#he says what he means and he means what he says
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❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 !! ❞
❝ WHEN YOUR CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND OFFERS TO TEACH YOU HOW TO LOVE, HOW CAN YOU SAY NO ?? ❞
✧ pairing: college student!yuji itadori x f!reader
✧ summary: yuji itadori has been your best friend since you were kids, and when he offers you to teach you how to fuck, you don't expect him to be able to find his way into your heart too.
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, aged up characters (don't like? don't read), childhood best friends to fwb to lovers, college au! (no curses), reader is the same age as yuji (both 20s), grew up as neighbors, mutual pining, nobara playing cupid, jealous!yuji, yuji is so golden retriever bf, nightmares, mentions of parental death via car crash (yuji), adoptive dad nanamin :), nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (under a blanket with sleeping friends nearby), sex (p in v), creampie, swearing, fanart by unknown artist (found on pinterest, pls let me know if you know the og artist so i can credit)
✧ wc: 13,544
✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 5 has been sold to two anons!
“You want me to teach you?”
The words left your best friend’s lips nonchalantly as if he was asking you if you wanted him to teach you how to ride a bike.
But that’s not what he was offering to have you ride—
“Yuji,” you say slowly, “what are you saying? Do you even know what you’re saying?”
Yuji Itadori was dense, but you knew he was far from stupid. You learned that in third grade when he punched a bully that had been picking on you, the final straw being when he had tripped you, causing you to skin your knee. Before you could even well any tears up in your eyes, you heard a thwack and a yelp as Yuji had laid the boy out on the playground. You stared at Yuji, as he offered you his other hand to help you to your feet, as your eyes slid from him to your bully.
Yuji knelt down, carrying you on his back to the nurse’s office, “but Yuji, what about him? We left him—“
And he set you down outside the nurse’s office — and he only smiled that wide smile he had always reserved for you, “Don’t worry — I made sure no one was looking.”
But now, you were beginning to doubt his sanity, rather than his intelligence — “I know what I’m saying,” he chuckles, trademark smile on his lips, “I’m just offering you the chance to practice,”
“This isn’t practicing a sport or test—you’re offering,” you shift on your bed, while Yuji lounges on the floor, back against the bottom of your bed, “you’re offering to sleep with me, Yuji,” he leans his head on your bed, looking up at you at way, your face upside in his vision.
“I know, I know, but it’s not a big deal is it?” he’s acting so nonchalant you wonder if one of his teammates had hit him hard in the head during practice, “we’ve had all our firsts together,”
You scoff, “That was like our first steps, first day of school, first drink—“
“First kiss—“ he interrupts, and your face burns at the memory — a preadolescent game gone wrong that ended up with you and Yuji sharing your first kiss when you were teens.
“That wasn’t real,” you wave him off, crossing your arms, “and this isn’t just a kiss for a game—this could change our friendship—“
“It won’t, if we don’t let it,” his gaze is more serious than you’ve ever seen Yuji be — not when he was usually all wide smiles and enthusiasm, “it’s us, we can get through it, and we don’t have to let it get weird right?”
You chew on your lip, “Yuji, what do you get out of it?” And he’s tilting his head at your question— “I mean you don’t have to do this — just because I’m insecure because I don’t have experience,” you mumble.
And that’s how the conversation had started — your complaints about your friends talking about their boyfriends, exes, and hookups, while you just nodded along — far too aware that you hadn’t even had a proper kiss, much less sex. And now you had found yourself here.
“Look,” he slides up to sit on your bed, a good distance away from you, his eyes finding yours — warm hazel that felt as if it was drizzling over your skin wherever his gaze traveled, “I want your first time to be safe. I don’t want you to just hook up with someone and something bad to happen because you can’t say no — with me,” he clenched his hand into a fist holding his other hand flat as he gently hit his fist against it, “you can tell me to stop and if I somehow don’t or don’t hear you, punch me,”
You snort, “Yuji,” he’s shaking his head.
“I’m serious, I want you to be safe,” and you’re fidgeting with your fingers in your lap — this was Yuji, Yuji — you couldn’t say you hadn’t noticed how well he had grown up. Not when all of your friends drooled over him — especially with how liked he was — by everyone.
“What if I lose you?” And he chuckles, as he breaches your personal space and his hand brushes yours.
“You won’t, ever. I promise,” and your breath catches — many millions of times had Yuji touched you throughout your lives — an arm over over your shoulder, a hug, even holding your hand through crowds during festivals — but a simple brush of his fingers against yours had your heart rattling against its bony enclosure, begging for you to let it out, “what do ya think?”
And you’re thinking — this would be the best outcome — you weren’t one to hook up with a stranger and you were burnt out on dead end dating app conversations, and to have your first time with someone close, someone you knew — it would be ideal.
“Are you sure?” And his lips curl into a soft smile, leaning closer, as his fingers gently brush against your locks.
“Would I be here like this if I wasn’t?” his breath warms your lips, as his fingers skim your cheek, “is this okay?”
You nod wordlessly, unable to find the words to even reply — you had never thought of this situation would ever happen — especially like this. You lean against his hand, calloused from his practices, but as gentle as it always was.
“We can take it as slow as you need,” he murmurs, as he’s even closer now, your eyes fluttering shut, only for his lips to graze your forehead. You pause at the featherlight touch — wondering if it actually happened when your eyes open to find his, “no need to rush, right?” He smiles, as he gets to his feet, “are we still on for tomorrow’s study session?”
“Of course,”
He scratches the back of his head, “Good because I still don’t understand math or why I need it, but unfortunately, I still have to pass,” he grabs his bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he offers a smile before he’s gone.
And you’re left sitting on your bed, the warmth of his touch still on your skin, wondering what the fuck just even happened.
“Yuji, you just have to solve for x,” you sigh, explaining the problem for the billionth time, as his pen waves back forth between two fingers, “it’s simple,”
Your weekly study sessions with Yuji were a constant throughout your life, though more for Yuji than you. Yuji is very intelligent, despite his demeanor in class where it felt as if there was a perpetual question mark over his head — he just learned by seeing and then doing. And the repetition helped you all the same. But you had never felt so conscious sitting next to the boy you called your best friend.
“Maybe to you, but I don’t why math has to involve letters,” he wrinkled his nose at the problem, sighing, as he twists the pen around his hand, and your eyes catch the movement — you didn’t know how the little boy’s whose hands you used to hold had gotten so big now — calloused from his practices, but so soft against your skin, “is something interesting about my hands?”
Your eyes snap up to meet his, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “No, just, uh, impressed that you can twist the pen around your hand like that,”
“Oh, that?” he’s as unfazed as usual, leaning back a little, “that’s easy. I could show you if you want,”
“It’s fine,” and you’re trying to focus back on the problem, when you find him still staring, “what is it?”
“If you wanted to hold my hand, you just had to ask,” his fingers graze yours, with enough time for you to pull away, before his fingers lace with yours, “and we can do more if you want?”
This was crazy — it was probably a mistake, but — as his touch made your heart flutter, warm rolling in waves that erupted into butterflies in your stomach — why weren’t you pulling away?
“What does more entail?” and he inches a little closer, his breath warming your lips, “but you still haven’t gotten this problem down, are you just trying to get out of studying?”
A chuckle on his lips, “Maybe I’m just looking for the right motivation, so how about we make a deal?” He moves over, spreading his legs apart, and pats the floor in front of you — for each question I get right, I get a kiss,”
And why you agreed to this, you really didn’t have words—but now you were sat between his legs, nearly in his lap, as he leaned forward — his chest against your back as his chin brushed your shoulder and his cheek brushed against your own, breath warming your neck — trying to get a better look at the math problem. His arm was wrapped around your side as his pen scratched against the scrap paper, trying to solve the problem. You bit your lip, trying your best not to glance at him, but you spot his wrinkled brow out of the corner of his lip and the tip of his tongue poking ever so slightly out of his mouth— and your lips curled, he still had that habit from when you were kids.
“There, I think I solved it,” he murmurs, and you have to hold back a shiver at the words rumbled against your ear, “is it right?”
And god, you could barely think, much less do math, but as you glance over the question and answer — he’s got it right.
Fuck.
“It is,” you say softly, “is all you need some motivation? Because I would have just promised I would go to see the next Human Earthworm movie,”
He chuckles, his lips nearly against your ear, as his hand gently traces your jaw, “I’d like that, but I think i rather have what I was promised, as long as you’re still okay with that,”
Your breath hitches, as you follow his lead, rough pads still so gentle against your cheek, as your eyes find his, but you don’t find his usual doe eyes — but instead find pools of lust threatening to drag you under. Although from the way your lips part and eyes flutter shut, perhaps he had you underwater for far longer than you even knew.
His lips graze yours — it’s barely a kiss, a peck maybe — as he does his best to ease you in. You didn’t know lips could be so soft — meeting again and again, stealing logic from your mind and breath from your lungs.
“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, not even a breath away from your lips. You’re nearly dizzy, mind reeling from his touch, heart jumping at his thumb rubbing lightly against your cheek.
“I am, just a little strange to be kissing, much less you,” and his brow knits together, “but not bad at all,” you add, and he chuckles, his fingers grazing your cheek firmer, as he leans in again, “we said one kiss—“
“Do you really want to stop now?” he’s murmuring, and your noses bump against each other.
Your lips find his again and now you can taste the sour candy he had stolen from you, but an overwhelming sweetness overrides it, and your hand brushes against his cheek, the other finding purchase on his chest.
“Is that okay?” You murmur, as you lips part, the two of you catching your breath, your shared pants filling the silence, your cheeks burning as your eyes avert from his, “I don’t know—“
“You’re fine, don’t worry about it,” a small chuckle on his lips, fingers cupping your chin to guide your gaze back to his — a subtle heat that makes your insides turn to molasses, sticky and sweet and far too warm, “just do what feels right, ok?”
And his lips find yours again, gently as he did the first time, but more passion behind it, swallowing your quiet murmur of his name with ease. Your lips move against his just as his did — you try to push aside the thoughts of whether you were doing this right. But the slight brush of his teeth against your bottom lip makes you forget too with a gasp.
He pulls away with a grin on his lips, “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” and his lips are kissed red, your thumb brushed against his swollen lips, “don’t tempt me more,”
“You’re the one who started this, shouldn’t you take some responsibility, Yu?” your lips graze his cheek, curling as a rosy flush settles over his cheekbones, “nothing to say?”
“You’re making it hard for me to hold back,” and he’s burying his face in the side of your neck, making you shiver, as he pulls you even closer, arms around your waist, “I don’t want to rush you,”
Cute, you think before you even think, and yet the way his face is hidden away in your neck, breath warming your neck makes your body flush, and when have you ever thought of Yuji as cute? And yet you couldn’t remember a time that he made your heart race either.
His lips press a small kiss to your neck, drawing a yelp from your lips, “Yuji—“ he’s nosing the hollow of your throat, “ah, you’re teasing me,” you whine, and he’s lifting his gaze back to yours, heavy with want, a want that leaves you bereft of any semblance of sense.
“You started it,” he murmurs, before he finds your lips in another kiss — this time it’s a slow heat, languid as it threatens to burn both of you alive, flames licking at the edges of your reason. And his phone goes off — a reminder for practice that he groans at, “I should go. I have to go run laps,”
“Now?” And he’s slowly disentangling himself from you, the absence of his touch lingers, the heat ebbing, “don’t you usually practice in the mornings?” You get to your feet slowly as well, handing him his math notebook, and it occurs to you when you spot the puddles outside, “it was too wet,”
And he nods, scratching the back of his head, as the two of you walk out into your apartment’s living space, “and I forgot my protein shake—“ you head over to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out his shake, and he blinks, “how—“
“You did the same thing last week, so I just bought a pack for you,” and his lips curl as he walks over and takes the bottle from your hand, fingers brushing — and even that much alight a flutter of nerves through your body.
“Thanks,” he grins, and you nod.
“Of course, I thought it just made sense since you come here every week—” you turn to shut the refrigerator, before turning back, only to find him stepping a bit closer, “Yu—“
“I almost forgot, one more lesson,” and he’s leaning close, and your breath catches in your throat, as his lips brush yours, fingers tracing the swell of your cheek, “a kiss goodbye,” and he parts, a brush of his fingers against yours, “I’ll text you later,” and he’s gone in a flash.
Your left, fingertips touching your lips, a questioning lingering as he left — whether these feelings blooming in your chest were just from the kiss, or something more.
But you glance at your phone — a text from Yuji:
Golden Retriever Bestie: thanks for the drink again :)
You lock the screen — but you couldn’t hope for more, right? Not when this was started with the intention of stopping. But why—as you laid back into bed, staring up at your ceiling in the same room the two of you had spent the last two years watching movies or studying in, eyes squeezing shut—
Why did you still want more?
When did Yuji Itadori fall in love with you? It would probably be easier for him to list the moments he hadn’t fallen for you — but the earliest he can remember was when he had hurt himself climbing a tree in the schoolyard, falling from the branch he had made it to. You had been watching him the whole time, telling him to come down, and when he fell, you were at his side. His vision was a little blurry but when it cleared, he saw you knelt above him, big tears leaving your eyes. And when he came to, you hugged him tight, before helping him to the nurse’s. You had even insisted on bandaging his cuts, not letting the nurse do so.
And that’s when he knew — he knew he always wanted to wake to you beside him.
“You what?” Nobara scoffed at him, as she held up another of her new purchases in front of her while looking in her full length mirror, “so instead of asking her out and confession this pathetic crush—“
“Pathetic is kinda harsh, Kugisaki—“
“It’s been over a decade — your one sided feelings is now in secondary school — it’s officially pathetic,” she hangs up the new leather jacket she bought in her closet, before turning to Yuji, “so instead of confessing, you asked her to be your friends with benefits—“
“That’s not exactly—“ she cuts him off with a look, “ok that’s kind of what I did,” he shakes his head, “she was venting about how she never had her first kiss and words started coming out of my mouth and wouldn’t stop—“
“Not the first time that’s happened to you is it?” And Yuji glares at her through the mirror, “what? You came to me instead of Fushiguro because you wanted a pretty girl’s opinion right?”
“I said girl, nothing about—“ it was her turn to glare at him, “alright, alright — what do I do now? I want to tell her I like her, but if I do, I might seem like a—“
“A creep? A weirdo? A pervert?”
“I was gonna say liar, but those too,” he rubbed a hand down his face, “what do I do?”
She sighs, tucking a strand of her dyed hair behind her ear, “the only thing to do in situation like this,”
“Tell the truth?” And she scoffs.
“No, of course not, just use this time to make her fall for you, but that means you’ll have to use this agreement to your advantage,” she hums, “she said she wanted more experience right?” And Yuji nods, “who says it has to just be making out and sex?”
“You want to go on a date? Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you turn the heat of your burner down, hoping you hadn’t completely burned your omelet now as you flipped it, “I thought this was just supposed to be for the more…physical sides of things,” your cheeks burned.
God, what the fuck.
“I mean part of gaining experience is learning how to date, right?” And you’re placing your slightly burned omelet in the plate, as you wipe your hands off with your dishcloth, “we could go to an arcade, maybe catch a movie,”
“Human Earthworm 4?” And you hear him chuckle over the line, and the sound makes your lips curl — it always felt like an accomplishment making him laugh, but even more so now.
“We don’t have to—“
“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you never did — you just loved to tease him, as you always did, “they’ve grown on me,” and you didn’t know there was more room for Yuji to grow on you, you thought his roots had already went far and deep, tangled around every inch of yourself and your mind, even your heart — but now—
“Does 2 PM work? I’ll come by and pick you up from your place,” and you didn’t know where it would go but—
“Sounds perfect,” he had found his way into a place you never thought anyone would find themselves in. — and as he hung up, biting your bottom lip—
And it seemed he was here to stay.
“You’re such a cheater,” you glared at Yuji as he won for the tenth time at the boxing game — hitting the max score every time, “tell me what the trick is,”
“You know I’m strong,” Yuji gapes, holding his arm, “how would I cheat?” And you’re pouting, crossing your arms.
“You’re cheating by being you,” and Yuji has to bite back his smile — you were being so cute — but he knows saying that will earn him a punch in the shoulder harder than you gave the punching bag on the machine, “now you have to buy me an ice cream,”
“For?” He raises an eyebrow.
“For being a cheater,” and he can’t help the chuckle that leaves his lips that earns him a bunch of slaps to his arm, before he’s wrapping that same arm around your waist, your complaints chased away by a gasp, “what—“
“I was going to buy you anything you wanted anyway, it is a date after all,” he smiles, and you stammer, but you don’t pull away, “what flavor do you want?” After you tell him, he goes off to the concession to buy you both some ice cream, and when he finds you at a table, he sees you’re not alone. His lips are a tight line, as he finds a guy leaning against the booth you sat in, clearly flirting with you, your back to Yuji so he can’t see your face.
He finds his way back to you, his hand brushes your shoulder gently, “is everything okay?” He asks you, meeting your gaze without regard for the stranger — and he’s glad he did, because he spots your pursed lips and darting eyes that told him everything he needed to know, “you need something?” He asks the guy, a friendly smile on his lips.
“Not from you,” the guy scoffs, “I was talking to—“
“Well, you’re talking to me now, not my date, so—“ and you’re leaning into Yuji, “you need something or not?” And the guy grumbles something under his breath before slinking away, and Yuji’s sliding in beside you when you move over, “you okay?”
“Yeah, he wouldn’t leave,” you sigh, shaking your head, “sorry—“
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he murmurs, as he hands you your ice cream, “as long as you’re okay,” his arm slides around your shoulder and squeezes you, “i would’ve punched him if it wouldn’t have ruined our date,”
You snort, as you lick your ice cream, “if you punched him harder than you did the bag, don’t know if this date would have ended with us going home,” and he pouts, as he laps at his ice cream, and he feels you turn to look at him, “Didn’t know you were the jealous type, Yu,” and he chuckles, he wanted to say — only when it came to you.
But he knew that he couldn’t. Not like this.
“I didn’t think I was either.”
“Nope, not gonna admit it,” and Yuji’s grinning still, as the two of you walk out of the theater, his arm still around your shoulder, “no it wasn’t that good,”
If there was one thing about Yuji is that movies were literally his obsession — one movie marathon when the two of you were teens had turned him into a fanatic. And he often ended up dragging you to all of them he saw in theaters — and you probably had watched the Human Earthworm movies the most amount of times anyone ever has — aside from Yuji. Well, more like you watched him watch it, because while he was smiling and laughing (or crying) at the movie, you were looking at him.
And right now, he looked far too smug, “So you admit that it was good,” and you cross your arms, shaking your head, “I saw you tearing up at the end — I told you, it’s all about love!”
You purse your lips, if only to hold back your smile, before sighing, “How would no one tear up at that ending?” And his hand’s grabbing yours, tugging at your arm, as the two of you walk along, “Yu—“
“I knew you liked it! C’mon, I knew you would, now what was your favorite part?” And your lips curl into a smile, “what?”
That was one of the things you loved the most about Yuji, how excited he could get — how he loved everything so wholeheartedly with no reservations, and you knew he was the one person you could always count on to cheer you up.
“Nothing, nothing,” you chuckle, letting your fingers lace with his, “my favorite part?” And you want to say — watching him enjoy the movie.
But you can’t.
“Probably the ending,” you slowly smile, “liked it when the credits rolled,” and he’s mock glaring, as you laugh before his arm tightening around your waist, “Yu-ji—“
“Not going to be honest?” He murmurs, before kissing your chin, “then maybe I’ll make you.”
“Yu—ngh, please,” Yuji could get addicted to your taste, it was never enough, was it? His lips had spent the last twenty minutes kissing every inch of your face and neck, traversing over every nook and cranny as he always wanted to — and yet it was never enough. Any time spent with you was never enough —because you always made anything better, and nothing ever worse.
And he knew no one else would ever feel this good.
How many times had he imagined just this scenario? Of you in his bedroom with him alone, as you had been many times before, but never like this. You never looked at him like that before — with that shyness mixed with an undercurrent of want. And it was enough to rip him away and drag him under with you.
“Please what, baby?” Yuji looks up with a wry smile and soft eyes that burn a path where as it raked down your body like coals across a fire, “want me to stop?” And he’s dragging a thumb down your untouched lips.
You cover your face with the back of your hand, and he’s gently tugging it away, pressing a kiss to your wrist, your pulse jumping underneath, “I want more,” and fuck if he wasn’t at full mast from the kissing, he was now at your words, “I want you to…kiss me and…touch me,” you mumble, eyes averted, but he’s smiling all the same — you were so cute.
