#I’ve been trying to fall back asleep for an hour
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Welcome To The Itadori's! - C.K.
Synopsis. Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does.
Pairing. Best friend! Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, childhood best friends to lovers, slowburn, cameos from the Itadori’s (Yuji, Jin, grandpa, SUKUNA), smút only when they’re adults, first times, oral (female receiving), cúnnilingus, marking, rough, Choso’s a bit mean in bed, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 5.0k
A/N. The unc-kuna brainrot got me here, Yuji’s family tree is HILARIOUS.
“You’ve never what?”
“I mean, yeah? So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”
Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Whatever the answer was, Choso could only pray that no one walked into your apartment right now.
---
Choso swears his family is well and fully intent on ruining every waking moment with you.
He’s convinced even, at this point. Because in the 13 long years of being inseparable from you - ever since you were both whiney, snot-faced brats - Choso’s racked up more interruptions than he’s seen on those k-dramas that his grandfather swears he doesn’t watch.
It was like some cosmic joke, really. All he wanted was a moment with just the two of you…and maybe a second or two to confess his undying love. But that didn’t seem too realistic when the Itadori’s were a bit of a packaged deal, unfortunately.
Alas, Choso’s resigned himself to accept the fact that maybe - just maybe - this was the universe’s way of telling him that his pretty best friend was indeed too good for him. Something he’s suspected ever since the both of you were eight.
The realization had hit him like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact. And a whole zoo of animals afterward.
Of course, it’s not like that was any secret. He always thought you were perfect from the second you’d moved in - that new family next door he’d been eagerly waiting ages to arrive. And Choso, being the dutiful oldest son, was the one to deliver welcome cookies to your doorstep. Stumbling, and carefully trying to reach for the doorbell without dropping any.
“Um, welcome to-”
“Your hair’s funny.”
Now, Choso’s never greeted neighbors before, but it surely wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why was he being insulted by some little girl - you were missing a few teeth, and his had just grown back in so obviously he was much older and wiser. All unapologetic smiles and twinkling eyes as you blink up curiously at his space buns. Pretty, even when you were tearing his heart out because hey, he thought this hairstyle was cool, okay?
Which is what had him huffing and puffing back home, running straight into the arms of his dad while he tried not to cry. That is, until you came knocking at his door with your parents. Very much bawling and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug with wet mumbles of “M’sorry, meant your hair’s very cool. Wanna match-”
And, if his cheeks burned just a bit, well, Choso blamed the tears.
After a disaster like that, of course you’d grow to be best friends within the day.
But what that didn’t explain was when - after hours of bickering over whether to play tag or house - you were all tuckered out and sat beside him in a corner of his room, too exhausted to talk his ear off. Head lolling once. Twice. Falling softly onto his shoulder.
Oh.
Now, Choso might just be having the first epiphany of his entire, grueling eight years in this world - that you were very, very pretty fast asleep with your head on his shoulder.
Why? Why were you here barging into his life and turning it upside down? Calling him your “new best friend” and dragging him along wherever you went. It made his poor head absolutely spin, not daring to move a muscle so that you didn’t wake up and see this tiny predicament.
He didn’t know why. But what he did know was that he found himself subconsciously reaching for your hand, a strange little part of himself wanting to see how much smaller they were than his. They looked so soft and warm and-
“I WANNA PLAY T- Oh.”
Oh indeed. He hastily lurches away from you like it burned, hands raised like he was caught red-handed. Feeling slightly sorry when he sees you blinking away the sleep to take in your surroundings, eyes bouncing off of a very excited Yuji and resting on the clock.
“Oh no. Mommy’s gonna be mad.” you gasp, hastily getting up. And he feels a weird pang as you quickly dust down your dress, running out the door with a laughed out, “Bye, Yuji! See ya later, Cho~!”
“Bye, crybaby.”
And then it’s quiet. Only Choso still staring after you, and Yuji staring at his older brother, somewhat awestruck and wondering only one thing-
“Big bro, why are you so red?”
Choso doesn’t think he’s gotten a moment alone with you since that first initial meeting.
Fourteen was definitely the worst, in his opinion.
“Hey, Cho, y’know the girl sitting next to me in math said she had her first kiss today.”
“Oh.” It’s all Choso can manage to get out, paying more attention than he should to the gravel beneath him as he tries not to trip over air beside you. Hot under his uniform collar at the sudden shift in conversation from the usual after-school banter.
Looping your arm with his, you heave out a playful sigh, “I wonder what that feels like. Have you ever thought about it?”
No, but Choso has never thought that he’d be here - face burning at your body pressed up against his. Just knowing that his ancestors above are laughing at what a loser he is, barely able to stammer out an answer to your question.
Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing before - it’s just that whenever it popped into his mind, you were usually accompanying him. Along with those strange thoughts of whether your lips are as soft as they looked? Or would your heartbeat be as fast as-
“Man, are you even listening?”
Shit.
Your hand waving in front of Choso’s face brings him back to reality. Blinking hastily, he tries to gather his thoughts, mumbling out a quick, “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” averting his gaze as he feels the heat rise to his cheeks at your intense gaze.
Your smile only widens, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you nudge his side. “Thinking so hard about kissing, huh? Cho, you lecher!”
“Am not.”
“Am to.”
“Am not.”
“Am to.”
“Who were you imagining it with, huh? Gonna give ‘em a big smooch tomorrow?”
God, you were going to be the death of him. “N-no! I haven’t even- shut up, crybaby, it’s not like-” he sputters out useless protests over your laughter - his favorite song, even when you were teasing the hell out of him. But ah how you relish in his embarrassment, tittering out little giggles all the way until you’re steering him onto your lane.
Choso, on the other hand, keeps wishing the ground would swallow him up more and more with each step towards his porch. He’d have broken into a sprint right then if he hadn’t known you and the way you’d race him there instead.
“Alright.” you declare once you’re stood at his front door, jolting Choso out of his reverie. And he’s barely opening his mouth to register your words before you plowing on confidently. “We’ll just have to practice our first kisses with each other.”
Perfect. Great. Wonderful.
The final nail on his coffin. You might as well have planted a bombshell right in the middle of his already-chaotic world with the way he was reeling in- shock? Fear? Anticipation?
“Practice.” Choso whispers, more to himself than you. Yet you nod anyway, eyes locked with his like you were studying his reaction. “For…practice.”
Doubt starts to creep into your pretty features, “Well, we don’t have to if you do-”
“No no no no, I want- ahem.” he cringes at the pathetic desperation in his voice. Desperately trying to scramble back some semblance of sanity as he clears his throat, “I want to. Just-” Choso urgently looks around for- ah, there it is.
Dragging over the brick from the side of his porch because goddammit he might be 14 but he sure hadn’t hit that growth spurt yet. “Practice, right?”
You nod with a fiery determination that, later on, would make Choso chuckle with fondness. Muttering out a firm, “Practice.” Letting the boy in front of you nervously leans closer, breath fanning your face. And shit if you were nervous then you didn’t show it, but Choso felt like he was about to spontaneously combust.
Brows furrowing in concentration, eyes only squinting ever-so-slightly as he takes peaks at how pretty you looked. Close enough that he could count every lash as your pretty eyes closed shut, lips glistening with that strawberry chapstick you loved, puckering adorably. Only inching closer and-
Click!
“You two are so cute! But um- dear, how do you mute this thing?”
You spring apart so fast that Choso wouldn’t be surprised if you’d teleported. He doesn’t even know what’s happening before, from the safety of about three meters away from him, you’re muttering out an embarrassed little, “Hi there, Mr. Itadori. The gardenia are coming along nicely.”
His dad smiles like he hadn’t just starred in what was likely Choso’s villain origin story. Waving happily, “Aww, thank you, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you two go back to doing your lil’ thing and I can ah- practice my photography.”
“Dad, I’m running away.”
That practice kiss never happens. And, well, if there was a proudly framed photo down the hallway of the two of you - with Choso absolutely bright red and standing comically on a brick to meet your height, faces nervously scrunching towards each other - well, neither of you ever mention it. Jin Itadori does, though - every time you come over, in fact.
It’s only when you’re both eighteen, when Choso’s a lot deeper in his feelings - and only slightly less embarrassed about it - that he thinks that maybe not all family interruptions were that bad.
Graduation was…something. Not exactly something that he’s sure if he’ll ever want to relive with the sheer amount of awkward photos and tears that his dad lets out. God if he has to shuffle into another-
“You alright, Cho?”
Ah.
Traitorously, a smile makes its way onto his face, peering down at your beaming face. Both of you having made it way past the awkward early teens. Well, at least you certainly have - Choso still feels like the same awkward little boy with an even more awkward crush. “Hm? Yeah, m’great.”
“Are ya sure? Because you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm any second now.” you raise a brow teasingly. Ah, how gorgeous you were - even when you’re picking him apart.
“Yeah. Great. Only had this smile plastered on for the last five hours.”
“Aww, but you look so pretty smiling.” you shrug, with the audacity of someone that didn’t just have Choso’s knees dangerously weak. “Anyway- A bunch of us are gonna try to convince ol’ Yaga to let us take photos with his shades, you wanna come?”
“You think m’pretty?” he muses, embarrassingly late.
“Cho.”
“Yaga. Shades. Got it.” Choso mock salutes, drinking in the little laugh it startles out of you, eyes sparkling with mischief and looking right into his soul. Beautiful. You were always beautiful.
And Choso can’t just stand around and do nothing about it.
“Crybaby, look, I-” Fists clenching, he takes a steadying breath. The heat only rising to his cheeks at your awaiting gaze, “I…”
“HEY, GRANDPA HELPED STEAL YAGA’S SHADES LET’S TAKE A PIC-”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP ITADORI. YOU’RE RUINING A MOMENT, LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT.”
“I don’t know either of you two.”
It would be a miracle for a moment not to be ruined with two overly-energetic first-years (and a very reluctant Fushiguro) pushing their way into your little bubble. Choso bites back a groan as you’re immediately swarmed by a bickering Kugisaki and Yuji, one apologizing for “ruining your k-drama moment” and the other trying to get you to put on some sunglasses. Well, at least he could empathize with the black-haired boy, who gave him an apologetic nod.
He’s only halfway through waving off the interruption before a voice speaks up from his side. “Why didn’t you say it?”
Whirling around, Choso comes face-to-face with the disappointed look on his grandfather’s face. Already having some idea of what you mean, “Wha-”
“I may be old but m’not deaf, yet, boy. Why didn’t ya tell her?” he sighs, tilting his head to where you were wearing those shades and taking ridiculous pictures with two animated first-years.
“I don’t know what you-”
“M’not blind, either. Quite frankly I’m insulted.”
And, well, if there’s anyone that he can’t hide from - it would be his grandfather. So he heaves out a defeated sigh, touselling his hair while muttering out a pathetic little, “M’not- Ugh, she’s too fuckin’ perfect and I…I chickened out.”
Choso doesn’t know what he expected in response but it definitely wasn’t for his grandfather to laugh. Full, and raspy - loud enough that even you stop to stare. “Thought so, idiot boy.” he chuckles, drawing indignant protests. “Did she tell you?”
Raising a brow, “What?”
“Did she tell you that you weren’t good ‘nough for her?”
“No, but-” Whatever protest on the tip of Choso’s tongue is cut off by a rough hand smacking his back in what he thinks is reassurance, but felt more like a punishment for being such a pussy around you all these years.
“Then go. Ya might just be surprised. After all, you’re my grandson, and all the ladies at bingo love me.”
Shaking with both adrenaline and the effort to keep that image out of his mind, he makes his way towards you. Purposeful. Pointedly ignoring the matching smirks flashed his way.
“You really think they’ll finally get together today?” Fushiguro deadpans from where he’d snuck up beside the old man, in an attempt to escape the public nuisances he calls ‘friends’.
Choso’s grandfather hums thoughtfully, watching the scene play out before him - Choso flushed such a delicate shade of pink as you playfully put Yaga’s sunglasses on him. Settling on a gruff, “I’ll give it a few months more. He’s my grandson, after all.”
“That’s generous. I’d give it a couple years more.”
“Wanna bet, brat?”
“...”
Safe to say, his second button ended up safely in your hands that day. But Fushiguro would be the one to really win the bet.
Because it was only 2 years, 4 months and 3 weeks after this little incident that Choso finally had you exactly where he wanted - with no interruptions. All for him.
Freshly twenty one, splayed out on your apartment bedroom and having a conversation that he never in a million years would’ve even dared to imagine he’d have - with you of all people. All because of that stupid R-rated film you’d put on for movie night.
“You’ve never what?” you gape, turning down the volume to those painfully fake moans coming from the tv.
Oh, how gorgeous you looked - all shocked and batting your lashes up at him in surprise. Choso almost swoons inwardly (and outwardly) before he realizes that shit you were probably waiting for an answer.
