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chososlilprincess · 6 months

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last part of virgin!Choso<3 (im gonna write more for him tho, just in other scenarios!!) other parts here: part 1 part 2 part 4

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

Virgin Choso who stands on his small balcony, looking over the city, a grey cloud creeping out between his lips.

Choso had taken up smoking. He’d asked Leiri about it when he’d seen her doing it, and she’d told him it helped her to relax. he’d bought a pack right after that. The first couple of times he’d coughed the smoke out. But now he does it smoothly, inhaling and exhaling the smoke with no problem. It makes him feel at ease even just for a moment, and lord knows he needs it right now. Humans are fucking weird he thinks, they’d jepordize their health for a little break from their troubles. Guess that doesnt sound so ridiculous now that he thinks about it. Either way hes a human now too, or a half one atleast.

he squeezes the cigarette into an ashtray and looks at the time when he hears the door bell ringing. Its late and you’re here.

he hears you running up the stairs, and when you get to the top you run to him, giving him a soft hug. His heart keens.

“hi Choso!” you smile and let go of him, he immediately misses the feel of you, “hey,” he mumbles.

“why do you smell like cigerattes?” you huff and your nose crickles. cute.

he raises his shoulders.

“i cant believe it…who taught u to do that huh?” you make a disappointed face and fold your arms, tapping your foot on the floor. And he knows youre just joking, you and Yuji have been using enough sarcasm around him for him to have a pretty good understanding of it.

“Leiri,” he shrugs.

“of course…that hag,” you grin. And you look so fucking adorable, in your little outfit, and the way you look when you smile makes him weak. He has your bag ready on the couch, he had washed your panties before putting everything back into it. But he can’t think about that now, or he’ll turn bright red.

he sighs “i made dinner,” he says, “if you’re hungry,” you stop infront of him and you almost look like youre gonna cry from happiness. “im starving,” you say quickly, “what did you make?”

He’d made rice bowls for you. your favourite. And you eat like a girl who’d gotten her first meal in months. Happily humming while eating your food.

Rather than focusing on eating his own bowl, he thinks about eating every meal of the day with you, sitting across from him.

when you’re done you put your plate in the sink and you yawn, you look adorable when you yawn, you look adorable when you do anything.

you turn around, “Choso?”

his heart skips a beat. he nods.

“it’s really late and um…dark outside and i don’t really want to walk home alone,” you look away, are you….blushing?

“is it okay if i stay here for the night?”

And hes heard the stories. About what happens to pretty girls when they’re alone at night and they don’t see the stranger walking behind them. And his fist clenches at the thought of someone being mean to you. He’s stronger than any human. he’d crush their fucking skull.

“you can stay,” he says quickly, a little too eagerly he realises. And you smile, “give me your plate,” you say, looking greatful that he let you stay, unknowing of the fact that he’d do just about anything if it meant your safety, or your happiness.

You start washing the dishes in his tiny kitchen, and when Choso tries insisting that he wants to help, you splash a bit of water on him. And you laugh so sweetly, when he jumps a little, trying not to get hit.

When youre done washing up, You both stand in silence for a while. For some reason its not as akward as it sounds.

“i will sleep on the couch,” he says,

“no Choso…id feel bad, you sleep in your bed,” you mumble.

You both argue like that for a while, and youre not letting up. stubborn little human.

you both get quiet for a moment.

“how big is your bed?”

“Queen size,”

“so why dont we just…sleep in it together?”

youre blushing slightly again. it must be his imagination.

And then he thinks about it. Friends sleep in the same bed sometimes right? you dont mean anything by it, he thinks, its just you being polite.

“i guess…we could do that yes,” he agrees.

you smile and nod, “okay,”

Choso excuses himself to go to the bathroom then, telling you to go ahead and get ready for bed.

He looks at himself in the mirror. He takes out his buns, his hair falling down to his shoulders. His eyes are dark and sunken. He looks dead he thinks. He looks down, “behave,” he says quietly, mostly to his heart, but also his dick.

he buries his head in his hands And He realizes he cant, he realizes the second he’s gonna look at you in his bed, he won’t be able to stop himself. to stop himself from confessing everything he feels, everything he’s done. that he thinks about you all the time, that you drive him insane, that he stole your pretty panties and came in his hand from the smell of your wet cunt.

When he rounds the corner of his bedroom, you’re sitting patiently on the edge of his bed, waiting for him.

“i am going to sleep on the couch, i don’t think this is a good idea,” he says it quickly, before he changes his mind, before its too late to go back.

you open your mouth to speak, hesitating a little.

“is it because of what yuji told me?”

his brain goes quiet. “what?”

“that you…that you like me?”

fuck. its over. he sighs angrily. that little fucki-

you stand and walk to him.

and when you put your hand on his chest, for a moment he forgets why hes mad, he forgets who he is and what year hes in. all he sees is you. And how close you are all of a sudden. and how youre leaning in, standing on your tippy toes, pressing your soft lips to his, in a short gentle kiss. His world stops for a moment.

And when he regains his senses, his instincts take over and he kisses you back ferociously, it’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but neither of you seem to care.

You walk backwards onto his bed, and you push him down so he’s sitting on the edge. He looks at you like a puppy dog, and his cheeks are flushed red.

When you sit down in his lap his dick twitches in his pants.

“i- i didnt think you…,” he stutters. he doesn’t really believe what’s happening.

“well i do,” you say, while cupping his face in your hands. “a lot,”

“can i…” he needs it he needs it he needs it, “can i eat your pussy?” he mumbles it quietly.

your eyes widen. fuck, he shouldn’t have said that, it was way too fast, you were just kissing.

“oh…uh okay,”

fuck. yes.

he lifts you up from his lap, and you skriek a little from surprise. He puts you down in a chair in the corner of his bedroom.

he gets on his knees infront of you and speaks quietly,

“i…im sorry i,” he sniffles a little, he’s so overwhelmed. And you’re letting him taste you.

you lean down and give him a kiss, biting your lip slightly.

“its okay…we can talk later, if you need it i’ll give it to you okay?”

And fuck he almost cries, and he buries his face in your lap. You shush him a little, caressing his hair. Hes hugging your legs.