“Where can I touch?” he asks softly, his nose brushing yours, “need you to tell me. I don’t want to rush—“
And your lips crash against his, your fingers finding the back of his neck, threading in his pink locks. He’s pausing a moment before he melts into your kiss, and you’re taking the lead, as you lean further into the kiss, your fingers sliding down from his shoulder to his chest. His tongue flicks against the seam of your lips and you part for him.
“I want you to touch me,” you murmur as you break the kiss, panting, strings of your spit still connecting your lips, your breathy words nearly enough for him to lose all control, “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it,”
And he’s more than happy to oblige, his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, his hand toys with the hem of your shirt as permission, and you part from the kiss to nod. His hand slides up your soft flesh, pushing up your shirt along with it — finding your lacy bra underneath. He’s tugging the shirt up and over your head with your help, and god—
He has to stop himself from cumming right then and there at the sight of you. His fingers reach out, toying with the strap of your bra, “Did you wear this for me?” And you biting your bottom lip was all the answer he needed.
“Yu—“ he’s tweaking your hardened bud through the fabric, “ah, fuck—“ and he leans down to suck the other side through your bra, while sliding down your bra strap.
“Need to taste you,” and you’re nodding, while he’s reaching around to brush against the clasp of your bra to undo it, and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare skin — you’re so fucking pretty.
He always thought you were pretty — when you were kids drenched from running around in the rain, when you were just waking up from a nap with your hair askew and dried drool in the corner of your mouth, when your eyes were wide with excitement and nearly jumping up and down to tell him good news; and when you’re smiling—especially when you’re smiling.
It was his favorite thing.
“Don’t stare so much,” you’re trying cover yourself, but his hands catch yours, easing them off, “It’s embarrassing—“
“You’re perfect,” and your lips part but no words come, but you can’t meet his gaze, “you are—“
“You’re just saying that—“ and his fingers pinch your nipple drawing a gasp from your lips, while he leans down and takes the other in his mouth. His eyes find yours, blown into deep, dark pools by his lust — ones you’d be more than willing to drown in.
“I’d never just say that, especially to you, baby,” and you’re about to make a smart remark about him calling you ‘baby.’ But you forget every word you ever learned when his fingers start to drag down your stomach, fingers playing with the button of your jeans, “can I?”
And you nod, your back arching ever so slightly as his lips press a sweet kiss to your bellybutton. He’s kissing down your soft legs as he tugs down your jeans — one to your thigh, another to your knee, and another to your ankle —before he’s kissing up the other.
“How’s that feel?” he murmurs, eyes flitting up to meet yours, and fuck, your lips parted and swollen a pretty red, eyes half lidded with want, and — as his eyes fall between your thighs — a growing wet spot on your panties.
His fingers toy with the elastic, snapping it lightly against your skin, a slight flinch only, as his eyes gaze at your clothed cunt with near reverence. He looks for permission, before he leans in to press a kiss to your swollen clit, a small yelp escaping your mouth.
“Yuji,” you whine, lifting your head to meet his gaze again, “please,”
“Say my name again, please,” he’s kissing your thigh gently, and it feels as if you’ll crumble under his touch any second, wither away in a figment of his imagination, and he won’t ever get the chance to hear you like this again, much less touch you. He was selfish to take advantage like this — and he knew he was — but he couldn’t leave it like this.
“Yuji, just touch me—“ and your head falls back as his fingers graze your clit through your nearly translucent underwear, “ngh, you fucker—“ and he’s chuckling, as he tugs your panties away.
“Wanted to keep them on since you looked so good, but,” and he’s pocketing them with a grin, “I’ll just keep them instead,” your dripping walls twitch at the thought, “s’good for me. What do you want, my fingers or my tongue?”
“Fuck, I don’t know, just touch—“ and your head lolls against the pillow as his tongue drags up flat up the length of your weeping pussy.
“You’re so sweet — I could live here,” he murmurs, as his fingers spread your slick folds, a pretty moan falling from your lips as he does, “can’t wait to feel you cum around my fingers,” he’s easing a finger in — and you’re so tight, you’re tensing as he tries to part your walls, “relax, ok? I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry. I won’t ever hurt you,” his eyes meet yours and you’re nodding, as he pulls his finger away, a shiver at the empty ache, but it falls away into another moan as his tongue replaces it.
The wet squelch of your folds is enough for him to cum right there — you smell as sweet as you taste, as he kisses your clit, before dragging the length of his tongue over your sopping slit again, “Yuji—fuck—“ your fingers find purchase in his pink locks right when he decides to sink a finger inside you again.
“That’s it,” he grunts, as he works his finger knuckle deep into you, “so good f’me, so tight,” he’s murmuring, and your syrupy walls wrapped around his finger makes him wonder how good it will feel when his cock is inside you. He’s palming his erection through his pants, desperate for any kind of fucking friction, “g’nna add another,”
And you’re nodding, “please, I—“ and a second finger joins the first, and the lewd noises grow louder from your slick and his fingers begin to pump faster — teasing and stretching your walls as they begin to flutter around you, “Yuji, Yuji—“ his name leaves your lips like a prayer, but he’s the one who would worship at your feet, if you’d let him, your moans and whimpers were all he needed to survive, and he’d give his very soul if it meant he could be at your side.
His fingers are fucking you open, the tips of his fingers brushing against the spot that his your mouth falling open in a silent moan, “that’s it, cum for me, pretty girl,” and pleasure rips up your spine, as you cum all over his fingers, thighs shaking as you do. He fucks you slowly through your orgasm, helping you ride it out, until he’s slowing, leaning up to prsss sweet kisses to your face.
“I’m going to pull them out slowly,” he murmurs, your eyes still fluttered shut, but they slowly open to watch him ease his fingers from you. Soft pants leave your lips as you watch him with lidded eyes lick his fingers sticky with your release clean.
“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, as he moves up to lean over your face, and you’re nodding, “let me clean you up and we can sleep, ok?” he’s moving to get off the bed, but you grab his hand, and he tilts his head.
“What about you?” You mumble, frowning, eyes flickering to the tent in his pants with a shy gaze, “I want to—“
“It’s okay, let’s just take it easy today,” he’s smiling, fingers finding yours and squeezing, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “you look like you’re about to pass out,” and you’re pouting all the same, but you seem to relent as the exhaustion sets in once again at your words, “I’ll be right back,” and he retreats to his bathroom to wet a washcloth, only to come back to you fast asleep.
He chuckles at the sight of you sprawled out on his bed — a sight not uncommon to him on nights you spent over, but never like this before. He leans on the bed carefully, mattress creaking ever so slightly under his weight, as he begins to clean you gently — and luckily, you don’t wake by the time he’s done. He can’t put your jeans or underwear on so he opts to grab a pair of his freshly washed shorts and slides them on you. He adjusts the blanket, draping it over you, running his fingers through your hair to tuck it behind your ear, and the back of his knuckles over your cheek.
“Yuji,” you mumble in your sleep, and he bites his lip — as he returns to his bathroom, softly shutting the bedroom door and the bathroom door behind him, a glaring problem to deal with, as he is still nearly waddling at this point from the grazing of his boxers against his aching erection.
He undoes his jeans quickly, eyes fluttering as he pushes both down and strips his shirt off before slipping into the shower. The squeak of the shower faucet and the water running hopefully don’t wake you — but more importantly, he hopes his moans don’t.
His dick was rock hard and aching still — there were so many times he nearly came in his pants, and by how drenched his boxers were — maybe he had. But fuck, you were so gorgeous, laid back and spread out for him.
His fingers grazed his weeping cock, smearing the precum up and down his length, thumb tracing his slit, as you would. He could see you thumbing his head experimentally, as your eyes flickered up at him, doe eyes, yet glazed over with lust. It wouldn’t be long until you’re slowly pumping him, as he does now — from base to tip, teasing his balls all the same. You’d flick your tongue over the tip, sucking at the dripping precum — wrinkle your nose at the salty taste, but you’d suck at his tip all the same.
He’d look down at you as your hand switches to toying with his balls, as you let his cock slap against your tongue, before letting his length slip past your lips. Your lips would feel so much softer than his hand does right now, jerking himself off, your plush lips and tongue wrapped around his dick. A low groan escapes his lips, as he covers his mouth, hoping you couldn’t hear him over the running water. The squelch of his precum and his soft moans would only make him want to repay the favor, making you cum over and over, until you were begging him to stop.
Fuck, he was close, by the way his cock twitched in his hand — where would he cum with you? He’d cum anywhere you wanted — but to cum on your face or chest, the image made him shudder. Your tongue would flick out to clean up some of the cum, and—
Fuck, he moans your name, as he cums all over his fingers, his release sprayed against the tile of his shower, dripping down and mixing with the water. He’s panting, as he cleans his hand off in the shower, leaning his head back.
What has he gotten himself into? Was it right for him to do this? You didn’t know how he felt — and he didn’t know if you would ever feel the same. But as he got dressed and crawled into bed beside you, keeping his distance as you slept, he felt you move closer, mumbling his name as you did. He couldn’t help but softly smile, running his fingers through his hair—it didn’t matter if you never ended up loving him, as long as you knew what you deserved—to be with someone who loved you, as much or even more than he did.
He let himself drift off, a loose arm thrown over your middle—he’d let himself have this, if only for now.
“Oh come on, you couldn’t get the ad free version, Fushiguro?” Nobara complains as yet another commercial comes on, as she glares at the black haired vet student, who sat on the floor after she stole his armchair.
He only shrugs, bearing little to no reaction, “If you’re going to complain, then why don’t you pay for it?”
Nobara and him begin to bicker ever so slightly, and Yuji chuckles in your ear, “are they more fun to watch then the show?”
The four of you were at your apartment, watching a new season of a TV show you all had started last year. You were sat next to Yuji on the couch, your bodies nearly pressed against each other as you shared the blanket, a little cold from the rain outside.
“They’re always more entertaining than the show, that’s why we agree to this,” you whisper back, the proximity of your bodies making your cheeks burn. You turn away, hoping he can’t feel or even hear the way your heart was beating down your ribs to burst free. Every time he shifted even slightly, you felt your body react — so conscious of even a twitch of his fingers — you wanted to bury yourself under the blanket.
It had been like this since that night.
You had woken up to him asleep beside you. Your eyes fluttered open as consciousness slowly crept into focus, sunlight filtering into sight, a small groan leaving your lips. And it wasn’t until you tried to reach for your phone you realized the thing beside you wasn’t a pillow but a person.
Your eyes flew open and you found Yuji still sound asleep beside you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to sleep on the same bed — especially after a late night where one or the other didn’t want to go home — but it was different to wake up entangled with him, especially after the events of the night before came flooding back.
And after that, each time you had been around him, you had become more and more conscious of his touch, nervous even, at the simplest of brushes of his fingers. And this? His body pressed against yours, his fingers grazing your thigh nearly, and his soft breath against your ear — god, you were going to lose it.
“You ok?” he murmurs a half an hour later, and the question itself makes you squirm — because no, your hot best friend was pressed against you and making you want to do nothing more than kiss him—
Wait, wait, hot? Your mind stutters at your own thoughts, lagging to comprehend yourself — hot? You wanted to kiss him? You always knew Yuji was hot, he was objectively — especially based on how many of your friends had wanted you to hook them up with him — but you had never thought of him that way. Maybe in passing — but to you, that was the one line you could never cross, especially when you had seen so many friendships fall apart because of a relationship.
You never wanted to risk Yuji like that.
But then here you were — blurring that line you said you never cross — and letting the ground split underneath the two of you.
“I’m fine,” you mumble back — and yet here he was, seemingly unfazed by your proximity and as the minutes ticked by, it began to eat away at you. Did he not find it as meaningful as you did? Did he not feel as good as you? Do you need to touch him just to make him feel just as heartsick as you were?
And now you know what you wanted to do.
As the show went on, Nobara and Fushiguro fell asleep — Fushiguro asleep with a cushion he had stolen from Nobara’s armchair and Nobara curled up in said armchair, passed out.
“Should we stop the show and go to bed?” Yuji asks you, albeit innocently — but there was anything but innocent intentions in your mind when you shake your head, a smile on your lips.
“Let’s keep watching,” your fingers grazes his thigh, as you lean over, lips nearly brushing against his ear, “it’s just getting interesting, right?”
And his breath hitches, “what’re you—“ and your fingers inches higher, grazing over his already tenting erection, a hiss escapes his lips, as he’s covering his mouth.
“Shh, don’t wake them,” and your fingers are ghosting and teasing over his cock, the precum already starting to seep through the fabric, as he shifts under your touch. Your thumb flicks over his head, now fully hard, “so big already,” you mumble, and now your lips press sweet kisses to his neck, finding small cuts and bruises from his practices, and a gasp escaped his lips.
“We shouldn’t be doing this—“ and your lips find his, and he melts so easily into your touch, your fingers toy with the elastic of his shorts, his eyes flickering to the two sleeping. He’s pulling away for a breath, lips utterly ruined — his fingers running through his hair, “please—“ and your lips curl.
Your fingers finally brush against his leaking cock, and his head falls back, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, lips parted as soft pants left his lips. And you’re nearly shivering yourself at his want — seeping into your own body, as his pants and moans send a wave of heat between your thighs.
You rub your thighs together, as you shift even closer somehow, “Gotta be quiet Yu — they can hear us after all,” you murmur, right as your thumb swipes over his slit, a yelp caught in his throat, as his hand flies back to lips, “good boy,” and his dick twitches at the praise, as your finger begins to trace along his veins, “so big, how am I going to fit you inside?” you murmur, biting back a smirk when a muffled groan reaches your ears.
Your fingers finally curl around his length, you never thought a cock to be pretty — but Yuji’s was. You stared at it under the covers, flushed a lovely red, too dripping pearly beads of precum, and the slight curve it had to it — made the ache in your cunt only grow.
“Please, baby, I need, please—“ he’s whining, “I need you—“
And you oblige him, your hand beginning to spread the pre along his length, beginning to stroke him slowly from base to tip. He’s biting his lip, hard, nearly drawing blood as he chooses to bury his face in the crook of your neck, if only to muffle any moans that fell from his lips.
“S’good for me, Yu, wanna make you feel as good as I did,” his moan vibrates against your skin, cock twitching in your fingers, “gonna move faster, don’t want our friends to see you like this, do you? You have to be quiet,” and god, why did only seem to get harder at your words?
Your fingers begin to jerk him off in earnest, the wet squelch of his cock nearly not hidden enough by the volume of the TV, but nearly don’t care at this point — you just want him to fall apart under your touch, need him to.
And oh, he’s so close. His groans are more frequent, his hips jerking against your fist, and when your other hand finds his balls, squeezing — it’s too much.
He moans softly, “I’m—“ and that’s all he manages before he spills on your fingers — warm, white spurts splatter against your palm and the blanket, dripping, as he falls back, limp against the sofa. His cock softened in your hand, as you pull it away, before gently wiping him clean with the already drenched blanket.
He’s panting and fucked out, eyes half lidded as his chest rises and falls, watching you lick your fingers clear of his release, gaze never leaving his.
“Didn’t know you’d taste this good—“ you barely can manage, before he’s leaning forward to kiss you. Your fingers slide against his cheek to cup it, feeling his hand tangle itself in your hair, “Yuji—“
“What was that about?” he murmurs, “not that I’m complaining but—“ but then Megumi starts to move and you both freeze, your breath catching, until Megumi seemingly falls back asleep, “we should head to bed, but—“
He looks at the blanket, and the mess you made of him and the couch alike.
“The blanket I’ll toss in the washer, the cushion I’ll clean up and just turn over—“ and you smile, “and you take a shower before bed,”
His brow still knits together, “but we haven’t—“
“We’ll talk later,” and when later came, Yuji found you fast asleep in bed, with more questions than answers. But he supposed, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his answers could come later.
How long has it been?
You stared at your phone — as if you could will it to receive the message you’ve been waiting for. As if it would grant your one and only wish for a text or a call — but it didn’t. Instead, it only gave you a spam call and a text to let you know you had a discount code for your favorite takeout place.
Great.
It had been a week since you had heard from Yuji — and a week since that night. You had woken up to the other three gone — gone off to their own apartments after you had slept in and texts on your phone from them in the groupchat. It was a few days before break — before you and Yuji would be heading back home for a few days together. But you hadn’t seen him at all since — not a chance to talk, much less seeing him.
Was he upset? Was he done with this? Was his promise to stay empty in the end? Was it your fault — for pushing it, for agreeing to it, and for falling for it all the same? Falling for it or — your eyes trace the screen of your phone as if it’s his cheek — or falling for him.
No, you rake your fingers through your hair, no, you didn’t love him — not like that. Not the way you shouldn’t, the way you had sworn yourself never to — but maybe all promises between friends were empty, when they were made like this.
But you weren’t made to let this break apart.
You found yourself at his door after classes, knocking at his door of his apartment. The door opens, and you find Yuji rubbing his eyes, hair askew, and shoulders drooped.
“Hey,” he yawned, he’s still shaking off the shackles of sleep, “sorry, what’s up?”
“Are you okay?” Your furrow your brow, your eyes spot the dark bags under his eyes, large enough to nearly engulf his eyes all together, “you look like you haven’t slept in days,” he steps aside to let you in, you glance around, his apartment wasn’t usually the cleanest — but it wasn’t a wreck like it was now. Clothes scattered, unwashed dishes stacked up, and papers strewn about.
“I just haven’t…been sleeping—“ and then you remember.
It wasn’t about you. It was about him. And you were so wrapped up in yourself, you weren’t thinking about him.
“Yuji, you’re having those nightmares again, aren’t you?” You murmur softly, and the way his gaze falls to the ground tells you everything you need to know, “alright, go lay down,”
“What?” he’s blinking, but your hand already finds his as you take him to his bedroom, “what are you—“
“You lay down. I’m going to make you dinner, and then you’re going to sleep,” and he sits on the bed reluctantly, fingers against his knees, as he bit his lip.
“I can’t sleep, I told you—“ you cup his cheek, and guide his gaze to yours.
“Remember what we’d do when you couldn’t sleep after the accident?”
“This feels ridiculous,” Yuji murmurs into your chest, his head buried there, while your fingers run softly through his pink locks, “we’re not six anymore—“
“So what? Doesn’t mean we can’t do this still,” you say, as your fingers pause, “unless you don’t want me to,”
“I didn’t say that,” he mumbles, and you can hear the blush in his voice that undoubtedly painted his cheeks, “I just meant it feels like I’m bothering—“
“Yu, don’t make me pinch you,” you murmur, rubbing his head, “you’re never a bother,” you kiss his head softly without thinking, and soon your cheeks are burning too, “sorry I didn’t—“
“Why are you sorry?” He chuckles, “we’ve done a lot more than kiss recently,” and he adds, “especially you,”
You bite your lip, glad he couldn’t see your face like this, “I thought that’s why you weren’t talking to me, I thought you didn’t like what I did…on the couch, you know—“
“I know,” he chuckles this time, “and how could I not like that?” And you swallow the lump in your throat, as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence that you choose to breach.
“You haven’t had these nightmares in a while,” you murmur quietly, before you add, “we don’t have to talk—“
“I know, but it happens from time to time, especially this month,” and your brow furrows, “don’t wrinkle your forehead at me,” and you lean back to gape at him, a smile pulling at his lips, “you always do that when you find out I’m keeping something from you,”
He moves ever so slightly away, turning to look at the ceiling, “Well I think I have a right because this is a pretty big thing to keep from me, Yu,” you pout, and your fingers begin to absentmindedly trace his jaw, his eyes fluttering shut — you always treated him so gently, like that something that could shatter, but he knew you would always be there to put him back together. Because you did that once already. Over a decade ago, “why didn’t you tell me?”
Because he didn’t want to worry you. Because he didn’t want you to think of him still as that broken kid you watched after when he had his world fall apart.
Because he didn’t want you to take that burden — he wanted to handle it himself.
“I didn’t want to bother you—“
“It’s never a bother when it’s you,” and his voice catches in his throat — fuck, how did you always know just what to say?
He takes a breath, “it’s just the same dream. Of the crash,” he could see something so clearly that he never experienced. He was at home with you when the crash happened — a play date Yuji had insisted on when he had cried and begged his parents to stay with you instead of going to dinner with them. They had relented — and that was the thing that left him alone.
It was lucky that his grandfather was able to take him in, and stay close by — so he still got to go to school with you.
“Let’s try to sleep, ok?” You murmur, “you’ll feel better when you sleep,” you cup his cheek, and he’s biting his lip, “what is it?”
“What if I see it again?” He whispers, as if he’s afraid that his words were any louder he would speak it into existence.
