasting yourself on her tongue. She chuckled, drawing away, fingers running over your lower lip.

“You are a wonder,” she said, “I knew you would be that first time I saw you.”

“When did you see me?” you asked, sure you’d remember if you’d seen her before the wedding.

“I’d heard rumours of the town beauty, grown into a woman of marriageable age. The way the men were hoping to own you. I’ll admit I was curious. And then, there you were, wandering through my woods, a basket of flowers on your arm. I happened to be passing by as you stopped to speak to a lovely little bunny and I knew I had to have you,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I’m never wrong about these things.”

“So that’s why you asked for me specifically,” you mused.

“I wanted the prettiest girl in the village,” she said before she swooped down to kiss you again. For a while, you could get lost in it.

“Agatha,” you sighed when her lips began to trace a path down your neck again.

“Come, pet. I’ve had a long journey and I’m tired. I’d much rather sleep in our bed,” she said.

She rose, holding a hand out to you. You grasped it, letting her haul you to your feet. Stumbling you fell against her body, warm skin against warm skin, making your head spin. She slipped her arm around your waist, holding you close.

She swept you up into her arms, carrying you up the stairs. Depositing you on the bed, you stared up at her until she slipped between the sheets, taking the place that had been empty for too many days. She held her arms open to you, letting you curl against her her side.

“I’m glad you chose me to be your wife,” you whispered, face buried in the place her shoulder met her throat.

“As am I, hon,” she murmured, lips pressing to the top of your head.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax properly for the first time since she’d left. Her fingertips were trailing over your skin, stroking in a comforting rhythm. You were on the edge of sleep when you heard her soft whisper.

“I didn’t expect you to stay.”

Blinking your eyes open, you turned your head up towards her. She was already gazing down at you, fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I gave you leave to return to your family. I was expecting to find our home empty upon my return,” she said.

“But we’re married,” you said.

“That’s never stopped a woman before,” she replied.

“Why would I choose my family when I have you? They’d never forgive me for leaving you. They gave me no choice in my future,” you said, “I don’t want to ever see them again.”

“They didn’t?” Her fingers tightened in your hair.

“They told me I’d be marrying you. There was no discussion, no understanding that perhaps I didn’t want this.” You shifted closer to her, legs tangling together, “stupid girl. How could I ever not want you?”

“I’m a centuries old witch that terrorises local towns?” she suggested.

“Maybe, but you’re my witch,” you said, “and more importantly, you’re my wife. And I choose you. I didn’t like when you were gone. I was counting down the minutes you’d return.”

“Next time, would you like to come with me?” she asked.

“Please,” you said.

“Then you will,” she replied.

Your lips brushed her skin as you settled against her again, closing your eyes, kissing the closest part of her. Her breath hitched and she tightened her arms around you. Holding her close, you sighed, letting yourself relax again. With her home you had nothing to worry about anymore.

“More fool your parents for handing over the only person who could bring me to my knees,” she murmured, so soft you weren’t sure you were meant to hear it.

Slipping closer to sleep, comforted by the sounds of her breath and the warmth of her skin, you thought maybe being forced to marry the Witch of the Westview Woods was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

[eroselless]

I LIKE THE WAY YOU KISS ME 

Summary: You and Lando need to talk after what transpired on the car ride to the hotel. What will you both decide? [2.5k]

[lando norris x reader ]

MASTERLIST | Part 1 - LAY UR HANDS ON ME

Warnings: 18+ for explicit language and smut, unprotected sex, oral, missionary

Note: Thank you all so much for the love, support and patience! I wanted it to be spicy but also a little soft, I hope it comes off that way. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3 I hope it's alright that I tagged everyone who commented on part 1! Happy reading, love you all!

The tension in the air is palpable. It’s fog clinging to the morning air, waiting to dissipate. It’s a sink threatening to overflow, every passing moment teetering closer to the edge of chaos. It’s a champagne bottle, waiting for just the right push to pop. Lando stands with his back to the hotel door as you stand in front of your bed, fidgeting with your fingers. The silence in the elevator and the walk to the room is almost frightening. The adrenaline from the car ride had slowly faded as you stood, frozen in place. Your palms feel sweaty, your heart pounding in your chest. You both stand in the limbo of uncertainty’s clutch. 

“What if we just –”

“We can pret –”

Your words collide in the air, an awkward and strained laugh escaping the both of you. Doubt begins to gnaw at your mind, maybe he’s regretting it? You wonder. Maybe he was in need of some release and you happened to give it to him. 

“If you want,” you begin tentatively, voice barely above a whisper. “We can pretend this never happened.” 

Lando takes in a sharp breath, nodding. He shifts from foot to foot, bottom lip curled between his teeth as he nervously bites into it. He blinks, eyes watering. His chest begins to tighten up and he feels like he could break down then and there. Maybe in the spur of the moment, his lapse of judgment was the final straw that broke the camel's back and you’re eager to forget about the eventful ride over.  

“Is that what you want?” he asks, sitting down on his bed. His voice is quiet, barely audible as he twists his fingers in his hands. He can’t bring himself to meet your eyes and stares down at your shoes. 

A heavy silence envelops the room, and for a moment, the world seems to hold its breath, anticipation building in the man who sits before you. Blinking the tears that had snuck into your eyes, you shake your head. Your chest feels heavy as you answer him.

“No.”

The single word cuts through the air like a knife and hands there for a second. Time stands still for a moment as Lando’s head whips up to look at you. Time crashes down over you as he collides with you.

You weren’t quite sure of what you expected from your first kiss with Lando yet as his lips brushed with yours you couldn’t help but be struck by how perfect his lips felt on yours. His hands are cradling your cheeks, fingers pressing lightly into your skin as if he’s scared he’ll shatter you like fine porcelain. There is a delicate urgency in how his lips dance over yours. Years upon years of longing rising to the surface of your skin. His tongue slips past your lips, he can taste the remnants of the wine from earlier, a mixture of desire and indulgence. 

His hands move with a purpose, one gently placed at the joint of your jaw, a possessive gesture that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins. The other rests firmly on the small of your back, pushing you closer with a quiet promise of ecstasy to come. He nudges your chin up with his hand, moving slowly and carefully. 

He pulls away, eyes droopy and half-lidded with desire. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. You’re both heaving as you stand in the middle of the room, taking a moment to admire one another. The youthfulness and beauty of his face are so much more evident up close. It's nothing short of captivating. You had always thought he was handsome but now you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You can count the freckles scattered on his sun-kissed skin, the speckles of colour in his eyes are like shards of glass and his long lashes frame them beautifully. 

His hands fall from your face, sliding down and behind your shoulders. “Turn around,” he says. You comply, moving to face the other way. His hands move over the expanse of your back and you get a flashback to the moment you sat in his lap, just under 15 minutes ago.  His breath is fanning on your back, a familiar chill surging through your body again. 