He lifts his head, and you start unbuttoning your pants. Slowly sliding them down your hips as they fall to the floor. You spread your legs and he whimpers. Your panties are pink this time, and theres a big wet spot on them. And he doesn’t spare a second, he dives his head into your cunt, rubbing his face in it and licking at the wet spot desperately. you moan his name softly, and he cant help but grind his hard cock against the leg of the chair. Hes pathetic but he doesnt care, he wants you to feel good, he wants to make you cum on his face. He groans into your weeping pussy as he thinks about you cumming for him.

He pulls away a little, silently begging you to remove your panties. He wants to see your pussy so bad. His pussy.

You slide down your panties to reveal your soaked cunt. Choso almost growls. He looks up at you, asking for permission to keep going. you nod, your eyes half lidded. Spoiled little princess, he thinks, and thats exactly how hes going to treat you from now on.

he leans in again, kissing your pussy and it makes a wet sound. He licks his lips and groans deeply at your taste. He starts lapping at your cunt like a dehydrated puppy. He’s making out with your pussy now, swiping his tongue all over. You can tell he’s inexperienced, but it doesn’t matter, he’s doing such a good job.

you feel so good, his tongue is too much, its all too much. You love him so much. And you cum unexpectedly, crying out his name, begging him to keep going and he whines. You thrash around and Choso keeps you steady, his strong hands grasping your hips.

After youre done he keeps licking up your cum, making sure youre cleaned.

“Choso…stop, too much,” you say softly.

He pulls away.

His face is covered in your juices, dripping all the way down his neck. And he looks so happy. He stands up, like its on instinct. He needs to hold you.

He grabs you into his arms and plop down onto the bed, with you on his chest. He squeezes you into him, kissing your hair while you slide your panties on again.

“mine,” he says softly. youre his now.

You look up at him, searching his eyes, “Choso i wanna um…you know,” you gesture to his crotch. you want to make him feel good too.

but he looks away shyly. its embarrassing and pathetic, “i um..,” he sits up with you in his lap.

He doesnt feel hard under you anymore. And then it clicks.

“oh my god did you…”

he blushes furiously and nods, “its embarrassing,” he had cum in his pants the second he put his face in your bare pussy.

“no! no…it’s really…hot,” you reason and he looks less embarrassed. He looks into your eyes then, looks at your pretty little face and he already knows he wants you to be his forever.

“do you want to be my girlfriend?” he asks nervously.

you giggle and nod eagerly, jumping on him, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling into his neck.

hes the luckiest man in the world he thinks. And you both fall asleep, you laying on his chest.

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

guys they didn’t actually fuck and i’m SORRY

now….part 4?? hey!!! HEY OKAY IM SORRY!! comment if yall want more ill do a lil short one where buddy ACTUALLY looses his virginity.

taglist:

@iqzo @multy-fandom-lover

#choso x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso #choso fluff #choso kamo #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso smut #kamo choso #kamo choso x reader

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carigm · 2 months

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About Dyersfilm’s “leak”

For all of you who don’t know, dyersfilm is an insufferable individual who used to go by the name of swiftlynatalia. She is racist, homophobic, transphobic, and even made fun of her supposed favorite actress’ eating disorder. However, people on Twitter (especially mlvns) entertain her because she had reliable sources during the filming of S4, and after during post production. She had some true leaks, many being the same that Reddit got right, while others only she had. She was also wrong about quite a few things, but generally she was reliable.

It is worth noting though that she is extremely biased against byler (many of the leaks she got wrong for S4 were pertaining their storyline) and absolutely hates the ship.

This time around, she was getting some leaks during the first couple of months of filming to her curious cat, but she herself claimed that these were not reliable leaks whatsoever and that she was pissed because this time she doesn’t have access to the real sources she had for S4. She has complained about this repeatedly for these past few months. The leaks she has gotten tho, many she has mocked and made fun of because they don’t align with what she wants from the show. She also made a “disclaimer” when the show started filming again that she would not be posting leaks about Byler because she hates us all, and yet every single one of those most likely fake leaks she got she posted, and many of them talked about Byler. She would post them and mock them for “clearly being untrue”. She has barely gotten a single Mlvn positive leak this whole time, and when she’s gotten at least something that alludes to them having scenes together she immediately ran to post it and alert all her friends, even tho she herself knows all of these are most likely fake.

For weeks now, her curious cat has been dry af because I guess nda’s are stronger this time, or no one wants to leak shit to her (she’s rude as hell). she posted the following ask 10 days ago. Someone asked her if she knew about any Mike and El scenes and she said no. Keep this in mind for what’s coming next…

Then suddenly yesterday, she alluded to a Jonathan spoiler she’s supposedly pissed about, but refused to post it like she’s done for everything else. People quickly thought it might involve Byler because she said she wasn’t going to post “leaks” about it, even though she had already lol. So they asked her and she said that “yes, it has to do with Byler.”

Then shortly after this someone asked about Mlvn again, this was just today. Again, note how she proceeds to say she knows nothing about Mlvn 😭

Bylers on Twitter noticed her answers about Mlvn and her comment about a supposed byler leak involving Jonathan and started speculating. She ofc noticed this, and not even after an hour of her saying she knows nothing about Mlvn she goes on to say this.

….

She knows nothing but somehow she knows Mlvn is stable? The bipolar disorder of these answers could rival my own bipolar.

Mind you, we all know that she would’ve jumped up at the first opportunity to post any leak that implied Will was pining and miserable, her and her friends would’ve had a field day over it. And yet, she only clarifies this after…

Not to mention how utterly ridiculous this all is. They’ve filmed stuff up until episode 4 (from what we know), why the hell would Will be pining and hung up over Mike if Mlvn is endgame? That makes absolutely no fucking sense. They would have him immediately fully patch things up with Mike and move on, not be hung up on someone he can’t have in the middle of an apocalypse. Especially not after the Duffers said he’s getting a happy ending. Will getting a happy ending but still being in love with Mike halfway through the last season with Mlvn being endgame is absolute lunacy.

Especially when you consider the fact that narratively, in a sense, Will has already moved on. He doesn’t expect anything from Mike, he doesn’t think Mike can like him back. He saw Mike confess his love in front of El, he helped that confession happen. Will literally has no problem with Mlvn anymore pls 😭 He saved them!!

This is the most ridiculous shit I’ve ever read.

Will is somehow upset at Mike not feeling the same way…when Will already believes Mike doesn’t feel the same and doesn’t ever expect any reciprocation 😭

Either she’s wildly twisting this supposed leak out of context to fit her own perceived narrative of what should happen, or she’s straight up lying about this.