“Come here,” you say softly, your fingers gently guide his head to face you, “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” A sigh leaves his lips as he moves closer, letting you engulf him in your arms, his eyes shutting, and letting himself relax for a moment — the first moment in far too many days.
When he let himself slip into sleep’s embrace—it was the first night he didn’t dream of the crash — he dreamt of you.
And when he woke in your arms in the morning, your soft lips parted as you slept, sunlight dappled on your skin through his window, and the way your fingers held onto the fabric of his shirt — he knew, he knew he had to tell you how he felt.
He needed to end this — his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear — if only to begin something new.
You had to end it — it hadn’t sunk in until the car drove back home. The quiet morning drive left you both in a comfortable silence, the quiet white noise of his playlist, along with Yuji’s terrible singalongs and your bickering over his music choice. And you found yourself more than once staring at him as he drove, to the point where he had caught you looking.
“What?” He tilts his head when the light turned red, fingers drumming on the steering, the other poking your side.
“Nothing,” and you’re playfully slapping his hand away, a smile on your lips — same smile you always had with him. Always—because he’s your best friend. But he was so much more than that.
You were in love.
The two of you had returned to the place where you had laid your roots to rest and let your seed scatter to the wind. Only to return as a different flower altogether — but you knew, you couldn’t let it go on.
It had become painfully clear that morning, you had woken first, the sun had not peaked over the horizon yet, and you found Yuji fast asleep — breaths even and face relaxed. You knew his parents had scarred him deeply — he spoke of them often, but not at all at — he mentioned their presence, but never his own feelings. You knew he had a habit of putting others above himself — but you had missed this — all of this week, you could have been there for him, but you were caught up in your own thoughts and you had made it all about yourself.
And he deserved more than that.
He deserved more than you.
And you couldn’t risk losing him — lose him in a stupid argument or a disagreement and then never be able to comfort him again? Never be able to be by his side? You couldn’t bear to even fathom that.
“Nanamin was asking about you,” Yuji says as the two of you walk home from the local convenience store — a late night run that produced a familiar bag of treats the two of you always shared when you came back home.
“Oh really? Are classes over for high school already?” The English literature teacher had taken Yuji in for his last year and half of high school after his grandfather passed, and Yuji always stayed with him on breaks.
“He asked if you were going to come with us to see my parents tomorrow morning,” it was a tradition to go visit Yuji’s parents graves each year around this time — you always paid your respects whenever you could, “he also said you’re free to stay over, but you have to sleep in a different bedroom,” you snort, “he said and I quote ‘we are past the age of sharing a room,’” You laugh, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “he’s not exactly wrong though,” his fingers graze yours, and there’s nothing more you want than to take his hand, but you know one way or another, you’d drop it in the end. Wouldn’t it be better now? When there isn’t far to fall?
So you do, letting your hand fall away from his.
“I’d be happy to see your parents, but I don’t know if staying over is a good idea—“ and he’s shaking his head with a chuckle in his throat.
“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything you don’t want to—“
“We should stop, Yuji,” and his smile slips off his face as if it was slapped off, he blinks, shock settling into confusion.
“Why?” Only one word and it manages to break you all the same.
“We just shouldn’t. This was supposed to be about teaching me, but i think I’ve learned enough,” you’re turning away, but his fingers are gently finding your wrist, “Yuji—“
“You don’t think I can’t tell when you’re lying?” Yuji asks, and your glass-like facade shatters so easily — why does it always have to break so readily when it comes to him?
But you pull away all the same, “I can’t do this anymore. Not like this. I don’t want to. I can’t lose you—“
“You won’t lose me—“ but you’re already walking off, sparing a glance back.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning when we leave, Yuji,” and he’s opening his mouth to call out, but he stops himself, watching you disappear up the street.
What just happened?
The car ride to the cemetery is notably silent. Yuji’s eyes burned when he woke, head aching from the circles he ran around in last night, trying to figure out what happened. Nanami drives in the quiet, his eyes noting when Yuji chooses to sit passenger instead of beside you, only with one glance that’s averted after Yuji refuses to meet it.
Yuji didn’t know what to make of what you said. After everything, he thought maybe — just maybe, you felt the same as he did. He thought he could tell you tomorrow, tell you when the two of you were alone — and even if it didn’t work out, it would be okay.
But now — as his eyes stole a look at you in the rear view mirror, he wondered if it ever would be okay again.
You left the car a moment to go use the bathroom when they stopped to fill gas in the car, and that’s when Nanami speaks.
“So did you finally ask her out and she said no?” And Yuji’s head snaps to his, but Nanami only stares back, “you aren’t hard to read, Itadori. You’ve liked her for a long time,”
Yuji scratches the back of his head, “I did something, kinda stupid,” and Nanami tilts his head, “really stupid, ok? And I was going to tell her how I felt, but she broke off what we were doing—“
“You weren’t dating?” Yuji’s cheeks burn as he waves off his teacher.
“That’s not important! But what do I do, Nanamin?” the blond haired teacher raised an eyebrow.
“It’s not hard to know what to do, Itadori. It’s what you should have done. Tell her how you feel,” and then you’re walking back to the car, “come on, let’s get back. We’re close now.”
And your gaze avoids his own when Yuji watches you get back in the car, and his lips part as if to stop you — but he doesn’t.
Not yet.
You stood with Yuji as he tended to his parents’ graves. Simple stones that he was able to put in with time from his part time jobs, ones he had insisted he would pay for himself — refusing any help from anyone, even you. You knelt down, helping him clear the strewn dead leaves, brushing away dirt and snow — your fingers brushing when you both reach for the same place.
And your eyes meet, as both of your fingers intertwine slowly — the three of you pay your respects, and Nanami finally stands.
“I’ll wait for you two at the car,” Nanami says with a nod, leaving the two of you alone. You both already had placed offerings at their graves, arranging them slowly, as the two of you stand, the silence of the cemetery hanging overhead — light streaming in between clouds in the overcast sky, the sounds of the wind rustling the trees the only thing in the quiet.
“Thank you for coming,” Yuji says softly, and your blink, eyes sliding to his.
“You never have to thank me for that, Yuji,” you squeeze his hand, “as long as you want me to come, I’ll always be here. And I’ll always pay my respects to your parents, regardless of that,” you say, and that's exactly why you had to stop with him. You couldn’t bear to lose him — lose this, not when he’s lost too much and he was too much for you to lose, “come on, we should get back to the car,” as you pull your hand away from his.
And maybe things could get back to normal.
“I know,” and he doesn’t move as you turn to leave, “and that’s why I love you,”
And you smile, “I love you too—“
“I don’t mean it like that,” and you freeze a moment, his words barely processing before he continues to speak, “I mean I do love you in that way too — but that’s not how I meant it now,” he says, as you turn to face him — not finding a hint of humor on his expression.
“Yuji—“ your brain can barely process your best friend confessing to you — much less next to his parents’ graves— “should we be having this conversation—“
“It’s the perfect place to have this conversation,” he glances around at all of the graves, and he’s shaking his head, “maybe not the perfect place, but—“ his gaze softens when he finds yours, “you saved me,”
“Yuji—“
“No, you did. After my parents died,” he stares at the stones side by side — “I could barely function. I barely wanted to do anything but sleep — but you, you pulled me out of bed. You made me go places. You made me smile again,” he says, “but that’s not the reason I fell in love with you,” his lips curl into a soft smile, “it’s because it’s you — your smile, your laugh, your being — it reminded me of happiness existed, and then I realized you were the only person who could make me happy the way you do,”
“Yuji—“
“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. But I don’t want to lose you, lose this chance to tell you how I feel, to tell you—“
“Yuji—“
“And I’ve always loved you — there’s never been—“ and you’re hugging him, before you even know you are, your arms are around his middle, face buried in his chest, as he murmurs your name.
“The only reason I broke it off was,” your voice wavers despite your efforts to force it to stay even, “I didn’t to lose you by not being good enough—“
“You just have to be you,” his brow furrowed into the same valleys he teased you for, “you’re all I need,” his hand finds your cheek, guiding your gaze to his, “how could you think you weren’t enough?”
“You don’t tell how you feel sometimes — you don’t tell me what you’re thinking, I didn’t even know you had nightmares—“ you break off, “what if we continued this and you realized you deserved better than me? And it was already too late for me because I love—“ you break off.
“You what?” he asks, and you’re biting your lip, “I’ll say it again if it will make you—“
Fuck it.
You lean up and press your lips to his, swallowing his words as your hand finds purchase on his shoulder. And it felt right. As it always did with Yuji.
“I love you too,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you, in the same way you do,”
“As a friend?” And your brow furrows, “kidding! Kidding—ow!” You’re smacking him playfully, before he catches both of your wrists and pulls you close, “does that mean I can call you mine?”
“Or baby,” and he flushes, a cute pout on his lips, “what? Isn’t it—“ and he’s kissing you again, your heart leaping as he does, his hands sliding around your hips, “Yu-“
“And what’s my pet name? You still haven’t given me one—“
“Have some decorum,” a voice cuts through, and the two of you jump apart, as Nanami stands, glaring at the two of you, “come on, if you’re done paying your respects, then we should go home,” he sighs, rubbing his temples, “the dead shouldn’t have to put up with this.”
Yuji’s cheeks are tomato red at this point — as he covers his face— but you only chuckle, your fingers intertwining with his, squeezing, “c’mon let’s go, and maybe I can give you a pet name when we get home,” and you both turn to face his parents, as you pay your respects and head down the path a little.
Yuji faces his parents, kneeling down to say goodbye again — and he remembers how it was their idea to set up Yuji to have a playdate with you, all those years ago. And now, here you were — the most important person in his life.
“Thank you for everything you did for me,” and he glances at you over his shoulder as he gets up, “especially for helping me find her.”
“Yu-ji—“ you gasp, as he’s tugging you into your bedroom, bumping himself carelessly into the wall as he guides you both to your bedroom. You giggle as he presses you against the wall outside your room, “I text you my parents are going out for dinner and this is how you greet me? What happened to hello—“
His lips crash against yours and you forget about ‘hello’ and just about every other word in your head. Your lips curl against his lips, as his body cages you against the wall. It had been a few days since you and Yuji had been able to have a moment alone—Nanami was watching you both cautiously, while your parents had been keeping you busy at home, seeing family or cleaning up around the house. And Yuji was growing increasingly desperate for some time with you — that wasn’t hidden brushes of fingers under the table or stolen kisses out of sight from family or friends.
“I missed you so much, baby,” he’s murmuring — and you didn’t know it was so possible to look like a kicked puppy so much until you met Yuji, “can’t believe Nanami was so mean and kept making us keep the door open—“
“It didn’t help that he walked in us making out on your bed three times—“ and a moan escapes your lips as he kisses your neck, teeth grazing against your racing pulse, “fuck, Yu—“
“How do you always taste so good?” he mumbles against you as he leads you inside your bedroom and shuts the door. His eyes glance around your childhood room, as he takes in the childhood posters plastered on the walls, the untouched books, the stuffed animals from a millennium ago that still lined your bed.
“My family has not changed much here for years,” your cheeks burn, as he only chuckles, walking you backwards into your bed, and you climb into the bed, only grabbing a stuffed animal from behind you, “remember this?”
He snorts, as he takes the stuffed penguin from your hands, “How could I forget? I tried a million times to win this,”
You tilt your head, “You said you won it your first try—“ and you gasp as he looks away, cheeks flushed, “you were trying to impress me,”
“Not that much,” and you’re leaning closer, brushing your lips against his, “maybe just a little,” you kiss him more insistently this time, sliding against his, fingers curling in his soft strands, “maybe too much,” and you smirk, noses bumping as your lips find each other’s again and again.
And your fingers slide down to drag his shirt up and over, freeing his chest and abs to your sight — and what a sight it is. So toned and tanned from his American football practices in the sun — perfect for your fingers and lips to explore the peaks and valleys of his body, hands already far too eager.
He returns the favor by lifting your own shirt off in an instant, groaning when he finds you wearing nothing underneath — your eyes can’t help but flit down and find his erection already tenting in his sweatpants.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” his eager hands are already teasing and palming you breasts, a whimper drawn out by his precise pinches and touches, “so good for me,” and your hands drag down his chest, leaning down to press kisses to his chest as your fingers trace along his abs, making him groan.
He’s pouting, after he pulls you into another kiss, “it’s not fair,” he mumbles into the side of your neck, “I feel like I’m always the one who’s more nervous than you are,”
You chuckle, kissing his jaw, “I felt the same way, why do you think I touched you on our TV marathon that night?”
And he’s blinking, as you lay back on the bed for him, “you didn’t know—“ you shake your head.
“You had offered to help get experience, and even when we had done things, you were just so…normal,” he chuckles, before laying beside you.
“I had some practice acting normal around you, but I really didn’t. I think you nearly gave me a heart attack that night,” and you grin, drawing so close that you even feel the hitch of his breath.
“That good, huh?” You tease, and it only takes a moment until he’s hovering over you, lust pooled in his gaze that lights a fire on your body wherever it lays.
And his lips meet yours right after he whispers, “I’ll show you good.”
“One more, baby,” Yuji tells you, but you barely hear it through the haze of pleasure and heat that fills the room, along with the sounds of the squelch of his fingers in your tight cunt, “just need one more,”
And how many times had he made you orgasm already? You’d lost count — five or six at least. The first had taken some time, working his finger into your weeping slit, the way your walls stretch around him make you wonder how good it will feel when he fucks you. It’s not long before he’s sinking another finger in, the sounds and feelings of his digits curling is enough to bring you to orgasm. And the rest are a blur — another finger in your tight entrance, fucking you open as he toyed with your walls, until you came again and again.
And now he bent down, lips around your clit, teasing and sucking at the sensitive bud, as your fingers curled in his pink locks as the lewd moans fell from your mouth with ease. You’re so close — so fucking close, and when his fingertips brush against that spot and it’s all too much.
You cum around his fingers and mouth, his name on your lips as you do, back arching against him, as he eases his fingers from your cunt. He licks his fingers clean as your eyes flutter open to meet his, “You taste so good, baby — you’re perfect,” and you watch as his tongue flicks out to clean his lips and chin of your sticky release.
And soon enough he’s kissing you, hand cupping your cheek, letting you taste yourself on his lips, as your fingers drag over his bare chest and follow his happy trail into the elastic of his boxers. A soft moan leaves his kiss ruined lips, as his eyes are lidded with lust, soft pants against your skin.
“Is this a dream?” Yuji murmurs, his lips ghosting along your jaw, “never thought we would get here,” and you turn your head to meet his lips in another sweet kiss.
“It isn’t, we’re here. Took us long enough,” your lips curl, your fingers tracing over his cheek, “and nowhere else I rather be — or no one else I rather be with,”
“You sure?” And you’ve flipped him over, kissing down his body, fingers tugging at the elastic of his boxers until his dick is freed from the fabric, “fuck, baby, you don’t have—“
And his words are cut off with a grunt as your fingers grazes his erection, teasing his weeping head. You start to pump up and down, working the thick beads of precum over his length, his head falling back.
“How’s your cock so pretty, Yu?” you coo, blowing air over his dick, making him twitch in your hand, “never thought one of these would ever be so pretty,” you let his length slap against your tongue, slowly dragging it down your
He hisses, hands grasping at the sheets, as you bend down to flick his tongue against the head of his cock. Your lips close around it, and suck, raising the back of his hand to cover his mouth, “fuck, s’good, baby, I—“
And you’re letting his cock sink past your lips, your tongue flicking against his slit. Your eyes find his own, as you hollow out your cheeks and sucking hard, and his hips buck into your mouth. His tip brushes against your throat, and you’re moaning around him, your fingers cup his balls, nails digging into your scalp.
“Baby, fuck, I’m close—where—“ and he’s trying to ease you off, but your hands only hold his hips in place. Your nose brushing against his pubes. And when you’re suck hard on his tip, toying with his sack, only for him to moan your name, before cumming down your throat, his hot release painting your insides.
You’re slowly pulling off his dick, a string of cum and spit connecting your lips to his cock, a smile on your face. You swallow his release, the salty taste still on your lips as you watch him pant, chest rising and falling.
“Taste so good, Yu,” you murmur, and you’re moving back up to kiss him, “think I’m addicted,” you murmur, as your lips find each other again and again.
“Now you know how I feel,” he smiles, fingers running through your hair, “been addicted to you for over a decade,” and he’s sitting up, guiding you into his lap slowly, “we can always stop right here, we don’t have—“
You kiss him softly, the way he deserved, the way you’ve wanted to for so long, “I want to, Yuji, I really want to,” your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his hand, his arm slipping around your waist, “because I love you,”
And your fingers grasp his hardening cock, pressing it to your dripping slit, and god, he’s so fucking big. You knew how big he was, but just feeling him pressed against you makes you ache at how he’ll be stretching you out. He drags his dripping tip against your slit, letting your cum mix together, letting his head catch on your clit.
Finally, you’re sinking onto him, his thick length parting your walls, inch by inch. Your head falls back, as he leans into your touch, watching you flinch at the stretch, “you okay?” Yuji’s pressing sweet kisses to your lips and cheek, “should I stop—“
“No, no, I’m fine, it’s starting to feel good,” your arms wrapping around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck, “ and he’s helping you sink into him, until finally your hips are flush to his, “fuck, Yu—you’re so deep—“ his cock twitches against your walls, a shiver up his spine at your words.
And he’s panting, his lips pressed to your shoulder, “you feel s’good, baby — so wet and warm—“ you smile, cupping his cheek, “can’t believe this is real — can’t believe—“
“It’s real, Yuji, it’s real,” your lips curl into a smile, “I’m here, I love you,”
“I love you too, I love you so much,” he kisses you again and again, as he shifts slowly under you, swallowing a gasp that leaves your lips.
“Please, Yuji, move—“ and he obliges, beginning to fuck into you, and your head falls back, as his cock rocks into you, a moan falling from your lips as you do. He’s groaning your name again and again, a grunt when you begin to ride him in tandem, both of your thrusts sending him deeper into you.
“Baby, fuck, you’re perfect. You’re so good f’me,” his lips finding your neck, as his strokes become faster and deeper, the sounds of your skin slapping together rings in your ears as he fucks you harder and harder, “g’nna cum, s’close,“
“I’m close too,” you’re panting as his lips find yours in a sloppy, messy kiss that has you losing yourself more and more, as his thrusts become more and more swallow. And when he finds your clit between your bodies, rubbing as he finds that one spot that has you seeing stars, “Yuji- I’m—“
And you cum hard around him, soaking his cock and thighs as you do, walls squeezing him tight until he’s spilling his warm seed inside you. You slow as you do, legs quivering, as you nearly slump against him and he holds you impossibly closer. He helps you both detangle, easing his softening cock from inside you, a small groan as he sees your mixed releases leaking from you. He helps you lie back, as he wraps his arms around you, running his fingers through your hair.
“Are you okay?” he whispers, brow furrowed in slight worry as your eyes flutter open, lips curling as your fingers smooth the wrinkles of his forehead.
“I’d be better if you’d kiss me,” you whisper and he obliges, a soft kiss to your lips that leaves you warmer than you were before, “now I’m perfect,”
“You always were,” and you chuckle, rolling your eyes, before shaking your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck.
“No, that’s because I had an excellent teacher,” and he laughs, before he pulls you even closer, finding your lips in a kiss.
“And you always will.”
“Come on, Fushiguro, pay up,” Nobara holds out her hand, as Megumi glares, pulling out his wallet and plucking money from his wallet and handing it to her.
“You cheated,” he says as she snatches the money, counting it with a grin on her lips, “I don’t know what you did, but I know you did,”
“You never said we couldn’t give them advice,” she grins, as she pockets his money, “and all I did was give Yuji a nudge, he’s the one who fucked—“
“Alright,” Megumi rubs his temples, “I get it, but it’s still unfair — we’ve been waiting for them to get together all these years and all of sudden he gets the idea to become her friends with benefits—“ and Nobara only grins wider, “you didn’t—“
She shrugs, “you can wait around for two idiots to figure it out, or you can shove them off the deep end.”
“I knew you cheated,” Megumi grumbles, “that’s the last time I ever make a bet with you, Kugisaki,”
And she smirks, “Well now you’ve been taught a lesson too.”
✧ a/n: another celebration fic done! now just one more and then i can start preparing for the next follower celebration :). i've settled on using wips but i'll pick out a bunch of prompts for you all to request for certain ones. that way, you all have had a hand in them <3. thank you to laney for helping beta <3.