His fingers land on the zipper of your dress, tugging on it as he asks for your permission to take it off. You nod, collecting your hair to one side. He pulls the zip down, fingers dragging lightly over the increasingly exposed skin. He presses his mouth tenderly to your spine, pulling a shaky breath from your lips. He pushes the straps of your dress off your shoulders, sending the fabric to the floor. It leaves you standing in your underwear, having foregone a bra. You turn around to face him, eyes scanning his face once again.

His lips find their way to your jaw, nipping lightly at it. You push his blazer from his shoulders, moving to unbutton his crisp white shirt. 

He shoves you lightly but with enough force to send you falling back onto the bed. He can’t help but admire you as you lay there. Your hair is out in a halo around your head and you're propping yourself up on your elbows, eyes wide as you gaze up at him.

He pulls his trousers off and you can see the shape of his cock through his boxers. Lowering himself on top of you, he litters kisses over your chest, lips coming to wrap around a pebbled nipple. You arch your back slightly at the feeling of his lips over the sensitive bud. Your hand goes to his hair, threading through it as he pushes his face further into the plushness of your tit. His other hand is snaking down your body, snapping the waistband of your underwear. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as he moves down, sitting back on his knees. He pulls a leg up over his shoulder, beginning to trail kisses from your ankle to your knee. Your skin is soft and warm, goosebumps starting to bloom over it. 

You’re nervous as he makes his way up your thigh, teeth teasingly dipping into the soft skin. You let out a gasp as he does so, moving his lips to your other leg. In an instant, he’s back at the top of your leg, at the junction where they meet. He kisses the damp fabric of your underwear, eyes peering up at you. 

“Can I take these off?” He asks innocently. You hesitate, heart threatening to pop out of your chest. You nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His fingers hook around your underwear, pulling them down swiftly. Your knees come together on instinct.

He lets out a small chuckle, moving onto the floor in front of the bed. He pulls you to the edge by the crook of your knees, pressing a kiss to each one. 

“I want a taste.” He hums, only causing your heart to beat faster. His hands move up to take hold of your hips, pressing his cheek to your knees as if to ask are you ready? He waits until you’ve given him a small yet decisive yes before gently pulling your legs open. He goes straight to your sex, pressing his lips to your folds before spreading them open, making a v with his fingers. He teases you, letting out a single soft puff. His tongue darts out, dragging over the sensitive flesh but not over the part where you need him most. This causes your hips to buck up, aching for more of his touch. He continues, now plunging his tongue inside you.

“Fuck –” you moan out, body beginning to tremble with need as he shoves his face even closer. Your fingers pull harshly at his hair as he flicks his tongue expertly at your hole, his groan sending vibrations through your body. His fingers grip tight at your hips, grounding you in place. He sends a red-hot feeling through you as he fucks the muscle into you steadily. It pokes into a spongy, sensitive spot within you. He pulls away, blowing gently at the wet skin. 

“God, baby. You taste so fucking good.” 

He slips a finger in, thumb moving in careful circles over your clit, eliciting more moans from you. A smile is playing on his lips, as you feel yourself teetering towards the edge, a coil tightening in your gut. You cry out, a wave of pleasure washing over you. Your hips are bucking and your legs try to close around his head.

He doesn’t stop licking and sucking at you, easing you down from your orgasm. Your chest heaves and you shake breathlessly. He pulls away, his face glistening with your juices. His eyes sparkle with lust as he presses his lips one more time to the skin of your thigh. It’s a look you’d only imagined in your mind. 

He stands over you, admiring how you look with your cheeks flushed and a light layer of sweat on your skin. Your chest is rising up and down quickly as you come down from your high. You’re staring up at him, eyes hazy and lips parted. You look ethereal, a piece of art hanging in a museum, the image of perfection. 

Regaining your breath, your hands work on Lando’s boxers, pulling them down and letting his cock spring free. It taps lightly at his stomach, a bead of pre-cum on the red angry tip. You wrap a hand around it, thumb going to run over the crease of the head. Lando hisses and shakes his head at you begin to jerk your hand. His voice is strained as he tells you no.

“Not tonight,” he says, tongue heavy in his mouth. “Just need to be inside you.”

You nod, moving up the bed, into its centre. He crawls over you, showering your body with kisses as he does so. A kiss right over your pubic bone, one on your ribcage and the last one over the corner of your mouth. 

He stares into your eyes as he pushes in, bottom lip trapped between his teeth to keep him quiet. He fills you in a single movement, one powerful thrust. Your breath hitches as he does so, lips forming a tight o. You can feel his cock hit you just at the right spot, the pleasure making your eyes roll back. The squeeze of your cunt around his cock was better than Lando could have imagined. 

He’s pushing your knees up and wrapping your legs around his waist as he starts a slow grind. He rolls into you, pushing deeper and deeper as he goes. He feels so good, it’s almost unbearable. You’re completely at his mercy, his touch spreading fires in you, wherever it goes. 

You're writhing beneath him as he kisses you. His tongue is darting into your mouth, stealing your breath away. 

“You’re so pretty like this, baby” he says over the sound of himself sliding in and out of you with ease. The sound is slick and wet, it’s filthy yet it only makes you fall deeper into pleasure’s embrace. Your body molds perfectly into him and you find yourself wondering how you’d never noticed that before. All those times when he held you, when you held him. There were so many signs and you were both oblivious to them. 

He pushes down on your lower tummy and it presses something deeper within you. It pulls a whine from your lips as your hands find purchase on Lando’s shoulder, pulling him down so you’re almost chest to chest. 

“You’re doing so good for me” he mumbles, lips against the shell of your ear. You clench around him, the words only spurring you on. He continues to fuck you into the mattress, stroking your walls just right. 

“Lan, I –” you begin to say. The buildup is getting too much as you feel yourself swing closer to your climax. Lando can feel it too. The spasming of your body, the slight arch of your back. The air is knocked out of your chest as the moment hits, pleasure crashing over you. His name falls from your lips like a mantra and he only pushes faster. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you now. He thrusts into you one last time before he tips over the edge, losing himself then and there. 

You feel him let out a gasp as he collapses over you in a sweaty mess. His body is heavy laying on top of yours but it isn’t uncomfortable.  His skin is sticky and his breath fans over your neck. You’re both breathing heavily as the energy in the room begins to diminish. Your hand goes to thread through his unruly curls as he peppers light kisses to the column of your throat. 

He gets up after a few minutes, telling you to sit still as he does. He returns with a towel, gently cleaning up the mess you’ve made together. He tosses it away and crawls back towards you, pulling the cover over the top of your bodies. 

He stills against you, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, mind only filled with thoughts of you. He can only really think of how flawlessly you fit together. Or the feeling of how delicious you feel pressed up against him. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to make a move,” he says, peering up at you. You smile, shaking your head. “And I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner.” 