And we know she’s lying about Mlvn so…you people decide what you think of this buffoonery lol.

Wait for Reddit leaks y’all. This woman could get a legit leak saying Byler is endgame and dig her own grave before posting it.

#byler

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judeswhore · 12 days

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u and jude not being able to stand each other but still hooking up on the dl bc no matter how annoying the other is, u can’t deny that the sex is amazing. but one thing that u promised yourself is that you’d never boost his ego bc u already think he’s cocky enough, so u always try to refrain from letting him know how good he makes u feel cuz it’ll go to his head🫢

so one time u guys are going at it and you are literally going dumb from how good it is and he can tell that ur liking it so he’s being all annoying and teasing you. and eventually when ur close to the most intense orgasm of ur life to pull out and he’s like why and u don’t wanna admit the real reason so ur like “cuz i said so” and he knows why ur asking him to so he’s winding u up until eventually u blurt out that it’s cuz ur about to squirt. so after you guys have finished, he is being the biggest pain in the ass and ur annoyed bc there is nothing u can say or do to even convince him that the sex was mid

the two of u have just never gotten along despite having been in the same friend group for so many years and everyone has just accepted that the two of u have this weird hatred towards the other and love bickering and arguing over literally everything so they barely even bat an eyelash anymore. but despite always arguing and saying how much u hate each other the tension and attraction has always been obvious until it got to a point u couldn’t deny it anymore and after a few drinks one night u ended up sleeping together and after that it just became routine. but u still maintain the fact u dislike each other and it kinda makes the sex hotter bc you’ll both constantly tease the other abt “thought u hated me? why’re u begging for it then” and for some reason it just makes everything a lot more intense and even a little more fun?

but u hate letting jude know that he’s the best person you’ve ever slept with and that he makes u feel so good so ur always acting so nonchalant afterwards, leaving straight away and acting like it’s no big deal and like the sex was mediocre. or you’ll slip in a comment abt how “ur effort was poor this time it was kinda disappointing” even tho ur lying through ur teeth. then one night after you’ve spent a little while apart ur making up for that lost time and hes already made u cum a handful of times on his fingers and tongue so ur completely fucked out and so overly sensitive. he’s got u spread out on his bed, up on his knees a little between ur legs so he can watch the way ur whole body shakes and he’s got one hand pressed against ur lower tummy to apply pressure while he rubs his thumb over ur clit and he’s teasing u so much abt how ur crying and the mess you’ve made and “babe, c’mon ur squeezing the life outta my cock what happened to still hating me?” and ur just whining a little, nails biting into his forearm in retaliation. but the way he’s fucking u and the angle and his hand on u has ur pleasure at its peak and u recognise that it feels different than usual and u know ur abt to squirt and u really don’t want to give him that satisfaction bc you’d previously told him he’d never be able to get u to. so ur gasping a little and telling him to pull out, trying to push his palm away from ur tummy to ease up on the pressure but he’s just cocking his head a little and asking why w this shit eating grin bc he knows ur body better than u do and he can tell this orgasm is gna be a lot stronger than ur others.

he’s just leaning down over u, pace never faltering while he’s all “stop being stubborn and give it to me. let go, baby” and in between he’s mumbling little things to wind u up abt how he knows he’s fucking u good and that there’s no way u hate him as much as u say when ur creaming all over his cock and those little mocking phrases paired w the way he’s fucking u has u tumbling over the edge and u end up squirting a little and he’s just so cocky and full of himself over it, continuing to wind up up over how badly he effects u. and then afterwards ur going through the usual routine of acting like it wasn’t the best sex of ur life while getting ready to leave but ofc he’s having none of that and he’s just teasing u abt the mess u made and how u ruined his sheets and that u got so loud he’s sure the neighbours heard and u just know he’s never gna let it go

#hey jude :)

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absolutekillswitch · 5 months

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no alarms and no surprises (please)

pairing: luke castellan x thanatos!reader

tw: major TLO spoilers (honestly tho if u haven’t read it yet, begone), major character death, discussions of blood and death, Luke was reader’s first kiss, mentions of past manipulation, lots of crying, and also i made [REDACTED] take way too long to die for the sake of dialogue. Sorry. Also! she/her pronouns are used, but I tried to steer clear of descriptors outside of that so this SHOULD be woc friendly

word count: 3.4k

It was cruel, this end he was facing. Y/N had felt it long before she’d seen it, that deep intrinsic tug within her, that sixth sense that had begun to go haywire since New York had fallen asleep, since the final countdown for western civilization had officially started running. The tug that alerted her to a new death in her vicinity. The curse bore by the children of death, the chained god, to feel the string of fate being cut, to sense lost souls being carried to the underworld by their father. To mourn, but not to see. She’d never felt it as frequently as she did now, feeling like threads tugging her in countless directions, so much so that her aim with her sword was affected. She’d been coined the best swordsman back at camp, after the previous titleholder had vacated the position, but now, it was like she was jittery, like a newborn zebra with a sword in their grasp, trying to learn how to stand and fight all at once, her battle senses being overridden by the unavoidable emotional pain of the fact that every tug she was feeling, was the feeling of a fellow demigod dying.

But then she’d felt that one.

The strength of this particular tug wasn’t lost on her. It was stronger than any she’d faced yet— stronger than the tugs of those she’d slain herself, and stronger than the tugs of those who had been close to her, when they were alive. It was so strong that the metaphysical tug had felt like a real, physical one, like she was physically being pulled in its direction. The proof of it is the crude slash on her forearm, where the kid she’d been fighting back had gotten a lucky shot on her due to her presently distracted nature.

It had to have been him.

She wasn’t sure just who she’d been fighting, and in the end, she doesn’t think it really mattered all that much, if they were a former camper; a demigod, or if they were an armored monster, as with a wave of her hand, the ground rumbles, opening up under their feet, boney, decayed hands dragging them into the earth, only for the ground to close up on them halfway through their forced descent. Y/N didn’t even notice, nor did she really care. All she knew was that she’d put an end to her own fight, allowing her feet to carry her to his side, numbness flooding her body, with a whispered command to her undead soldiers,

“Protect them.”