✧ taglist: @adrenova, @nakariabnrb, @skvllknight, @hanlay, @spider-fan72, @anonimusunnoaniswriting, @chososcamgirl, @thenezuko, @catsgomurp, @too-much-snow, @sashaiko, @forest-fruits-jam, @rita-ritarita, @anyaeuh, @dezznuggetsblog, @jayathelostdragon, @newspapergirlmal, @2livelaughlovefictionalmen2, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @xoocii, @firelordazulaaaa, @cira273, @twosec0nd, @ororomunroro, @sunamatic, @withoutanameyet, @gojorgeous, @masctomboy805, @hantaslittlearsonist, @lemonpoppy-seed, @malmare, @teraine, @boopadoopa333, @jeyughh, @coffeebun17, @faeryli, @katienaps, @tojbitch, @fushitoru, @soulofoz, @yamaguccitadashi
#sab [mlist]#yuji itadori x reader#yuji itadori smut#yuji itadori fanfiction#yuji itadori fluff#yuji itadori x you#jjk smut#jjk fanfiction#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#itadori yuji x reader#itadori yuji smut#itadori yuuji x reader#itadori yuuji fanfiction
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Part Four
Can't stop thinking about reader losing her cool.
"So we're closed, John." You said, trying to be cordial.
"Is that all you have to fucking say?" He practically growled before huffing. A humorless chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "I suppose not since you won't respond to any of us."
"Don't do that." You said taking a step back. Trying to create some distance between you and him. John would never physically hurt you. That much you knew.
"What?" He asked. His voice rising as he stepped closer to you. "Be angry that you pulled that shit and then left? Stopped talking to us. Changed your fucking locks. Last thing we even knew about you was that you got on a fucking plane and left. Even your friends wouldn't tell us anything besides that you were okay." "Which considering this came out of bloody nowhere, I find it highly unlikely that you are in any way 'okay'."
You took a deep breath. You wouldn't be intimidated. You wouldn't clam up. You wouldn't cry. You won't go back on your decision. You will be cordial and polite and not unleash everything you want to.
"I understand you might be upset, but it's for the best. It wasn't working out and I wanted to end on somewhat good terms. I would appreciate it if you lowered your voice and stopped speaking to me in that way." You could barely recognize your voice. It sounded so scripted. So robotic. But it was something you had been telling yourself. Excuses you had been telling yourself.
Because if you told yourself the truth. The picture you would paint would tell a different story. It wouldn't highlight the fact that John spoke to you like he was one of your men or that Johnny had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It wouldn't show what a flake Kyle was or that Simon was well and truly a mean-spirited person.
It would show how you weren't worth it. Four possible men. Four possibilities of happily ever after and none of them chose you. That no one ever did and no one ever would. You weren't worth it. You weren't loveable.
It wasn't right, but it was what the voices had been telling you late in the night. When you would crawl into your cold bed. The silence of the room not filled with John's steady breathing or the sound of Kyle's heartbeat as you laid you head on his chest. The absence of Johnny's occasional snoring or whatever Simon was watching playing in the background of your dreams.
In the void, all your dark thoughts came back at you.
"Upset?" He asked, his voice still louder than you would have liked. "An understatement considering the stunt you pulled."
"You think it was a stunt?"
"So Johnny thought with his dick and didn't plan things out. You should have told him instead of crying to Simon and then pulling this shit." "Christ, I knew you were still young, but I didn't take you for that immature."
"You know what?" "I'm done." "I am so fucking sick of making excuses for you all." "You want to act like I'm the immature one, John?" "You are 35-year-old man who cannot separate his work from his work like. You have continuously talked to and down to me like I am one of your men, only to turn around and always blame your shitty fucking attitude on work. I get that your job is stressful, but I did not sign up to be your verbal fucking punching bag."
"And this come and fucking go incident with Johnny. It has been a consistent issue with him coming over just to fuck. I've asked him for that last six months that 'hey, we've been seeing each other for a year and a half, I would love to meet your family' and suddenly the dates stop. He doesn't ask to see me until after 7 PM. He brings food occasionally, fucks me and leaves. Sometimes before I even wake up."
"And the only reason Kyle is the person I am the least pissed off with is because I haven't even seen him." You took a step closer, not noticing how the anger in John's eyes had softened. "I have not seen Kyle in weeks, to no fault of my own. I stopped reaching out to make dinner plans after the third time he canceled on a date night when I was either on my way or already at the restaurant."
"And Simon?" You scoffed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, as he said I get mine. You all make me cum which is supposed to magically erase how shitty you've all been as partners. It's supposed to erase the nights I've cried myself to sleep debating on whether or not there was something wrong with me. How I'm not good enough to meet anyone else in your lives like some dirty fucking secret. How none of you can even bother to pencil me for a group dinner so I can tell you a publishing house picked up my book. How at some point you all stopped caring or maybe never did."
You took a breath. Blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay.
You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't cry.
"As Simon said it best, I should have known that spreading my legs wouldn’t end with one of you putting a ring on your finger.”
For once, John was silent. Unsure of what to say. An apology starting to form at the tip of his tongue before realizing 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. Not this time.
Had he really been that sharp with you? He knew that there were times he had gotten short, but he almost always apologized immediately after. If not at the very moment he took in your crest-fallen face, then definitely later. But he almost always told you he was sorry. Didn't he?
"So as I said," you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm closed. We're done. Now get out." Your face held no sadness. Even though your eyes were nearly full to the brim with unshed tears, you weren't sad.
You were finally angry.
#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#call of duty#john soap mactavish#angst#angst with a happy ending
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𝑶𝑯 𝑴𝒀 𝑩𝑰𝑮 𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀 !!
— old bf!toji x young gf!reader
i think toji with a girlfriend that is so much younger than him is so adorable.
before you, he was just a man with a small room that is always so messy because he is rarely home. but, the room feels so much like home now that you have entered his life. he's never bothered to decorate or do anything. his heart flutters when he finds several photoframes hanging on the wall. one of you and him, a few of just his and a lot of megumi.
toji has never in his life ever clicked a selfie. he is not photogenic at all. so when you poke him to click one with you, he's not sure what to do in front of a camera. you tell him to just be himself and he is still confused. you lift the phone and make a peace sign with your hand, your teeth peeking out as your lips curve in a smile. you click it quickly and scan the photo. it is cute. you put a heart emoji with a wink one and upload it on your instagram. soon, your phone is buzzing with notifications. you open them and giggle. toji is so curious so he peeks and finds people calling him "the rock". He snatches the phone to scan the selfie you took earlier. you look so adorable with your cute little peace sign and smile and there he was beside you with a brow raised looking angry. "delete that shit right now," he orders. "are you kidding me? this is gold. it's going on the wall." he can't help but grin at how you find such silly things funny.
toji who is getting used to texting and wants to be even closer to you so he tries to learn some slangs. you are out with your friends when your phone chimes. you unlock it to see the text from toji.
toji: kys
you almost spit out the coffee you were enjoying. what the fuck is he on? what happened? you immediately call him.
"hello," his voice raspy.
"tojii! why the fuck would you say something like that to me?"
"what are you talking about?"
"the text you just sent me. why did you send that?"
"because i care for you, doll." you were even more confused now.
"you told me to kill myself because you care for me?"
"kill yourself? who said that? i sent K.Y.S." he spelled each letter out loud. "it means keep yourself safe." it takes you a few seconds to absorb and then you burst out laughing. he is not sure what is so funny.
"oh my poor big baby. kys means kill yourself."
oh. OH.
"i—i am so fucking sorry, princess. i was just—"
"you are so adorable. when i come home, i need to go through your google search history to know what other slangs you learnt." he is so embarrassed, he bites his lower lip. but he is also feeling so warm and fuzzy because you called him adorable. who would call a man in his mid 30s adorable? well, you did. and he is so happy about that. happier that he met you.
#jujutsu kaisen#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#jjk x reader#toji fluff#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#fushiguro toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro fluff
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𝙎𝙃𝙐𝙏 𝙐𝙋 (𝙍𝘼𝙁𝙀 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍)
if you were a cat you’d be purring. Rafe slowly running his fingers through your hair on his lap taming for the time being. You hear snippets of their conversation over your own thoughts, how Kelce was talking to a girl who “turned out to be a nagging bitch”. That made you peek an eye open, being the girls girl you are.
“Nah man, she was crazy asking about, ‘when am I gonna see you?”
Both eyes now open, you discreetly look at Rafe to see how he responds to Kelce complaining about a girl saying something eerily similar to something you’d say.
Rafe scoffs a laugh, “She think you whipped or somethin?”
Your eyes narrow now and for once you’re silent, looking at Kelce and Topper across the couch to see how this plays out.
“I mean that shit means she likes you don’t it” Topper supplies, making Kelce laugh.
“Yeah she likes THIS DICK” Kelce jokes, making all of the boys laugh, making you shoot up from your spot on Rafe’s lap.
“That’s mean! She wants you to know she cares” you pout.
“Bun, this just how guys talk n-“ Rafe tries to explain, brushing the hair that had fallen into your face with your agitation behind your ear, used to your hyperemotional behavior
“No! It’s mean you guys are mean!” You interrupt voice breaking, starting to tear up
“HEY- don’t, don’t be startin shit right now bunny I promise you won’t like that.” Rafe gets a little firm but still holding back a little.
“No! Papi, im not gonna let these losers- YEAH i called you losers- talk shit about a girl who just fucking cares”
Rafe pauses, you’ve never spoken to him like this, you *know* better than that. So it makes him think.
He shakes his head, “Nah, move on guys move on. I’m not doin this right now” he tells his friends, nodding his head towards me.
“Shut the FUCK up Rafe you’re pissing me off” you hiss at him.
This makes his friends howl with laughter, hitting each other with glee.
“OOOO your bitch got you scared Rafe or what huh?” Kelce boldly says, for once in his life.
“You too Kelce jesus- you’re a spineless dickless, misogynistic manwhore. and- and -and Topper you’re just- just- YOU.” you shout at them, stomping your foot and storming away.
The boys watch you walk off. Rafe hot on your heels to put you into place. After a moment Topper squeaks out a, “What the fuck does that mean?”
pls like and reblog if you enjoyed! requests are open :3. Thank you to @rafeysdoll for helping as alwaysssss <3
#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe concepts#rafe cameron coded#rafe obx#rafe fanfiction#rafe fic#bunny!reader
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"Shuro loves Falin for the same reasons he hates Laios" Completely and utterly wrong, could not be further off base.
I get the impression a lot of people watching Dungeon Meshi as it airs, or are a bit removed from its original manga run, have forgotten that Laios and Falin being monster freaks wasn't actually apparent until the events of the story. The only person that knew Falin loved monsters as much as Laios was Marcille because they were best friends at school.
Once Laios and Falin were in an adventuring party together, they both had public facing personas because they had both learned through their separate upbringings that being super interested in monsters and dungeons wasn't normal. Laios is the blunt but well meaning, outspoken and opinionated guy we all know, but Falin was way more withdrawn and soft-spoken, non-confrontational, easy to get along with. Everyone that interacted with Falin would say she's a sweet, gentle girl that everyone likes. Because she was, frankly, kind of a doormat.
The whole thing with Toshiro's infatuation with Falin is he doesn't actually know her. She is outwardly very polite and reserved, and that appeals to Toshiro because it meshes with his cultural sensibilities and how he was taught people are supposed to behave. Then he sees her marveling at a caterpillar in a private moment and decides on the spot that she's the ideal woman and proposes without actually talking to or getting to know her.
And his lack of understanding of Falin as a person is brought to the forefront in every action he takes after she gets eaten. He leaves the party and makes no attempt to contact the two people that Falin loves the most. Whether it's a matter of him just not knowing how much Falin cares about her brother and Marcille, or actively avoiding Laios to rescue Falin himself, he's demonstrating that he doesn't actually know what's important to her or understand how she feels.
Then when he meets Laios's party on the lower floors and they go over what happened, it's made even more blatant that Toshiro's affection is shallow and half-baked. He came into the dungeon a week too late and neglected his health the whole way down, so he was in no state to actually try and save Falin when he got there. When Laios talks about eating monsters, something Falin was thrilled about, Toshiro is disgusted. He threatens to kill Laios and turn Marcille in, which would never fly with Falin. His anger at the use of black magic is entirely based in his selfish idea of Falin being tainted and blaming Laios and Marcille for "ruining" his attempt to rescue her, as Kabru points out that Toshiro would have done the exact same thing in their shoes and that he's being a hypocrite. To say nothing of how he'd rather kill Falin after she's been transformed and "put her to rest" rather than put any effort into saving her, because that would require further involvement from Laios and Marcille and methods that Toshiro doesn't approve of.
And there's the fight he has with Laios, and Toshiro's subsequent confession that he had hoped to just take Falin home with him. He at no point gives consideration to what Falin feels or what she might want, only what he has decided about her based on the most surface level observation. Just like how his problem with Laios arises from his refusal to just talk to him about his boundaries, he has no actual connection with the woman he claims to love because he just wouldn't actually talk to her.
Like it's not a coincidence that every time his attraction to Falin is brought up, another character goes "yeah he's being weird about it".
#Dungeon Meshi#Toshiro isn't a bad person. He has communication issues and makes very bad decisions based on his own refusal to communicate.
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Hello could I please request civilian!reader staring at the batboys for a long time and goes “why are you so perfect and handsome, I’m so lucky to have you and I will protect you with my tiny body and hands” 🌸
Idk whether or not this is what you wanted anon but I hope you like it at least in some way 😂
Jason can’t help but let out a full belly laugh upon hearing your declaration after having stared at him for a full hour, as he walked over to you to cup your face in his hands and rest his head against yours.
‘How sweet you of chipmunk, I’ll make sure to keep that in mind whenever I’m in trouble.’ He murmurs as his thumbs stroked your cheeks.
He found it extremely endearing and sweet that you would ever go out of your way to protect someone like him but he preferred if you were to stay at home where it was relatively safe. Jason cared way too much about you to loose you, even if the comment was made in a lighthearted way.
Gotham was far too cruel for someone like you and you both knew it, the city was bound to swallow you whole before you even made it down the street.
The other thing that stuck in Jason’s mind how you thought he was perfect and handsome, to which he would always respond with;
‘I’m far from being either of those things chipmunk, but I’ll take the compliment.’
Jason didn’t view himself as an ugly dude but nor did he think of himself as handsome either, he grew up in Crime Alley and was taken in by a billionaire, he never had times to focus on the way he looked or acted in the eyes of others. Until you of course.
To Jason, Dick was someone many would consider a handsome and perfect man while those same many often regarded him as the complete opposite under the same breath. So whenever you held his face in your hands and called him handsome or perfect with a look of utter love and adoration in your eyes, Jason can’t help but find himself slowly starting to believe that he was in fact a handsome man.
If anything Jason views himself as the one who is lucky to have someone as good and as perfect as you and he reminds you of it day and night, whether he was Jason Todd, your perfect man or Red Hood, feared vigilante of Gotham.
Dick: found it really cute that you thought you could protect him, someone who had the insane flexibility and agility of a cat, but he wasn’t one to crush your dreams and aspirations.
‘My hero has finally come to save me?’ He’d gasp dramatically as he practically falls into your arms, causing you to buckle under his weight and collapse on the bed and giggle at his theatrics.
However he wouldn’t dare let you put yourself in danger in any way shape or form for the likes of him, he refused it as this life had nothing but take and take and take from him anything and everything he held dear.
He still remembered how he felt partially responsible for Jason’s death that he tries to make up for it by being in his corner when it seemed as though everyone thought ill of him.
So Dick really doesn’t want you going and pulling the heroic card on him as he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it, he’d act like he could when in reality he was doing far worse then anyone could imagine. So it be better if you let him do the saving.
Now Dick was aware of his own attractiveness and appeal but when you were the one calling him perfect and handsome, he’s smiling widely and internally kicking his feet and saying silly shit like;
‘You still have a crush on me? How embarrassing for you.’ To which you respond with ‘Dick we’ve been dating for 8 months-‘
When anyone else calls Dick handsome they are pointing out an already pre established fact, but when you’re the one saying he’s handsome it has more meaning as it felt as though he was being shown something that he never knew was there before. He lived for every time you called him handsome and it wasn’t because of an ego thing, he just like you calling him handsome and would never want to live in reality where he never heard you say it ever again.
Damian;
‘I can protect us both without issue so there’s no need for that.’
He sometimes takes your word a little too literally, regardless whether you were joking or not.
He was the crime fighter out of you both, so just let him do all the fighting, he doesn’t want your eyes to be burdened with the violence and criminal activity that he was accustomed to.
Also when you called him perfect and handsome, Poor Damian didn’t know what to think as it wasn’t something he viewed himself as nor expected anyone outside of his family to either.
He could handle insults and such but soft words laced with love and care towards him was an entirely new feeling for him in general that it both scared and excited him simultaneously. Besides Damian wasn’t interested in tibial things such as being conventionally attractive or whatever troubles the average person, he never thought it of any importance when other things took presidency in his life.
However when you compliment him, Damian couldn’t help but feel as though he was a little boy again, he would feel himself stiffen for a moment before the appropriate response came to him as easy as breathing, because caring for you was as easy as breathing to Damian and he’d do anything to make sure you were safe and sound wherever you are; for without you he’d be deeply lost.
#dc imagine#dc x reader#dc x you#dc fanfic#dc fic#dc comics x reader#dc x y/n#dc fanfiction#jason todd imagines#jason todd imagine#jason todd fluff#jason todd x reader#dick grayson x y/n#dick grayson x you#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson imagines#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson fluff#damian wayne x y/n#damian wayne x you#damian wayne imagine#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne imagines#damian wayne fluff#nightwing x y/n#nightwing imagines#nightwing x you#nightwing fluff#nightwing imagine#nightwing x reader
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Omg Imagine fucking your sons teacher so he won’t fail his classes🫣
Best dad ever reward,,MINORS DNI!! Top male reader,, Dilfy reader woah,, Degradation,, over desk,,
Your son was a hassle,, you wouldn't say he was a disappointed nor was he a burden but getting calls from the principal of his school multiple times a term was not something you enjoyed!!
He would always come up with bullshit excuses that he was only messing or that he didn't mean to!! But you knew better,,he was your own son!! You could obviously tell when he was lying,,
Getting called in by his teacher to have a one on one meeting,,showing up in your best clothing to show your sons teacher that you weren't some deadbeat dad that was condoning this kind of behaviour!!
What you didn't expect was that his teacher was cute,, his soft brown hair and clothing that seemed more suitable to a librarian then anything!! No wonder your son calls him a nerd,,
"Sir! I'm so sorry to call you here today!" The teachers voice was soft as he apologised,,motioning you to take a seat infront of him as he sipped at his learning themed cup,,
He waited patiently for you to take a seat and once you did,,he seemed almost too grateful for it,, "I called you in for..this" His tone was apologetic as he handed you your sons report card,,which was almost all Fs the whole way around!!
The teacher wasn't ready for how you'd react,,most parents would scream and shout while others would frown and seem close to tears but you,, you didn't do anything of the sort!! >□<
He was bent over your desk,, his ass up as he gripped onto the paperwork!! Your cock moving in and out of him with provision!! It was like you knew exactly where to hit eachtime!!
"Fine! Fine, I'll change everything to an A! Please just, Let me cum please..!" His whines were pathetic as they reverberated around the room, his eyes trembling as he tried to not focus on the pleasure your dick gave him!!
Forcing him to change your sons card while you were still inside!! Watching his shaky hands type in the computer and spanking his ass for every misspelled word!! >□<
#{anon asks}#{h4rny ask}#top male reader#{top male reader}#sub male character#x bottom male character#bottom male character#x top male reader#dom male reader#x dom male reader
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The King's Men - Epilogue
Day: Saturday, April 27th / 28th*
Time: 3:10 AM EST
Neil waits off to one side while the others file out, knowing Andrew will be the last to leave. Wymack knows better than to stick around and follows his Foxes down the hall. Andrew brings Neil's duffel to him. Neil takes it but drops it off to one side. Andrew studies it for a moment, then shrugs out of his own bag and puts a hand to the wall near Neil's head.
"Your close calls are getting old," Andrew says. "I thought you knew how to run."
Neil affects confusion. "I thought you told me to stop running."
"Survival tip: no one likes a smart mouth."
"Except you," Neil reminds him.
A year ago Neil had been a scared nobody, hating himself for signing the Foxes' contract and counting down days until he moved in with Wymack. Tonight he is the starting striker for the first-ranked team in the NCAA. In two years he'll be captain, and in four he'll graduate from Palmetto State. Neil will find a professional team first and then fight tooth and nail to make the cut for Court. Neil can already imagine the weight of an Olympics medal around his neck. He doesn't even care what color it is so long as it is his.