You both carry on there for a second, his cheek now pressed to your chest. His eyes have begun to flutter close as the gentle sound of your breathing slowly lulls him to sleep. His fingers are softly tracing circles on your ribcage where he holds you. There are no words exchanged between the two of you but there’s so much said in the silence as you cling to each other. 

“Lan..” you whisper, voice soft. He hummed in response, squeezing you. You nibbled your lip nervously as the words waited in your mouth.

“I love you.” his fingers stop in their tracks. He let out a gentle, barely audible chuckle. You’re unsure of what his reaction is.  He rises to his elbows and bounces slightly on the mattress, pressing a kiss to your stomach. 

“Say it again,” he whispers, voice husky. His fingers are now prodding at your side and you let out bouts of laughter as he does.

“I love you.” he nips at the soft skin of your neck, evoking a laugh out of you. His energy seems renewed as his lips continue their dance over your skin and he gradually makes his way up to your face.

“I love you too,” he says, his smile wide, pulling you on top of him. “And I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

@noneofyourfbusinessworld

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[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Werewolf // Cinna’s Monstertober Writing Challenge

Tags: Werewolf!Geto x Fem!Reader, Alpha!Geto x Omega!Reader, A/B/O mechanics, marking, scenting, nesting, fated mates, description of violence including murder, NSFW, MDNI

Synopsis: Suguru knew you were his before you even presented as an omega, but the pack elders did not take too kindly to him marking you at such a young age. He kills anyone who gets in his way to you.

An: If you don’t like a/b/o or omegaverse, skip this one :3. If you’re a freak like me, enjoy! Also, this was my first time making my own banner in Canva.. what are we thinking?? I am also so sorry that this one is so late.

“Satoru… I’m going to kill them. I’m going to murder them all. I can’t do this anymore. She needs me.”

Let’s rewind, shall we?

Living in a small pack has its perks. Everyone is protective over one another and will always offer to help no matter what. Pack relations are strongest when the pack is smaller, and the pack is more likely to survive.

There are, of course, some cons as well. Everyone knows your business, and everyone wants a say in how you live your life.

For the longest you can remember, Suguru has been by your side. You two would spend a lot of time down at the creek together as kids. You two practically learned everything together: how to hunt, fish, trap, and forage.

He was your insistent shadow, and the pack elders thought it was adorable when you two were younger. He would without fail abandon the other small children to always go hang out with you. The two of you were like little partners in crime together.

Though their adoration turned to concern when Suguru never quite left your side. In fact, it was getting worse as he grew older. By the time he turned 13, He was abandoning hunting trips early to come home to you. He’d sneak out of his tent to go to yours late at night. Your parents would have to kick him out every morning, chastising both of you.

Though, the straw that broke the camel’s back wasn’t simple sleepovers and abandoned hunting trips. It was when he presented as an alpha. Everyone knew he would with how physically gifted he was as a young teen. He was also too damn protective for his own good, going as far as to breaking another kid’s nose for simply grabbing your wrist.

You were only a few months younger than Suguru, but you hadn’t presented yet. When he presented first, your parents forbade him from sleeping over. They were just trying their best to protect you. You two were “too old” and “not old enough” at the same time to be sleeping together.

Suguru, given that he now had the talk from his parents, knew what your parents were suggesting, but he hated it. He didn’t understand how your parents could think so lowly of him overnight just from presenting.

He lasted three nights. Three whole nights of not snuggling against you, not smelling your hair while you two drifted off to sleep, not hearing your soft snores in the dead of night. It was three sleepless nights.

Suguru always had an inkling that you were his. It was a rather strange feeling of possession, like he shouldn’t have to listen to your parents’ rules because you weren’t theirs. You were his.

His frustration only heightened when the pack started to impose longer hunting trips on him. Shorter hunting trips were reserved for those who hadn’t presented and mated alphas. Since they were mated, they couldn’t be away from their mate for too long; thus, getting the smaller trips.

All these things led him to the conclusion: you’re his mate, and he needed to mark you to prove it.

After a particularly taxing hunting trip, Suguru’s eyes filtered through the camp. Everyone was as painfully jovial as usual: sitting around doing absolutely fuck all. His eyes landed on you, and he could feel the tension melting away from him almost instantaneously. You were in charge of looking after the small children, even though you yourself were still a child.

His feet stomped over toward you without a second thought, and his hand wrapped around your arm tightly, pulling you along behind him.

“Ah- Sugu. Where are we going? I’m working-!” You shout as he continues to drag you along silently. “Sugu- The kids…” You murmur as the two of you head further into the forest.

“They’ll be fine for a few minutes.” He responded calmly before he glanced behind him. The camp was far enough away now. No one would be able to see the two of you unless they were specifically looking for you.

“What are we doing, Sugu?” You asked with a small nervous smile. You had started to have to look up at him these days. It was as if he was growing taller overnight. No longer just a boy.

He also started to stink — well, it wasn’t like a smelly smell, but it was unfamiliar. Your parents had explained pheromones. You didn’t particularly like them since you hadn’t presented yet.

“I need you to sit still, and don’t scream.” He instructed before he dipped his head between your shoulder and jaw. He experimentally sniffed at your neck — completely scentless. The only smell coming from you was your strawberry shampoo that he had grown accustomed to.

“Why would I-“ His large hand covered your mouth before you could get out another word, and he opened his mouth before clamping down on your neck. His K9’s punctured your skin, allowing for blood to trickle down your skin.

A pained cry fled your mouth, but it was muffled by his hand. Suguru felt his heart begin to race. It was happening. You were finally officially his. No one could tell him otherwise — not even your silly parents.

He calmly reassured you that you were okay while you softly wept. Your hand covered the bloody mark on your neck. He was just marking you. You know, like it was no big deal.

After sweetly kissing your tears away, he proudly walked you back to camp once you had calmed down from crying, satisfied with himself. Your hands were laced together like true mates.

The first to immediately notice was Satoru, another alpha who was barely a year older than Suguru. His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of your marked neck.

“Suguru, what did you do?” He asks like a mother scolding her son. Usually, this was the other way around. Satoru would’ve never expected Suguru to do something as reckless as this.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Satoru. I just marked her.” He shrugs nonchalantly, still so proud of himself.

“You don’t understand. She hasn’t presented. This isn’t good. We need to-“

Your face was flushed a bright red, and Satoru could see your breath becoming more and more labored with each passing second. He frantically looked around, trying to think of what to do. Suguru probably didn’t even know that he just inadvertently forced your body to present. Having been marked, your body was now plummeting itself into a heat.

Suguru could feel you gently tugging on his hand, trying to get his attention. When he looked back at you, his eyes widened. He could tell what your body was going through, but he was just a boy. He didn’t know how to handle it.

“What are you three up to? Why aren’t the children being tended to-“ A clan elder asked after seeing the small children running around without you to watch them. His eyes landed on you, and he immediately tensed up at the scene. “What- How… Geto.”

*** *** ***

“He’s just a boy!” Suguru’s mom pleaded with tears in her eyes. Her hands clasped the young boy’s shoulders. “He has a whole life ahead of him! Don’t do this to him.”