“I mean, yeah?” he sputters out, cheeks heating up as you lean in closer to hear him. Close. “So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”
Goddammit, some strange, carnal part of himself twinges dangerously at the little smirk that curls your lips. One that he quickly - and embarrassingly - realizes has the blood rushing straight to his cock. Humming a low, “Maybe. Maybe not.” The mattress dips slightly as you shift closer, lips ghosting his ear. “Want me to help you find out?”
Which is, well, how Choso found himself shoved against the armrest. Blanket thrown on the floor now, swollen cock leaking furiously through his pants as your pretty lil’ cunt hovers above his mouth. So wet that if he stuck his tongue out he could have you dripping all onto him.
“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” he hisses despite his hands looping around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.
You raise a brow, “Are you sure, Cho?”
He should say no. He should laugh this all off as a bad joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wants just a taste of your dripping pussy - see if she’s as sweet as the rest of you is. So, throwing caution to the wind, Choso nods slowly. “Yes. Want it s’bad.”
Grinning wickedly, you whisper, “Thought so.” And then he’s pulling you onto his mouth, hot and urgent.
“Oh fuck-” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the first taste of your sweet sweet juices. “Shit shit shit.” So sloppily licking up your swollen folds - barely moving with any method or patience, just that he’s drunk on your pussy and wants more more more-
“Hngh- f-fuck. You sure this is your hah- first time, Cho?” you gasp breathlessly. And oh your best friend was so fucking beautiful. Dark hair untied and tousled, eyes half-hooded, your slick already smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw because shit he was so messy. So addicted to that desperate expression on your face that he just can’t help but tease you a little bit.
“Mhm?” he smirks, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Purposefully missing right where you wanted him the most because shit he loved those cute lil’ whines spilling out of you.
You let out a huff, hips trying pathetically to inch him closer - but Choso wasn’t budging. Holding you so firmly by the hips that you’re sure he leaves bruises, licking all over your cunt except for your clit. “Cho.” you warn. Brows furrowing in frustration at the way he bats his long lashes up at you so deceivingly innocently, “What?”
“You know…”
“I don’t.” he titters teasingly into your pussy.
“Choso.”
Now, Choso’s known and seen everything there is to do with you - but never like this. Spread open shamefully and pouting so adorably on top of him, so needy for him. It made his head spin to think of just how much the dynamics had shifted.
Shit, he really should’ve watched that godforsaken movie with you sooner. “Tell me what you want, crybaby.”
And oh how his cock twitches at the way you manage to get out an embarrassed little, “Wan’ you to ngh- tonguefuck me properly. Wanna cum on your pretty face, Cho.”
And that’s all that’s said before he’s surging forward, glossy lips wrapping around your pulsing clit to suck harshly. Rolling his soft tongue over and over-
“Wanted this for so long.” Choso mutters, muffled as he buries himself deeper into your pretty pussy. The vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running down your spine. “You have absolutely no idea, pretty.”
And you barely even have the time to register his little confession before Choso’s moving down to bully his tongue past your folds. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit as he dips into your sloppy hole.
“Oh shit. Jus’ like that.” For a beginner, your best friend really knew what he was doing. Eating you out like his favorite meal, tongue squeezing into your snug pussy to thrust in and out, swipe against your walls, stretching you out right to his will. Over and over-
“Use me.”
Your eyes snap down to meet the pure adoration in his eyes as he makes out filthily with your cunt. Choking out a little, “What?”
“Use me.”
There it was again - that strained little mantra. And as if to prove his point, Choso reaches out to deftly place your hands on his head, bucking into you touch.
And, well, how could you say no to that?
Because before you know it, you’re bunching Choso’s soft strands in your fists. Angling him just right to ride his pretty face. “C’mon, Cho. Ngh- H-harder, jus’ a bit- Oh!” he just devours the way your mouth drops into an adorable little oh! as his tongue curls deftly against that one spot. Again and again. Letting himself be so used, dragging your dripping cunt harder on his mouth.
And he likes it. Hell, he loves it even - because you’re so sweet n’ pretty on his mouth. Better than everything he’s ever been dreaming of for the past few years. And always in his dreams, you’d be clenching so deliciously around his tongue when you were close - just like right now.
So he speeds up his movements, breathing you in maddeningly. A hand snaking down from it’s favorite place on your hips to draw quick, frenzied little circles on your poor, ravaged clit. Jaw almost aching with how filthily he was dripping in and out of your entrance - be he did give a shit. Only wanting to have you breathless and creaming all over his face.
You jerk violently on top of him, “Hah! S’too much, Cho. M’so close- gonna cum- gonna-”
And then you’re cumming. Fast, and hard.
Plushy walls clamping down on Choso’s tongue, hips stuttering on his face as he laps up all your juices, an arm around your waist helping you ride his face through your high.
“S’sweet. Could get used to that.” he slurs into your cunt. Tipping his head back as far as it’d go to let the last of your juices slide down his throat. “Better than I imagined.”
The words ring in your ears as you blink back your vision. Deliriously whirling down to look down at Choso - still beneath you and looking more smug and content than you’d ever seen him. “Imagination? S’that why you’re so good.”
“No.”
You’re being flipped before you know it. Manhandled so easily by your best friend as he lays you on your back, sinking into the cushion while he looms above you. “S’jus’ that…” grunting as he flings his shirt off, “Been dreaming of your pretty cunt on m’tongue for years.”
Okay, now his confession hits - more than it did when he was tonguefucking you into insanity, anyway.
“Years, huh?” you breathe out, eyes roaming all over his sculpted torso. Taking in every dip and curve of Choso’s toned abs - all the way from his broad shoulders to the rock-hard cock straining against his pants. As if in a trance, your hand reaches out to cup his leaking erection, “S’that all you’ve been dreaming of?”
“You little minx.” he lets out a low hiss.
Before you can even react, Choso’s fumbling with that belt - cursing because shit, he’d have worn sweatpants instead if he knew they’d end up on your floor.
And you’re not any better, fingers popping open his buttons and tugging impatiently and oh- You always thought that your best friend would have a big dick - but this? He was so intimidatingly long - and thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. Fat tip flushed such a pretty shade of pink to match his cheeks, leaking down down down, all the way to his heavy balls.
You’re only jolted out of your little reverie by Choso spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering cunt, spreading it lazily across your pussy with his thumb. A ringed fist pumping his cock slowly, as he drags his tip across your folds, pooling your sweet juices. Muttering out a raspy, “I’ll be gentle.”
“You better not be, now jus’ fuck me-”
Well, you didn’t have to ask Choso twice. Because you’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s bullying massive cock into your tight cunt. Pressing in inch by fucking inch as you gasp and buck underneath him.
“Shhh, s’okay, crybaby. This is what you wanted, right?” he mumbles, with all the audacity of someone that wasn’t fucking into you in rapid, mindless little jabs to fit inside your snug lil’ pussy. Struggling to hold back at this point. “Wanted to be split apart on m’cock?”
You were so full of him. Even more so when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending all the way down and folding you in half so easily beneath him.
He drinks in the barely-lucid squeal that leaves your swollen lips. Kissing your forehead gently, whispering against the skin, “Because I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”
And then it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, maybe the restraint that Choso’s been holding back for too long. Because immediately he’s plunging his throbbing cock into you - all the way till his balls, all angry and squeezing so painfully, smacks against your ass.
“Wanted this.” he rasps into your open mouth. His hips were out of control now, thrusting you in shallow, desperate rams. Pounding into you like a man possessed, and running his mouth just as much. He laces his fingers on top of your head, pushing you down even deeper into his relentless cock - as if the bastard wasn’t fucking you dumb already. “Fuckin’ needed this needed this. Shit- so bad.”
“Ch-Choso- fuck hah-” you plead as his mouth clashes with yours. All sloppy with teeth and spit and his profanities - and it felt so damn good.
“Yeah? Who’s fucking you silly, now?” he’s going harder now, tip hitting your poor cervix over and over. And you’d be sobbing at the burn and the stretch but all you can think of is shit this is Choso - the kid you used to play hide and seek with. And now he seems fully intent on breaking you. “Say m’name.”
A rough thumb starts toying with your clit, in time with the cute lil’ whines of his name that escape your mouth like a prayer. “Shit. Y’look so pretty like this.” he babbles. “Gonna cry, pretty girl?” smirking down at the way you were too cockdrunk to even snap back, only looking up at him with delirious, teary eyes. “Be a crybaby for my cock?”
You’re tugging on his hair, thighs shaky and bucking upwards. “Cho-”
“Mhm?”
“W-wanna cum. Need you to fill m’up till I can’t take it anymore.”
Oh if Choso was any lesser man he’d have cum right then and there. Instead settling for a guttural groan, drunk off the way you were milking his cock so hard as if to prove your point. It almost made him want to stay like this forever. But no - not right now.
“Oh yeah?” Hips becoming sloppy now, “Need it? Shit- m’so close.” Each word slurred, punctuated by a harsh thrust, strokes long and frenzied. Using your heavenly pussy like his personal fucktoy. So hard that he’s sure you’d have embarrassing matching bruises tomorrow - his balls on your ass, your nails raking down his shoulders.
“Me too- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl into his neck, as Choso buried his face into yours.
“Cum f’me, my girl.”
My girl.
And then you are - and he is. And you don’t know who cums first, just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Choso’s teeth digging into your neck as he thrusts once. Twice. Before cumming and cumming so hard he might as well have seen the pearly gates of heaven. And you were an angel.
Thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your walls white, so much that it gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy. Dripping down your legs and pooling into a sinful, creamy ring at his base.
“Mm- shit. Choso.” you moan, barely audible over the lewd squelches from below.
“M’here, my girl.” he grits out, voice shot. And it seems that that was his new favorite nickname, because Choso keeps murmuring it over and over as he keeps fucking his seed into you. Not even thinking about it at this point - just mindless, shallow grinds of his hips.
In the haze of your orgasm, you think you hear his quiet voice, strained with exhaustion and something that you weren’t in the right state of mind to decipher right now.
“Shhh, m’here. “Can’t believe I waited so fuckin’ long.” Whispering against your lips, “Love this. Love this pretty cunt.” Kissing softly, “Love the way y’take me. Fuckin’ made f’me.” And maybe even a soft little, “Love you.”
And maybe - just maybe, you whisper the same into his. Kissing him softly, exactly the way you’d wanted to all these years.
Neither of you speak after that. Not when Choso’s hips stall, body sticky and collapsing onto yours. Nor do you speak when he pulls away with a playful nip to your lower lip - a promise. Searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe yourselves clean with.
It’s only when he settles back under the covers beside you, looking at you with such dark, hazy eyes - whirling with too many emotions to name - that the silence is broken.
“Crybaby.”
“Cho.”
“Corny.”
“You started it.”
Chuckling, Choso pulls your body close to his. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two because shit now that he’s got you, he doesn’t think he ever wants to let you go.
“Y’know…” he starts, “I think we should- I mean- if you want…” nervous now more than he was even after all that just transpired. Cheeks flaring as he meets your amused gaze, just daring him to go on - because you saw through him. You always did. “I lov-”
“Am I late for the mov- WHAT THE FUCK I ALWAYS KNEW BRATS WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS-”
---
Itadori Family Groupchat + Two More
Dad: Hey, all. I can’t seem to get a hold of Choso to confirm tomorrow’s dinner plans. Can anyone else let me know if he’s ok? XX
-Jin.
Yuji <3: He’s probs at rhat “best friend movie night” still
Dad: Hello, Yuji. What is a “probs”? XX
-Jin.
Kugisaki: He’s suspiciously quiet, though… Y’all think that “best friend movie night” is codeword for something else?
Yuji <3: Better not be cuz Sukuna stole my sparw key sayin something ab crashing it idk
Kugisaki: *spare
And you just LET him?
Yuji <3: HE THREATENED TO BURN MY MEGAN THEE STALLION POSTER
…
AND DID IT ANYWAY
Kugisaki: L
Fushiguro: L
Gramps: L
Sukuna (do not answer): DID Y’ALL KNOW THOSE TWO WERE FUCKIN????
*Fushiguro has left the chat*
Dad: :0
-Jin.
A/N. Spiritually, this is a crackfic idk.
#choso x reader#choso smut#choso x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo smut#choso kamo x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#choso#tonywrites#choso kamo
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Could you maybe write a Sally Face One Shot, where Sal developed a huge crush on reader. But he thinks she doesn’t feel the same way. So he writes a love letter in which he puts no hope in, but then she actually tells him she does feel the same.
Does that even make any sense?😭
Yes…it makes sense and I’m weeping over this omggggg 😭😭😭 bruh this had me screaming and kicking in bed as I wrote it omfgggggg. Sal is pretty smart so I know this mf would write some pretty, thought out, poetic type shit
Notes: gn!reader, established friendship, friends to lovers trope
TW: none, just so fucking sappy and fluffy
Sal x reader- Sincerely Sally 💌
Dear (Y/N),
I want to start by telling you that you’re an amazing friend. I’m beyond grateful we’ve met. You’ve always made me feel so comfortable, so wanted, so important. No words could ever truly explain my feelings for you or the thoughts behind them, but I’m going to try.