She’s not even sure how she found him, exactly. She’d just always been able to find him like that. Now seemed to be no exception to the rule, as she followed what she would consider to be the string of fate to his side. The sight she sees when she does is an unwelcome one, however. There’s three of them— she sees Percy and Annabeth crowded around a figure on the ground. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it is.

“Oh, Gods,” Y/N whispers, hesitating to get closer. She doesn’t know if she can. At the sound of her voice, Percy turns. He looks pale, eyes ringed in red. It looks like he’d been crying, exhausted, eyes wide, as if he were afraid he’d collapse if he even blinked. Y/N wouldn’t blame him, if he did.

“Y/N—“ He hesitates to speak, to try and explain, but Y/N doesn’t let him. She’s already marching over, ignoring the dread building in her gut, the tears in her eyes. And that’s when she sees him.

“Luke,” She whispers, the single word bordering on a gasp. Internally, she’s vaguely aware that this is the first time she’d used his name in years, preferring to call him by his last name, or traitor, at best, or whatever random curse she could think of at the time, at worst. She’d gotten pretty good at it, honestly— the coming up with insults to hurl at him every time they’d crossed paths since his betrayal. But now, all of that is gone. It seems that at that moment, Annabeth and Percy disappeared. It’s just them as she crumbles, falling to her knees before he can even protest. It’s him, not Kronos, she knows. They’d all learned how to tell the difference between the two, when Kronos had taken Luke’s face. Kronos had a colder air about him, eyes golden. Just pure evil that seeped into your bones, that seemed to change even the people around you. But this? This was Luke Castellan. Soft, soulful brown eyes, and a welcoming air about him. This was the guy who had been like all of Camp Half-Blood’s big brother. This was the guy Y/N had been in love with ever since she’d arrived at camp, even if she realized it far too late. Even if he was currently trying to get Percy to make her leave, not wanting her to see him like this. Never like this. Her eyes take stock of his appearance against her will. He looked just as bad as Percy did— worse, actually, given he was bleeding, Annabeth’s knife clattering from his hand to the marble below him. It makes her heart ache, the picture in front of her painted so clearly, even if she hadn’t been present to see it herself.

A hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap.

They’d realized what the prophecy meant, clearly. Luke had to be the one to take Kronos— and to an extent, himself— out. And when Luke had done it, when he’d touched his own Achilles heel, Kronos had run. So now, Luke Castellan was dying. Alone.

Well— not alone.

She was still here. She always would be, even if he’d insist otherwise. He hated how she always had made him want to be a better person. Even now, as he lay dying, covered in sweat, blood, and ash. If she tries hard enough, she can almost pretend that they’re back at camp, that they’d had an extremely rough day playing capture the flag, that the pair of them are in the infirmary, making up ridiculous stories for the scars they’ll have as a result of their adventure, shedding tears from their short lived pain in the name of glory but laughing anyway as they stitched each other up, letting the Apollo kids deal with those who didn’t have someone to back them up like Y/N and Luke did— someone to dote on them, and someone to dote on in return. But it gets hard, keeping up this fantasy. They’re both far too battle-worn, both with eyes that had seen far too much, faces years older than they were the last time they’d seen each other. And in spite of it all, all she can find herself thinking is,

‘Oh, love, you grew up without me’.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Luke tells her plainly, his brown eyes fighting to focus on her through his tears that he’s fighting to push back. Had they always done that?

“Yet I’m here anyway. Deal.” She responds, brows furrowing, focusing on the wound in his side. Prophecies be damned, she won’t let him die. He sits up straighter, slumped uncomfortably against a marble wall at the sudden pressure to his side, the daughter of Thanatos trying to staunch the blood flow, trying to give him more time, tears clouding her own vision, hands shaking. She knows deep down that it’s all in vain, but she won’t let him go. Not like this. She’ll fight her father back herself, if she had to.

“Y/N…” He whispers uncomfortably, hating how blood spurts past his lips, onto his chin, as he utters her name. He’s going to die, he knows, he can almost feel the fates beginning to prepare to cut his thread, but there’s some things he can’t leave unsaid. “My— my heart, it was always yours. You know that, right?” He notices how she flinches, expression troubled. “Take care of it, for me. I know you’ll do better with it than I ever had.” It’s true— his entire time at camp, since she’d arrived, he’d stupidly ignored it. He let hate and anger and jealousy cloud his mind for so long, he never really appreciated what was in front of him. It was just unfortunate it was taking his death to realize that.

“Don’t— don’t say that, not to me,” she sobs, shaking hands still covering his wound, stupidly, naively, believing she could still save him. “Don’t make it sound like you’re dying. You’re not dying, damn it,” she still sounds determined, one hand leaving his wound to touch his face, holding his cheek, accidentally staining it with his own blood. “Don’t— don’t leave me here, please, I just got you back,” she pleads, glassy eyes blurring with tears. She thinks, honestly, that this is the first time she’s talking to just Luke, free of Kronos’ influence, since he’d stolen that lightning bolt from Olympus years ago. It’s the Luke she remembers, the one she so sorely missed.

He laughed quietly, reaching up to touch her fingers. Even now, as she was sobbing over him, unable to look him in the eye, she’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her lips were so plump — as if made to be kissed, even in this moment of peril. “The gods might not want me, but I’m glad they’ve given you to me,” he whispered, squeezing her hand in his again. “I’m dying, Y/N. You can’t save me.” This makes her squeeze her eyes closed, shaking her head lightly, as if she isn’t listening. She isn’t, not really.

“No, nononono— stop that,” She cries, her eyes squinting shut in an effort to banish her tears, but it doesn’t work. “I’m— I’m the daughter of Thanatos, damn it, what good am I if I can’t do this? If I can’t keep just one person alive?” She seems to be talking mostly to herself, not giving up her mission on keeping him with her. Not after everything that’s been said, not with everything that’s being left unsaid. “I know this isn’t what I do, that I’m not a fucking sunshiney Apollo kid who can heal someone on a whim. But this is kinda my thing, is it not? Just… Just one. Please, let me save just this one. I’ll never ask for anything again.” She’s looking up at the sky— praying, it looked like, while blinking away her own tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she prayed to the gods for anything, but she was now. To anyone who would listen, though Luke gets the sneaking suspicion she’s talking to her father. The one she blamed, for being unable to save anyone. She couldn’t heal, the best she could do was sit by and watch.