“You’re right. He is just a boy, so it was your responsibility to teach him about these things.” A pack elder spoke.

“He’s an alpha. Even if they taught him those things, he would’ve acted on his own volition anyways.” Another spoke.

“Who even allowed him to be around her? He was suppose to be on a hunting trip, no?”

“We got back early. It was my responsibility, but we were carrying back a large buck. My mind was preoccupied. I accept full responsibility for his actions.”

“You can’t take on the full burden of responsibility. Geto is old enough to know right from wrong, and he chose the wrong path. He took that girl in the woods and marked her before she even presented as an omega.” The pack leader spoke.

Suguru stood completely motionless in front of his parents. He stayed looking down at the ground. While they argued over his future in the pack, his mind was stuck on you. They had ripped you away from him the second that the pack elder had realized that your body was in heat. He wondered if you were being taken care of okay. He wondered if you missed him as much as he missed you already. He wondered if he’d get to see you again.

“He’s done so much for this pack at such a young age. Please.. Don’t do this to him. He has his whole life ahead of him.” His mother pleaded once again. “We’ll keep a closer eye on him. We’ll do whatever it takes.”

“What about my daughter’s life?” Your dad finally spoke up after being silent for far too long. “That bastard tainted her. She could’ve presented as anything: alpha, beta, or omega, but no, he forced biology upon her with a godforsaken mark. He should be shunned from the pack.”

“He can’t be allowed to be in the same space as her. He’s already proven that he can’t be trusted. The last thing we need is for a young omega to fall pregnant because an alpha doesn’t know restraint.”

“Don’t you two have family anywhere she can stay with… just until she’s a bit older? The mark might fade after they’ve been separated for a while.” Another pack elder spoke up to your parents.

“You’re seriously removing our daughter instead of the problem child? That’s fucking rich. So, what will happen when he marks another omega far too early, huh?” Your dad argued, clenching his jaw.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Suguru finally spoke up, looking your dad in the eye. A stare off between the two ensued.

“If this is how this pack operates, fine. I don’t want her in here if we protect alphas simply due to their gender instead of the innocent.” Your dad finally grit out before stomping away from the meeting.

It took three full grown alphas and Satoru to hold Suguru back while you were leaving. They wouldn’t even allow him to say goodbye to you, not even when you cried out his name. Not even when you begged, pleaded, asked why.

*** *** ***

Suguru was never quite the same after you and your family left. It had been years. He was just a boy when they took you. Now, he’s a twenty year old brooding alpha. He was aloof towards everyone, and he only confided in Satoru. His friend seemed to he the only one who understood that he wasn’t trying to hurt you. He didn’t know that his mark would cause a great deal of stress on your body, and had he known, he wouldn’t have done it.

The rest of the pack looked at him with reserved disdain. He was a stain upon their community. Your parents were well liked in the pack, and he was the reason they weren’t there anymore.

Words kept getting tossed around, and the pack members who weren’t there for the meeting were terribly misinformed. As the rumors spread, the story became more and more horrid. They painted him out to be a monster who held you down while you begged him not to and bit your neck forcibly.

Suguru never tried to correct the stories. He had nothing to prove to these people, the people that sent you away from him. They could all think of him as a monster, especially if it meant they stayed the hell away from him.

The only thing that kept Geto from expulsion from the pack was his innate ability to hunt. His beast from was truly that of an apex predator. He went on extravagant hunting trips often, and he kept the pack fed on wonderful meats.

He looked for you, his mate, on every hunting trip. He tried to remember the faint smell that started to emit from you when your body went into heat. He looked for every sign of you.

He knew the mate bond was still strong because he could feel everything through it. He hated when you felt sad. He knew you experienced some sort of nightmares without him there to care for you while you slept. Your happiness made him feel bittersweet. He wanted you to be happy, but the thought of you being happy without him made him sick.

Your heats were the worst. Suguru would sulk in his tent in a state of horny depression. He should be taking care of you, tending to your body and every desire you had. He should be helping you nest and kissing every spot on your body while cooing praises to you.

Instead, he’s laying in his own sweat and cum, too much of a sad sack of shit to make himself go get cleaned up. His tent stunk of potent pheromones. Your heats, even while being so far away, managed to throw him into a rut each time.

He could feel your dissatisfaction. You were pining for him to come help you. It was as if you were screaming down the mate bond for him to come save you. He missed you so damn bad that he started to hate the smell of strawberries. They smelled too much of you and reminded him of what he couldn’t have

He knew that the elders still kept in touch with your parents. They were high ranking leaders in the community after all. They knew where you were, and they still opted to keep you away from him.

You and him were suffering because of the fucking elders. They caused all of this. If they would’ve kept their fucking noses out of y’all’s business, none of this would be happening.

“Satoru… I’m going to kill them. I’m going to murder them all. I can’t do this anymore. She needs me.” Suguru was practically crying for help. He was sat in his tent, holding his head in shame. His arms and legs were practically trembling.

The homicidal thoughts started when you left. It was sneaky at first, but they only got worse over time. His friend was the only one who knew about them. He knew how badly Geto craved to end their lives.

“Let me talk to them. They might listen to me.” Satoru spoke calmly as he gazed as his heartbroken best friend. The tent was heavy with the scent of alpha rut and distress. He could tell Suguru was really going through it right now.

*** *** ***

Suguru’s beast form was nothing short of a monster. He was the strongest, right next to Satoru.

His black fur was matted with blood as he pawed at the remains of the pack leader. Satoru had tried to talk to them, but they instantly shut him down. Then, to make matters worse, they sent him away on a hunting trip that same day.

Without Satoru there to keep the thoughts at bay, Suguru literally couldn’t help himself. The beast shifted before he could even do anything about it, and he was instantly blood hungry.

Tears coated his face as he shifted back to his human form. Killing the elders didn’t even help soothe him. He just wanted his fucking mate for christ’s sake. He sat on the floor in a scatter of papers from where the two beasts had fought valiantly.

Nothing could replicate the feeling of emptiness that filled him in that moment. His best friend wasn't there. His mate had been gone for oh so long. The pack leaders were now all deceased. When tomorrow morning rolled around, he'd likely be ostracized from his pack for the murders.

He laid his head back against the wall with his hands covering his face. He just wanted to see Satoru one last time before he was expelled and shunned. He wanted to apologize and thank Gojo for sticking by him for all these years.

At some point, the sleep deprivation got to Geto, causing for him to fall asleep naked in the massacre that was the pack leader's tent. Nightmares of slaughter plagued his dreams. Your face haunted him. He wondered what could've been had he known better than to mark you at an early age.

It felt so real, that he swore he heard your voice, though it was different in his dream. Your voice wasn't as squeaky as it use to be. It was smooth with age and experience yet still soft spoken. Maybe he was forgetting the way you sounded? The thought terrified him. His memory was all he had left of you.