Since we met, I’ve seen nothing but good in you and I think you’ve made me good, too. You make me feel good. You make me a better person. I don’t know who I’d be without you, but I know who I want to be now.
I want to be the one on your arm when we walk into a room.
I want to be the one you wake up to every morning and fall asleep next to every night.
I want to kiss you every time we say ‘good bye’ and every time we say ‘hello’ again.
I want to be the one you point to with a smile and say ‘him’ when talking to others.
I want to be the one to hold you when you cry.
I want to be the one to hug you when you’re excited.
I want to go every where you go.
I want to slow dance with you.
I want to head bang with you.
I want to paint with you.
I want to sing to you.
I want to hold you.
I want you.
I love you.
I’m in love with you.
And I’m sorry.
Sincerely,
Sally <3
Sal felt like a total loser while sneaking over to your place, which was just down the street from Todd’s house, and slipping the letter in your mailbox. He felt like he could puke just from writing the letter, there’s no way he could ever say these things to your face. He couldn’t help but hesitate, staring at the mailbox as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. ‘They’re going to hate me. I’m gonna ruin everything. What the hell am I doing?’ Sal thinks to himself, staying frozen in place for a good few minutes as thousands of thoughts race through his mind, shaky hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.
He jumps a bit when he notices the light in your bedroom flick on through your window. He ducks his head and turns to leave, not wanting to get caught lurking around your house in the middle of the night. As he rushes back home, the panic begins to set in because now he realizes he left it…he left the letter behind. It was done. No turning back. He felt sick to his stomach and like he was already grieving the loss of your friendship.
Sal tip toes back in the house, praying neither Neil nor Todd would catch him sneaking in so late and ask questions. He trudges to his room, shedding his clothes before flopping onto his bed. Sal lays on his side and after taking his prosthetic off, stares at the wall for hours thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways you could reject him, every excuse and lie he could use later to act like it wasn’t even serious, like it was a dumb joke or something. Finally, after his brain had tortured him enough, he drifts off to sleep just before the sun begins to rise.
~next morning~
‘Holy shit…’ You think as you hold the piece of lined note book paper in your shaky hands. “No way…no way!” A giddy smile grows on your face as you clumsily drop all the other mail you had in your hands, besides Sal’s letter, on the ground and take off running for him. It was early in the morning and you were in pajamas still but nothing could stop you now. His house was not far at all and you were too excited not to immediately run to him and profess your love for him.
You and Sal had been friends almost as long as he has with Larry and Todd. You’ve slowly fallen in love with him just as hard as he has with you- the issue is that you are both dummies and think the other person sees you as a friend and a friend only. You’d find yourself dreaming of Sal, not knowing he was dreaming of you too. You’d absentmindedly doodle his name on piece of paper and blush, he’d find a strand of your hair on his shirt and smile so big under his mask. You two have been pining for so long but both so afraid to wreck the relationship you already have. Eventually, Sal felt like he couldn’t get anything done, couldn’t focus on his studies or the ghosts or even eating throughout the day. His brain was full, flooded even, with thoughts of you. He just had to get it out, he had to say it to you now or he would be haunted by it forever. Unbeknownst to Sal…you felt the exact same way.
Bouncing up to his doorstep with an uncontrollable smile on your face, cheeks aching and turning red, you knock on the door and ball your fists up out of excitement. Finally, Todd answers the door, smiling at you before greeting you. “(Y/N)! What are you doing here so early? We-“ “Sal! I-I’m sorry. I need to talk to Sal.” You interrupt, your crazy smile making Todd chuckle softly just as Neil comes up behind him. “Morning, (Y/N)! Sal isn’t up yet. He’s still-“
You weren’t trying to be rude, you adored Todd and Neil but you were currently completely 100% hyperfixated on the sleeping blue haired poet behind the door at the end of the hall way and you just had to see him immediately. “I-I’m sorry…” You laugh softly as you push past them, sprinting for his door, gripping the knob excitedly before swinging the door open. The sound of the door swinging back against the door frame stirs Sally from his sleep, making him groan and glance over at the doorway. Before he can react to you being in his bedroom, in your pajamas still with bed head and an adorable love sick smile on your face, you’re jumping into his blankets with arms wide open. As you practically belly flop on top of him, he huffs softly then chuckles, groggily blinking at you.
“Uh…morning…” He mumbles just before you place the folded love letter on his chest, giving him a small smirk. His eyes open wider now, his prosthetic eye not in its usual socket. Sal scrambles nervously to sit up more, his breath hitching in his throat. He was so half asleep for a moment there, he had forgotten all about the letter he planted in your mailbox last night. “Oh I uh….yeah uh-uhm-“ Sal can’t seem to move his mouth correctly, can’t focus his brain on the words he wants to say. And he just breaks down even more when he realizes you’re in his bed, still in pajamas with the cutest messiest bed head. He can’t deal with the cuteness and his gnawing anxiety…So you speak up instead.
“I love you too.” You smile sweetly before pulling yourself up closer to his scarred face and rubbing your nose against his. Sal lets out a whiny little hum as he lets his nervous hands very slowly move up to rest on your back, smiling like a sappy dork as he hugs you softly. He’s not sure what exactly he was expecting to happen after giving you that letter but this is most definitely the best case scenario. “Let’s just…fucking kiss already.” You say with a cheeky smile, eyes half lidded as you lean in closer. Sal sucks in a breath before letting his eyes close along with yours, pursing his lips out as his hands move up your arms and to your cheeks. His big palms caress your face so perfectly, his thumbs sliding back and forth over your skin as you lock lips, gently moving your mouths together as soft sighs leave both of you.
As his hands pull your face closer, your hands wander up and down his bare arms, legs tangled up in his blankets along with him now, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh against his lips. “I’m glad you finally told me…that letter was so beautiful.” You whisper, lips gently ghosting against his now. Sal keeps his eyes closed but smiles brightly. “I wrote 153 of those letters.” He confesses, face burning bright red. “No you didn’t.” You scoff, looking down at him, finding this fact hilarious and also adorable and flattering.
“Oh yes he did!” Todd and Neil are leaning in the open doorway. Oops…you got so excited you didn’t shut the door behind you when you ran in. “Proof!” Neil laughs out loudly as he points to Sal’s trash can in the corner of the room, overflowing with balled up pieces of paper. You laugh as you look over, Neil and Todd laughing along with you. Sal drapes an arm over his face, trying to hold back his flustered smile and embarrassed expression. “Stoopppp.” He complains before you’re standing and playfully glaring at the two boys in the doorway. “That’s enough teasing. Shoo!” You grin at Todd before shutting the door on them and turning back to Sal.
“153, huh? Wow. That’s some dedication, lover boy.” You climb back into his bed, sitting cross legged beside him. “Why didn’t you just tell me in person, Sal? Would’ve been way easier.” You scoot closer to him and run your fingers through his tangled hair. “Uh, I totally disagree. I nearly had a panic attack just putting that letter in your mailbox and then having to walk away from it.” A laugh rings out from you as you toss your head back. “Ha! So, What? You’re afraid to say you love me but not afraid of ghosts or demons or cults?” You taunt him before leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a second. “You’re strange. And I love that about you.” You rest there with him for a moment before a fantastic idea hits you, making you sit up and gasp excitedly.
“Can I read the other ones too?!” Before Sal can answer, you’ve jumped up and ran to the rejected pile of love letters in the corner. “No! (Y/N)! No no nononononono!” Sal jumps up and runs to tackle you, his face blushing so red from his ears and down his neck. You laugh loudly as he wraps his arms around your waist and tries to pull you away from all the other embarrassing things he wrote and considered saying to you. “They’re…in the trash…for a reason!” He laughs and huffs as you you push forward, trying to reach even just one crumpled up piece of paper. “Pleeaaassseeeee?” You plead but your strength leaves you as Sal tickles you and has you cackling on the ground instantly.
And the next 10 minutes are spent wrestling with him on the floor of his bedroom while laughing like drunk idiots and occasionally pressing a kiss to the other’s lips. Eventually, you do get ahold of a few of the discarded love letter drafts and they are either like Shakespeare poetry type shit, or so fucking dorky and corny, full of puns and shit. Larry probably tried to help him with that one lol
#sally face x reader#sally face fanfic#sally face fanfiction#sal sally face#sally face sal#sally x reader#sal x reader#sal fisher#sally fisher#sally face#sal fisher x you#sal fisher x reader#sf sal#sally face fluff#sal fisher x y/n
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God I have been scrolling thru ur blog for hours and my entire hand is wet from how long I’ve been edging and how badly I want to come. I’m laying with my legs spread wide and I’m afraid if I move or breathe I’ll come and the fun will be over. I want to lock eyes with you at a party and sneak off to the bathroom and fuck each other hard and fast with our clothes half on, your dress pulled down around your waist and your hand twisted in my hair, burying my face in your chest. You moan into my hair to keep quiet as I wrap my arms around your waist and spread my hands across back and leave marks all down your torso. Without taking my attention off of your tits I would hike up your dress and push myself in between your legs as I lifted you up onto the sink. You’re leaving marks on the mirror and no longer trying to quiet your moans but we don’t care, because I’m three fingers deep and your wetness is pooling in the palm of my hand. I kiss you hard on the mouth and you grope at my chest zealously as I keep us balanced upright. My fingers pump in and out of you rhythmically, and the sound of your wetness makes my vision fog up with sheer disbelief at the perfection of the moment. For a minute I watch, entranced, as your mouth bites itself and fall open with gasps of pleasure, until you thread one hand through my hair and the other interrupting the palm fucking you, gently guiding my mouth to your cunt. I stare at it as if dumbstruck by an angel, your thighs framing it on either side like wings. It sings it’s siren song and I am a desperate sailor, happily swimming towards my demise. I grip my hands around your waist to keep you steady, and what I feel as I cover your clit with my tongue and lips is not biology but magic, not pleasure but God. My own cunt is numb and cold from the wetness and buzzing of pleasure that has been building since the second you walked into the bathroom behind me, and my knees buckle from your sweet and earthy taste. You barely keep in a scream as I slide my tongue inside you, and your legs snap around my head, drawing me in closer than possible. I suck and lick and kiss and edge until my jaw is nearly locked, but like an avalanche, my chin and cheeks are wet with squirt and cum, and you grip the wall and mirror behind you to brace yourself as you unconsciously grind harder into my face. Before you even cool down you bring my cum soaked mouth to yours and lick inside. I finally fall to my knees and you come with me, draping yourself across my body and burying your face into my neck with kisses and nips. Your hands touch and grope every inch of me and my back and your knees on the cold hard floor means nothing to either of us. I loop my fingers through your hair not to guide you but to feel you, to feel the muscles on your scalp move as your mouth works at my chest, stomach and hips. Your fingers barely brush the edge of my underwear and the world goes quiet. With the same eyes you first watched me dance with, you watch me now as I throw my head back in pleasure as your jaw works at my pussy. I cum quickly but you still kiss me there because you are hungry too. After, you don’t bother moving. You rest your cheek against my naked pelvis and i thread my fingers through your hair draped over my thigh. Our dresses are piled up and discarded but before we fall asleep we help each other get dressed, making one person jobs for two people. I kiss your shoulders lightly as I zip you up, and you kiss my nose as you pull the dress over my head, giggling from exhaustion and disbelief at what we just did. We don’t bother to touch up our hair or your shade of lipstick smeared onto my face because when you take me home, we’re just getting straight out of it.
holy fuck you deserve your pussy ate the fuck out for this. anon...you're so sexy and i'm so wet because of everything you said.
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So just when I was sorta on a roll for writing I have woken up sick
101 F (38 C) fever
Good times
#it’s 4:30am#I’ve been trying to fall back asleep for an hour#no dice#writing may occur#sick fics and the like#but yeah#hope yall are doing better than me
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waking up two hours early feeling so anxious i could be sick why
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Anyway uh. Sorry about last night* I’m gonna blame it on new med induced insomnia
*read: like three hours ago again. Insomnia.
#something I’ve been thinking about anyway but . yeah getting five non consecutive hours of sleep did not help.#gonna try and fall back asleep now night night < this is not going to work but whatever
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my insomnia has been so bad the last couple of nights. Clyde woke me up at 1am the other night and I never fell back asleep and lately i haven’t gone back to sleep again since then. 🥴
#talkin to myself#yesterday I got sleep from like. 7am to 8:30am#that was pretty much it#and I’ve been trying to fall asleep for several hours at this point and I’m just. wide awake#wish I could bonk the ‘never sleep’ switch back off
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i loveeeee when my sleep cycle goes crazy random style mode
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can i request some slutty luffy? just fuck me up fam ☠️
AHH i think this is so beautiful and one of my fav smuts i’ve written!!! :’)
hunger - luffy x f!reader
smut
summary: luffy gets incredibly horny, and he’s confusing lust with hunger
contains: mating press, praise, marking (reader receiving)
words: 2.4k
_______________________________
Luffy’s alone. He thinks, right now, of touch. And his body is sweaty from the day and from his yearning mind, he’s shirtless because an hour ago he lit on fire beneath his skin, he’s been simmering ever since, and it’s healed, somehow, by touch. So his fingers dig into the grooves of his abs, he likes to feel them flex and shift as he traces every corner, mouth open, drooling onto the glass of the porthole. He left his bed an hour ago when he lit on fire beneath his skin. His blanket became too hot, his mind too full to fall asleep. He’s thinking about food now, juicy fruits that drip down his throat, melted cheese, the greasy, fatty pieces of steak that slide so slowly along his tongue.