Luke laughed again, but it’s humorless— and it was so cruel, to die when he could feel his heartbeat quickening as Y/N was so close, her lips so near to his, her eyes so lovely. He wished he could kiss her right now, in this moment, on the marble floor, with blood running over his fingers and the dagger still next to them.

“Y/N, promise me one thing?”

“Anything,” Y/N nods softly, her attention turning back to him. She hates how the simple act of saying her name still affected her so much, after all this time. Her tears were cutting through the grime on her face from a hard fought battle, covered in her own and the blood of others, trembling. Still, she finds it in her to make a promise to the dying boy she loved. “Anything. Just—“ she drifts off, nodding, knowing they don’t have time. Luke took a breath, his eyes fluttering shut. For the first time in his life, he genuinely felt like a young man. A teenage boy, holding his girlfriend's hand and wanting nothing but her to keep safe. For a moment, he can pretend. But only for a moment. His breath hitched, and slowly, he felt the life fading from his body — as if it was being drawn from him like water in a cup. He hesitates to speak, but knows he’s running out of time. He can feel it, being sapped from his bones. But in spite of that, he’s not… afraid. He isn’t angry. He almost isn’t even in pain. He thinks it’s her, that it’s Y/N’s aura as a daughter of Thanatos, that no one in her vicinity will feel pain, a divine remainder of her father’s power flowing in her veins, the guide to the underworld, before they’d meet the ferryman. A walking shot of morphine. He’s heard stories from his spies, about how when Camp would lose a camper during their fight with Kronos— with him—, Y/N would stay with them until they passed, holding their hand, telling stories, bringing them peace, so they would go out with a kind face. Much like she was doing now, for him. The Thanatos of the waking world, the guiding light to death. It’s much more than he deserves, and he knows it.

"Promise me.... you'll meet me again... at the River Styx," He whispered.

“I’ll find you in Elysium.” She promises softly through sniffles, brushing his hair out of his face, a forced soft smile on her own face. She wants him to go out peacefully, wants to remember her smiling, even if she wants to scream at the sky and cry until she couldn’t breathe anymore. She’d been pretty good at it, feigning calmness and serenity with the campers they lost on their own side. It made their passing easier. But this? With him? She doesn’t know if it does. He’d always been far too good at reading her, for that. “I swear it, on the Styx, that I’ll find you in Elysium.” She sounds sure of herself, that even after everything he’d done, he’d earned a hero’s afterlife. That’s what the prophecy said, after all, right? Somehow, she knows she, too, will find herself with a hero’s death. Life wouldn’t be so kind to allow her to die of old age. She’d die hard, with a sword in her hand, and anger in her heart. Luke's eyes flickered open to meet the softness of hers, of lips he wanted to taste, of skin he wanted to cover with kisses. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of mourning the future he could’ve had with this girl, if he hadn’t been so hellbent on his never ending quest for glory.

Kleos. The word feels like poison, now. Maybe it always had been.

"No —" He whispered, head shaking lightly, "I won't be in Elysium. I’ll go to Asphodel—" He choked. That's where he'd likely be, being punished for his treason. It’s the least he deserved, after everything he’d done. "— and then the Fields of Punishment. But promise me... that you will wait for me, at the River."

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, adamant. He should probably take her word for it— she’s the daughter of the god of death, after all. She had a sense for these things. “Elysium. I’m sure of it. You’ve earned it.” She promises, tone soft. She doesn’t mention how she’d never let her father live it down if anything else took place. She’d tear Hades apart herself, find his soul and bring him back, somehow. Like Orpheus and Eurydice, except she’d succeed. “Regardless— it doesn’t matter. I’ll always find you. No matter where you are, I’ll find you. I swear it.”

He laughed, and it was a sad one. He was so weak, so very weak, his eyes flickering once more, his hand squeezing hers as tightly as he could, wanting to burn her imprint into his flesh. "You are so stubborn, you know that? You always have been," he whispered. Images flash through his mind against his will— her face, always her face. When she’d learned of his betrayal, then later when he’d attempted to sway her to his side. When they would train together in the arena— camp’s two best swordsmen. When she’d have nightmares, constant images of the dead trying to use her, both for her powers and as revenge on her father, who they felt claimed them from the mortal plane far too soon, to crawl their way back to the world of the living, and how, terrified of closing her eyes again, she’d crawl into his bed with him, the only place she felt safe enough to fall back asleep. When she’d kissed him for the first time, on her seventeenth birthday. Because ‘most demigods don’t get to make it to seventeen, so I’m making seventeen count’, as she’d put it. Then, later that night, after his surprise wore off, when he had kissed her. It pains him to think about how he’d only been manipulating her, back then. Had he loved her? Sure, but his mission always seemed more important at the time. He’d do it for them, he’d told himself. The gods would regret every unclaimed child, and every claimed child resigned to the Hermes cabin because they weren’t born with the luxury of having a parent that had a throne on Olympus, one of the big twelve. For kids like Y/N. His hand slipped from hers, and he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. Instead, he'd watch her, as if he could lock her into his memory. "Will you... will you stay here with me, until my life..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

“Until the very end.” She promises softly, her voice cracking with the effort not to cry. She’d almost given up on trying to staunch the bleeding, one hand resting on his face, brushing languidly, lovingly, over his cheek, just around the edge of his scar. She’s not sure what possessed her in that moment, as she leans down, placing a soft, chaste, yet romantic kiss to his lips. After all, he’d been her first kiss, it felt fitting that she would also be his last. As she pulls away, she whispers against his lips, “I love you, Luke Castellan.”

He was breathless, the kiss like a dagger to the chest, biting deeper than the blade that will end up taking his life. In a matter of minutes, his heartbeat would skip its last beat, and her face will be the last he sees, the last thought on his mind. His hand came up to the back of her neck, holding her as he whispered in return, "... I love you too." He managed only that, before his heart failed him. He was gone, and he didn't make a sound.

Gone with a whimper, not a bang.

The blood that fell from his wound was now staining the pristine marble flooring beneath them, the last remnants of life and love, of devotion and betrayal. Y/N hoped that it would stain forever, a constant reminder of his sacrifice.