You were... laughing? No, it couldn't be you. The voice sounded more like Gojo's-

The tent unzipping. A gasp. "Shit. Don't-" Gojo's voice.

Geto fluttered his eyes open to see Gojo standing in the small doorway of the makeshift shelter. He had... a woman's eyes covered. Her bottom lip was trembling.

"Suguru, what did you do?" Satoru asked like he did all those years back, and suddenly, Suguru felt like a small child who had no impulse control. He quickly scrambled up to his feet, using a random sheet of paper to cover his manhood.

"You were gone, and I just... I just really fucking..." His words trailed as his eyes looked over towards the woman. His heart started to pound in his chest. She looked... so much like you. It was as if he was being confronted with the ghost of his past once again.

"I went to go get her, Suguru." Satoru calmly explained with a hint of bite in his tone. "You really think I'd listen to what those old geezers said about not going to look for her? I grilled every last one of them until they slipped up and gave me enough information to find her."

Geto's eyes were as wide as saucers, and his pupils were dilated as he stared at the woman who was quietly trembling next to Satoru. His hand covered most of her face. "Is that...?"

"In the flesh." Satoru said as his hand slowly dropped from your eyes. Chills shot through Geto's body as he saw his mate's face again.

"Sugu..." Your little nickname for him. His breath went labored as he took in the sight of you for just one moment. His eyes involuntarily filled with tears before he dropped the sheet of paper and lunged for you.

His large muscular arms wrapped around your frame, pulling you into a tight embrace against him. "I'm so sorry.." He whispered in your ear like a mantra. His hands roamed across your back as if he was double checking that this was real.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry.” He whispered again in a pained voice. This was not how he wanted you to see him. He was at his lowest. “I’ve missed you so much. It feels like I’ve been underwater this entire time.”

You gently nuzzled your face into his chest, and you took a deep breath, savoring his scent. A content hum fled your lips. He smelled like home. “I’ve missed you too, Sugu.”

Suguru had grown so much since you last saw him. His body was now muscular and toned. His hair was even longer. It was tied up in a half knot while the rest of it messily splayed down his back. He wasn’t just a boy anymore — a man now.

“I hate to be the one to ruin this reunion, but there’s dead pack elders that we have to deal with.” Satoru spoke up as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Suguru reluctantly pulled back from you, not ready to let go of his missing mate. “I have no intention of staying here.” He said, eyes glancing over to the corpse on the ground. “This pack is a shit show.”

“So, what do we do?” Satoru asked, cocking an eyebrow at his friend. It was never a question in his mind. Satoru was going to go wherever Geto went.

“We start our own pack.” Geto casually threw out the idea with a small shrug. “It’s not impossible. If those incompetent creatures could do it, so can we.”

*** *** ***

You were happy and content to follow Geto and Gojo wherever the two went. It had been so long since you’ve seen the two males. You had almost forgotten how much mischief they could get up to.

Every day was filled with hiking, trying to find a new place to settle down. Every night was spent around a small fire, listening to the stories of the two while you were sent away.

When you and Geto would finally lay together next to the fire, he’d lazily play with your hair and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He’d tell you how beautiful you were and how there was never a day that went by when he didn’t think of you.

“Have I mentioned how terrible it was without you?” He murmured in your ear while his large hand was gently caressing your hip. He would carefully slip it underneath your shirt. The pad of his thumb caressing your soft skin.

“Only a million times.” You giggled in response, looking up at him to meet his gaze.

“Make it a million and one then. It was terrible.” He quietly laughed, not wanting to wake up Satoru who was snuggled on the ground on the other side of the fire.

“I missed you too.” You replied. Your hand carefully reached up and cupped his cheek. Your head was resting on his bicep while your legs were intertwined. “I tried calling out to you often through the mate bond.”

“I felt it each time.” He admitted as his hand slowly snaked higher up your torso. “I felt each time you went into heat and needed me.”

The fire calmly crackling masked the small whimper that fled from your lips. “I’m sorry. I know that probably drove you crazy.”

“You have no idea.” He muttered as he leaned in and pressed a small kiss to the mark on your neck. It hadn’t faded in the slightest. Your body knew you were his before you presented as well. “I dreamt of going out to find you.”

“Yeah? What would you do had you found me while I was in heat?”

“Mmm..” He hummed in a low tone as he gazed at you with a small smirk on his face. “I would sneak into whatever tent you were in like I use to when we were kids.” He spoke softly as his hand continued to trail up your side slowly.

“I’d find you lying there, already such a mess for me.” He went on, painting the picture vividly for you. Your eyes slipped shut as you imagined it for yourself. “Then, I’d pin you down to your nest, stopping you from taking care of yourself.” He went on, and he rolled on top of you, pinning your arms down with his free hand.

The sickly sweet scent of your arousal building lingered in the air, making Suguru’s heart pound in his chest. You smelled even more yummy than he imagined you to.

“What next?” You ask softly in a breathless voice.

“I’d kiss your lips until they were bruised.” He mumbled, and he leaned down to you before pressing his lips harshly against yours. He groaned softly as soon as he could feel you kissing back. He poured all of his love and hunger into his affections. He needed you like he needed air. You were his sole salvation - his reason for living

He carefully pushed your shirt up over your chest, and he skillfully reached behind you, unclasping your bra within a few seconds. You worked with him, pulling it away from your body before you wrapped your legs around his waist.

His hand came up and carefully cupped your breast. Hs kneaded on the soft pillowy flesh with another groan. He gently bit your swollen lip, asking for entry before proceeding to deepen the kiss. He swallowed up your small moans and gasps.

"Then," he softly pant out after parting from the kiss, "I'd mark up your neck again and again. I never want you to forget who you belong to." His head dipped into your neck, and his lips latched on to the soft skin.

He sucked, nibbled, and bit his way up and down your neck, making good on his promise to mark you up. Your hips raised up to meet his, needily searching for friction to ease the ache between your thighs.

"My poor omega.." He mumbled softly against your skin before allowing his hand to trail down and to grope you at your core.

"Fuck- Sugu.." Your voice was a soft whine, forgetting all about Gojo who was asleep not even 10 feet away.

"Shhh, princess. Don't wake him." Suguru shushed you softly with a impish grin. His hands now worked to take your pants and panties off. "Want me to keep going?"

"Please..." Your face is illuminated by the warm glow of the fire before you two. A soft blush spread across your cheeks.

"Mmm, then you have to be quiet." Suguru teased before he allowed himself the pleasure of gazing at your glistening cunt. "Oh, so pretty." He mused before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your folds.

Suguru's mind was running haywire as he generously lapped at your wet heat. He had imagined this happening so many times while he fucked his own fist. It's all finally worked out. He's finally gotten to taste you, to hear you moan his name.

Your fingers entangled in his hair, holding onto him for support while he devoured you thoroughly.