He rubs his stomach because he’s hungry, that’s it. There’s a burning within him, starvation but if it was beautiful. He needs food right now but he knows, somehow, that food won’t do anything for him, not really. And if he rubs his stomach because he’s hungry then why does his hand go lower, down beneath his waistline, tugging at the hair down there because, why? Why does this feel good? Why is he moaning, little whimpers that fog the glass, what does he need? He thinks of touch. Skin on skin. That’s it, skin on skin.
You’re probably alone. Moonbeams sail one by one from the east with the wind and blackening sky as the sunset turns lilac, fading, gold waves turning silver, copper. Translucent silk the color of the sunset hangs from your shoulders, a slip so loose it barely covers your chest. It isn’t cold tonight and you’re not tired. You saw dolphins this evening and you wonder if you can see them again before the water disappears in the night. Everyone else is already asleep. You hope that when you’re tired you can find Luffy, who’s probably asleep, and curl up with him as everything drifts away.
But as the ocean laps at the ship and you’re calmed by the gentle rocking you feel, suddenly, arms from behind. Arms that run over yours, hands massaging your wrists up to your shoulders. A distinct smell, the feeling of hot rubber, this is Luffy and he’s so, so warm. And his breathing is so heavy in your ear. He places his chin on your shoulder and it’s covered in drool, he begins to slowly lick your neck as he pulls you closer. You haven’t even said hi before he has you in his lap, squeezing your waist from behind. His licks turn to kisses, and then to bites, all over your upper back and then a wet, raw trail up to your jaw. He’s groaning with want, no words yet, he has too many things he wants to say.
“Hi Luffy,” you murmur with a little smile, reaching back to pet his face which is burning up and flushed. His tongue laps your cheek, he’s an excited puppy, you feel his teeth now so you ask gently, “what’s up?”
“Gonna eat you,” he says in a quiet, gravely voice, right into your ear. He whines after this in desire, in hunger, he’s lustful and desperate.
“Yeah?” You lean back against him. His arms are so tight, he’s trying to wrap you up and crush you like a python. And you can feel his heartbeat race in every muscle.
“Mh, ‘cause you’re real pretty. And I’m hungry so I’m gonna eat you.” He’s almost trying to take a bite out of your neck now, his teeth are sharp but his tongue is soothing, he moans because he likes the flavor. “Real pretty…” he hisses again beneath his breath.
You turn so you’re facing him. He needs a kiss right now and he doesn’t hesitate to grab your face and dive in, writhing tongue slipping greedily between your lips. And there’s a gentleness here too, his hand moves to the back of your head, stroking your hair adoringly. He isn’t going to hurt you he just needs you so, so bad and he doesn’t really know how or why or what he should say.
“God, Luffy.” You’re quiet, muffled by his mouth. And just hearing your voice again clouds his mind.
“Love ya, love ya so much,” he says in between moans and kisses. His nails scrape at your chest, delighted by softness, something to grab onto, more to squeeze. “I wanna play, please can we play?”
Trying to get on top of you he’s leaning over you and pulled by instinct, he wants you straddling him but he wants to be on top at the same time. He’s just a tangle of limbs right now, saliva dripping messily onto your neck.
“Of course I’ll play with you.” You’re blushing, eyes closing but he’s squeezing your cheeks and forcing you to look at him, huge sparkling eyes as deep as the Mariana look down on you.
Luffy begins to laugh. Just a breathy giggle at first, blowing air between his teeth in a little joyful hiss. And then his mouth opens, he laughs more, louder, that’s what he does when he’s excited and when he knows he’s about to get something that he wants so, so bad. And then it fades to giggles again, and he stills for a moment, no movement except his chest. Rise and fall, rise and fall. He’s just looking at you.
And then he licks his lips. He dives in.
You make a small sound, surprised and unable to react in time, as Luffy plants his feet firmly on the deck, your thighs slamming his stomach as your legs are thrown over his shoulders. And you’re bent, folding tighter and tighter as Luffy crouches over you. His arms encircle your legs and your back and your waist and constrict again, his legs are spread and ready, twitching, hips pressing yours. He’s forgetting, probably, that you aren’t as flexible as he is.
“This is good, Lu, this right here,” you manage to choke out because you often have to remind him what your body can and can’t take.
He mumbles a little apology and does a once over with his eyes, he wants to make sure that you aren’t hurt but, at the same time, he’s letting his gaze linger on your body, on the silk slip that’s fallen as your waist curls upwards and your breasts are bare now, so delicious, he’s drooling again. You’re tasty, you’re his.
This must take so much strength, the way he’s perched on his toes over your body, his thigh muscles clench and ripple against yours. Shared sweat, shared warmth. His balance is perfect even as he reaches for your chest, rubbing, holding, kissing, now he’s kissing your lips, now your neck. He doesn’t want this ever to be over.
And he says, “I love ya so much.” That’s the third time he’s said it.
“I love you too,” you say with such joy even as you’re breathless still, but before you can finish he’s pressing his mouth to yours hungrily. You said you loved him and he wants to taste it — the flavor of those words — it’s all-consuming.
“Tastes so good, mmh,” Luffy gasps as he takes you into this hot, wet kiss, “can’t wait, wanna play now.”
You’re not sure how he did it from this position, but his pants are off, kicked to the side. His cock is aching and leaking already and smoldering against your stomach, you can see it from here, throbbing and waiting, skin so smooth and thin and perfect like auburn moth wings over red-hot iron.
His chest crashes against yours in a tidal wave now because this new vulnerability makes him want to be closer. Now you can’t see it anymore but god, it’s so hard it feels like he’s denting you, so long and thick like a python, he’s still holding you, and squeezing more and more. Like a python.
With so much pressure he wraps his hands around lower, lower, snapping your panties, thrusting against your stomach in a way that shakes your body but he’s got you. You’re in his arms.
Begging eyes so close to yours, mouth on your lips and cheek, breathing so fast and so warm and he whispers, “can I?” And it’s so scratchy and kind and needy so deep in his throat.
So you pull his hair, you kiss him, yes.
Rolling back on his heels he finds his way, sloppy thrusts that don’t quite make it but god when they do, he isn’t going all the way even though his every nerve craves you but you’re his baby and he can’t hurt you.
Thick tip so soft and gentle, butterfly wings and flowers, impossibly hard and aching in heartbeat rhythms against your clit, moving you with every pulse, searching and desperate like a moth to a flame he finds you.
Shivers that make you clench your legs against his shoulders as he rubs and rubs back and forth and hugs your body and bites your cheek and murmurs, “that feel good? Ya like that?” with such curiosity like he really wants to know, he wants an answer.
“Perfect, so perfect. Please, I need you.” Words in his ear like shooting stars lighting up his body like the darkening sky. He’s made of ochre sunbeams.
He smiles and laughs and with another quick kiss he’s finding you more. Muscles flex and as he leans forward onto you he’s there, right there. He starts to moan loudly and whisper about how happy he is but it’s Luffy so it’s not a whisper, really. He’s not even inside you yet. He’s just so, so excited.
“Feels so good, so good. C’mere,” he giggles against you happily and makes sure he holds you as he’s pushing into your body, you’re filled in an instant and more and more every second.
Amid the panting and moaning you can almost hear that heartbeat and those pulsing veins buried in you. You’re dented again but from the inside now. With a little mh, Luffy finds his home so, so deep. You’re in a cocoon of warmth, wrapped in the sun, filled by the sun, melting.
“My girl’s so pretty, gotta bite, gonna bite.” Those teeth again and their practiced, hungry chewing. He swallows on instinct, abs vibrating and tightening against your skin as his stomach purs. And he’s rocking into you, back and forth on his toes, enjoying that deep, tight massage. He’s inside you, he’s trying to eat you, trying to get you inside him, too.
You’re going to be covered in marks but that’s ok. You like hearing him groan and laugh against you, and something about that swallowing, his throat flexing against your shoulder, that’s so beautiful to feel.
“Mine, ‘kay? Mine.” Luffy’s talking the whole time through his laughter and you’re swept away by him as he continues to crush your body from the inside over and over, tidal waves on a cliff’s edge, he makes whirlpools in you.
“This is so fun, you’re so fun, so pretty,” he keeps huffing and you hear this over and over as he squirms and wriggles on your body, thrusts shallower because he can’t bear to pull out of you any more than he needs to. Luffy wants to be close and never leave.
He tries to have conversations with you that just spill into unending praise. You’re too dizzy and lost in this world of feeling to respond most of the time but you kiss him whenever he wants, you tell him he’s beautiful and that he feels so good whenever your voice is there.
He’s swelling in you, veins bulging and rubbing so far up inside you that you feel him throbbing in your stomach, his twitching cock encouraged by your clenching, leaking, every muscle wracked with craving and overstimulation.
“Gonna fill you up ‘cause you’re real pretty,” he laughs against your lips, twisting into you deeper still, “gotta make ya all mine.” He still sounds so sweet and so soft, just a playful little puppy.
Even as he groans and begins to pump you full.
Love feels like this, love is raw and endless like this, love makes you float away. You close your eyes and now he lets you, you just hold him, you let the rhythm carry you and it feels like so long until he’s done. He doesn’t want to pull away but his legs give out. His knees finally hit the deck, he squeals in delight as he’s pulled from you with a wet little sound. But he’s still hugging you, of course.
“Heh, felt so good.” Luffy’s smiling with all his teeth, his chin sparkles with saliva, and your neck is dripping too, “thanks, darlin’. Love ya so much”
“Love you too. I love you, Luffy.” You don’t want to ever leave from his arms and you feel so empty now. But you’re soaked in him, neck and thighs both shining.
His hand rests gently on your back, helping you sit up, your slip falls back down over your body and it’s all wrinkled now. Luffy smooths your hair, he pets you, now is when he just wants to stare at you and not say a word. But when he sees the blooming red and purple trailing from your ear to your collarbone he starts to shake a little bit.
“Aw, this ain’t hurtin’ right?” he murmurs, tracing the bruises and teeth marks with his fingers so softly, carefully. There’s no blood, it’s just glossy with layers of drool, he’s proud but he needs to check on you first.
“No, it’s not bad. Don’t worry, I like it.” You kiss him right next to his mouth but he turns, quickly, because he wants your lips. “Whole crew’s gonna know I’m yours, that’s all.”
This makes him smile. He sees no reason for embarrassment or shame, you’re his so he can bite you when he wants. You feel his muscles twitch against you again as he laughs. And he’s flushed all red, hibiscus on his warm honey skin. Those eyes, dark brown eyes melting with that lavender of the sunset which is almost gone now, fading silently. So orchid blue then, on loving, deep Bulgarian rose.
“Good! I want ‘em to.” he rubs his head against your cheek, still biting just a little. And now he’s moving like he wants to pick you up and carry you, even though you’re both tired. But it’s because he’s hungry, and in that throaty little voice he asks, “wanna go get snacks?”
#blushing rn#luffy x reader#one piece#luffy#one piece x reader#one piece fanfiction#luffy x y/n#one piece smut#luffy smut#luffy x reader smut#luffy x f!reader
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I have almost no energy to move or to think. My eyes hurt. My head hurts. I’m constantly on the verge of puking. The room is spinning. Normally bouncing off the walls with the desire to exercise, try new things, and socialize, all I want to do is sit silently in the dark. I am incapacitated, in an inescapable way, by the demands of full-time work.
I had forgotten for a while that I am so profoundly disabled, because I have been able to build a life around my natural rhythms and my inarguable sensitivities. But for just one week, I’ve been thrust back into approximating something of a “normal” working life, and I can’t handle it. Not even remotely.
If I were to live by this schedule all of the time, if necessity forced me to work an actual full-time job with real, in-person, full-time hours, I would have zero energy for meal preparation, physical fitness, social outings, on-the-ground activism, or any of the random adventures that make life so worthwhile. In my schedule I’d scarcely find the time for doctor’s visits, tooth cleanings, trips to the DMV, birthday parties, conferences, runs to the post office, or any of the other small journeys that make it possible for supposedly “independent” adult life to run. My health, my relationships, my community, and my grounding in reality would dramatically collapse.
Working full-time is a sickness. And not just for especially sensitive people like me. The friends I know with full-time jobs are tired nearly all the time, and have had to give up on so many of their passions and fulfilling pursuits. Over the years some full-time workers I know have become a bit dull-eyed and distant, no passion in their voice, a ghost of their younger selves. They assume it is because they are growing “old,” but I’m older than many of them, and many people older than me are similarly able to bounce off the walls.