Y/N felt his final breath fan across her face, and she knew he was gone. Her eyes remained closed, steady tears rolling down her face, their foreheads pressed together. She can feel him growing cold as she sobs. “No,” She whimpers, his hands, now gone limp, still in hers. “No, please no—“ Vaguely, she’s aware of the rumbling of the ground under her feet, a telltale sign of her powers coming out to play, a throng of undead soldiers aching to burst past the earth’s mantle, to await her command. Her face screws up into an expression of anguish, though she forces the feeling down, knowing that if she didn’t reel in her own emotion, her legion of death wouldn’t hesitate to grab every demigod in her vicinity and drag them into the earth, to take their place in the afterlife. Maybe they’d take her, too. Maybe she hoped they would.

The thing about being the daughter of death, was that when a soul left a body and you were near enough to it, you could feel them leaving the mortal plane, accompanied by her father to the underworld. She could feel it, feel him, Luke’s soul leaving his body. She always did, with the campers they lost during the war, but this one hits too close to home. It’s a startling, chilling, terrifying feeling, that only makes her sob harder, knowing the boy she loved was now in her father’s hands, and out of her own. This was always the hardest part. “Take care of him for me, pops,” she whispers, voice trembling, knowing her father was with Luke’s soul right now, the pair watching over her mourning over Luke’s body. As that realization passes over her, she sits up straight, a ragged scream of mourning threatening to tear her vocal cords apart. In the background, she’s vaguely aware of the voice of Percy Jackson speaking,

“We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes.”

Notes: and with that, we’re done. This was super fun! I feel like I could go on forever about Luke x Grim Reader (I’m calling them deadwings/grimwings), and if there’s enough of a demand, I just might. Feedback is obviously appreciated !! Drink some water, hug a friend, and don’t forget to pirate PJO 🫶

#JAZZ HANDDSS #happy Friday have some soul shattering angst #and for my next trick I’ll disappear into obscurity never to be heard from again #jk #unless???#pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan angst #luke castellan x you #PJO angst #x reader #PJO imagine

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sixosix · 10 months

Text

a/n this fic is written for art @aanobrain hope u enjoy it art!!!! even tho i swear its ooc T__T </333

warnings 1k words, suggestive, gojo appears, reader is a mess

aka, nanami cooking with sleeves rolled up fic.

you were almost convinced you were dreaming.

the sweet smell of good cooking has you salivating and springing upright from the bed without a second to waste. but that’s not right, because if you’re wrapped up in a warm blanket and not in the kitchen, who’s…?

you squint, belatedly perceiving that this is not your bed, and you’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes.

and this is definitely not your door, or your living room, or your kitchen. you don’t even have a roommate; the man slicing radish with precise speed would also definitely not be yours, even though you now wish that was the case.

the creak of the floorboard has him pausing slightly, glancing at you. your gaze gets caught on his high cheekbones, then his sharp stare.

“good morning. i’m—y/n,” you blurt. maybe you could’ve started with, who are you and why am i not in my home?

“nanami,” he says, still staring as you fidget on your spot. much to your relief, he shifts his focus back to the cutting board when you shift uncomfortably.

“there’s miso soup on the table. it’s gotten cold,” nanami says without looking up from his work. “you wake up late.”

“i’m sorry…?”

as he’s mentioned, there’s a bowl on two sides of two chairs.

cautiously, as if nanami would scold you for the slightest wrong movement, you settle in one seat. the chair is cold and uncomfortable; you’re sure your mother has the same table set back home, yet this one looks like it was never touched when bought. never used.

“thank you for the food,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. your voice is drowned out by the knife hitting the cutting board.

the aroma from the miso soup is fresh and stronger than what you’re used to cooking up, but that was because you sometimes forget to turn off the heat before it boils. at first glance, you wouldn’t have assumed nanami would be talented in cooking. you’d think, with his figure, he’s out there posing for magazines and getting hand-fed by maids. but you suppose you were judging from the cover, because nanami has managed to perfect even the tiny details of scent and spice.

your eyes follow as nanami finishes chopping radish, his sleeves loose around his wrist. the way he moves around the kitchen—sliding to the sink, focused solely on what’s in front of him, giving you a proper view of his broad back—makes it look like he’s barely lifting a finger.

“this is good,” you whisper, wanting to get it off your chest without bothering nanami. but he still hears it, acknowledging it with a glance.

you take a sip, humming appreciatively at the taste, and then inhale on the wrong pipe when nanami rolls his sleeves up with his freshly washed hands. they’ve gone a shade darker from the water, which doesn’t help at all—not when it seeps and sticks against his forearms.

you’re coughing uncontrollably. he looks mildly concerned.

“i’m fine, i’m fine!” your face is burning, and you’re unmistakably not fine.

he gives you a glass of water, all while you pointedly stare at your miso soup. the ripples from your choking and slamming on the table feel like they’re poking fun at you.

not long after, nanami comes to the table with a plate of perfectly sliced rolled omelettes. you’ve already finished your miso soup, and you feel guilty that his has gone cold while cooking, but you don’t feel as bad when you take a bite of the food he’s prepared.

you groan reverently. “this is what you eat every morning?” you’re so, so unbelievably jealous.

“no,” nanami says, settling on the seat across yours. the domesticity nearly has you shaking. “i usually pick up breakfast on the way to work.”

but he stayed in to cook for you. you swoon internally.

“mayo,” he says, sliding his plate over to you. his forearms are still on display, and they’re very legit.

“did you assume i wouldn’t have slipped out?” you muse. “bold assumption. i don’t usually stick around long.”

“you were in no condition to ‘slip out’ even if you wanted to,” nanami says simply, eyes flicking up to yours. “and you must be getting the wrong idea. nothing happened.”

“what.”

“i slept on the couch.” there’s a ghost of a smile on his face—it must be from your befuddled expression. “last night, you went up to me. you told me you weren’t drunk, and then you passed out on me. you had no one else with you, so i figured i'd let you rest.”

“ah… ha. did you now?” you feel profoundly unsexy at the moment, especially on behalf of the night before.

“you were persuasive.”

you straighten, sticking your nose out to regain a bit of pride. “i prefer charming.”

“insistent,” nanami corrects, yet he gives you the last roll of omelette.

“thanks for taking care of me,” you say, bowing repeatedly, hoping that’d convey at least half of what you’re feeling. “and for not being creepy.”

“you don’t have to thank me for that,” nanami says dryly.

“oh ho, nanamin!” a new voice enters the conversation. nanami’s jaw ticks. “nanamin, nanamin, you rascal!” how did he get here without either of you noticing?