Better than that bright future is what he already has: a court that will always be home, a family who'll never give up on him, and Andrew, who for once hasn't wasted their time denying that this thing between them might actually mean something to both of them. Neil didn't even notice the silence at first, too distracted by his dizzying thoughts. Now he can't help but smile and pull Andrew in.
This is everything he wanted, everything he needed, and Neil is
never letting go.
END OF ALL FOR THE GAME SERIES.
Art commissioned and used with permission by the incredible @hamrikaa!
*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.
#aftg#all for the game#neil josten#tkm#the kings men#the foxhole court#andrew minyard#palmetto state university#psu foxes#andreil#on this day in aftg#otdiaftg#palmetto state foxes#otdi all for the game#nora sakavic#the foxes#on this day in all for the game#kevin day#nicky hemmick#aaron minyard#coach wymack#betsy dobson#abby winfield#matt boyd#dan wilds#renee walker#allison reynolds#artists#hamrikaa
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Reader tutoring Rafe but his concentration is in her tits...👀
What and the fuck made you wear that low cut of a shirt?, he did’t know. He couldn’t focus on anything you were saying as those jugs were distracting him. He didn’t care about the bullshit that was coming from your mouth about the equation you were trying to explain. He wanted those fucking pair of tits in his face, and as a proactive kinda guy he was going to get them.
“Rafe, it’s your turn to do one.” Your sweet voice said, causing his blue eyes to glance back up to your pretty face.
Scratching the back of his head, he leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, manspreading as he hoped you glanced down at the forming bulge in his expensive shorts. “I’m gonna be real honest. I have no idea what are you talking about and I really don’t care.” He said, his tone cocky as he watched your face fall.
You frowned, wondering if tutoring Ward Cameron’s son was a mistake. Or why Rafe wouldn’t just take an easier math class, instead of the one he was clearly struggling in. You couldn’t deny that he was a little intimidating, but the money that you had been paid was too good to pass up as a struggling college student.
“What do you mean?” I’ve been going over these problems with you for an hour.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest which only amplified your breasts more.
Rafe ran a hand through his gelled hair, eyes glancing back down to where you lifted your tits up. “I mean- you and those fucking tits have me wanting to do some dirty shit to you. And maybe if you wouldn’t have that slut of a top on, then I could focus on this stupid shit.”
Your cheeks heated pink, glancing down at your chest as you saw the shirt you had worn in fact was showing ample cleavage. You were on the heavier chested side and sometimes just couldn’t help it, but maybe you should have settled for something else when getting dressed earlier. You couldn’t deny Rafe Cameron staring at your breasts though didn’t make you feel a little giddy.
You’d like to consider yourself a smart girl, always excelling in every class and doing well even outside of school. But after falling for his cocky charm and filthy words, he had your top down down, tits pulled out for his pleasure.
“Shit…you listen good. Don’t you?” Rafe chuckled, squeezing your rack in massive hands. Those cerulean eyes darkened at your submissiveness, watching as your lips parted in almost a soft moan. He couldn’t help but lean down, taking the right one into his mouth to suck on harshly.
You were not very experienced, the secret was that you were still a virgin. Was it normal to get this turned on from this? You couldn’t stop the whine that left your lips, no matter how bad you wanted to conceal it. Watching one of the hottest guys to ever exist have his way with your chest had your panties feeling damp and you couldn’t deny you wanted more.
Pulling back with a pop, Rafe smirked up at you. “You are gonna be such a good slut for me in bed.” He winked, knowing he had you right where he wanted. “Don’t worry, you won’t be a virgin for long.” He laughed, watching your eyes widen at the secret you told no one.
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron blurb#drew starkey#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey smut#obx#obx smut
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Saw someone mention how Steve tends to get defensive when he's anxious and it stuck with me, so here's my take on the "Steve breaks a dish and has a panic attack about it" trope
cw: descriptions of nonstandard panic attack, implied/referenced child abuse
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The distinct sound of shattering porcelain is followed by a vehemently hissed, “shit,” and then silence.
“Steve?” Eddie calls from the couch into the kitchen. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Steve calls back, but his voice sounds tight in the way it does when something definitely isn’t okay.
Eddie pushes himself up and moves to the doorway, looking in to see what the trouble is. The kitchen of the house he and Wayne had been “gifted” by the government isn’t exactly huge, and he has a straight line of sight to where Steve is standing by the sink, eyes squeezed shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose, and to the red and white shards of porcelain on the floor by his feet.
“Hey,” Eddie says, but Steve doesn’t look up; if anything, his posture only gets tenser. “You’re not cut or anything, are you?”
“No,” Steve says, and his tone is still a little off, but he doesn’t sound like he’s lying.
“What was that, anyway?” Eddie asks.
Finally, Steve takes a deep breath in and opens his eyes, looking down at the mess on the laminate. “Mug.”
As soon as he says it, Eddie recognizes the colors for what the design must have been. “Shit, the Campbell’s one?”
Steve doesn’t say a word, just gives one sharp nod.
Eddie sucks a hiss of breath in through his teeth. “Shit,” he says again. “That was Wayne’s favorite.”
“I know,” Steve says tersely. “I’m sorry.”
His tone is definitely weird. “I mean, I’m sure it was an accident, Steve–” Eddie starts.
“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, almost snapping this time. “I’ll clean it up.”
“O-kay,” Eddie says slowly, watching as Steve jerks into motion and moves over to the corner where they stash the broom and dust pan.
“I’ll apologize to Wayne when he gets home,” Steve says as he starts sweeping up, even though Eddie hasn’t said a word.
“He gets home at, like, six in the morning.”
“I’ll make sure I’m up,” Steve says shortly.
“Steve, you can just tell him what happened later, he’s not going to stand around demanding an explanation. I mean, seriously, you think Wayne is gonna be pissed if you’re not there, immediately scraping at his feet when he comes through the door?” Eddie scoffs, but Steve remains silent. Eddie watches as he finishes sweeping in short, sharp motions, brows pulling together as Steve apparently fails to pick up on the joke. “…he won’t be, y’know.”
Steve shrugs. His expression has gone eerily blank, and he takes the dustpan over to the garbage can to dump it.
“Hey, don’t–” Eddie reaches out, and Steve jerks to a stop just in time. “You don’t have to toss it, man, we might be able to glue it back together.”
Steve sends Eddie a sharp look. “I’m not gonna be able to hide that it was broken, Eddie,” he says slowly, as though this should be painfully obvious.
“I’m not suggesting we hide it, I’m just saying we might still be able to use it,” Eddie answers in the same slow manner. “It’s not junk until you’re sure you can’t fix it.”
“Right,” Steve snaps, dropping the dustpan on the counter so sharply that the shards of porcelain clink against each other. “Can’t even clean up right.”
Eddie frowns, stirrings of defensiveness rising up in his gut at Steve’s continued sour mood. “I didn’t say that. I just said we might be able to fix it.”
“Fine. We’ll try to fix it,” Steve bites out, turning away from Eddie so he can put the broom back in the corner.
Eddie shakes his head, unwilling to engage with whatever snit Steve’s got himself worked into. “What happened, anyway?” he asks instead.
Apparently, this is the wrong tactic.
“What happened is, I’m too stupid to even do the dishes right,” Steve declares as he whirls back around. “Is that what you want to hear?”
“What?” Eddie is baffled, suddenly caught in the middle of an argument he hadn’t even realized was happening. “No! Why would I want to hear that?”
Steve throws his arms up, a demonstration of giving in. “Well I already said I’m sorry, and I am, and I don’t know what else you want from me!”
The heat of Eddie’s own temper is beginning to flare, but he does his best to shake it away because he still doesn’t know what the hell is going on and he doesn’t think getting angry will help. “I don’t want anything else from you! Why are you acting like I’m yelling at you? I’m not, I’m not even upset about the stupid mug, so what the hell is your deal?”
He takes a couple of steps into the kitchen, reaching out for Steve, hoping just to touch some part of him. Physical contact has always been grounding, has always been a comfort for them both; it almost seems like they can communicate better if they can just be in contact somehow. Instead of reaching back, though, Steve tenses up; it’s not exactly a flinch, but it’s as if he’s bracing himself, as if he’s waiting for Eddie to–
Eddie takes in the painfully blank expression on Steve’s pale face, the way his chest is rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths that he can’t quite seem to control, the way he’s angled himself just slightly away from Eddie, and suddenly Eddie feels cold.
It’s as if he’s waiting for Eddie to hit him.
Eddie wonders how the hell he hadn’t realized he was walking through a minefield until he was already standing in the middle of it.
(It still takes him by surprise, sometimes, that Steve’s anxiety, his panic, tends to look more like anger. That he tends to lash out like a wounded animal when he feels backed into a corner, hurt too many times in moments of vulnerability to do otherwise.)
(It takes him by surprise, but he’s learning.)
“Steve,” Eddie says softly, dropping his hand slowly back to his side, “I’m not angry.”
Steve stares at him, almost confused, like Eddie’s not doing it right, like this isn’t what’s supposed to come next. Eddie sort of wants to break something (he thinks, briefly, that he’d like to start with the fingers on Mr. Harrington’s right hand, and then move on to his left).
“It’s just a mug, Steve, it’s okay. No one’s upset about it,” Eddie says. “I’m preemptively speaking for Wayne, because I know he’s not gonna be mad at you. Seriously, getting upset over a broken cup? Does that sound like something Wayne would do?”
Slowly, once he seems to realize that Eddie is waiting for an answer, Steve shakes his head.
“Does that sound like something I would do?” Eddie asks.
Steve shakes his head again, though he’s still watching Eddie with something approaching trepidation.
“I promise it’s fine. I’m not angry,” Eddie repeats, and chances a couple of steps closer to Steve.
Steve doesn’t react this time, no tensing, no flinching, no verbally lashing out, and so Eddie lifts a hand again, reaching slowly for Steve’s. Steve lets him.
When he gets his fingers wrapped around Steve’s own, Eddie can feel how cold they’ve gone, can feel the fine tremble of adrenaline working through them, and can’t quite choke down the noise of sympathy in his throat. He tugs on Steve’s hand.
“C’mere,” Eddie says, invites him by lifting his other arm, but leaves it up to Steve.
It only takes a moment for Steve to step in close, and when Eddie lets go of his hand to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders, Steve reciprocates by cinching his own arms tight around Eddie’s waist. He takes one sharp breath, and then another, and Eddie can hear the way they shake going in and out.
“There you go,” Eddie says quietly, rubbing Steve’s back.
“I just dropped it,” Steve says, his voice a little hoarse. “It was an accident.”
“I know it was,” Eddie assures him. “It’s okay.”
“It was an accident,” Steve says again, and Eddie wonders how often someone has believed him – how often he’d ever even been given a chance to explain.
“It was an accident,” Eddie agrees. “You’re okay, Steve.”
Steve lets out a little noise, like maybe he’s trying to laugh, but then he pulls in another shuddery breath and rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. “Okay.”
In a little bit, Eddie might lead Steve to sit down on the couch, or maybe just take them both up to bed, because fuck doing the dishes after this anyway; he’ll make sure to leave a note for Wayne about the mug (ask him not to bring it up until Steve does, to not even jokingly make a thing about it), but for now, he concentrates on holding Steve close.
He’ll stand with him as long as it takes for the shaking to stop, for his breathing to even out, for him to relax even just a little against Eddie, and he'll promise, as many times as Steve needs to hear it, that it’s okay. Things will be okay.
[Prompt: Embracing your partner]
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#eddiesteve#solar wrote#cw child abuse#referenced but does not take place in the fic#cw panic attack#even if it doesn't look like one at first#soft ending though as always I promise
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TITLE: do you still think about me?
PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader
SUMMARY: Okay, so you had the biggest, most embarrassing crush on Bakugou when you were both in high school. He was kind of your first love, if you believe in those kinds of things. But you got over it. It's fine.
You see Bakugou sometimes at hangouts, at get-togethers. He's in your orbit, or you're in his, because of your mutual friends. You're all adults now, so it's fine. It's a little weird, but fine.
You're supposed to be on vacation, at a place that's hours away from Musutafu. You're not sure what you've done to deserve it, but Bakugou's here too. And instead of both of you pretending the other doesn't exist, as usual, he's talking to you. He's everywhere. It's fine.
(It's not fine.)
TAGS: pro hero Bakugou Katsuki, aged-up characters, friends to lovers (being generous with that friends label lol), fluff, pining, eventual smut
The ryokan’s lobby is bustling, voices a soft buzz echoing through the space. Some guests are like you, waiting for check-in, and other guests are partaking in the complimentary drinks and snack bar. It all calls to mind vacations you went on with your family, growing up.
Sighing, you sink into an armchair, letting the fatigue from a long trip on a train and subsequent car ride sink in, shed off.
“Here,” Rie says, setting a cup of tea and a cookie on the table in front of you. She sits in the chair across from you. “You’re grumpy because you haven’t had any sugar today. Eat these. There’s more up front, at the snack bar.”
“Thanks mom,” you say, and she leans forward to flick you on the forehead. You wince.
“Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean you can get away with your sass. Especially while we’re on vacation,” she tells you, then lifts her own cup of tea to her lips. You scrunch your face up at her.
Her eyes flick past you, and she blinks rapidly. You recognize that expression—up to no good.
“Oh hey,” she says, affecting a casual tone. “Look who just walked in.”
Rie waits for you to look, but you’re not so easily led around. You narrow your eyes at her. She raises a brow at you. A moment passes.
Your curiosity’s too strong. You turn and regret it.
It’s Bakugou. Bakugou Katsuki. What the hell is he doing here?
You immediately swing back around, scowling deeply. You can feel your ears getting warm.
She gives you a Cheshire grin, finger gunning you. “It’s your first love.”
“Rie, I will leave.”
She scoffs. “Yeah, right. And miss out on the massages we booked? The onsen? I don’t think so.”
“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” you say darkly.
She snickers, tilts her head at you. “You don’t want to say hi?”
“Not really, no,” you say. “And if you call him over, I’ll kill you. Hanta will be sad, but he’ll get over it.”
Rie laughs. “I don’t know about that. He is dating me, after all.”
“I’ve known him longer. He’ll forgive me.”
The two of you switch over your attention to an approaching receptionist.
“Thank you so much for waiting,” he says. “Your room is ready now. Please follow our staff. We’ll take care of your bags.”
You let them take your luggage, too distracted by staying out of Bakugou’s line of sight to pay attention to the small talk the receptionist’s making. Thankfully Rie’s chatting cheerfully with him, leaving you to your task.
As you enter a hallway leading off the lobby area, you catch a last glimpse of Bakugou. He’s speaking to a staff member at the front desk area, presumably checking in. He’s alone. You wonder if anyone will be joining him, or if he’s here by himself.
Shaking your head, you push away those thoughts. It’s none of your business. This ryokan’s rather large, and it’s popular with tourists and locals alike. You doubt you’ll see him again during your stay.
You stare doubtfully at the email Sero forwarded you, then look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed.
“Hanta, this is a luxury onsen ryokan. And you want me to go with Rie? Why aren’t you going?”
Sero claps his hands together in front of his face. “Please? The agency denied my time off request because we’re so busy. You gotta know how busy we are, even holed up in your office.”
You frown at him. “The agency denied you? That’s crazy. You haven’t taken time off the whole year.”
“I know, right? Anyway, Rie doesn’t want to go alone, and the reservation at this place is only valid for so long. Cancelling’s not an option.”
You frown. “If they denied you, they’ll probably deny me too, Hanta.”
“Noooo, it doesn’t hurt to put in the request! Plus, you haven’t gone on vacation in years. Treat yourself! This can be my months-in-advance birthday gift to you.”
You try one last time. “Are you sure Rie even wants to go with me? I know you want this to be a surprise, but maybe you should ask her if there’s anyone else she’d want to go on a trip with.”
Sero gives you a look, as if you’d just said something unbelievably stupid. “I’m not even going to respond to that.”
You snort, smiling. “Alright, alright. Thanks, Hanta. I’ll take all the pictures of Rie and send them to you if the agency does grant me the time off.”
Sero slings an arm around your shoulders. “Thanks, bud.”
“I miss Hanta,” Rie says, collapsing on her back onto the bed.
You push both of your bags to the side, to be unpacked later. The entire far wall of your room’s lounge area is glass, with a door leading out to the outdoor area and open-air bath, and you give in to your urge to step outside onto the wood, deck-like floor.
The bath rises from the floor to your right, rectangular, spacious. The staff member told the both of you it’s fed from the onsen, and the steam it’s giving off dissipates into the cool spring air. The bath and deck are built to overlook a large pond with koi swimming in it, giving the impression that where the deck ends the water begins. The far side of the pond is lined with trees and shrubbery. Wooden partitions on either side of this area enclose the space, giving it a sense of privacy.
It’s absolutely gorgeous. And it’s so quiet here. Aside from the ambient water sounds from the onsen on the property, birdsong from the nearby forested area, there’s little to interrupt this emerging feeling of serenity.
“You saw him literally before we left,” you say. “Rie, come out here and look at this view. I call dibs on using the bath first.”
“You could be more sympathetic. We haven’t been able to see each other much this month,” she grumbles, but she comes out to join you anyway.
“Okay, you can use the bath first,” you tell her.
She grins at you, bumping her shoulder against yours. “Thanks, friend.”
“The things I do.” You don’t really mind. You have the entire long weekend to enjoy this place. The peace and quiet are already doing wonders for the tension in your shoulders.
A twinge of guilt passes you in a wave. After the staff member who’d escorted you to your room had given you both a short tour of the space, it really hit you how expensive this all was.
“Rie, you really should’ve come here with Hanta,” you tell her, frowning. “He should’ve pushed for the time off or adjusted the reservation. This is way too nice of an experience to pass up.”
Rie snorts.
“Don’t stress,” she says. “You think he didn’t try all that? It was either keep the reservation with someone else or lose out on a lot of money. I wanted you to come, so don’t overthink, silly.”
You lean your arm against hers. “Thanks, Rie. I’ll get you and Hanta something nice for your birthdays.”
She hums, and the two of you lapse into silence, appreciating the birdsong, the late afternoon sun gilding the pond, the surrounding trees in warmth.
“So, what’s up with you and Bakugou?” Rie asks. “I thought you worked out all those feelings for him back in high school.”
And there goes all that peace. You groan, turning and heading back inside, grabbing your bag and starting to unpack your clothes. Rie follows you, sprawling out onto your bed this time to be as annoying as possible.
“I did,” you say, because not answering would result in incessant pestering. Better to nip this conversation in the bud so it doesn’t come back up again while you’re on this trip. You tell her, “We’re cool. You know that. You go to the same get-togethers.”
Since graduating from UA, you’d kept in touch with Sero, who you’d met because he’d been the hero you’d been assigned to for the management course’s third year project. You became good friends, as Sero’s one of those good boys, best boys, genuinely kind and fun to talk to.
Through your friendship with him, you’d met some of his friends—Kaminari, Kirishima. Mina, Sato. Bakugou.
While you’d befriended the others pretty easily, Bakugou was a different story. And it wasn’t necessarily his fault. He’d chilled out considerably by your third year.
It was because of your cringey, super obvious crush on him during your first year.
You were so painfully obvious about it, everyone in your class knew. It didn’t take long for kids in the other courses to take notice. When Bakugou entered a room you were in, you would freeze and forget what you were saying. You’d sneak glances at him, and your entire body would warm up if your eyes met. Even thinking about it now, as an adult, makes you want to die a little.
Thankfully, whether it was because he chose to willfully ignore you or because he just never found out, your crush ran its course. It helped a lot that you began interacting with Bakugou within social circles because of Sero; it humanized him, made him real to you. The fantasy of a crush can’t survive knowing someone, getting to know them, you found.
Still, probably because of that history, you never got close to Bakugou, while at UA and after. You were too embarrassed, and now you’re just not super interested. If you don’t count this past year, since graduation, you’ve seen him only a handful of times, always in passing and never one-on-one.
But if you do count this year, specifically the past six months, you’ve seen him a lot.
At a get-together at Mina’s place. At Todoroki Shouto’s birthday a couple months back. At a dinner with Rie, Sero, Kirishima, and Mina a few weeks ago. You figure he’s had some free time open up, to accept the hangout invites that he once left unresponded to in the group chat. It’d make sense, since he’s at this ryokan when everyone knows he’s a workaholic.
You’re happy for him. Work-life balance is super important. And you guys aren’t getting any younger.
“No, you guys are weird together,” Rie says.