"Mmn.. Sugu~ S'close... please." You quietly whimpered out, warning him of your impending release while he slurped at your cunt, drinking down your slick as if you were a fountain of youth.

"Can you hold it, baby?" His voice was muffled as he didn't dare part from you.

"N-no, I-" You softly whine, starting to rock your hips back and forth across his tongue. You were desperate for release, nearly riding his face to get there.

Suguru tugged back away from you. "That just won't do, darling." He mumbles as he unbuttons his pants and pulls his pants and boxers down just enough. "I need your first time finishing with me to be on my cock. Think you can do that for me?"

You're quick to nod in agreement with his wish, desperately needing the approval of your alpha. You had already caught a glimpse of his size when you and Satoru first arrived. Even when soft, Suguru still isn't small. Now that he's fully hard, it's almost intimidating.

"Mmm~ such a good girl." He quietly praised as he carefully guided his cock between your slick covered folds. He held your gaze as he rubbed his tip up and down, creating a wet "schlick" noise with each movement. His poor neglected cock leaked sticky pre-cum along your core, making everything so messy.

"Bite on my hand." He instructed as he placed his hand over your mouth. "Don't want you makin' too much noise." With a small huff, you bite down onto his hand.

Humping you a few more times, Geto finally decided to push himself into you. Your body immediately went rigid as you tried to cope with the new pressure between your legs. It felt as if he was trying to split you in two, completely impaling you with his thick cock.

"Ohh~ fuuu... That's it.." Geto's voice was deeper and extremely breathy. His eyes were half-lidded as he continued to watch your facial reactions. The small tears crowding the corners of your eyes made him throb. "You're so fucking tight."

"it's not gonna fit-" You quietly whined behind the palm of his hand. Meanwhile, your fingernails were embedded into his back, decorating him with scratch marks.

"It's gonna fit, baby." He quietly reassured you as he pulled back a bit and sunk back in. Your slick coated his length, making it easier for him to push in more. "Gotta let me stretch you."

"Ngh~ ah.." Your voice cracked as your leaned your head back against the ground. Suguru's hips rolled, just barely fucking into your tight cunt. He'd add another inch with each thrust, allowing you time to gradually get use to him.

The air was filled with shushed panting and breathy whines. The sound of your sopping cunt squeezing around him was like a holy song to him. You were the only slice of heaven Geto would ever see.

He had been so caring; you hadn't even realized he was all the way in until you felt a thump towards your stomach. "Ohmygod-" The gasp fell from your mouth before you could even think to stop it. "Fuuuck... feel you right here.." You meekly murmured as you pointed towards your tummy.

"Yeah baby? Feel me all the way in there?" He humors your intoxicated speech as he's lovingly thrusting into you. "You feel so fucking good." He praised as he peppered your face in sweet kisses.

Your spongy walls cling to his dick with each soft thwack of his balls clapping against the flesh of your ass. You're completely soaked around him, allowing him to glide in and out with ease.

His fat tip was damp with sweltering pre-cum gathering at his slit. With each thrust, his tip was kissing at your womb, making you feel all dumb in the head. He occupied his mouth with kissing and sucking more love bites into your shoulders. "So good, baby... ah~ so fuckin' good." He continued to mumble praises in a pussy drunk tone.

Both of your bodies were glistening in a mix of sweat and slick. The fire raged beside you two keeping you very warm while he pumped in and out. "Can't get enough. Need more.. ngh~ M-missed you so much." He growled lowly in your ear as his tender thrusts grew sloppier - fueled by an intense need.

"Suguu~ fuck me." That little needy whine was all he needed to start forcefully pounding into you. Noise level be damned; he needed his omega on a biblical level that Satoru would never be able to understand.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

Your poor cunt was practically sobbing for him - making a complete mess between your thighs as his cock rudely drilled into you. Your back arched up off of the ground, and you could feel your eyes rolling back. It felt like you were ascending to a higher being.

Suguru caught your lips in a sloppy kiss. Strings of saliva connected your mouths like strings of fate as you muffled each others moans. "Need to knot you - f-fuck, please, let me knot you."

Your legs wrap completely around Suguru's waist. "Knot me, Sugu.. hngh~ I'm s'close.."

Suguru's legs began to shake as he could feel his balls growing heavy. Instincts completely drove him to keep fucking himself into your drooling cunt. His eyes stayed on you as he felt himself growing closer and closer to the edge.

"Sh-shit!" You hissed as your gummy walls suddenly tightened around him. The squelching noises slowed as he felt his knot starting to swell. His hands gripped onto your hips as he had to force his way deep inside your wet heat. The knot locking you two in place before he completely spilled inside you.

"Fuuucking hell..." Suguru breathed out as he stayed planted on top of you. His breath was labored as his hand brushed a few stray hairs from your face. "No one will ever take you away from me again. You're mine."

Bonus Scene!

Upon waking up the next morning on Suguru's bare chest, you sighed contently. Your body ached in the best way. Though, you knew it would only make this trek even harder.

You slowly sat up with a quiet groan. Your face was slightly sticky from sweat and drool. He had really wore you out last night.

"Morning, sleepy head." Suguru mumbled as his eyes rested upon your tired face.

"Mmm.. morning." You quietly hummed as your hands instinctively smoothed out your hair, trying to make yourself look presentable.

"Good morning, Satoru." The white-haired alpha spoke to himself in a grumpy, sarcastic tone as he stared at the two of you.

"It's too early for your attitude, Satoru." Suguru quietly laughed as he looked at his friend.

"You can deal with my attitude given what I had to deal with last night." He huffed as his lips curled into a slight pout.

"You didn't-"

"Oh, I did." He confirmed. "Oooohhh, please knot me, Sugu. Oh so big and strong!" He mocked your voice in a high pitched tone.

"Oh god, please stop." You whine as you covered your ears. A nervous laugh involuntarily bubbled up from your throat.

"Mmm, fuck. Gonna knot this tight cun-"

"That's enough, Satoru." Suguru playfully warned as he shook his head with a calm smile. It didn't bother him one bit that he heard the two of you last night because he knew that Satoru was going to hear you two again tonight as well.

Read the rest of my monstertober here !

[sanjisleggy]

three hundred sonnets (sanji x reader)

a/n: my first OP x reader fic ever written! :D i’m currently only at the start of the Water 7 arc so this will take place somewhere prior to that :) i hope you enjoy!

big thank you to @chibinasuu for your encouragement in my initial post abt this fic idea! <3 i'm so excited to write more stuff in the future :D

also! i’d really appreciate any requests sent my way :D right now i’ll only write SFW fics/headcanons for Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Shanks, Mihawk, Crocodile & Smoker! but they will all be set early in the series/not during any specific arc since i’m still only at ep 200ish :’D

contents: gn reader, zoro is unintentionally an asshole, major insecurity, injury, miscommunication, angst to fluff, hurt/reverse comfort 

wc: 3k

—

“if he writes her a few sonnets, he loves her. If he writes her 300 sonnets, he loves sonnets”

i.

it’s no secret that Zoro isn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the kitchen drawer— or at least that’s what Sanji thinks, especially now as he stands by the sink scrubbing away at the leftover grime on the used dishes; feeling a tightness in his shoulders he just can’t seem to will away.