“gojo-san.” the man with a blindfold and white hair sticking out in all high angles grins wolfishly. “i wasn’t warned you’d be coming over.” nanami faces you, almost apologetically, “excuse me, gojo-san is just here to get something. run, if you need to.”

“sorry?”

“you’re so funny, nanamin. it’s good to catch you off guard, especially for moments like this,” gojo calls out as nanami walks back inside, not bothering to entertain him with a response. gojo then sizes you up. “who’re you?”

“me?” you briefly forgot that you’re still in the same hallway as them. “oh, i’m no one. no one you should worry about. who are you?”

gojo grins. “definitely not nanamin’s one-night stand.”

“i’m not even!” you exclaim, face hot. the guy narrows his eyes suspiciously, checking your face in various angles. and then your disappointingly empty neck. “i swear, i’m not. no hickeys or anything, see? he took care of me when i was blackout drunk, apparently.”

“and he didn’t kick you out as soon as you woke up?”

“...no? would you do that?”

gojo nods, more so to himself. “i see. so it’s already deeper than a one-night stand.”

“what?”

“he wants a piece of whatever you’re baking.”

“...?”

“gojo-san, stop tormenting my guest,” nanami says flatly, tossing a paper bag onto gojo’s face. it doesn’t quite hit him, instead sliding off. “please leave. i don’t need you here.”

“oh-ho,” gojo says mischievously. “i was going to be nice and make sure you’re not lonely coming to work, but it seems there’s already someone doing that to you, huuhh?” nanami doesn’t reply, pointedly setting his heavy gaze on you instead. gojo pouts. “oh, fine. don’t forget protection!”

nanami glances to the side as gojo skips off. he pulls out his phone and presents it to you, his low voice reverberating in your ears in the silence of the halls. “put your number in my phone.”

“um, why?” you ask suspiciously, yet still do as you’re told. nanami seems like the last guy on earth to have malicious intentions anyway. and you do owe him for this. “are you feeding me again?”

“to make up for what could’ve happened that night.”

#606:JJK #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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ryker-writes · 4 months

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to say that I'm obsessed with your broken siblings series is an understatement

i LOVE them it's just so comforting for some reason and i had an idea about one with epel, but then you posted the Leona one and i just need the no forgiveness ending

the pain my heart needs

but i'll still tell you my epel idea obviously

so imagine growing up with epel as your brother, always admiring him for his hard work and outgoing personality and that even tho he looks cute he can still beat ass

but then you get to nrc and he changes, and doesn't spend as much as with you as you guys used to, imagine vil separating you bcz you're not a good example for epel (+bonus points if reader is part of savannaclaw and epel gets bitter bcz they were always the fragile sibling and yet he was the one in pomefiore)

i don't imagine this relationship as angsty as the others, i can imagine epel getting over his jealousy pretty fast if it meant hanging out with them rather than listening to vil

it's actually really hard for me to imagine epel being a bad brother to his siblings, i think he just wouldn't realize they're hurting bcz he's too busy with his own problems

finally had some motivation so here we are! I completely agree with you that Epel's probably isn't as angsty because Epel actually would be a good sibling lol, but for the sake of angst, I deliver

Request Rules and Masterlists

Broken Sibling relationships

Epel as a sibling (Broken relationship)

You and Epel used to be very close!

When you were younger, the two of you used to play together a lot

Being some of the only kids around the same age in Harveston, you two spent a lot of time together

But you two were very different...

Epel had always been stronger than you were. He would show you how to do a lot of work on the farm, and he never let anybody just walk over him

You admired him!

In a way, you looked up to him and wanted to be like him. While he was stubborn and fierce, you were more calm, and weaker than him

But that never stopped you two from being close and spending all your time together!

That was...until you went to Night Raven College

You both had been very exited to go to NRC

In fact, you two were practically attached to each other before the entrance ceremony

The magic mirror called his name, and told him "Pomefiore"

it was unexpected, but you were happy for him! He certainly was cute enough get into Pomefiore, and he had the spirit of tenacity. There was a part of you that was optimistic about getting into Pomefiore with him

But then the mirror called your name, and said "Savannaclaw"

You felt your stomach drop at the word. Savanaclaw was known to be a very athletic dorm and filled with stubborn and tough people, so why were you put there?? It seemed like a dorm much better fit for Epel, not you

Had the magic mirror somehow gotten the two of you confused? Shouldn't it have put Epel in Savannaclaw? But the magic mirror doesn't make mistakes with this kind of thing

Savannaclaw was very overwhelming for you. Without your brother by your side, it was very tense. Everyone there was much different from you, and it was hard to feel like you belonged there with all of them

At least you could still spend time with your brother outside of dorms, right?

Wrong.

Anytime you went to Pomefiore, you were turned away by some Pomefiore student

"You're too much of a distraction."

"We don't need any Savannaclaw brutes here."

"You'll taint his beauty."

"Epel has more important things to worry about."

"Can't you just take a hint? We don't want you here."

Each and every time, you were told you weren't wanted there, and that you shouldn't be around Epel

While originally you kept trying, it got pretty disheartening after a bit to hear repeatedly that your brother didn't need you there or that you weren't welcome near him

When you kept trying, you were eventually met with the housewarden himself, Vil Schoenheit

"You clearly can't take a hint, can you? You are not welcome in Pomefiore. You would be nothing but a bad influence on Epel, and I will not stand for Pomefiore's reputation to be tarnished by you."

His tone left no room for arguments, and he left immediately after

It really started to feel like Epel himself didn't want you there at this point, and it hurt you

Eventually, you stopped trying. They made it clear you had no place in Pomefiore, and you would forever be part of Savannaclaw

It felt hopeless

You had once been so close to your brother, but now, you can't even talk to him

It's as if the two of you were in entirely different worlds now

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst epel #epel felmier #epel x reader #epel felmier x reader

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sanjifucker42069 · 6 months

Text

Hit Me? Sanji x Reader

Word count: about 1.2k

Bro….the dodgeball game…sanji is so stupid, pathetic wet cat of a man coded...I wanted to throttle him. I want to hit this man with my 2003 ford prius yoda style. I want to chew on him like a squeaky toy

Warnings: fem!reader, heavy handed teasing, you wanna make sanji cry apparently, VERY SUGGESTIVE, use of the word cock lol, semi-nsfw, no fucking tho…unless? 👀👀👀 sanji might be semi ooc, I am obsessed with the idea of a reader that sanji doesn't have the usual chivalry towards?? Like bless him he'd try, but you're just such a shit.