You throw a pillow at her. To your annoyance, she catches it easily.
“What do you mean by weird?” you ask.
“I don’t know. It’s hard to describe. He always looks like he’s bitten into a lemon when he sees you.”
You roll your eyes. “Great. Can we stop talking about Bakugou now?”
“Last question, I swear.”
“Last question for the entire trip about him,” you say, narrowing your eyes at her.
She sighs, as if this is a huge burden on her. “Deal. I was just thinking—what did you even see in him when we were teenagers?”
“Okay, but why are you thinking about this at all,” you say.
“Just answer the question.”
“It’s not that deep,” you say, shrugging. “I liked his face.”
“Really?” Rie’s expression, disgruntled and appalled, makes you laugh.
“Don’t act like he’s not objectively really attractive. He’s handsome, be real.”
“Maybe to some people,” she relents. “But his personality cancels it out, carry the two.”
“He’s mellowed out so much over the years,” you say. You feel a little odd, finding yourself defending him. “He’s sweet, when he wants to be. Remember how he got Mina that bracelet she wanted so badly, for her birthday? Or how he picked up those special oranges for Hanta when he went on that one mission?”
Rie looks at you for a long moment. As your words settle into the silence, you begin to feel self-conscious. But it’s not like what you’d said isn’t true. Rie knows this.
Just as you open your mouth to no doubt incriminate yourself further, she leans back on the bed and closes her eyes. “I guess you’re right. You done folding those clothes? I’m hungry. Let’s get dinner. Hanta says it’s kaiseki.”
Dinner is absolutely delicious. Your server tells you and Rie that the chef’s designed the menu to feature ingredients native to the region, ingredients in season. Everything’s fresh, and even dishes you aren’t normally particularly fond of have you cleaning your plate. You feel spoiled.
You take lots of pictures. Of the dishes, of Rie. You send them to Sero.
Hanta: The food looks great! My girl looks even better!!! Send more pics pls
Rie’s pleased when you show her the messages. After fussing over her appearance, she makes you take a picture of her in your room’s outdoor bath, hair elegantly twisted up and off her shoulders, the ambient lighting softly illuminating her face.
“I’m going to take a walk, see what that little bamboo garden looks like at night,” you tell her. She waves at you with one hand, tapping away at her phone, no doubt sending messages to Sero.
“Don’t drop your phone in the water,” you say, and she makes an impatient sound, shooing you.
Smiling, you leave her to it.
Now that it’s nighttime, the ryokan is quieter, more subdued. It’s easy enough to find the bamboo garden. The paths are brightly illuminated, the walkways clear and easy to take. Maybe because it’s the evening, but you encounter few people. Most are partaking in the onsen, unwinding after a long day, you guess. You plan to do so yourself, but you stumble across a dimly lit sitting area overlooking a small pond and waterfall. It’s pretty, and you can’t resist lingering. Taking a seat on a bench, you let your mind empty as you watch the glimmer of moonlight on the water.
“Hey,” a voice says behind you, and you startle, turning.
Bakugou’s standing there, looking uncharacteristically soft and undone in the onsen’s yukata. His hair is a little damp, spikes fallen.
Seeing him in traditional wear takes you aback; you’ve only ever seen him in casual clothes—jeans, shirts, sweats. His hero suit, all sleek lines. The yukata’s a good look on him.
“Oh hey, Bakugou,” you say, then hesitate, feeling awkward. What to say? Should you pretend this is the first you’ve seen of him here?
While you flounder a little, Bakugou walks over to sit in a chair nearby, facing the water. You’re bewildered at this turn of events. You’re surprised he stopped to say hello, let alone sit and have a conversation with you.
“Saw you and Soy Sauce Face’s girlfriend at dinner,” he says. “You on vacation?”
Blinking, relieved, you reply, “Sort of. Long story short, Hanta was supposed to come out here with Rie, but work denied his time off. So I’m the replacement Hanta.”
Bakugou looks at you. His eyes narrow. You shift in your seat, feeling a little bit like a bug under a microscope. Did you say something weird?
“What about you?” you ask, trying to lift the focus off of you. “You here on vacation?”
“...Yeah. For the weekend,” he says, looking back at the pond, exhaling sharply.
For someone on vacation, he doesn’t look too happy about it, you note.
“Us too,” you tell him. “What do you think of the ryokan? I haven’t gotten the chance to explore yet, but what I’ve seen is gorgeous. Did you just use the public onsen?”
“It’s alright,” Bakugou grumbles, and you blink, face scrunching up in incredulity.
“You must have really high standards to say that, sir,” you say, and he snorts. An expression you can’t quite make out in the low light crosses his face, fades. He really is a handsome bastard, you find yourself thinking.
He says something you don’t quite catch.
“Sorry?” you say. Internally, you scold yourself for your idle thoughts. Another part of you argues back that there’s no harm in looking.
“How’d you know I used the onsen?” he repeats, looking a little annoyed.
“Oh,” you say, surprised. Without thinking, you lean forward, reaching out to touch his hair.
Bakugou turns his head sharply; he grabs your wrist on what seems like instinct, halting you. You freeze, mortified.
“I’m sorry!” you say hastily. He drops your hand immediately, like you’re contaminated. You draw back. Flustered, you continue, “It’s just—your hair’s still a little wet. I took a guess. Sorry again, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
You were treating him like he’s Hanta, or Rie, as if you’re close friends. Jeez.
“Forget it,” he says gruffly.
There’s a long stretch of silence, and you begin to think of excuses to make to escape.
Just as you open your mouth with one, he says, “What’re you doing tomorrow?”
“I—I think Rie wanted to check out the town’s morning market, and the temple nearby,” you say. “She likes to sleep in, so we’ll probably do that after my morning run. The staff said there’s a scenic walking trail through the forest, so I’ll probably check it out.”
You force your mouth closed before the rambling continues. Wait, you should ask him the same, right? To be polite?
But before you can say anything, Bakugou grunts, then stands.
“Go back to your room,” he tells you. “It’s getting late.”
With that, he leaves. You sit there for a long moment, staring after him.
“Hey, welcome back,” Rie says from her bed, covered from nose to toes in a blanket. Her eyelids droop in a way that tells you she’s minutes from sleep. “You were gone for a while.”
“Yeah, sorry,” you say, closing the door behind you. Woodenly, you begin to gather clothes to change into. “I’m going to take a quick shower, okay? Go ahead and sleep; don’t wait up for me.”
“Mmkay,” she says, eyes already closed.
You move around as quietly as you can, getting ready for bed.
All the while, you can’t help but think about the conversation you just had. About Bakugou.
For the past couple months, at gatherings with mutual friends, it’s been like this when you talk to each other. Awkward, with a strange underlying tension. You’re not sure if it’s your fault, or his, but. You wish you could be normal around him. It’s only like this with him.
As you climb into bed, getting settled, the memory of him in his yukata flashes across your closed eyelids. The moonlight on his face, cooling the red of his eyes. His hand around your wrist.
Fuck.
Notes: Hello friends! This fic is a very belated birthday fic for our guy, my little muse 🧡 This is intended to be a twoshot, and I hope to have that second part up next weekend. Please look forward to it!
A couple notes, as there are some specifically Japanese items referenced in this fic:
A ryokan is a Japanese-style inn! Onsen are hot springs. So an onsen ryokan is an inn that features hot springs on the property. Here, here, and here are videos you can enjoy of people visiting some.
Kaiseki is a multi-course, traditional Japanese dinner. Some of the videos I linked above show the kinds of kaiseki offered!
Thank you for reading! Hugs and kisses 💕 Until part two!
#happy birthday bakugou loml#i know i have been Not Posting recently but please enjoy this meal!!!!#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugou katsuki x you#bakugo katsuki x you#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bnha#jess scribbles#fic: dystam?
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i know who you are | 8. the return
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Chapter Summary: You help Joel recover from his injuries and you finally confront your feelings for him.
Chapter Warnings: language, angst, mutual pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, descriptions of wounds/injuries, some smutty situations but nothing very explicit, dare I say fluff?
WC: 8.2K
Series Masterlist
"Joel, wake up."
He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut even tighter.
"C'mon. You gotta get up."
"Five more minutes," he mumbled.
"Joel," you tried again, your voice sounding so far away. Why did you sound so far away? "Joel, please wake up. I need you."
You needed him. Okay. For you, he would wake up.
His eyelids fluttered.
"Joel?"
Your voice didn't sound so far away now.
"Joel? Can you hear me?"
Fuck, his head hurt. His side hurt. Everything fucking hurt.
Then he remembered.
He forced his eyes open, blinking rapidly as his pupils adjusted to the bright light until he focused on you. You.
You were so pretty. So, so pretty, standing next to his bed with that little worried crease between your eyebrows, leaning over him. You didn't need to be so worried. Don't be worried.
Your eyes brightened when he saw you and he slowly began to recognize where he was.
He was back in Jackson. At the infirmary, in a bed.
You jumped up, calling over your shoulder for Nick and Tommy before turning back to him and grasping his hand.
"Are you in pain?"
He didn't answer. He just stared at you, dumbfounded, his brain struggling to catch up. He squeezed your hand and you gave him a shaky smile.
Tommy and Nick barged into the room and you dropped his hand. Nick began to take his vitals while Tommy tried to stay out of the way, but Joel's focus remained on you. He watched as you drifted around the room on autopilot, handing Nick instruments and supplies from a table, then disappearing out into the hall when he asked you to get some medicine he had no idea how to pronounce.
"What's your pain like, Joel?" Nick asked, reading the blood pressure cuff.
He opened his mouth to answer but immediately started coughing. Tommy twisted around to grab the water bottle next to the sink and Nick lifted it to his lips. "Slow," he reminded him, so Joel sipped slowly then sat back with a sigh.
He was so tired.
"Your pain?"
Joel took a deep breath and winced.
"Ain't great," he croaked, voice all gravelly. You came back into the room and handed Nick the medicine, giving Joel a reassuring smile. God, he missed you so much.
He heard Nick ask you to fill a syringe for him and Joel watched you work, your hands steady and your breath even as you concentrated on getting the dosage exactly right.
"Joel? Did you hear me?"
"Huh?" he asked in a daze, dragging his eyes to his brother.
"I said, what the hell happened out there?" Tommy was pressed up against the wall, making himself as small as possible while you and Nick worked.
"Ran into some raiders- fuck!" he exclaimed when the needle entered his skin.
"Sorry," Nick murmured before pulling it out.
"Where?" Tommy asked, and Joel shook his head.
"Not 'round here. Out in California."
Everyone in the room paused to look at him.
"You got this fucked up out in Cali and you made it back?" Tommy asked in disbelief, and Joel slowly nodded his head. "Fuckin'... how?"
Joel's eyes found yours again, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a half smile.
"Had a guardian angel," he said, his eyelids beginning to droop.
"The hell does that mean?" Tommy asked. Joel pointed to his pack on the floor.
"Side pocket."
Nick lifted the blanket covering Joel's bare torso so he could inspect his wounds, which had been freshly cleaned and patched up in his sleep. Then he heard the telltale sound of pills rattling in a plastic bottle.
"You found meds out there?" his brother asked, rolling the bottle around in his palm before handing it over to Nick.
"Mhm," was all he said, then watched as you looked over Nick's shoulder to read the label. Your eyes went wide with surprise then looked up at him.
Your lips parted like you wanted to say something, then your gaze darted to the other two men in the room and you decided against it.
"This probably saved you from getting sepsis," Nick said before placing the bottle on the small table next to his bed. "I'm gonna need to keep you here for a bit," and as Joel began to protest, Nick held up his hand. "Just for a bit, I said. Til you get your strength up and I feel confident you don't got any infection or serious internal damage. Then you can go home and recover."
You could see the turmoil in Joel's face. He wanted to go home, he wanted to be in the comfort of his own bed after a week of putting himself through hell.
"I'll stay here overnight, keep an eye on him and come get you if anything seems off," you said, and all three men paused to look at you in surprise. You shrugged and cleared your throat. "Unless you don't-"
"No," Joel said, cutting you off. His throat felt so tight all of the sudden. "Please stay."
Nick and Tommy exchanged glances before shifting around the room, gathering used instruments and picking up Joel's discarded, bloody clothes.
"I'll grab the cot for you," Nick said on his way out the door.
"Do you need anythin' from home?" Tommy asked and you quickly shook your head.
"I'll be fine."
Joel wanted to tell you everything, but he could feel himself fading. Another time, he thought as you rolled out the cot on the floor next to his bed. You turned off the light before he drifted off to sleep, finally being able to properly rest now that he was back with you.
It took five whole days until Nick finally agreed to let him go home. You stayed with him every night, only going back home to shower and get fresh clothes once a day. It seemed like he was always surrounded by Tommy or Ellie or Nick and there was never a good time to talk to you. He wanted to tell you why he did what he did, he wanted to give you some comfort. But any time the two of you were alone, it was always too brief or he was asleep.
Unbeknownst to Joel, you were struggling with the same issue. You wanted to get some time alone together so you could talk to him about everything you had a chance to reflect on while he was gone, but you knew it would likely be a long and emotional conversation and you really didn't want to do it at work.
There was so much that needed to be said, but the rare few minutes you had alone together you spent holding his hand or feeding him or gently wiping the sweat off his forehead and chest with a wet washcloth. You hoped your actions spoke louder than the words you weren't brave enough to say.
Nick helped you restock your first aid kit at home while Tommy got Joel settled back in his bed. You could hear them talking from the hallway, Tommy scolding his brother when he didn't listen to him and he ended up wincing in pain.
"So you're gonna want to make sure he takes this twice a day with food," Nick said, handing you a bottle of orange pills. "For inflammation. Til you run out, then he should be good. And this is only if the pain gets intolerable," he handed you a small baggie of four white pills and narrowed his eyes. "Use them sparingly, we don't have much."
"I know."
"He shouldn't need any more antibiotics but be sure to take his temperature throughout the day and push the fluids. If the numbers get over 102 for more than four hours, come get me right away."
"Okay," you nodded, hoping your sleep deprived brain was absorbing everything.
"Maria agreed to help out at the infirmary for the next couple days, so take as much time as you need. You know I can manage without you," Nick said, and you gave him a feigned look of hurt. "I can manage, I said. Doesn't mean I prefer it," he told you with a roll of his eyes and you had a stifle a laugh. Tommy stepped out of Joel's room and joined you at the top of the stairs.
"All good?"
"I think so," you said, looking back down at the pills Nick gave you.
"You need anythin', you just holler, sugar," Tommy said and you gave him a tired smile in return. The two men walked down the steps and saw themselves out while you filled a glass with water from the sink in the bathroom, bringing it to Joel.
"How are you feeling?" you asked him for what felt like the millionth time in a week.
"Not bad," he said truthfully. You handed him the water and although he wasn't thirsty, he still drank it because it seemed to make you happy and he really liked when you took care of him.
You shifted your weight and glanced around the room awkwardly.
"Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Do you want me to get you a book or something?"
Joel smiled and dropped his gaze to the floor. You were so fucking cute and it was killing him.
"I'm good."
"Good," you nodded, chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to find another reason to stay. When you couldn't think of one, you sighed and hitched your thumb over your shoudler.
"I'll be right next door and I'll leave the doors open. If you need anything or if you're in pain-"
"I know," he said, giving you a soft smile as you tried your best to not stare at his bare chest peeking out from the top of the sheets.
"Okay, then," you said, backing out of the room. "Good night."
You had no idea how long you laid in your bed, staring up at the ceiling while your mind raced and your fingers tapped anxiously against your chest. You couldn't sleep. It must have been hours because the light flicking off in Joel's room felt like ages ago and you hadn't heard any shuffling since.
It's this bed, you thought to yourself. It was the first time in a long time you slept in your own bed and you just couldn't get comfortable.
Or maybe you were too worried about him, even though it seemed like most of his strength was back. The color returned to his cheeks and he was able to stay awake most of the day. Deep down, you knew there wasn't a need to be concerned about him at that point. In all likelihood he was out of the woods. But you still felt the urge to check on him. Just in case.
You slid out of bed and tiptoed quietly out of your room, walking the few feet to Joel's door and leaning against the frame. You tried to observe him from a distance but it was hard to see in the dark, so you crept closer.
He was sound asleep, his hands resting peacefully over his soft stomach, his lips parted ever so slightly as he lightly snored. You bit the inside of your cheek and looked at the other side of the bed. Deciding not to overthink it, you closed the door and silently made your way around the foot of the bed and slipped underneath the covers with a quiet sigh.
Just for a minute, you thought. You had just grown so accustomed to sleeping in his bed, that's all. But before you knew it, his steady breathing and soft pillows lulled you into a deep sleep.
The sun bled through the curtains, inching across the floorboards and slowly made its way up the sheets until it found your face, but you didn't wake. Instead, you buried your face deeper into the warmth underneath you, far too comfortable to bother waking up just yet.
Joel, however, had been awake before the sun even rose.
He had felt your arms wrapped around his waist at some point towards the early morning. He had managed to turn so your head rested against his bare chest while you continued to sleep so peacefully. It was far too tempting. He fucking ached for you for so long and to wake up and find you in his bed caused his heart to flutter wildly in his chest and all his blood to rush directly between his legs.
He had been doing okay. He was content with just holding you, feeling you, pretending things were back to normal, if only for a little while, but when you nuzzled into his chest and tightened your grip around his waist, he couldn't resist burying his nose in your hair and breathing in deep. He missed you so much it fucking hurt. It was torture, fighting the urge to pull you into him every day and crawl into bed with you at night. He knew it would backfire one day, all his pent up emotions. When Angie caught him during a particularly low point at the Tipsy Bison, drunk and sad and missing you so fucking much, it all blew up in his face. Kissing her was a mistake but he was just so goddamn lonely. He didn't realize how much he had come to depend on your touch to soothe him until he no longer had it.
He wouldn't make that mistake ever again.
He thought he ruined everything in one moment of weakness, but here you were, tucked safely into his side, sound asleep in his arms and he didn't even dare question what brought you into his bed because all that mattered was you were there now. And you made that decision yourself. You sought him out. You wanted to be with him.
Testing the waters, he carefully pressed a kiss on the top of your head, and when you didn't react, he did it again. Sliding his eyes closed, he dragged his lips a little lower, kissing your forehead while he savored the feeling of your breath fanning over his neck. Other than your fingertips fluttering slightly against his stomach, you still didn't move, so he kissed your forehead again. You were so warm and you smelled just like him that he quickly felt himself getting lost in his desire. His kisses became faster and more urgent, finally causing your breathing to change and your body to stir. He knew you were waking but he kept his eyes closed, too afraid of seeing apathy in the face that used to be filled with such love for him.
He was just setting himself up for more heartbreak but he couldn't seem to stop.
His lips traveled a little lower, pressing tenderly against your temple, bracing himself for when you would inevitably push him away. Maybe you weren't fully awake yet because you remained perfectly still, so he continued to take and take, his kisses becoming feverish as he brushed over your eyelids. God, he missed this so much. He missed these lazy mornings with you. They were rare, but on days neither of you had any other commitments you would lounge in bed for as long as your stomachs would allow, holding each other close, getting lost under the sheets.
His time was coming to an end now. Your arms loosened around his waist and soon you would realize where you were and who you were with and it would all be over. He breathed deeply, as if he could bottle you for later. Maybe his sheets would trap your scent. He really hoped they would. He could use another good night's sleep and having you at his side had always ensured that, but he could pretend as long as his pillow still smelled like you.
With his lips still roaming over your brow, you stretched your legs and let out a breathy little noise that made his cock twitch and his stomach tense. He kept his eyes screwed shut, hoping you would assume he was half asleep and therefore unaware of his lips dragging across your face. He didn't want to lie to you again but his heart could only handle so much rejection.
He felt your eyes flutter open, your eyelashes tickling his neck and he really should have stopped kissing you at that point, but it felt like he was spiraling out of control. Like his body had enough of constantly being denied what it craved.
You paused for a moment, giving your brain a chance to catch up. Figuring out where you were and why you were there. Any second now, you would pull away. He kept bracing for it, his heart thundering in his chest now that it knew time was running out, that this feeling of bliss was about to end and it was scrambling to hold on to every split second.
Thinking it would be the last chance, he kissed the corner of your eye and then your cheek. There was no way he would be able to pretend he was still asleep now, but he didn't care. He was growing frantic, his need for you overwhelming, even if this was all he could get, it would have to sustain him until he could figure out how to earn back your trust.
His eyes flew open when your lips pressed wetly against his neck. He froze, his mouth hovering over your ear, waiting to see what you would do next.