We have energy if we get enough sleep, if we eat robustly and eagerly, and if life is filled with shared wanderings that we can look forward to. We need repetition, and comfort, and rest, but also ample space to dream, and the power to bring some of those dreams into reality. So many people under capitalism lack all of those things. Their jobs are a chronic illness they must cradle, manage, and make endless sacrifices for every single day.
There is so much they can’t do. They don’t go on dates with their spouses because they’re falling asleep at 8pm. They’re behind on doctor’s appointments and haven’t visited their siblings for years. They’re too weak and weary to travel, to volunteer, to meet anybody new. All they have it in them to do at the end of the day is collapse in front of something familiar on the TV. And it is so normal that nobody even considers it a sickness.
The full essay is free to read or have narrated to you at drdevonprice.substack.com.
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Geto doesn’t know how to respond to pet names.
It took him a long enough time to become used to the traditional “baby” and “love,” it was just recently when you started busting out these absurd nicknames for whatever thing you could be subjecting him too.
You were cooking once, and you called him “scnhookums” and asked him to pass the peppers. He dropped the tray.
Driving, you told your “stinky man” to take a left. He slammed on his brakes.
You’d been painting his nails and got some on his cuticle, and you asked your “little poop” to pass you some acetone. He just took his hands away.
It’s not that he doesn’t… like them, they’re just not quite what he expects. They’re so extreme, so left field that in a way, he feels as if you’re mocking him, making fun of him.
He doesn’t like that feeling.
But what he hates even more, is when you pause on giving him disgustingly sweet pet names. This, makes him feel like you no longer care, no longer wanting to take the time to come up with the gushy names that keep him in a shy state.
And you haven’t given him one in days.
He hasn’t been able to sleep. Nothing major, nightmares plaguing the dreams he thinks should be pleasant, 
“Shhh,” you soothe. “Stay asleep. I’ve got you.”
He merely nods and lets his head bury back into the pillows, your lips press against his temple before he lets his breathing even out once again.
As if your kiss soothed the monsters that dance, he’s able to sleep a few more hours, waking up disgustingly late and pouting to find your side of the bed cold.
He’s not proud of the pout okay, you’re just really good at scratching the affectionate itch that digs his brain. all he wants is his ‘pooky bear’ to cuddle their little ‘chickadee’ and let him fall back asleep in their arms.
He’s sure those names aren’t far in your arsenal of names.
When he finally does come to search you out, he’s not completely surprised to see you, stretched out on the couch and in a state of relaxation he finds envy in.
“What’re you watching?” He asks, shuffling into the living room. You smile up at him and say nothing, but instead pat your lap as an invitation for him to come and curl against you.
With a nod, he does just that, letting himself lay down on the couch with you, his head nestled in your thighs. Your fingers instantly start their magic on carding his loose hair, and his eyes slack slightly at the tingly feeling.
“Feel better?” You ask, and he hums contently. “I told you more sleep would help. You just never listen to me.”
He says nothing, merely letting his fingers gently trace the lines on your kneecap.
There’s a whirl of silence in the room, and he feels his eyes grow tired from your loving touch, the post warmth of his shower, and the cat that’s curled on his feet, keeping them warm under her rhythmic breathing.
“My handsome man,” you mumble, bending down to plant a kiss at his temple. his eyes widen as he cranes his head up to look at you, curved in surprise and a glimmer of love in his dark pools. “So pretty it hurts… my handsome, pretty man.”
That. That, he could get used to.
He smiles dopily and turns his head to nuzzle into your thigh, trying to hide the heating of his cheeks from you and your potential teasing by keeping his face buried.
But you don’t pick on him. Instead, you click your tongue adoringly and press another kiss to his temple. He feels your nose taking deep breaths of his scent, and your thumb strokes his cheek lovingly.
“Shut up”, Suguru says happily, as an acceptance, letting his sleepy eyes close and allowing your affections to swallow him whole.
Yes, he thinks to himself. It’s the fluttery feeling everyone talks about. The air filling his lungs and his head skipping beats just by the tone of which you call him handsome.
You call him your man.
Maybe pet names don’t always have to be sticky and sweet; but it just makes the most meaningful ones penetrate his heart that much more.
And this pet name, he hopes you decide to keep.
#don’t look at mE IM SOFT#geto suguru#geto suguru fluff#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x reader fluff#geto suguru x gn!reader#geto suguru imagine#geto suguru jjk#geto#geto fluff#geto x reader#geto x reader fluff#geto x gn!reader#geto imagine#geto jjk#jjk#jjk fluff#jjk imagine#jjk x reader#jjk x reader fluff#jjk x gn!reader#jjk x gender neutral reader#jjk x yn#jjk x y/n#jjk x you
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rubber duck
in which reader is sick and spencer takes care of his girl!!
fluff (18+ for nudity)
warnings/tags: reader referred to as girl, non-sexual undressing + nudity/intimacy, reader takes bath, spencer doesn't but he is in fact present
a/n: heeeeyyy guys.... sorry for not posting for a month... accept this as a token of my gratitude and know that smut is in the works. keep sending requests, might not answer them but you never knoww!!
Spencer gets home around ten PM. Granted, it’s not a completely unreasonable time for someone to be asleep, but for you? A person who’d rather not go to bed at all than wake up before eight in the morning? You being passed out on the couch at this time is definitely abnormal.
He drops his bag on the coffee table as he approaches, kneeling next to where you’re curled up in the dark room. Part of him doesn’t want to wake you if you’re tired, but he’s mildly concerned. Normally after him being away all week you’ll stay up until he gets home regardless of how late (or early) it is. Ambient light coming in through the window allows him to see the sickly sheen to your skin, and he feels your forehead with the back of his hand.
“Spence?” you murmur, trying to blink the sleep out of your eyes. His response is equally quiet, wavering slightly.
“Hey. Are you feeling okay, angel?”
Even though you decidedly are not, your spirit lifts considerably at the sight of him in front of you. A wave of caramel hair falls over his furrowed brow as he scans your face, looking for signs that something is wrong. You brush it away, hand coming to rest on his cheek.
“I’m fine. I missed you a lot.”
Your voice is a paper-thin whisper, giving you away even as you try to downplay your condition.
“I missed you too, but I’m a little worried. You’re pretty warm.” His eyes dart away from your face and down your body, seeming to notice your attire for the first time. “Did you go to work?”
“I tried to. But I had to come home at early. I guess I didn’t make it all the way to bed.”
This seems to worry him even more, if the way his eyes narrow and the line of his mouth tightens is anything to go by.
“How long have you been asleep?”
“Well... what time is it?” you ask sheepishly, still disoriented.
“10:20.”
“Oh god,” you moan, burying your face into a pillow (which does not make breathing any easier through all the congestion), “I’ve been sleeping for eight hours!” Panic wells in your chest at the ridiculous notion that you somehow lost an entire day to sleep. "I didn't mean to-"
“Shh, relax, it's fine. Your immune system works a lot more efficiently when you’re asleep. It’s the best thing you can do when you’re sick. Studies show that melatonin may actually be an effective antiviral, and people who sleep seven hours a night are 300% less likely to develop an illness than people who sleep only five hours a night.”
Despite yourself, you smile into the pillow at his unprompted information dump.
“So... am I... 500% more likely to be better tomorrow?”
He laughs, running a hand through your hair.
“I don’t even know where you got that number.”
“I failed statistics in high school,” you mutter, pushing yourself up onto an elbow.
“Honey, that’s Algebra.”
You bury your face in your hand and laugh at your own stupidity- before it devolves into a coughing fit.
“Ugh, I’m sorry. I know you hate germs,” you say once you’ve managed to get the coughing under control. You look at his face, but there are no signs of disgust or fear.
“I could never hate your germs. But I am worried about the cough... do you think a bath would help?”
You mull it over. Part of you wants to rot on the couch forever, but the more rational part knows you should definitely get up and try to take care of yourself. With a helping hand from Spencer you rise, stumbling into his waiting arms like a foal on shaky legs. Immediately you feel fatigued, but he patiently guides you to the bedroom and sits you on the mattress before disappearing into the adjoining bathroom.
For a few minutes the only sound aside from you catching your breath is the tub filling from the other room. Soon he returns, to find you curled up on the bed and barely conscious once more.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighs, gathering you up in his arms and helping you to your feet once more. “You really don’t feel good, huh?”
You shake your head, allowing yourself to be carefully herded into the bathroom. Spencer moves to sit on the edge of the steaming tub, pulling you forward gently by your belt loops. Deftly he begins to undo your jeans as you fumble with the buttons on your shirt.
“I feel like I’m dying,” you groan. He glances up at you.
“I wish you would have told me you were sick. I would have come home earlier.”
“I thought about it,” you admit sheepishly, “but I figured better I be sick and alone than more people potentially end up dead because I’m too needy.”
Your boyfriend sighs, resting his hands on your hips as he looks up at you with a mix of earnestness and admonishment.
“At least tell me next time. I don’t like the idea of you here all alone without anyone knowing you’re ill.” His fingers press gently into your flesh to emphasize his point. “Okay?”
“Okay,” you agree softly, without hesitation. Spencer’s expression softens too, and he leans forward to press a kiss to your sternum.
“In,” he directs after you wiggle out of your jeans, getting out of the way and helping you into the water. He watches as you carefully submerge yourself, a little tense as if he’s ready to jump into action at any second. “Is it too warm? I tried not to make it too hot because your body temperature is al-”
“It’s perfect,” you reassure, sinking further in. Steam billows up around you and you sniff. “Lavender?”
Spencer nods, settling on the floor next to you.
“And mint. I’m surprised you can actually smell it.”
Normally you’d tease him for his fussing, but the minty steam really does seem to be helping you breathe a bit easier. After only a few minutes, you feel noticeably better.
“Will you read to me?” you ask dropping your head to your shoulder to look at him.
He’s leaning against the wall and monitoring you with a contented look on his face. At the suggestion his eyebrows raise.
“Of course. What do you want to hear?”
“Fairytales. But only the super gory ones. The more disturbing the better.”
“What? No Jane Austen?”
“Ugh, no. I need to hear about terrible things happening to beautiful princesses so I can feel seen.”
A small smirk graces his lips as he regards you, eyes sparkling with humor and thinly veiled affection.
“You are utterly ridiculous.”
“You have to be nice to me when I’m sick,” you whine, slinking lower into the bubbles. Spencer hums in sympathy, running his hand through the water to check the temperature before trailing his knuckles over your arm.
“My poor sick girl,” he teases. You huff indignantly, attempting to hide the way his words make you melt into the bathwater.
“Just get the book, Spencer.”
“Yes ma’am.” He kisses your forehead (covertly gauging your fever, you’re sure) before pushing off the ground. You watch him leave, heart overflowing with adoration even though you still feel sick. Maybe it’s the bath that’s helping, or maybe it’s just his presence.
A minute later he returns to his post beside you bearing Grimm’s Fairytales and a tall glass of water, which he tells you to drink all of before he starts reading. Regardless of how unwell you feel, you find the energy to make sarcastic comments about the characters’ intelligence and the implausibility of the plot (it’s a fairytale, Spencer reminds you) but soon the soothing cadence of his voice enthralls you. The illustrations and the story capture your imagination as you rest your head and arms on the side of the tub.
More time has gone by than you realize when you begin to shiver in the now lukewarm water. Spencer notices, finally setting the book down.
“Ready to get out?”
You nod and he helps you step out of the tub, pulling you close and wrapping you with a fluffy towel. Absolutely no heed is given to the state of his own clothing as your wet skin soaks his shirt, or his own health as he breathes in your air.
“I’m gonna get you sick, Spence,” you say anxiously, making a feeble attempt to pull away. Spencer doesn’t even begin to allow it, holding you even tighter. The honesty of his words is reflected in his eyes as he looks down at you adoringly.
“I can live with the idea of spending a few days at home together.”
You lean into him further, too tired to hold much of your own weight up.
“I can’t believe you have to intentionally get sick to get time off work.”
“You’re definitely worth it.” He kisses the top of your head and rubs your back for a moment.
“And to think,” you muse, the words muffled by his shirt, "when we first met, you wouldn’t even shake my hand.”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds fic
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sharing the bed with seventeen
how they sleep next to you
seungcheol
tucks you into his side and keeps you there all night
will not let you move, even if you complain that it’s too hot
his dramatic ass will say that he’ll die if he can’t sleep with you in his arms
pouts at you if you don’t go to bed at the same time as him
if you want to stay up later to watch tv he’ll stay up with you, falling asleep in your lap on the couch while you watch your show
“baby, just go to bed without me”
“i can’t get comfortable unless i’m with you”
jeonghan
a little shit
teases you whenever you want to cuddle up with him
but if you refuse to cuddle him he’ll pout until you cave
if you try sleeping away from him he’ll pull you over to him and smother you
loves to feel like he’s protecting you
always the big spoon, needs to be holding you instead of the other way around
“can i be the big spoon tonight?”
“no”
“but-!”