“Why yeah it'd be my pleasure ma'am, you can hit me wherever you like!”

Oh. Now wasn't that intriguing?

-----

Sanji sulked on the sidelines, fiddling with a lightly crumpled cigarette. Taking pity on him you sat down next to him. Sanji shot you a lazy grin, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. You smiled back, lightly pushing his shoulder.

“I should be mad at you, you could cost us the match.” You joked. Sanji grumbled, his words unintelligible. He could barely make out that ‘you wouldn't understand’ and ‘that he was weak okay!’

You laughed, eyes turning back to watch the match in front of you. You didn't feel too defeated, you trusted your captain.

“It's okay Ji. I don't think anyone could've gotten out faster than I did! You still did good!”

Sanji turned to you, hearts dancing in his eyes. “And who would dare throw balls at such beauty?! A lovely lady such as yourself shouldn't have even had to partake in such a barbaric display.”

“You saying I can't handle some balls? I happen to be very good at handling them.” You teased. The result was instantaneous, Sanji biting back a perverted laugh, a cute blush on his cheeks.

“Oh angel, really? I didn't expect you to be so saucy.”

There were many things that were undeniably true about you; You were in no way one of the stronger straw hats, you loved a good dirty joke, and you loved nothing more than making your little love cook squirm. If Sanji wanted to pretend all women were angels capable of no wrong, well, who were you to take advantage of that?

You feigned innocence, even cocking your head. “What do you mean? I didn't drop it once.”

Sanji squirmed, avoiding your gaze. You wanted to crack and snort loudly at his cute face. Instead you pursed your lips in thought.

“Love! I…uh-” he cut off when you couldn't hold it in anymore, a raucous laugh escaping you. He watched you slap your knee like it was the funniest thing in the world. He pouted. “(Name) that's not fair.”

“Oh relax, you big baby.” You cooed.

A steady silence resumed between you two, watching the match with bated breath. Things weren't looking so good. As the enemies advanced on Zoro, Chopper, and Luffy, so did you with your own attack.

“So.” You began. Sanji hummed in acknowledgement, eyes focused on the field. You paused. Was this really the time to flirt with the man? Probably not, but you were nothing if not an opportunist. You grinned at him, exaggerating his swooning.

“It'd be my pleasure ma'am, you can hit me wherever you like, hmm?”

‘You were a lady!’ Sanji reminded himself, trying to bite back a growl. You just loved to get under his skin, didn't you? He was flushed in embarrassment. It's not like he wanted to lose the match! It's not his fault he had a weakness for pretty women!

The crowd was aroar, you could hear your crew shouting. Oh. Zoro was out. Sanji began yelling at the swordsman, before he turned his attention back to you.

“So?” Sanji tried to sound unaffected. Your cute giggles reached his ears. Seriously! You were such a little tease, so cute, but so unattainable. You seemed to love riling him up, and he wanted nothing more than to make you his. He wasn't used to women not only reciprocating, but flirting back at a rate that made him dizzy.

Honestly, the both of you needed to stop being cowards and just confess already.

“Who's the ‘saucy’ one now? You're out here parading your little masochist streak.”

“I am not!” He blustered.

“Where were you hoping they'd hit anyway?” You purred out the question. Sanji tried ignoring you, focusing on the match, but he was one man! One currently very weak man.

You pouted. “I was just joking, Ji. Your kinks are your own. I'm not here to shame you for it.”

“It's not a kink!” He argued. You were relishing this. Sanji was always such a gentleman, so giving and dedicated to worshipping women. And yet, you, you were one of the only women you'd ever seen him snap at and lose his cool with, his hot temper getting the better of him.

Taking advantage of this you leant closer, your thighs touching. Sanji snapped out of his anger, eyes darting to where your half naked leg pressed against his long suit trouser-clad one. Too caught up in where you were touching him, he didn't notice how close your lips were to his ear.

“So you wouldn't like it if that pretty Porche lady pelted you with those dodgeballs? Or tied you up? Or manhandled you to make you be a good boy?”

Sanji was sweating, his heart eyes betraying him. Yeah, you knew your chef. You dropped your voice lower, bracing one hand on his chest.

“Forget hitting, what if she stepped on you? Would you like that, Sanji?”

The man in question whined, quiet pants escaped him, his eyes swirling with lust. He let his eyes fall closed, the dodgeball match long forgotten. Bingo! You felt yourself grow wet. Yes, you were a bad guy! It's just so easy to rile him up. Besides, Sanji would never spare you a passing glance, clear that you annoyed him. So what was the harm in airing out your frustrations like this?

“Love.” He gulped, shuffling around to change how he sat. You grinned at him wickedly. His reactions were so cute, you definitely overstepped the line.

“You didn't answer the question, cook. What if she stepped on your cock, hmm? Only lightly, of course, wouldn't wanna damage the goods.”

Sanji made a noise halfway between a groan and a choking sound, his hand darting up to grab the one you had pressed against his chest. You startled. You could see it in his eyes, the disgust, that unmistakable look of discomfort. Of course he wouldn't want to discuss this kind of stuff with you! You were one of the guys!

“Shit.” You withdrew your hand, not noticing how Sanji's tried to grab you. You'd definitely overstepped the line! “I'm so sorry Sanji, that was completely uncalled for.”

“Love.” He rasped. You were flustered, trying desperately not to stare at him.

The crowd was aroar, people around you jumping and shouting. You looked for a way out.

Wait? What the fuck?

A brown ball of fluff was lying crumpled on the court lines.

“Chopper! Oh shit!” You yelled, hurriedly getting to your feet. “Sanji I'm so sorry, I- you can yell at me about this later, I promise.”

Sanji watched you speed off, hurriedly running to their youngest member. He sighed out a breath he didn't realise he was holding. You were going to be the death of him! You'd made him so hard, so quick, and then, like a true tease dashed off before he could properly engage anything. When would you realise that it was you he wanted to treat him like that?

Later?

Yeah. Yeah he could yell about it later.

Right now, he needed a fucking smoke and a cold shower.

-----------

Looks like lingerie part 3 is coming i promise ;-; I'm just having trouble writing it ;-; here's a little drabble instead I do have SOOOOO many drabbles I've worked on in the mean time though?

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader

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