”hey, cook,” the inebriated swordsman slurred from across the dining table, a shit-eating grin on his reddened face—a familiar sight to everyone on the straw hat crew, especially when times have been smooth sailing. “i heard somethin’ interesting from the last town’s blacksmith the other day and it reminded me of you.” Zoro continued without waiting to be acknowledged.

”if this is something about my eyebrows again, i swear to god i’ll-”

”he said somethin’ like ‘if he writes her a few sonnets, he loves her. if he writes her three hundred sonnets, he loves sonnets’ and i just thought-” he paused to let out a quick burp, “-you ever consider you might just love cooking more than you love (Y/N)?”

the muffled, happy chatter of his satisfied crewmates from outside the closed kitchen door does nothing to distract Sanji from what even he himself knows is a turbulent mental spiral. he grits his teeth as his fingers grip the sponge even harder, working away at a particularly stubborn stain that strikes him as the final straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Sanji lets out a choked laugh when it dawns on him how ridiculous all this must seem to an outsider: a grown man on the verge of tears as he washes the dishes, overthinking about an off-handed comment said by an extremely drunk friend that was never supposed to mean anything and yet it seems to have shattered everything he thought he knew about himself and his love for the most important person in his life.

ii. 

you decide to excuse yourself from the post-dinner drink-and-chat session with the rest of the crew after you realise someone in particular has been missing for a strangely long time.

you ignore Zoro’s slurred request for you to bring back more booze, knowing he’ll be passing out any minute now from how much he’s drunk tonight, and head to the kitchen. ready to drag your beloved to bed for a nice cuddling session, you can’t help the smile that graces your face as you swing open the door to Sanji’s domain.

”hey love, are you done cleaning up?” you chirp as you approach his broad back, hands ready to plop down on his shoulders for a light squeeze—just the way you know he likes it. the sink comes into clearer view as you get closer and the sight of a few dozen sudsy but unwashed plates and bowls answers the question for you.

”oh, i, um-” the way the blond man jolts slightly in response to your touch isn’t lost on you but what took you more by surprise is how Sanji rubs his face against his sleeve before finally turning to look at you from over his shoulder. he smiles before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead out of habit. “i got a bit distracted but i’ll be done soon, my love.”

”i can help you-”

”no!” you’re sure the way your eyes widen in surprise at his response is mirrored on his face as you both stare blankly at one another for a second. “no, no. i can handle it,” Sanji continues, quick to press a few apologetic kisses on your face, the rapid pounding of his heart calming slightly when he sees how you lean into his affection, seemingly forgetting his odd outburst from just a second ago. 

“why don’t you just wash up and wait for me in bed, hmm? i’ll be with you before you know it.”

”are you sure? it’ll be quicker if we do it together.” 

oh how his chest aches from how sweetly you look at him, offering him a final chance to take you up on the offer. his reddened and sore fingertips scream for him to say yes, beg him to accept your company not only for their sake but also for his heart’s—

i must prove to you how much i love you.

”it’s quite alright, sweet thing, it’s only the dishes.”

iii.

“it’s just a few thousand berry.”

“it’s only a massage.”

“it’s just mopping the floor.”

“it’s only folding the clothes.”

”it’s a small scratch, nothing to worry your little head about.”

”i can take up your night watch today… nonsense, i insist…”

”…nothing but a sprained ankle, i’ll be fine. all that matters is that you’re okay.”

iv.

”Sanji, love, is something wrong?” your voice shatters the silence that had long since engulfed the two of you sitting alone in the kitchen. the others left to explore the newest island you’ve chanced upon and your beloved’s insistence on watching over Merry all but confirm your suspicion that something, indeed, is not right.

”whatever do you mean?” the chef responds with a slight tilt of his head, his tongue darting out to soothe his dry lips when he catches how worried you look.

please don’t

”well, it’s just that… you know this island’s pretty famous for its produce, right?” you ask before you slowly reach out to grab his hand resting on the table. “are you sure you don’t wanna look around? take a break?”

”a break from what?” he chuckles nervously, shooting you a small smile when he feels your thumb rub against his knuckles.

”it’s just that… you’ve been working really hard this past week, y’know?” you reach out to cup his face with your other hand, a gesture Sanji instinctively welcomes with no hesitation as he nuzzles into the warmth of your palm, his tired eyes fluttering closed for a second.

it’s nothing. nothing at all. as long as it means i can feel this warmth for one day more.

”you should go have some fun with the others, it’s my turn to watch Merry. i’ll be fine for a few hours on my own.” Sanji opens his eyes and is greeted by the familiar sight of your warm smile as you rub the pad of your thumb under his eye, across the dark patch of skin—a result of his insistence on doing your night watches with you alongside his full-time duties as the sole chef of the ship.

turning his head slightly to press his lips against your palm, he shoots you another smile. “i’m not really in the mood to explore, i’d much rather stay here with you.”

because what if you realise how much you don’t need me when i’m gone?

Sanji feels the tightness in his chest loosen up a bit when his honeyed response, spoken in his best imitation of a sane boyfriend with only normal thoughts in his head, seems to work in quelling your concern at least for now.

v. 

oh how you wish you’d pressed further back then, dug deeper even if it made him uncomfortable. if you could miraculously go back in time just once in your life, you’d choose to return to that afternoon in the kitchen when you were alone with him. you would’ve seized the opportunity to pry, to force the hard truth out of your beloved chef even if it meant tears shed and bonds broken; because even a scenario like that would be so much more preferable to the one you’re currently in right now.

the entire crew steers clear of the infirmary for the day. even Chopper only shows up to redress Sanji’s wounds every now and then, leaving once he’s done, unable to stay any longer due to how heavy the air feels inside that one tiny room. the other straw hats rely on him for details on how things seem to be going between the crew’s chef and chronicler. otherwise, they elect to give you two some privacy and space, collectively hoping things can return to normal soon.

neither of you say a word for nearly half an hour after Chopper leaves. the stiffness in your neck is starting to bother you but you remain frozen in position, seated by Sanji’s side as he lays resting in bed, his left hand heavily bandaged.

it happened quicker than anyone could have possibly expected. 

the enemy pirate’s sword slashing in your direction as you prepare to parry the way Zoro taught you long ago. you were confident in your ability to win the fight, having been in much tougher situations in the past and still emerging victorious. you might not be the best fighter but everyone knew you could stand your ground fairly well.

Sanji knew that, too. there was no one he believed in more than you, his partner, the love of his life. he knew you would be fine, unscathed, even; and yet his body moved on its own accord anyway. his hands reached forward, contrary to a lifetime of instincts.

i must prove myself to you. 

he knows now, looking at the endless stream of tears silently running down your face and the way your jaw is tensed up—your teeth most certainly chewing on your tongue—that he’d fucked up.