“absolutely not”
joshua
loves his personal space
literally cannot fall asleep if he’s touching someone, which he feels bad about
but at least he can sleep next to you!
will try to read you bedtime stories to make up for it
googles ‘best bedtime stories’ and ends up reading you goldilocks and the three bears
“why are you reading me a child’s bedtime story?”
“shhh we’re getting to the best part”
jun
blanket hog
you’ll have to sleep with an extra blanket next to your side of the bed so you can pull it on when you wake up in the cold
will claim that he’s not doing anything and you’re just imagining it
even when he hogs all the blankets he’s still searching for your touch
so, you might wake up cold but your hand is warm, engulfed in his
at this point you’ve stopped mentioning it to him so he doesn’t feel bad
plus the warmth of his hand is enough to show you he loves you
“i didn’t steal all the blankets again, did i?”
“nope”
hoshi
nuzzles his head in your neck
likes to be as close as possible
literally a baby tiger
so what if he feels safe in your arms? sue him
likes it when you talk about your day or tell him a story, your voice soothes him to sleep
“can you tell me the one about when you fell off your bike again?”
“honey, i’ve told you that story 10 times already”
“but it helps me sleep!”
wonwoo
surprisingly, is the little spoon
he’s sick of having to be so strong, loves being babied by you
gets sad when you go to sleep first, but he’s playing video games deep into the night, so who’s really to blame here?
but, will feel even worse if you stay up late just for him
“are you ready to sleep yet?”
“just one more round”
“fine, i’m going to sleep without you then”
“no, wait!”
jihoon
usually doesn't sleep until very late
is always working on producing and will even spend nights in his studio
when he comes home you're almost always sleeping already, he feels bad that he can't hold you and soothe you to sleep
but he opts for crawling into bed and holding you while you sleep
you'll subconsciously curl up into him, it always makes him smile
you constantly badger him about getting more sleep and he always promises that he will (he won't but he knows it eases your mind)
“when did you get back last night?”
“not too long after you fell asleep, don't worry”
(he came home after you'd been asleep for 5 hours)
minghao
doesn’t tell you that he does/doesn’t like cuddling
literally just doesn’t give you any information
some days you’ll wake up in his arms and then other days you’ll wake up about to be kicked off the bed
but, even if you wake up away from him when you try to get out of bed he’ll grab your arm and keep you there
“don’t leave me”
“i was just going to make breakfast”
“i said don’t leave me” :(
mingyu
smothers you
literally will not let you breathe
claims he needs to hold you to fall asleep, pouts if you don’t let him
you can try to put a barrier of pillows between you but you always wake up in a death grip
“you’re sleeping on the couch until further notice”
“i promise i won’t do it again!”
he does it again.
seokmin
cuddle bug ™
loves being close to you, absolutely obsessed with skinship
genuinely cannot sleep if he’s not holding you which is why it’s so hard for him to get sleep when he’s overseas
plays with your hair while you’re asleep
will not get out of bed without you, so he’ll just lay in bed and watch your sleep until you wake up
“have you been watching me sleep?”
“of course, i could never get bored of your beauty”
“you’re a sap”
“funny way of acknowledging that i’m madly in love with you”
seungkwan
big old teddy bear
sleeps peacefully as long as you two are smushed together in any kind of way
big spoon, little spoon, he doesn’t care if it’s with you
let’s you play with his hair, plays with your hair
he just loves you so much he’ll take whatever he can get
going to bed with you is his favorite time of the day
“kwannie? i’m tired, you ready for bed?”
“always”
vernon
very specific about how he sleeps
quite literally cannot sleep if he’s cuddling, also says it’s impractical
will link his pinky with yours or grab your hand in his sleep, though
if you wake up and get out of bed before him he’ll pout a little bit, he likes spending time in bed with you
your presence next to him is enough, even if you think you’re bothering his routine
“you sure i’m not messing up your sleep by being here?”
“i’d never not want to be with you”
dino
wants to be a cuddler but is a kicker
you can fall asleep in each others arms but you will be woken up by him kicking you and pushing you nearly off the bed
you’ll try and get back to a normal position with him but he will still kick you, making you grab a pillow and blanket and go sleep in the guest room
he’ll wake up to an empty and cold bed and feel absolutely horrible
will rush into your guest room and shake you awake
“did i do it again? :(”
“don’t worry about it, honey”
#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagine#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#svt fluff#svt imagine#svt imagines#svt x reader#seventeen scenario#svt scenarios#svt scenario#seventeen scenarios#mingyu x reader#mingyu fluff#scoups x reader#scoups fluff#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo fluff#vernon x reader#vernon fluff#jeonghan x reader#jeonghan fluff
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closer than friends
PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader
WORD COUNT: 5.3k
WARNINGS: season 1/2 era, friends to lovers, sweet love confession, Dean being Sam’s wingman
A/N: my first supernatural fic is finally here!!! It’s been a long while since I’ve had the motivation to write, and I’m so glad I was able to get this out and share it. Please reblog if you enjoy!! <33
"How many times are you gonna shift in your goddamn seat, woman, jesus christ." Dean glances over at you from the wheel for the fourth time, watching you rub your eyes and knock your shoulder into the side of the Impala's door again.
"It's not my fault the passenger seat isn't made for comfortable napping, Dean."
You hear Sam chuckle from over your shoulder; this makes you look back to find him comfortably nestled into the corner of the backseat with his sweatshirt tucked in the crook of his neck so he can lean against his door without discomfort.
You huff, "I don't want a word from you."
"Says the girl who called shotgun and fought for the front seat all morning."
"What did I just say?"
Dean rolls his eyes, "Okay, knock it off. We're finding a place to sleep tonight."
While Dean focuses back onto driving, you try your hardest to find a suitable position that would allow you to sleep for awhile up until you guys made it to whatever hotel you were staying in for the night. You'd like to blame the Impala for your sleep deprivation, but you've slept in it before just fine, so you know the car isn't the problem. Even though you're going on just over 36 hours of no sleep, your mind won't shut off. The events of the case you were working on for the past couple of days play like a movie in your head, reminding you of how it ended over and over again.
You swallow quite harshly, and shift in your seat again. Something soft smacks the back of your head and you whip around to see what Sam's hit you with, but it's just his sweatshirt, and he's already leaning against the side of the car like he was before, almost as if he hadn't moved at all.
You mumble out a quiet "thank you," and you don't bother to even listen for any sort of reply before you're stuffing his sweatshirt underneath your head and forcing yourself to go to sleep. It's not long before you hear Sam's soft breathing from the backseat signifying that the boy has finally fallen asleep himself. You almost gave up until you saw Dean turn down his music just a little, side-eyeing you as he looked between you and the road.
"Is that better?" He asks.
"It was fine before."
"I'll keep it like this anyway."
You hum in response, and he goes back to humming his own tune to follow along with the music. With Sam's soft breathing in the back and Dean's low humming, you finally find something else other than your mind to focus on, which ultimately leads to your eyes lulling shut and you drifting off to sleep.
When your eyes start to peel back open again, the car is stopped and there's light rain patter on the wind shield. You lift your head causing Sam's sweatshirt to lightly fall into your lap, and at the same time the door opens revealing a slightly wet Sam waiting for you.
"C'mon, we're here."
"Slow your roll, Sammy, I just woke up." Your head lolls back onto the seat, and you let your eyes close once again, forgetting about Sam who's standing in the rain waiting for you to get out.
"Alright, let's go."
You shiver and grumble a slight protest as you feel his cold hands slip underneath your body to grab you and pick you out of the Impala. He knocks the door shut as he cradles you close to his chest as to not drop you, and as he locks the car. Your ear stays smushed against his front as he carries you, allowing you to feel the soft pitter patter of his heart beating in his chest.
"What time is it?" You mumble sleepily.
"Close to ten."
"That's it?"
"Yeah." You nod, not replying this time so you can nod back off in his arms. You're back to being fast asleep once again by the time Sam reaches the room Dean picked out for you, and he tries tucking you into your bed as gently as possible so he doesn't accidentally wake you up. In the short process you only mutter something unintelligible to Sam's ears as he finishes pulling the blankets up, so he ignores it and kisses you on the forehead, bidding you a good night before he retreats back to the room he's sharing with Dean for the night.
It's much later when you're rudely roused from sleep by a nightmare; you sit up straight in the bed with your hands by your sides clawing at the sheets, your eyes wide and unfocused, much too scared to figure out where you are or how you've gotten there. It takes a second to realize you're in a motel room, and now, the sheets that were once neatly laid over your body are haphazardly thrown towards the end of the bed, practically hanging off and hitting the floor. You take a shaky deep breath in and out, taking your trembling hand and placing it over your heart in an attempt to regulate it.
After a couple minutes your breathing is sort of back to normal, but your shakiness hasn't stopped. At that point, you're aware you won't be falling asleep again anytime soon, so you sit up further and throw your legs off the bed to go and find something to busy yourself with. In the corner there's a chair that you notice has your bag on top of it, and there's a small table next to it with a notepad. Your curiosity pulls you towards it, and when your feet reach the table, you're able to make out Sam's sloppy handwriting.
If you need us. - S
Next to the writing is a key card, which you can obviously assume is the one to their room. You pick it up and turn it over a few times, debating on whether this dream was something worth needing them for. In your head, needing was the same thing as bothering and it was never used as a positive term. But you know that if you spend another minute in that bed you might actually start crying and drive yourself crazy over the dream, so you take your chances and hope one of the boys will let you sleep in their bed or at least talk to you for awhile and get your mind off of it.
When you open the door and step outside, you become acutely aware of the cold air on your arms and legs rather quickly, and you begin to wish you were wearing a sweatshirt instead of one of Sam's shirts and a pair of shorts. The chill encapsulates you, making you hasten your step towards the room down the hall with the number specified on the key card. Once you make it to the room, you're pushing yourself up on your tip toes because, despite your sock covered feet, the ground is still horridly cold and you're hoping to get off it as soon as possible. Although, you find yourself unable to let yourself in once you find yourself standing in front of the door. You give it a good five minutes before you work up the nerve to finally pat the key card on the handle to allow yourself in the room. Once you've pushed open the door a crack, you're able to perceive a bed-side lamp turned on, and Sam leaning against his headboard next to it.
His head snaps up from his book at the sound of the door being pushed open, but he relaxes when he realizes it's you.
"Hey," he says softly. He's in the brown sweatshirt you were passing back and forth earlier, and he's weirdly still in a pair of jeans, but at this point you're used to seeing Sam and Dean wearing their jeans to bed.
"Hi," you respond back, even softer.
Sam likes to think he's pretty good at perceiving your body language, especially after knowing you for so long; so when he notices your trembling hands, your flushed cheeks, and your frantic eyes, he knows that you've had a nightmare.
He's not gonna ask why you're there since he knows why, so he only pats the side of the bed next to him and asks, "You wanna' join me?"
You're quick to nod your head and cross the room to join him, and it's only then when you're on the bed that you notice Dean isn't in the other one.
"Where's Dean?"
"Oh, he left to drive around. He's probably at a bar, or sleeping in the car somewhere." He says casually.
You hum, "Couldn't sleep?"
"Neither of us really could. He asked if I wanted to come with, but I didn't really feel like leavin'." Sam left out the fact he didn't want to leave you here alone, since he doesn't like leaving you anywhere by yourself. Dean doesn't either, but he doesn't get fussy over it like Sam sometimes does when you fight them on it.
"I can't either," you say quietly.
With some of your hair dangling in your face and your flushed cheeks, you look sort of delicate in Sam's eyes. You look sad, but when you look at him you have a gentle smile covering your lips, and when you look away your mouth curves downward again, only slightly, to where you might think he won't notice, but he does.
Sam's always stayed observant of you, even when you think you're the one who takes all the mental notes of him.
He reaches out, lifting the hand closest to you and letting his palm rest gently on top of your shoulder.
"You okay?" He almost looks like a puppy when he asks, and it's pitiful. For you mostly because he's cute, but why should he look like that when you feel like you're gonna start crying any minute.
You don't even want to answer because if your mouth opens you're either gonna say you're fine, or words describing the terrors you experienced in your sleep are going to come pouring out of your mouth and you won't be able to stop until you're a sobbing, pitiful mess and you could not handle being that way in front of Sam.
You couldn't.
But looking at him looking at you so fondly, it's like he's trying to tell you he'll comfort you the only way he knows how and he's gonna fix all your problems with a touch or two alone. Like the way he wants to hold you will melt all your fears into nothing and the way he wants to kiss you will make you forget any of it even happened. His eyes speak more than words could express in this moment and you don't even care if you seem desperate, or needy, or anything really. You allow yourself to fall forward into his awaiting arms, and when your head meets his chest, you can't help the first sob that escapes your lips.
You sound so tired, and the way that you're crying so harshly makes him feel like you're tearing yourself apart inside, like each breath is ripping off another piece of your heart.
"Honey..." he breathes out gently, wrapping his one arm around your neck and his other only comes up about half way so he can hold your head close to him under his chin. You've fallen completely into his side, your head against his chest and one leg practically in his lap, but he doesn't seem mind. “Do you… want to talk about it?”