Then you did it again. Only this time, you sucked on a bit of his skin, leaving the beginnings of a red mark he would cherish for days.
Before you could blink, he rolled over, his body caging you in underneath him as he examined you with wide and hopeful eyes. You gazed up at him, your breath shallow and your lips parted as your eyes roamed over his face, taking in every freckle and every wrinkle up close. His beard was getting grayer in spots you hadn't noticed before, somehow adding to his appeal. His lips looked dry from the cold but his eyes looked bright and clear and the way the sun was beaming in through the window behind him, his messy curls sticking up every which way made it look like he was wearing a halo.
With a shaky hand, you reached up to thread your fingers through his hair. It was so much softer than you expected. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into your touch. You watched his throat work as he swallowed nervously and you wanted nothing more in that moment than to taste the skin there again, so you did. Leaning up, your lips suckled at the spot between his jaw and neck, his pulse strong and fast under your tongue. A reminder that he was alive and healthy and finally back home. Your nails raked against his scalp and you sucked at his skin a little harder, a little more urgently, a little more desperately and then he was the first to break.
He whimpered.
He fucking whimpered and that was all it took for you to maneuver slightly under him and spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist and pulling him close.
Fuck. He was hard. You felt it in the loose confines of his sweatpants, bobbing against your center when you pulled him down further and it set something on fire inside of you.
You brought your other hand up to get lost in his hair, giving it a tug to pull his head back just a bit so you could angle your mouth over his and you latched onto him hungrily, the contact sending a jolt through your entire body. He slipped his tongue past your teeth and finally allowed himself to touch you, hand cupping your jaw at first, then dropping to grip your ass under the sheets before sliding up your shirt, rough fingers skating up your stomach, then brushing over your tightened nipples, drawing out a sweet little moan which he swallowed down eagerly.
He flattened his hand over your heart, leaving it there as he licked into your mouth, both your jaws pried open as far as they could go, as if you were trying to swallow the other whole. He could feel your heart pounding through your chest, like it was trying to break free and jump into his palm. Like it was saying here, take me, I'm yours. And if you were to untangle your hands from his hair and place one over his own racing heart, he had no doubt you would hear what it was screaming in his chest.
I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much, I'm so sorry, please forgive me.
And of course you forgave him. He was in just as much pain as you. Both of you had been mourning the same person without even realizing it.
And none of that seemed to matter anymore. Not in that moment, anyway. The two of you tangled together, the early morning glow from the sun washing over you, wrapping you up safe and sound in each other's arms.
You dropped your hands, abandoning his hair, nails dragging over his broad shoulders and leaving little red trails in their wake. His own hand slid down from your chest to grab your hip, pulling you impossibly closer to him, forcing you to feel how hard he was for you. All for you.
His facial hair burned your chin but you didn't mind. In fact, it felt good. You chased the feeling, pushing your mouth even harder against him, wanting to make sure you would feel that burn for the rest of the day.
Then you heard a knock on the front door.
Joel didn't react.
Either too lost in the moment or unwilling to allow it to end. Your hands drifted lower, over his relatively smooth chest and over his ribs, your fingertips dancing over each one like piano keys, careful to avoid his wound.
Another knock, louder now, made you pause. Breaking free and turning your head slightly to the side to open your eyes, you tried to listen, but Joel's mouth just slid down your jaw, nipping playfully as he went before biting gently on your earlobe. You gasped softly, momentarily forgetting about the door, your back arching underneath him. His tongue flattened against the hollow of your exposed throat, his exhale tickled your skin and caused a wave of goosebumps to emerge and he smirked, tongue still lavishing your neck as his fingers dug harder into your hip, like he was afraid to let you go.
Now you heard the front door unlock and carelessly swing open, but Joel still didn't stop.
"Joel," you whispered, your voice raspy from disuse. He only hummed in response, then his mouth latched onto your clothed breast, his tongue flicking against the thin material and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out because you heard Ellie's voice now, along with Tommy's, making their way up the stairs.
"Joel!" you said, firmer this time and pushing him back. His dark eyes snapped up to yours, his parted lips wet and swollen as he gasped for air. Thankfully, it sounded like they had tried the master bedroom first. You heard Tommy's heavy steps enter your bathroom before walking back out into the hall and it finally clicked with Joel that you were no longer alone.
"Fuck," he muttered right before the door swung open. He dropped his upper body to cover yours best he could, protecting your modesty even though you were still fully clothed.
"Shit! Sorry!" Tommy exclaimed, backing out of the room. You squeezed your eyes shut as embarrassment flooded your veins, tucking your face into Joel's neck to hide.
"What-" you heard Ellie say from the hall, then the door slammed shut, leaving just you and Joel. The two of you stayed frozen, his body still pinning yours into the mattress under the covers, legs still wrapped around his waist as you listened to Tommy and Ellie's hushed voices trail down the stairs.
"Fuck," he sighed again, dropping his head against your shoulder.
Your heart fluttered in your chest as the both of you slowly regained your senses. Your hands drifted lightly over his back as he nuzzled into your neck, and you were perfectly content to remain just like that, but unfortunately he pushed himself up on his elbows with a sigh.
"I should go see what he wants," he murmured, giving you a heated look that told you talking to his brother was the last thing he wanted to do.
"Okay," you squeaked, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. He looked like he wanted to say something else but decided against it and instead sat up with a grunt. You pulled the covers back over you, the cool morning air prickling your skin now that you didn't have his body heat to keep you warm, and watched as he fumbled around the room for a discarded shirt. When his back was turned, he tried to subtly tuck his throbbing cock into his waistband, but you noticed and bit back a grin. Secretly, you were grateful for the interruption. As much as you wanted him, you needed to take things slow.
He walked down the stairs, his pace slower than usual as he favored his side with the wound. When his eyes met Tommy's in the kitchen, he saw the flash of guilt across his face for interrupting what was shaping up to be a really good fucking morning.
"Sorry," he said again, glancing quickly at the back of Ellie's head as she rummaged through the pantry for something to eat, completely oblivious to what they almost walked in on. "The kid let me in."
"Yeah, I got that," Joel grumbled as he made his way to the coffee maker and flipped the switch.
"Hey Joel, can I take this?" Ellie held up a box of granola bars and he nodded. She ripped into one and practically shoved half of it into her mouth. "How's it feel to be back home?" she asked with a mouthful of sticky oats. Joel made a disgusted face at the visual and she smirked at his reaction.
"Good," was all he said, turning away before the heat crept up his neck. It felt really fucking good to be home. "So what's goin' on?" he asked Tommy, who was leaning up against the kitchen sink.
"Couple of guys found some tracks this mornin'," Tommy began, and the hairs on the back of Joel's neck stood up.
"Tracks?" you questioned as you appeared in the doorway in a fresh set of clothes. Joel tried not to let his gaze linger on you, noting with a sick sense of pride that your neck still looked a little pink from his mouth, but it was hard. He should have just stayed in bed with you.
"Doesn't look like a big group," he said as Joel's face fell. "It ain't your fault-"
"They followed me here, Tommy," Joel rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes.
"We'll handle it," Tommy replied calmly while you and Ellie sat down silently at the table to listen. "Shit was bound to happen sooner or later."
"Goddamnit," Joel growled angrily under his breath. "I shoulda been more careful. Stupid fuckin'-"
"Joel, you were passed out on the back of a horse," Tommy reasoned, "it's a miracle you even made it back at all. The tracks were a few miles south, I'm gonna get a group together later this mornin' and see what we can find."
"I'll go with you," he said but before Tommy could respond, you piped up.
"No, you're not."
Joel twisted around, taking in the alarmed look on your face. He held your gaze for a moment, your eyes pleading with him. Please don't. I just got you back. He immediately caved.
"Okay," he agreed, and you visibly relaxed with a smile. You desperately wanted to go to him, pull him close and thank him for listening to you, but your audience held you back.
Ellie glanced between the two of you with a knowing grin, finally sensing the change in the room.
"I wasn't lookin' for volunteers, anyway," Tommy said, breaking the heavy silence and pushing off the counter. "Just comin' by to tell you what's goin' on. We're headin' out in an hour, I'll stop by later and let you know what we find."
The coffee maker beeped and Joel grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. "Be careful out there," he told his brother as Tommy slid on his boots and swung open the door. "Don't do anythin' stupid."
"That's rich, comin' from you," he replied with a chuckle and Ellie snorted. Joel shot him a glare before he left, pouring coffee into each of your mugs. He took a grateful sip before bringing yours to the table and sat down. The both of you sipped your coffees in silence, eyes glued to the table while trying to ignore the obvious tension building. Ellie began to connect the dots and stood up.
"I should get going," she announced.
"You don't have to-"
"Stay and warm up a bit-"
She cut you both off. "I got shit to do. Homework and all that," she said, lying through her teeth as she headed for her boots. "Don't worry, I'll lock it behind me," she teased, slipping out the front door while your cheeks burned hot with embarrassment.
"Jesus," you muttered and Joel had to hold back a laugh. He stared down at his coffee, the mug now half filled with the dark, steaming liquid as he struggled to come up with something to say. There was so much he didn't even know where to start.
"Oh! Your meds!" you exclaimed, jumping up from your chair to retrieve the little orange pills Nick gave you the night before. "He said you need to take these with food. Let me make you something," you told him while you shuffled around pots and pans, looking for anything to keep yourself busy.
He sat back in his chair and watched you move around the kitchen with ease. Pulling oatmeal out of the pantry, measuring it out, boiling the pot with water.
You looked nervous. The thought made him smile. He made you nervous.
Right as you turned the burner off and grabbed a bowl you felt his hands circle your hips. You sighed and couldn't resist melting against him, closing your eyes for a moment and resting the back of your head against his shoulder while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
"Thank you," he whispered while pressing a chaste kiss behind your ear.
"It's just oatmeal," you whispered back. He swallowed and shook his head before planting another kiss in the same spot.
"No, it's not."
You knew what he was trying to say and it made your heart swell. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for staying. Thank you for saving my life. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
"You're welcome," you replied, your voice wavering a bit as you turned around in his arms. You laced your fingers together behind his neck and gazed up at him, examining every wrinkle and scar, fighting the urge to kiss each and every one.
"I love you," he said softly while his thumbs tucked underneath the hem of your shirt, searching for any bit of your soft skin he could find. "I know you can't say it back yet and that's okay. I just really needed to tell you."
You blinked back your tears and nodded, pulling him down to your level and slotting your lips together once again. He sighed as his shoulders relaxed and for the first time everything just felt right so you tentatively flicked your tongue over his lower lip. You felt him smile before he allowed you to deepen the kiss, your tongue slowly and deeply massaging his as he pulled your body closer, pressing you firmly against him.
A deep groan rumbled from his chest when you raked your fingers through his hair, your knees practically buckling at the sound. He walked you backwards until you felt the counter pressing against your back, his kisses growing hungrier and his fingers gripping your hips tighter.
"Your food's getting cold," you mumbled, turning your face towards the oatmeal cooling on the stove.
"Don't care," he said, his lips grazing over your throat. He missed you so much and now that he finally had you, he couldn't get enough. When he dropped to his knees, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans and his mouth ghosting over the apex of your thighs, you gasped and grabbed his hair, stopping him.
"I-I'm not ready for all that yet," you admitted as the warmth of embarrassment flooded your cheeks and chest. "I'm sorry, I know you've been waiting for so long-"
"Shh, it's okay," he said sincerely, then stood back up with a grunt. He cupped your face and gave you a gentle kiss. "I can wait. I'll wait forever, I don't care," he still cradled your jaw as he nuzzled his nose alongside yours.
"This is all I ever want, anyway," he whispered, and you smiled.
It was the first day of your fresh start.
Nick had offered you time off to care for Joel but it quickly became apparent as the day went on that he was doing far better than any of you expected.
He only had a little trouble going up the stairs so the two of you spent the rest of the day in the living room. You had thought he was going to try and nap so you busied yourself with a book, his head resting in your lap as your fingers absentmindedly carded through his curls while you read on the couch, the fire crackling next to you. It wasn't until you lifted your hand to flip a page when you noticed his eyes on you and you grinned.
"I thought you were going to try and sleep?"
"Not very tired," he replied, gently reaching up for your wrist and putting your hand back in his hair. "Feels real nice," he explained. You put your book face down, the spine spread open to hold your place, and began playing with his hair again.
"Joel?"
"Hm?"
"Did you go to my parents' house?"
Shit. In all the chaos since arriving back in Jackson he never had a chance to tell you.
"Yes," he said, staring up at you from your lap, watching as the shadow from the flames danced across your face.
"Is that where it happened?" you asked, your eyes traveling to the side where he was stabbed. He nodded and you sniffled, dropping your gaze to the floor. "I thought so. Because of the pills," you said quietly, "my name was on the bottle."
"I know," he replied, watching as your eyes clouded with guilt. He frowned. "What's wrong?"
"You got hurt because of me," you said, lower lip trembling. "If I hadn't been so immature we could've talked about it but instead I pushed you away and you almost died trying to prove a point-"
"Hey," he cut you off and sat up next to you, "it's not your fault, don't you dare think that, alright?" He cupped your face but you still refused to meet his eye. "I fucked up. It was on me, okay? I fucked up with Angie and I fucked up out there."
"You could've died," you said, two tears trickling down your cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumbs.
"But I didn't."
You took in a shaky breath and finally looked at him. "Don't do something like that ever again," you told him, an undercurrent of anger in your voice, and he smirked.
"Yes, ma'am."
He dropped his hold on your face and leaned back, stretching his arm across the top of the couch. "Can't deny it got results, though," he teased after a moment and you shot him a glare but he could see you biting back a smile. You picked up your book, leaning into his shoulder just a bit as you continued to read and he stared into the fire, his mind still reeling to catch up with how fast things changed. It felt like a dream.
"What did you go there for, anyway?"
Joel rolled his eyes. "It sounds so stupid now."
You put your book back down and twisted to face him. "I'm sure it's not."
With a groan, Joel pushed himself up from the couch and began to rummage through his backpack, which remained idle next to the door since the day before. You tucked your legs underneath you and watched curiously.
When he pulled out a familiar looking binder, a faded beige color with a black trim, you could have sworn your heart stopped.
"I wanted to give you somethin' that you would recognize. Somethin' that felt like home," he began, holding it out to you. "Maybe bring you some comfort or... I don't know. Like I said, it sounds stupid now."
"No," you whispered as you carefully took the album from his hands. "Not stupid, Joel." You pursed your lips as you stared at the cover, your fingertips gently skirting over the fabric. Your family was right in your lap. So many wonderful memories... right fucking there.
The tears welled up without warning and began to pour down your cheeks.
"Are you okay?" he asked, and you nodded.
"Yeah," you said, laughing through the tears. "You... you gave me my family back, Joel. How-" your voice cracked and you averted your gaze, doing your best to compose yourself but you knew it was no use. "How could you think this was stupid? This is everything to me."
He gave you a shy smile and shrugged. "Then it was worth it."
He had been listening to you for the better part of an hour as you walked him through each photo in the album and his only regret was he wasn't able to stay long enough in California to find more pictures. He loved hearing you talk about your family, about your childhood, about everything you loved. The look on your face and the tone of your voice was all he ever wanted. You were so fucking happy, so content and at ease that he knew without a doubt if he had to go through it all over again, he would do it in a heartbeat.
"Oh my god, so this was taken the day Matty tried to teach me to surf," you said with a giggle, dragging his eyes from your face to a picture of you and your brother on the beach in wetsuits. "He had learned in college because he went to school on the coast. I told you that, right?"
"Yep," he said with a warm smile.
"Anyway, it went as well as you could imagine. I have no coordination whatsoever. I fell, like, every single time, no matter how small the wave... Oh! This must have been his graduation," you said, pointing to the next photo of the four of you all dressed up in front of a regal looking building. "He was so smart, Joel. He was going to be a chemist. Who does that? Who majors in Chemistry? I absolutely hated chem," you said with a shake of your head. Your eyes hadn't stopped shining since you opened the album and the smile never left your face. Your gaze softened and you quieted down as you stared down lovingly at the pictures, your fingers tracing over them delicately. Occasionally you would tell him a story and other times you would grow quiet and thoughtful. He sat by your side and just listened, letting you work through your feelings and memories at your own pace.
"I miss them so much," you eventually said softly.
"I know," he replied, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.
"Thank you, Joel," you said, voice thick with emotion when you turned to look at him. Your eyes were wide and wet with unshed tears, and he saw your throat bob when you swallowed tightly. "This means so much to me, I don't know how to put it into words."
"You're welcome, baby," he told you. He pinched your chin and leaned in to kiss you when a sharp knock sounded from the door.
He stood with a frustrated huff and you hid your smile, setting the photo album down on the sofa next to you.
"Hey, come in," Joel said once he opened the door. Tommy stepped through and shrugged off his coat, locking eyes and giving you a nod. "What'd you find?"
"There were only four. Two of 'em were half frozen and the other two didn't have much fight in 'em."
You made a face and looked away as Joel led Tommy into the kitchen.
"Who were they?" Joel asked, and you heard the telltale sound of liquid pouring from a bottle. You stood and made your way towards the kitchen.
"Don't know," Tommy admitted, tossing back the whiskey. Joel gave him a refill right as you were entering the room. "We questioned the two that were conscious but they didn't give us much. Said they were alone. Said they were part of a bigger group that got picked off."
"The men I killed?" Joel asked, brow furrowed as he took a sip of whiskey.
"They didn't say, but they did tell us a few of their guys were out scavenging and never made it back, so maybe."
Joel nodded and you leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms.
"You think they were tellin' the truth? That there ain't any more of 'em?"
Tommy shrugged. "Didn't have reason to think otherwise. We scoured the area. Couldn't find any other tracks-"
"But the snow coulda covered it up," Joel offered anxiously. He scratched his chin, staring blankly at the floor while the gears turned in his head. "They probably followed the horse tracks and when the snow got to be too much, they lost their way. They were comin' for me, Tommy."
For some reason it never occurred to you that those men were looking for revenge. It sent a shiver down your spine.
"Or they were just lookin' for someplace warm. You don't know, Joel. Besides, it don't matter now. It's dealt with."
Joel didn't look convinced but he kept his mouth shut, for your sake. He could tell he was worrying you and he had already put you through enough as it was.
"Listen, I oughta get back to Maria. I'm sure she's got her hands full," Tommy said after a brief silence. He handed Joel his empty glass and shot you a look. "Don't worry, sugar. We got this under control."
You gave him a tight smile and moved out of his way so he could gather his things.
"Thank you," you told him quietly while Joel rinsed out their glasses.
His eyes flicked up to yours as he laced up his boots. "Don't mention it. Ain't nothin' bad gonna happen, I promise."
You wished his words brought you some comfort but you couldn't shake the nagging voice in the back of your head.
"C'mon. Why don't you show me more pictures," Joel urged once Tommy was on his way. It was clear he was trying to get your mind off things.
"Actually, I think I'm gonna go to bed," you told him. He was in the middle of picking up your photo album when he paused and glanced up. His eyes scanned your face, clocking the anxiety you were trying to hide. He could tell you still felt responsible, even though he had insisted what happened wasn't your fault, and now the raiders following him back into the mountains just made matters worse.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah," you replied, your voice sounding more confident as you tried to shrug off the bad feeling Tommy left. Your eyes flickered to his awkwardly. "Do you... need help getting up the stairs?"
He frowned and shook his head, too lost in his own head to pick up on what you were too nervous to really ask. "I'll be alright. Go get some rest, I'm gonna stay up for a bit."
After you went to bed, he tried to distract himself from the possibility he put the entire town, but more importantly, you, at risk. He poured another glass of whiskey and picked up a book, but he found himself rereading the same paragraph over and over for half an hour.
What a stupid fucking thing to do. He pinched the bridge of his nose, kicking himself for being so careless. Maybe he could convince you tomorrow to let him go out with Tommy. He trusted his brother, but he knew he would feel better if he explored the area himself. He knew he had to be careful. He made so much progress with you, he couldn't risk fucking that up, either, and based on the way you looked at him earlier, it was clear the prospect of him leaving Jackson again so soon scared you.
Warmth bloomed in his chest and the corners of his lips twitched into a smile. The idea of you scared didn't please him, but scared for him? Well, that was different.
The way he woke up that morning still felt like a dream. Your arms wrapped around him, your face nuzzled into his shoulder, your scent invading his senses. It felt strange for a split second until his memories came flooding back from a time when he woke up like that every single day and he foolishly wondered if you had finally remembered. Once you opened your eyes he knew instantly you hadn't, but somehow he was even more excited that someone as perfect as you found your way into his bed twice.