”i’m sorry—” your head turns sharply for your eyes to meet his for the first time in a while when he speaks, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Sanji’s bottom lip begins to tremble as he looks away in shame, his own teary eyes glued to his bandaged hand. “i-i won’t be able to cook for you for a while.”

for a minute, you forget how to breathe.

and then, inexplicably, a wave of rage washes over you; a culmination of the past two weeks of concern, confusion and worry over Sanji’s drastic sudden need to do anything and everything for you. his intense desire to display his selflessness all building up to the moment he used his hands to protect you; and even then his only concern is being unable to cook for you?

your own curl into fists on your lap, your nails digging into the meat of your palm, there’s a sudden coppery taste in your mouth as your molars bite down harder onto your tongue. the sheer idea of him willingly giving up his hands of all things to defend you from an opponent you could beat with your eyes closed made you so unbelievably angry at something you couldn’t even quite put your finger on.

sensing a shift in your emotions, Sanji finally tilts his head up to look back at you. his throat threatens to constrict itself and his heart drops when he sees the furious look on your face.

”am i really such a helpless creature to you?”

you regret the words as soon as you say them. the initial fury coursing through your veins dissipating in the blink of an eye when you see how your single sentence instantly breaks something in him.

his mouth opens and closes but no words escape his lips, meanwhile tears flow freely down his faces, one drop after another falling onto the blanket draped over his lap as his uninjured hand grips the fabric for dear life.

no, you could never be helpless you’re perfect you’re the most perfect person in the whole world i don’t deserve to have you and yet you chose me but now i’ve ruined it all—

the endless thoughts racing in his head go abruptly silent when he feels the softness and warmth of your body engulf his. your hand reaches up to hold the back of his head, pulling his face into the crook of your neck as your free arm wraps around his upper back. your knees are planted on the mattress, trapping him in a straddle as you hug him tightly, careful not to agitate his wounds.

for a few seconds, all Sanji does is breathe. in and out. every inhale filled with the scent of your shampoo mixed with the saltiness of your sweat and tears. he feels the hand holding his head run its fingers through his blond hair in a familiar way, it sends pleasant tingles down his spine and for the first time in a while, he’s able to release the tension in his shoulders.

Sanji’s eyes flutter closed as he nuzzles deeper into your neck, pressing a small kiss against your skin before wrapping his own arms around you, returning the much-needed embrace.

”i love you so much, my sweet boy,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean what i said. i know you of all people believe the most in me. i was wrong to accuse you of thinking about me in such a way.” you turn your head to kiss his temple, then his forehead, then the space between his eyes, then the tip of his nose. now face-to-face, your beloved opens his tear-stained eyes to look back into your own.

”are you okay? did something happen?” you ask softly, continuing to caress the back of his head, tangling his golden locks with your fingers. “i’ve been worried about you, the others are too.” he lets out a sniffle but stays silent, so you continue, “i know you’re a selfless person and you love doing things for other people, especially me.” you smile and he returns a small smile back. it, however, falters into an embarrassed grimace when he recalls the conversation that started it all.

how silly it all feels in hindsight, Sanji wonders to himself, as you patiently await his reply, still hugging him closely as your soft breath fans his face. how easily this could all have been resolved if he’d simply talked to you about it once it all started to feel too much. 

the hand behind his head travels toward his cheek to cradle his face in the palm of your hand. you run your thumb gently over his cheekbone as he practically purrs and leans even closer into your loving touch. 

then, he speaks.

vi.

the cooling sea air circulates the space of your shared room as the Going Merry drifts slowly across the calm waters of the night.

Chopper had given Sanji the OK to rest in his usual bed after redressing his wounds in the evening. After leaving the infirmary, the chef made his way to the kitchen to check up on your progress with dinner. Since he was banned from cooking until his hand was fully recovered, you’d volunteered to take up all kitchen duties temporarily. Seeing how excited you were to now be the one providing for him and the others quelled any worries he had instantly.

”Now I get to make all your favourite food and drinks for you instead,” you’d said, crossing your arms and putting on a faux expression of haughtiness, as though you’d finally won some long-drawn out battle.

”I look forward to it, sweet thing.” was all it took to wipe the look off your face as you felt your entire body warm up at his tender voice.

Smiling at the memory from just a few hours ago, Sanji stood outside the kitchen, ready to enter when he heard two voices come from inside. Curious, he stayed put and listened.

”You need to think before you speak!” you yelled, your raised voice accompanied by the sound of a knife hitting the wooden cutting board in a sharp, rhythmic manner. “I know you were drunk but what even was the point of saying all that to him?”

”Listen, I already apologised, you don’t have to keep—”

”I’m just warning you: pull that shit again and I’ll throw all your booze into the ocean.”

”Alright! Damn! I won’t do it again, I swear—”

Sanji’s snapped out of his reverie when he feels you stir awake beside him. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before blearily looking up at his face, your hand pressing against his bare chest to prop yourself up slightly from the mattress.

”Can’t sleep?” you ask, running your palm up and down his skin in a gentle manner.

”Mmm, just thinking about how you managed to get mosshead to say sorry to me at dinner,” he replied, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer. “Still feels like a weird fever dream.”

“I’m just so good with words, y’know?” you chuckle as you pull your hand away from his chest to replace it with the side of your head. You don’t fail to notice how his heartbeat quickens. “Why else would the infamous Straw Hat Pirates take me on as their chronicler?”

”Of course,” Sanji hums before burying his face in your hair, “we accept nothing but the best after all.”

You laugh softly in response, ready to let the conversation meet its natural end in order for the two of you to drift off to sleep. Right before you shut your eyes, though, your lover speaks up once more.

”I’m so lucky to be loved by you.” his sudden confession knocks the wind from your lungs as your heart leaps within the tight confines of your chest.

”luck has nothing to do with it, sweet boy,” you reply, turning to your head slightly to press your lips to his chest. “i love you because you’re you—the kindest, strongest, most talented man i’ve ever met. you’ve ruined other people for me, not to mention the food they make. nothing compares to you.” 

Sanji silently thanks the night sky for the darkness enveloping your room as he feels his face practically catch fire. Though, he’s certain you can probably tell how flustered he is from the rapid beating of his heart anyway.

”You’ll still love me even if I can’t cook for you anymore?” he mutters, half-joking.

”i’ll still love you even if you refuse to cook for me for the rest if our lives,” you reply, kind of half-joking. “I’d probably be really sad, though, but i’ll still love you.” In response, you feel a chuckle rumble from his chest as his uninjured arm pulls you closer until you’ve basically melded into one.

”you know fully well the day i refuse to cook for you is the day i die.”

you hum in response, already drifting off to sleep with a contented smile on your face. Sanji presses one last kiss of the night to your forehead before dozing off himself.