You consider it for a moment; you probably would feel better opening up to him about the case you just worked, considering he was also there and knows how hard it was, but you also know opening up to Sam makes you feel close to him. Intimate almost. You’ve never been one to share your thoughts or feelings generously, and you think that must have just came with the messed up childhood, since Sam and Dean are pretty much the same way. But as the years went on, the boys got much better at opening up to you than you did them. Although, if there was anyone that could get you to talk, it was Sam.
Today, you decided, would not be one of those days.
You shake your head, "I'm okay, I'm okay. I'll be fine." You know by his soft sigh that he doesn't believe you, but luckily he doesn't push it. "Can we just stay like this for a little while?" You whisper shyly, despite knowing he wouldn't say no to you.
"Yeah," he strokes your hair softly, "Yeah, of course."
You lay comfortably against him as he slowly but surely calms you down, holding your head and rubbing your arm gently as you let out sad little sniffles. Once you've relaxed, you murmur something into his chest that he thinks might have been a thank you, but before he can ask you've already fallen asleep.
About an hour later after the two of you have fallen asleep, Dean unlocks the door and enters the room slightly shitfaced but more so tired. He freshens up in the bathroom so he doesn't wake up feeling even worse in a couple of hours, and he doesn't even notice you're there until he's trudging out of it, eyes wide and feet frozen to the floor as he takes in the image of you and Sam cuddled up to each other in Sam's bed. He manages to put his fist against his mouth just in time to cover up a surprised laugh, taking in the sight of his little brother in the same bed as their best friend.
"This is gold." Dean smiles mischievously, pulling his phone out of his pocket to capture the moment. "Just friends my ass." He mutters.
...
"Dean, if I have to hear you say that girl's name again one more time, I'm going to chop your head off. I don't care how good she was at su-"
"Alright, alright, let's quiet down shall' we?" Sam pats your shoulder and looks around the cafe to see if anyone heard you bickering with Dean about last night's one night stand. Dean laughs loudly as he lets himself into the corner booth that the three of you chose while you were walking in.
"What, you nervous someone's gonna hear us, Sammy?"
"It's 8 in the morning, Dean. Let's be a little respectful."
You hide your giggle, "Yeah, Dean."
Dean rolls his eyes, glancing at Sam as he ever so casually throws his arm over the back of the seat behind you, looking at the side of your face to see if you've taken notice. You're picking your nail, completely oblivious. He almost rolls his eyes again.
"Well," Dean straightens up, "Let's see what we have on the menu today."
"Don't act like you're not going to get the same exact thing you get every day," you comment, not even looking up from your nail.
"What's with the attitude, sweetheart? Didn't sleep well?" Sam's smile quickly turns to an annoyed frown as he makes eye contact with Dean, silently sending him daggers to keep his mouth shut.
You squint your eyes at him and open your mouth to come back with a retort, but the waitress walks up before you get the chance to say anything.
"Are y'all ready yet, or would you like a few minutes?" She asks kindly.
"Can we have a couple more minutes?" You say, since the three of you haven't even taken a look at the menu yet. She nods and retreats, leaving you alone with the boys once again. Sam and Dean grab their menus and you quickly realize there isn't a third, so you go to call the waitress back, but Sam nudges you just before you do.
"It's fine, just share mine." You huddle close next to him, resting your chin on your hand as you survey the food options as Sam does the same. He's so close his hair just so slightly grazes the skin of your cheek. Dean raises his eyebrows when he notices Sam's leg has started bouncing and he covers up his laugh with a cough just as he did last night, busying himself and acting clueless as the two of you look up at him.
"You alright?" You ask jokingly.
"Yup, totally fine. You guys ready yet?"
"Yep. How about you, Sammy?" He clears his throat and doesn't say anything, but he nods his head in response, which has you eyeing him weirdly. You choose to ignore it and let Sam order for you while you kick Dean under the table to stop being flirty with the nice waitress, and he only winks at you before he gives his order too.
When the waitress departs from your table, Dean lets his eyes follow her just for a second before he's turning back to the two of you, and he gets this questioning look on his face when he realizes the two of you are blankly glaring at him with the same narrowed eyes.
"What," he throws his hands up in defense, "I can't admire a good-looking woman?"
You and Sam glance at each other with a knowing glance right before you look back at Dean and say, "What's with you today? Why are you acting so..."
"Strange." Sam says. He leans forward on the table, "Why do you look like you're up to something?"
"Huh? Me?" Dean points to himself, "I'm not up to anything. I'm just being plain old me."
"Yeah, sure." You laugh him off and start a side conversation with Sam that has the two of you forgetting about Dean for the moment. Dean always knew Sam liked you; it's so obvious, at least to him. But he wishes he'd realized before how clearly obvious you are too. He doesn't know if he wants to throw up or throw a party.
...
A couple weeks later
"One or two rooms?" The lady asks.
"One please." Dean replies, handing the lady one of his debit cards that probably had some weird made up name on it. When Dean turns around with his debit card and the key in hand, you and Sam are looking at him weird like a couple of toddlers.
"Really? One room? Since when have we done that?" You questioned.
"Since you and Sammy boy over here started sharing a bed every night. I'm not gonna pay for two rooms when you don't use yours." Dean quickly catches on to how he's embarrassed the two of you so he adds, "and besides, I'd rather you stick with us anyway. Keep the team together." He pats your shoulder with a smirk and leaves the two of you behind. Sam spares a glance at your face and he's a bit surprised to find that you're just as taken aback as he is, but you don't say anything and you follow Dean rather quickly.
The three of you head back to the Impala to grab your bags before heading to the room, and when you go to take out yours, Sam slides in front of you and grabs his in one hand, and yours in the other.
"Sam." You say impassively.
"Yeah?"
"I am fully capable of grabbing my own bag."
"Oh I know. I'm just getting a quick work-out, since you know, your bag is like 50 pounds from all the clothes you carry.
"It is not, I barely bring anything with me!"
"You might be right, but if I may ask, how many of the shirts in here are actually mine?"
You pretend to think, "Um, probably like two. Maybe three."
A wide grin spreads across his face as he laughs at you, "Now you're lying! Half my wardrobe is in here!" Sam pushes the cracked door open with his behind and holds it open for you, standing to the side with his foot on the door. Dean's bag is at the end of his bed and he's already crashed on the bed nearest to the door.
"Hey, it's not my fault your clothes are more comfortable than mine! I don't know who decided that men deserve softer clothes."
"Well, in that case," he dropped the bags, "be my guest."
"Oh, how sweet. I like how you think you had any choice in the matter."
"Haha, very funny. Do you want the first shower?"
"You can take it, I had it the other night. Besides, I need to figure out which shirt I'm stealing tonight. I was thinking of the blue one, or actually, maybe the green-"
"Oh my god, I'm leaving." He rolls his eyes, but you can see the amused smirk on his face as he heads to the bathroom, and gently closes the door behind him. You giggle to yourself as you pull out his blue shirt from your bag and a pair of pants since it's a bit chillier tonight.
He's out of the shower pretty quick, and when he emerges from the steamy bathroom, you're next to Dean's bed whacking him repeatedly with a pillow.
"I told you to stop snoring!" You yell at him.
"Hmph, stop hitting me, crazy woman!" He mumbles sleepily at you. You stop hitting him when you notice Sam watching you, and he wants to laugh at how cute you look, like some kid who's got caught doing something they're not supposed to.
"What, he was bothering me."
He smiles, "I don't doubt it."
He doesn't realize that you froze mainly because he came out in a pair of sweats and no shirt, with his hair dripping wet and a towel around his shoulders. Dean peaks his eyes open and grumbles when he notices the way you're looking at him. You hear Dean, which breaks you out of your temporary trance.
You drop the pillow and give him a sheepish look, "I'm gonna- I'll take my shower now." You nod, promptly leaving the room after you grab the clothes you had set out on your bed. Sam watches you leave, more than a bit confused might he add, suspicious of the way your mood had suddenly changed. Once he hears the water running and the curtain pull back signifying you're in the shower, and can no longer hear him, he settles on the bed and asks Dean a question.
"What happened?"
"You happened, you idiot."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard what I said. I'm sick and tired of watching you two pine after the other when you clearly love each other, so for gods sake- no, my sake, tell the girl you love her and get on with it!"
Sam's face is hysterical, and if Dean weren't so tired right now he'd be laughing, but he's exhausted in more ways than one, so all he can do is shut is eyes and hope his little brother makes a move on the girl who's been his practically since the day they met her.
"D-Dean... I can't just-"
"Yes you can, and you will." Dean finalizes. "At this point I'll just do it for you. It's unbearable." Sam huffs loudly, flopping back onto the bed.
He lays there and stares at the ceiling for awhile until he hears his brother's soft snores coming from the other side of the room; when he sits up and runs a hand through his hair, he hears the shower turn off and your light humming become more audible.
He takes a final deep breath just as you walk out of the bathroom with your hair combed nicely and your warm pajamas, perfectly ready for bed. Not exactly ready for your best friend to confess his undying love for you. He wants to crumble at the sight of your smile.
"You okay?" You ask gently. "You look a little pale."
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he waves you off, "When am I not fine?"
You laugh softly, "Do you want me to answer that?"
"Actually no." He gives a soft laugh of his own before his eyes land on his brother again, thinking over the words that were spoken to him just minutes prior to you walking out of that door. You were so near, so close to their conversation, and you have no idea. He can't help but think that maybe you'll be taken aback, shocked beyond belief, or traumatized enough to the point you yell at him and leave him for good. Or, maybe... possibly... there's a small chance you do feel the way that Dean says you feel, and in just a few moments the entirety of your relationship will change. Well, no matter what it'll change.
He just hopes it's what he feels it might be.
Sam's face snaps up to you quickly, like he's just had a sudden thought, and his eyes hold yours for a beat too long before he asks, "Can we go outside for a second?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure." He gets up and takes long strides towards the door, you just a foot behind. He opens it and leaves it open for you to slide through, and he's standing there with his hands in his pockets facing away from you. You give him a questioning glance, but he doesn't see it.
"You have the key?" You query.
"Um..." he pulls out the card in his hand to make sure and you giggle at him, but he just nods, putting it back in his pocket, gulping strangely, "Yeah, I got it."
"Okay." You whisper softly, closing the door quietly behind you. You're silent for a moment, giving him a second to see if he'd speak first, but he doesn't. "You okay, Sammy?"
"I'm in love with you."
Not even a beat later, those words exit his mouth, and everything changes. The atmosphere that was once light, comfortable, and knowing, has shifted to one of fearful eyes, harsh breaths and unspeakable tension. His hands, once unafraid to grab hold of you, now remain glued to his side, flexing and itching to reach forward and touch your skin. His heart is beating so fast he feels like it's getting torn out; each individual piece of it being sliced and picked carefully from his chest as if he were on an operating table.
He can't tell if the look on your face is fear or shock. Probably both. But he doesn't know if it's good or bad and it's scaring him.
"Say something." He breathes out, with a drop of desperation.
Your mouth, hung open for a brief amount of time, now closes, and you gulp just like he did before he uttered those five little words.
"What did you say?" you murmur, looking like you just got pulled from space.
He repeats himself. "I'm in love with you."
You don't say anything again, but he continues.
"You don't know how long I've wanted to say that." He interrupts himself with a laugh, a scared, almost detached sounding laugh, but one nonetheless. You stare at him as he goes on. "For weeks I've had these moments where I look at you and all I can think about is telling you how I feel, but then some part of me ruins it and then I forget about it until you do something again that makes me want to say it again."
"Which, I swear is every two seconds because all you have to do is look at me with those eyes and all I want to do is grab your face and tell you how much I love you, how much you mean to me and how I can't stand sleeping next to you one more night without you knowing that I can't sleep without you anymore. I need you by my side, tucking your head under mine. It's not that I can't because I could, but I don't ever want to again. I could live a hundred lifetimes, all of them with you in them, but if you weren't mine, if you were someone else's, I wouldn't dare live another."
When he notices the tear streaking down your face, he finally reaches forward to hold your cheek in the palm of his hand. Your own comes up from your side to grip tight onto the wrist that's holding your face, and he can tell that you've noticed he's shaking.
"Sam..." Your voice comes out unsure, "Are you sure?"
"Am I sure?" He questions you, giving you an incredulous look. "Sweetheart, I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
You're holding onto him so tight, he just knows what you're going to say next.
"I love you." You thought it would come out a whisper, but it sounds stronger than you expected. You close your eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. "Oh, Sam, I love you so much."
His smile is brighter than a thousand suns, and his forehead drops against yours, staying there as you breath the other in; this new confession bringing in a wind of fresh air that has you feeling like you've both earned a pair of new lungs.
"I thought you might say that." He utters quietly, making you laugh and hit his chest lightly.
"Oh, shut up. Then why were you so scared, dumbass."
"I was confessing my love for you, either way I'm gonna be nervous!"
You smile cheekily, "Your love for me..."