Bed.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes before tossing back the rest of his whiskey. He was procrastinating now, tending to the fire one last time before dragging himself back to his empty bed. How was he going to sleep when he knew you were right in the next room? God, what he wouldn't give to curl up in bed with you.
He froze, the poker hovering in the air halfway towards the fire as he thought back to your words when you went to bed, now hours ago.
Do you need help getting up the stairs?
You sounded a little strange but at the time he just chalked it up to Tommy's news about the raiders. When you asked if he needed help, were you trying to get him to come up and sleep with you?
"Oh, you fuckin' idiot," he growled to himself under his breath before slotting the poker back in the stand. Was it too late?
He crept quietly up the steps, hoping to see your light on under your door but unfortunately, your room was dark. Shit.
Changing into his sweatpants, he mentally chastised himself for being so goddamn thick and missing his opportunity to go to bed with you. After he washed up, he paced around his room, anxiously chewing his nail and wondering what he should do. Should he just go to sleep? Should he slip into your bed the way you did the night before? Would you be upset if he did?
Just when he thought he was about to wear a hole into the thin carpet he heard a light tapping on his bedroom door. He froze and held his breath, wondering if he imagined it until he heard it again.
He rushed to the door and whipped it open where he found you standing in the hallway wearing a thin T-shirt and sweatpants of your own. You didn't look like you had just woken up, your eyes didn't look like they were clouded with sleep. You were waiting for him.
Your gaze darted quickly over his bare chest, like you were trying not to look but couldn't help yourself. His cock twitched, excited by the notion that you could be fighting your own arousal, same as him.
"Can I stay with you?" you asked, your voice impossibly small and fuck, his heart squeezed in his chest at how sweet you were in that moment.
"Yeah," he breathed, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt. He widened the door and stepped aside, watching as you slipped past him and curled up underneath his sheets.
Neither of you said a word. He just flicked off the light and slid into bed beside you, turning onto his side and pulling you against him. His face nuzzled the back of your neck and his arms wrapped around your waist and he heard you sigh. He held you close and with tears in his eyes whispered how sorry he was, how he would never hurt you again, how he was weak and stupid and he loved you so much.
You didn't say much in return. Just the occasional nod or sniffle or squeeze of his hand in acknowledgement.
All of the stress and anguish from the past several months were the furthest things from both your minds as you fell asleep that night, each of you finally assured that everything was going to be okay.
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#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel the last of us#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#joel miller fluff#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#the last of us game#the last of us hbo#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us#ikwya fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller tlou
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https://www.tumblr.com/peachesofteal/749034526975672320/ghoap-x-female-reader-18-everything-was-fine?source=share
OH PEACHES. TELL ME THIS WASNT A ONE OFF. PLEASE. OH GOD.
Cool girl
ghoap x female reader / 18+ / part one
It turns out, you're not that cool.
Your lungs scream on the walk home, arms wrapped around your chest, rushing away from the hotel and it's fancy restaurant and the boys-
-oh god were they staying there? With her? Did they get a suite for the night, something nice, something fancy? Will they order room service? Did they pick up the check? Did they have after dinner drinks? Will they call her sweet girl, and sweetheart, and bend her over the bed?
Your stomach revolts, turbulent with your half eaten meal, red wine burning your esophagus, fire flaring from your heart to where your eyes blur with tears.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuck-
Your name rings out like a gunshot. Shattering the silence, bouncing off walls of the buildings that flank you.
Still, you don't stop. You can't.
"Wait." Footsteps thud behind you, and you know there's no hope. There's no chance you'll outrun him, or out maneuver him, or shake him off. He's Simon. "Wait." He says again, and this time, fingers close around your elbow, gently tugging you to a halt.
You keep your eyes fixed on the sidewalk.
"Sweetheart, we-"
"It's fine." You're quick with it, the cool girl response rolling off your tongue naturally, shrugging out of his hold. "I'm fine." His eyes narrow.
"Let me expl-"
"There's no need." Your arms cross over your chest. A shield for your heart, maybe. "I know the deal."
"The deal." He echoes, words flat. "Sure you do." What's that supposed to mean? You sniff.
"I'm not your girlfriend, you two can do what you want. Right?" He nods, but there's something off about him, something unsettled.
"That's right."
"So... enjoy her, I guess." He steps into your space, immediately. Crowds you, blocks you in, and dips his head to catch your eyes. He turns from endearing to severe, thunderstorm roaring across his face, fingers closing over your shoulder.
"Is that what you want?"
"Yeah." Why not you? Why aren't you good enough to be taken out to dinner, to be seen with Johnny holding you at the waist? He frowns, and then delivers a sucker punch that drops your jaw wide.
"When you're done being a brat, call us."
#peaches writes#ghoap x reader#simon riley x reader#john soap mactavish#john mactavish x reader#simon riley
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the thing that gets me the absolute most about the love confession is just . how charles responds.
like, genuinely if he didn't feel some kind of feelings for edwin, he would've let him down gently, right then and there.
but it is the fact that he said "i can't say that like, i'm in love with you back, but there's no one else, no one else, that i would go to hell for. and we've got literally forever to figure out what the rest means" LIKE.
HE IS NOT QUITE AWARE OF HIS FEELINGS FOR HIM BECAUSE HE HAS NEVER THOUGHT TO THINK ANY DIFFERENTLY/ WHAT IT COULD POSSIBLY MEAN?
also this is neil gaiman show be so fucking for real!!!
#me talking about a show that isnt 911???#woah..#edwin payne#charles rowland#dead boy detectives#dead boy detective agency spoilers#payneland#like guys they are so slowburn endgame#by slowburn i mean pls gimme their canon in s2#where are the fics btw!!!!
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𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇!
Pairing: Firefighter!Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader
Summary: Toji tries to be the best father he can to his baby boy
Warnings: Fluff
*This isn't finished and it probably won't be but do enjoy what I did end up writing🥹🫶 I'll do a different AU for firefighter Toji
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
“Toji!” You call out for your husband, wondering why he isn’t in bed. You approach the nursery, and that’s where you find your husband putting his finger under his son’s nose to check if he’s breathing. You never thought that you’d find Toji of all people doing this, but he really is doing everything he can to make sure the baby is breathing, while also making sure he doesn’t wake Megumi up.
Even after six months of having Megumi, Toji makes this part of his nightly routine. Megumi’s tiny stomach very visibly rises and falls, so there’s no need for Toji to be doing all of this. But Toji’s scared, and a new parent, so he still does.
He shushes you before you even dare speak too loud, you better not wake up the baby. You roll your eyes, a chuckle leaving your lips as you walk back to your bedroom, and your husband follows behind not too shortly after.
“I love seeing you worry about the baby, but don’t you think you’re doing too much?” You ask him as you get in bed. Toji takes off his shirt before getting into bed right next to you. He pulls you into his warm embrace and kisses the top of your head. “Please tell me you turned off the alarm.”
“I have to get up and check up on him.” He responds, and you would laugh if you weren’t affected by it. Toji’s alarm wakes you up, and it’s annoying to be constantly woken up in the middle of the night.
“Toji, you’re also really tired. If Megumi needs anything, he’ll cry.” You assure him, but Toji won’t listen to any of it. You understand him better than anybody since you’re also a new parent, but you already have to wake up to feed the hungry baby in the middle of the night, you don’t need to be woken up four other times by Toji.
“I still want to make sure he’s okay. What if he’s just sitting in his crib, waiting for daddy to come?” Toji asks, and you let out an exasperated sigh.
“You’re so right, Toji. But can you please go to the couch? I need to rest because I actually have to wake up and feed him.” You tell him, and Toji groans before letting go of you and sitting up on the bed.
“You don’t mean it.” He says as he grabs his pillows. He drags his feet as he walks to the door, waiting for you to stop him. You hate to sleep without Toji but you’re tired and you don’t want to be woken up multiple times in the night for no reason.
“Close the door on your way out!” You yell at him, getting comfortable in your space. You want to go one night without interrupted sleep, and you hope tonight is that night. As much as it sucks to sleep without Toji, you need at least one night of good sleep. You hate to hurt his feelings, but you’re also too tired to care.
“Look here, Megumi!” You put on your baby voice as you talk to your son, attempting to get him to look at your phone camera. Megumi doesn’t care though, he’s looking away, kicking his feet and yelling for the dog. He’s opening and closing his little fist in the direction of the dog, he can’t make it more clearer what he wants. “C’mon, baby, I want to send your father a cute picture.”
He keeps ignoring you, yelling to the dog. You watch the dog walk toward you and the baby, so you pick Megumi up from his play mat before the dog can lick the baby’s face. You take Megumi back to your bedroom, hoping that once you put him down on your bed, you can finally take the picture that you want to send to your husband.
You put him down on the bed, and just as you open the phone camera to take the perfect picture before he can look away, you receive a call. Toji is calling to facetime, which is perfect timing. You accept it, immediately flipping the camera to put the attention on the baby.
“Oh my god, is that my cute little urchin wearing a sailor outfit?” Toji isn’t the type to fawn over this type of stuff, or so he thought. Toji has grown soft, in his own ways at least, for his baby boy. He’s laughing, calling his coworkers over to show off his baby. Yup, Toji has become that person.
Toji just loves being a father, he was scared that he wouldn’t. He knows some parents love their kids to death but don’t like being a parent at all– Luckily for him, that isn’t the case. He loves the fact that he’s teaching this little human the basics of how to live while also filling him with love. He loves it so much that he’s almost about to ask you for a second baby.
“You look tired.” You tell him when he stops showing off Megumi to everyone, flipping the camera on you. Toji is barely getting any sleep, even though you keep pushing him to get rest.
“I’m fine.” He replies, and before you can argue with him, he changes the topic to more important manners, “Show me the baby, I miss him.”
“I was just showing you the baby.” You roll your eyes but you still turn the camera so Toji can watch his baby boy.
“Megumi! Look at the phone.” Toji says, noticing how Megumi looks away. Megumi is stretching. Your hand goes to his tummy, tickling it which causes the baby to look back at you and giggle. It fills Toji up with immense joy but also regret that he can’t always be by Megumi’s side to experience it all.
Until he hears a sound you both dread, something that makes the loudest sigh leave your lips. That part is the only thing he hates about being a father.
“Alright, I’ll see you later.” You hang up the phone before Toji can even mutter a goodbye, picking up the baby and taking him to the changing table.
You realize that in the past six months, you haven’t had any proper alone time with him. You’re both too focused on being the best parent to Megumi, that you’ve completely put your relationship on the side. He’s put everything on hold, even his own health, to be there for Megumi whenever he’s free.
You miss him, and while you knew that your life would completely change the moment Megumi came along, you didn’t expect to be so separated from him. You want to get Megumi off your hands for a couple of hours so you can spend some nice alone time with Toji, without having him worry about Megumi needing something.
It’s hard to get Megumi off your hands, especially when he’s so attached to you. He’s also a crybaby which certainly doesn’t help your case.
“Do you want to go see your daddy soon?” You ask your son, picking him up from the changing table. It’s not like he can answer, so you take his coo as a yes. You need to arrange something with the help of a couple of people, and who’s better for this than some of Toji’s coworkers?
“Fushiguro! You have some visitors here!” Toji hears from the kitchen, and he raises his brows, wondering who’s looking for him. When he walks into the kitchen, his heart skips a beat at the sight of his wife and son. Toji practically runs to your side when he sees you, pecking your lips before he takes Megumi from your arms.
“What are you two doing here?” Toji’s happiness radiates off his voice. Out of all things, he didn’t expect you and his son to come visit, but here you are. Toji kisses Megumi’s chubby cheek, while the baby’s hand grips the collar of his dad’s shirt.
“Just wanted to visit daddy for a bit since you’re always complaining about not spending enough time with Megumi.” You give him your best smile before you catch a glimpse of the woman that you came here to talk to. You squeeze Toji’s forearm before telling him, “I have to talk to Yuki, I’ll be right back.”
“Huh?” Toji furrows his brows but ultimately he doesn’t care because he has his baby boy in his arms and Megumi is trying to shove his hand into Toji’s mouth. He often wishes he could trade places with you– Toji loves his job but the moment Megumi took his first breath, he became Toji’s first priority. His favorite person; and you, of course.
“Yuki, can we talk?” Your voice comes off as a whisper, and she raises her brows. A smirk comes to her lips before she lets out,
“Are we getting another mini Toji?” She’s rather loud, and you feel your face burn. You look absolutely mortified, and she bursts into laughter. She nudges her head to the table and begins to walk to it, making you follow behind. She pulls out a chair for you, but you shake your head since you don’t really have plans of staying for long. “What’s up?”
“You’re the person here that I trust the most… And you’re great with baby Megumi.” You bring up, and you feel yourself dragging it out. She knows, but she waits for you to say it, tapping her finger on the table as she waits for you to ask the question. “Can you take care of Megumi on Friday? I want to go out with Toji.”
“Man… I don’t know, I’m not that great with kids.” She responds, and you know it’s a lie, at least from what you’ve seen she’s great with Megumi. You’re willing to argue just about anything because you want to get Megumi off your hands for a night.
“Really? Baby Megumi adores you.” You claim, which isn’t a lie, but Megumi likes just about anyone. “It’s a way for baby Megumi and his favorite auntie to get closer.”
She laughs, she knows what you’re doing, but she doesn’t mind. She has Friday off and has no important plans so she might as well try to figure out what goes on in a baby’s mind. She ends up saying, “As long as I don’t have to take him anywhere, I’m not sure how I’d work a carseat on a motorcycle.”
“Of course! If anything comes up you can call me and we’ll be at home within minutes.” You answer excitedly, and before you run in search for Toji, and even though he was just in the kitchen, he’s nowhere near the place when you look for him.
“Toji!” You call out for him, unsure of where he went with the baby. The firehouse is a big place, you sure aren’t going to look in every room.
“Check the fire truck!” You hear from Yuki, and you roll your eyes at the mere suggestion. She’s not looking at it, you’re not going to entertain it– But she also knows Toji and that sounds like something he’d do. You stop in your tracks and let out a sigh before going to the firetruck.
You walk over to the driver’s side, opening the door to find Toji putting Megumi’s hands on the wheel– A sight you find the most hilarious since Toji made it his mission to put a firefighter hat on the baby’s head; but you notice it’s smaller, leading you to assume that Toji bought this just for him and kept it hidden until now.
“Look, honey, Megumi told me he wanted to be just like his daddy when he grew up.” Toji chuckles, moving Megumi’s hands on the wheel which Toji finds hilarious. Megumi doesn’t find it as funny though.
“Baby, he can barely sit up. Try it again in a few more months.” You say as you take the baby from his arms, and Toji clicks his tongue. He follows behind you as you walk back to the kitchen to take the diaper bag and go back to your car.
“Why are you leaving so soon?” He asks, annoyed that you’ve given him his baby and taken him away just as quickly.
“We just came to say hi and talk to Yuki, and since we’ve done that, we can go home now.” You respond. The man is pouting, something that you never thought you’d see from a man as big as Toji. When you have the diaper bag in your possession, you peck his lips, “Go save lives, baby.”
“What did you need to talk to Yuki about?” Toji questions, wondering what was so important that you decided to come all the way here.
“Babysitting, we’re going out on Friday.” You tell him, and his brows perk up. He’d think that would be more of a question instead of a statement, but it’s the latter. “You can’t say no, we haven’t had some proper alone time in months.”
“I wasn’t going to say no.” He mutters, crossing his arms and looking at the ground like a child. He was going to say no, and you can’t help but chuckle. Your hand goes under his chin and you begin to inspect his face.
“You’re also turning off those alarms to get proper rest. I think you’re annoying Megumi too by constantly coming into his room to invade his space.” And before he can argue with you, you leave him alone to share his thoughts with himself.
He guesses you're right.
#toji x y/n#toji zenin#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#toji fushiguro#daddy toji#fushiguro toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#jujutsu toji#jjk toji#toji x reader#toji x you#dilf toji#toji fushiguro x you#toji fluff#toji imagine#toji fushiguro fluff#fushiguro toji x reader
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introducing... bitchy reader!
rafe never pays attention to sarah’s friends. new yet similar faces seem to make the rounds through tannyhill every week; the place was a revolving door. the occasional familiar girl would say hi to him, which would of course be ignored since he doesn’t care enough to say hi back.
so naturally, you become the exception to his little rule.
you and sarah are on opposite sides of the counter, flicking through magazines and taking sips from overpriced iced coffees, when he overhears a conversation that makes him stop and listen.
“-and he’s not like topper, like, at all. he’s really nice and actually talks to me instead of at me-”
“wow,” he hears you say, dragging out the syllables and sarcasm dripping from your voice. “such standards you have. no, really.”
“shut up. he’s totally sweet-” sarah says, but you interrupt her.
“he’s, like, totally a dirty pogue.” that catches his attention—not just the fact that there’s something going on between his sister and some pogue, but the way you say the sentence, how the words sound coming from your mouth.
you nearly sound like rafe.
“that is so rude-”
“what? i’m just being honest. i’d be a bad friend if i didn’t tell you the truth.”
“what truth?” his sister questions.
“that you’re settling for some pogue boy because you’re bored of top. i get it. if i was dating him i’d be bored enough to fuck a pogue too.”
rafe cringes at the topic even though your word choice makes him laugh—topper is boring, though he doesn’t think he’s heard anyone else bring it up until now. he steps back into the doorway, watching the two of you. the crass words are coming from you, dressed in a sunny yellow dress and tapping pretty pink nails against the counter.
“hey! i’m not bored-”
“you mean, you like hearing about his boat and golf every single day?”
“he has other hobbies! like-”
“like what?” you pause, watching sarah’s expression before giving her a pointed look—a look that says told you so. “who are you really trying to convince right now?” you flip through another magazine, finding something that must have caught your eye. you lift it to show sarah—some pinked striped pajamas and fuzzy slippers on the pages. “don’t i totally need this?”
“shut up.”
“that’s what someone says when they know the other person’s right,” you say with a mocking smile, setting down the magazine. he’s watching the whole thing—you’re funnier than he would have thought. “and if you change your mind just go to country club. top’s dime a dozen there.” the two of you start laughing.
“i’m not gonna change my mind-”
“that’s what you said when you started dating topper,” you say it deadpan, and rafe holds back a laugh.
“-because he’s really nice. he’s a good guy.”
“ugh, sarah. making out with a dirty pogue at a bonfire is one thing. you’re talking like you’re in love. get a grip.”
“what? what’s so wrong with that?” sarah asks, taking a sip of her drink.
“because you can’t be in love with someone you have to hide your valuables around.” that’s when he decides to walk in—sarah sputtering on her drink while you roll your eyes.
“and what’re you girls talkin’ about?” rafe asks, and two sets of eyes turn to look at him. you look at him a little confused—in all the years you’ve known sarah and times you’ve been at tannyhill, rafe’s never once spoken to you.
“i don’t think it’s any of your business-” his sister says, and then he rolls his eyes. you interrupt right away.
“sarah, it’s okay.” you turn to rafe, looking right at him and leaning in a little like you’re gonna tell in something. “it’s really not any of your business.”
blank face, trying to be annoyed but not actually feeling annoyed, he stares back at you. his sister laughs stupidly, heading into the living room. she leaves you alone with rafe in the kitchen, but as you grab your drink and try to follow sarah, rafe says something.
“y’know i heard that shit you were sayin’. you’re funny, kid.” you turn back to look at rafe.
“thanks. i wasn’t joking.”
“yeah. good. at least one of my sister’s friends has ‘er head screwed straight.” you laugh, but the look on your face says you didn’t think it was funny.
“are you trying to compliment me? by insulting all my other friends?” he wasn’t expected that retort.
“no. no, i-”
“maybe if your friend wasn’t such a shit boyfriend, sarah wouldn’t be talking to some pogue. but hey, what do i know?”
“hey, kid, i-”
“don’t call me that.” you roll your eyes, walking to the living room without even glancing back at rafe. he calls out after you again.
“so have you?” you pause, turning again.
“have i what?”
“made out with some pogue at the bonfire.” he shrugs. “that’s what you said to sarah, isn’t it?”
“again, how is that any of your business?” you ask, cocking your head at him.
“that’s not an answer.”
“i don’t owe you an answer. but for the record, no, i haven’t. i actually have standards.” he doesn’t miss the remark and what it says about his sister.
“good,” rafe says, looking at you. his eyes rake over your body before he can stop it—your short hem, the jewelry dangling on your wrists and neck, the heels even though you hadn’t gone anywhere.
“shut up. weirdo.” you walk to the living room where sarah’s waiting for you.
rafe’s gonna have a hard time staying away from you.
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