"Don't act like you didn't know." His other hand comes up to hold the other side of your face, tilting your head up more to see you clearly.
"Maybe. But I had my doubts too." You confess.
Sam shrugs, "Well, without Dean I probably wouldn't have said anything for another decade, so-"
Your mouth drops open, "You finally gained the courage because Dean forced you to?" Sam stays still as you gape at him, and he smiles nervously.
"Does it help if I was thinking about it first?"
"Oh my god." You groan dejectedly and drop your head forward onto his chest. He holds the back of your head as he shakes with laughter.
"Okay, okay, be mad at me, whatever. Am I getting my kiss now?"
"Who said you were gonna get one at all?"
"Don't mess with me."
"I wouldn't dare."
...
The next morning, Dean groggily peels his eyes open to the morning sunlight peeking out of the curtains, and grumbles, questioning the time. It's around 8 am, which surprises him because he would have expected you or Sam to have woken him by now. At the thought of you guys, he turns over and manages to find himself alone in the dingy motel room. The bed covers are torn from the top of the bed, more settled towards the end of it, showing that you guys obviously slept in it, but there's no sign you or Sam are even still here.
Suddenly, he hears the low growl of his Baby pulling up outside, making him swing his legs out of bed and trudge over to the door. He swings it open, getting ready to yell at the both of you for going anywhere without him, even if it was breakfast, but his eyes widen and his jaw drops at the sight he's seeing.
You and Sam are standing close together near the trunk, leaning against the side, but mostly the other. Sam's hand, that isn't holding the grocery bags, is holding your hip, and you're looking up at him with a mischievous look in your eye. Sam says something which conjures up a giggle out of you, which then has Sam smiling brightly at the sight of you. He leans down and kisses you straight on the lips, holding you there for a moment before he pulls away to catch his breath. Both of you stand there, unaware of Dean's eyes on you, but neither of you would even really care if you did.
Dean's shocked expression turns to one of accomplishment. He nods, satisfied, and smiles like his brother just did. He sighs.
"Kids."
#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester x female reader#sam winchester x you#sam winchester x y/n#sam winchester#supernatural
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𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you just can't get to sleep thanks to a terrible rainstorm terrorizing the ship. luckily, your tossing and turning inspired nami with an idea: just go sleep with the swordsman.
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: roronoa zoro x fem!reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k
don' ask about the aesthetic k? k 💙
With how the hail storm rattled against the hull of the ship, and how the vessel careened on the waves, you were at a loss as to how Nami was fast asleep already.
The crew had settled down for sleep hours ago, the laughter and teasing from dinner falling into a soft silence draping over each and every one of you—well, except you, that is.
Even after months at sea, the incessant rocking had you curling into yourself, headache blooming under the skin of your temples. Groaning, you rolled around on your sheets, burying your face in your pillow as you shoved the blanket off your shoulders and down your body. Chill air hit you instantly, a contrast to the sweat rising from your skin. All you wanted was sleep, but your ears rang with the sound of rainfall and the far off thunder rumbling through the sky.
You tossed and turned again and again, rest ever so far away and the sway of the Going Merry making kept your mind alert with all its tilts and jumps. Yet another grunt of frustration huffed from your lips, and Nami finally sprang up, glaring at you from across the cabin.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded, her eyes heavy and her annoyance high.
Great. Now Nami was upset, which usually lasted a whole day if you were unlucky. You didn’t bother turning back to look at her, digging yourself deeper into your blanket. “Sorry…”
She sighed and rubbed at her cheek, gaze drifting over your exhausted form, taking in what she could in the dark. Settling back down, Nami said what she’d been thinking for the past two hours of listening to you loll around restlessly. “Just go sleep with Zoro.”
A beat passed, your eyes slowly opening as you tried to convince yourself you’d heard her wrong. You flipped around and gaped at the girl slinking into her sheets with a smirk you would catch through any dark room. “What? Why would I—Why would you—Nami!”
She chuckled darkly, her bright eyes finding yours. Nami propped her head up on her hand. “It wouldn’t be the first time, right?”
Trying and failing to make a comeback, you opened and closed your mouth like a gaping fish, settling on crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s none of your business.”
“Uh-huh,” she drawled. “But I’ve got dawn watch and am in desperate need of sleep.” All you did was stare at her, your glare fading. Nami rolled onto her back, offering into the silence, “It’s not like he’ll turn you away.”
You tried so very hard to let her logic roll off your shoulders, but it was cold (Zoro was warm) and you were tired (Zoro was a good napping buddy). As appealing as the idea was, you didn’t want to bother him. Zoro was probably just getting back from his night watch, Sanji heading up to the deck in his wake. Zoro wouldn’t turn you away, but he might grumble at you, and sometimes that was worse.
“Stop overthinking,” Nami’s voice whispered through a hiss. “He likes you.”
She was just trying to give you heart palpitations saying stuff like that. “Does not.”
“Mhmm. Get some sleep… with Zoro.”
You threw your pillow across the room, missing her bed by a longshot. You could throw pillows and shout whispered words at her all you wanted—it didn’t change that she had a point.
It wouldn’t be the first time you crawled into Zoro’s hammock late at night, seeking shelter from sleeplessness that seemed to miraculously melt in his embrace. Nami might’ve been right; Zoro might like you, at least more than he liked anybody else. It was confusing most days, but your mind was so mushy with fatigue you didn’t bother running over the finer details of your affections for the swordsman.
You puffed out a huff, eliciting a growl from the dark, “Go. Or neither of us will sleep.”
“Fine.” You threw off your blanket and marched out of the cabin before you could lose your nerve, trudging through the nearly pitch black hall of the Merry.
You yelped as you tripped over a discarded broom, cursing into the night as you kicked it aside and kept on toward the boy’s cabin. As soon as you laid eyes on the closed door, your footsteps faltered, heart stuttering.
The ship leaned on the waves and sent you teetering into the wall, and the decision was suddenly easy. You inched the door open gently, wincing at the momentary creak, and slipped inside.
The boys’ cabin always had a… unique scent to it. Somewhere between burning socks and musk is how Nami described it. Honestly (now, you would never tell her this), you just thought it smelled like Zoro. Though Zoro might’ve been slightly less odorous on good days, you mused.
The swordsman of your infatuation lay in a swaying hammock tied up between two support beams holding up the ceiling. A flash of lightning illuminated his peaceful face for a brief moment, and the room was back to black.
Collecting your wits, you approached him slowly, careful not to step on any of the clutters the boys left lying about. Lip pinched between your teeth, you stepped around a crate of slingshot ammo Usopp had crafted, catching your foot on the slingshot itself and jumping out of the way.
You swept the room fretfully, yet no one stirred, the usual snores rising and falling. A sigh puffed form your chest as you turned back to Zoro’s hammock, only to lock eyes with the stoic swordsman as he gazed blearily up at you.
Lurching back, you calmed your racing heart and huffed at him. “You scared me.”
Zoro leaned up on his elbows, confused. “You scared me.” His gaze flickered all over your face. “What’re you doing?”
You fisted your hands, feeling like a deer at headlights, and blurted, “Nami kicked me out.”
Zoro’s brows drew instantly. “What?” He rose halfway when you hand found his chest, gently pushing him back down.
“I mean,” you amended. “I couldn’t sleep, and she got tired of me rolling around…” Bashful in how you averted your eyes, swaying on your feet, “I… sleep better with you. Y’know?”
Not even a second later he tugged on your arm to draw you closer, shuffling over to offer you some room. You smiled softly, falling into the space beside him, molding right into his side. “Yeah, I know.”
Your face warmed, your heart swelled, and you rested your head on the rigid outline of his shoulder, adjusting to find a comfortable place. Zoro’s arm slid under you and curled you further into his side, a sigh pulling from his chest, his muscles literally relaxing under each of your touches.
There wasn’t a name for what you and Zoro were, not yet anyway, and somehow you were fine with that. He was there, and you were there, and that felt like enough. For now, you let your eyes finally give way to exhaustion, the pelting of the rain growing fainter and fainter.
Nami was a tease, but she made some good points a lot of the time. You’d have to thank her in the morning, after you finally got to sleep in the arms of your swordsman.
#zoro#zoro x reader#opla!zoro x reader#opla#roronoa zoro x reader#one piece#one piece live action sanji#one piece x reader#x reader#reader insert#female reader
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!smut, mdni!
thinking about spencer reid who has had a crush on the pretty BAU agent at the desk across from him ever since she started. she has been so swamped with work and paperwork and life recently and spencer notices the small changes in her behaviors because he notices every little thing about her. he sees the tighter grip she holds on her pens, making the ink bleed through the paper just slightly. he notices the way she starts to slam her coffee cup on the desk as opposed to gently sitting it down. he notices the heavy uptick of the amount of cups she’s having.
and it’s worse when they’re given a case. naturally, since they get along so well and since they’re probably the two smartest people in the world, hotch pairs spencer and his crush up throughout their time in phoenix, arizona. spencer sees the way she’s always cracking her knuckles and rubbing at the small of her back. he hear the tone in which she talks to the officers.
so, when they’ve finally caught their unsub just 6 days later, spencer makes sure to pick up her case files before she can even make it from her hotel room. he tucks them neatly under him as he sits down on the jet, carefully hiding them from her. he holds them hostage, knowing if she doesn’t see them, she won’t worry about them. out of sight, out of mind, as they say. she falls asleep quickly in the seat across from spencer. he can’t help but ogle at her beautiful sleeping form, knowing she really needs the rest.
and, once they returned to the musty bullpen that belongs to the BAU, spencer stays with her. he watches as she starts the paperwork he’d sneakily put on her desk, not letting her catch on to the fact that he’d taken it. he tries his best to focus on his own work, but the way she keeps groaning as she rolls her head back has him completely distracted. he’s barely three pages in when hotch emerges from his office, bidding both of them a goodbye and complimenting their work on the case
that just leaves spencer and the pretty agent across from him in the space.
time moves slower now, spencer thinks, which makes it even more agonizing to listen to her try to work out her over-exhausted muscles by herself. he can’t help himself as he breaks the comfortable silence that had been established.
“hey, y/n,” he inquires, knowing she probably doesn’t want to be disturbed right now. his suspicions prove to be true when she doesn’t look up, letting out a less than enthusiastic “hm?”.
“do you know the benefits of getting a massage?” this piques her interest, wondering where spencer was going to take this. sure, the recent stress in her life had her muscles aching at every hour of the day, but she didn’t think anyone had picked up on it. “i know the basics, spence.” she giggles, finally looking over at him.
he can’t dwell on the fact that this is the first time she’s smiled in about two weeks because his brain starts moving too fast for his mouth to keep up, “yeah, most people know they helps with muscle aches but they actually have a lot of benefits. massages help improve circulation and joint mobility. there’s also research that connects them to cosmetic effects, like improved and more even skin tones.”
he doesn’t expect her to still be paying attention to him, but he’s pleasantly surprised at the small smile spreading across her face. “hm, that sounds amazing. if only i wasn’t trapped here doing paperwork at almost three in the morning.” she answers sarcastically, turning back to her work. “i could give you a massage.” spencer stumbles out.
her cheeks start to heat up as she makes eye contact with him, wondering where he would take this. “i mean,” he backtracks, “i’ve read books on how to do shoulder and back massages. my eidetic memory means i could probably do an almost perfect one, if you’re interested. i’ve noticed the way you’ve been struggling with muscle aches.”
her face feels like it’s on fire with the way he’s making her blush. “um, sure, spencer, if you don’t mind.” she stutters and stumbles as she tries to accept his offer. he excitedly pushes himself of his hair, pulling up a closer one behind her.
his large hands start to knead at the knots at the base of her neck. he can feel the tension she’s built up over the past couple of weeks and tries to recall the techniques he’d read about so long ago.
this quickly becomes a challenging feat, as he moves his hands along the expanse of her back. she lets out light moans when he massages a particularly tight part of her muscle. the moans and grunts she’s making are going right to spencer’s cock. he’s so glad he’s behind her, because the tent in his pants continues to grow as he reaches the base of her back, where most of her pain had been.
her light moans have now increased in volume, and spencer is sure he should stop. he was not expecting to have this reaction from her, or react this way to her. his mind is cloudy and beginning to fill with filthy images that match the sounds she’s making now.
and god, he should stop. he knows he should pull his hands away from her, especially as he feels his stomach tighten and his dick throb in his pants. but he can’t. he needs to reach his release so bad, so he presses his fingers harder into her back, listening to the joyful sounds she’s letting out.
he doesn’t pull his hands away until he finally cums in his pants, too embarrassed to keep going. “thank you, spence. i feel a lot better. a lot less tense now.” she thanks him as he turns away from her, pushing in the chair he’d pulled over. he makes a few exclamations, saying it was no problem at all, before dashing off to the bathroom to try and get himself cleaned up.
#thought about this in the shower and just needed to get the idea out there#sorry i’ve been gone schools kicking my ass#be back soon#spencer imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid#criminal minds x y/n#criminal minds x you#criminal minds blurb#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds drabble#criminal minds smut#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you
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