Good Things Will Happen 🧿

God I need him so bad

One particularly wild night, after a long day of sailing and an even longer night of drinking, the ship was quiet—most of the crew had already called it a night. The soft sway of the sea made everything feel dreamlike, hazy, and warm.

Sanji was drunk. Really drunk. So were you. The night had started with casual drinking alongside the others, but at some point, the rest of the crew had dwindled off, leaving just the two of you sitting together, talking, laughing, drinking—until the line between conversation and something else started to blur.

He was sprawled back against the couch in the dimly lit lounge, his shirt unbuttoned a little too much, collar loose, exposing the smooth skin of his chest. His cheeks were flushed, and his usually sharp, flirtatious words were slightly slurred, softened by the alcohol. His tie hung undone around his neck— a sure sign he’d had way too much.

You weren’t much better. Your body felt light, almost weightless, and every move you made felt slow, deliberate. A lazy, knowing smile curled your lips as you traced the rim of your glass with a fingertip, watching him through hooded eyes a you laid back comfortably on the cushioned couch.

“You keep looking at me like that, sweetheart,” Sanji drawled as he exhaled, his voice deeper, rougher than usual. “I might start getting ideas…”

A quiet laugh escaped you, head tilting. “You always have ideas.”

Sanji chuckled, letting his head loll back against the cushions before turning to look at you. His gaze was heavy, like he was drinking you in just as much as he had the alcohol. “Yeah, but right now…” He dragged a hand through his messy blonde hair, exhaling through his nose. “I really wanna touch you.”

Your stomach did a slow flip. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way he looked at you—lazy but intentional, like you were the only thing in the world he cared to focus on.

“Then do it,” you murmured, your voice quieter than expected.

Sanji turned his head to face you and blinked slowly. For once, he seemed caught off guard, his usually quick wit slowed by the alcohol. But the hesitation didn’t last long.

His fingers brushed against your wrist first, slow and warm. His touch was featherlight, like he was testing how much you’d let him get away with.

“You feel so soft,” he muttered, mostly to himself. His thumb traced the inside of your wrist, pressing just lightly enough to feel your pulse.

A shiver ran down your spine.

His other hand came up, fingers grazing your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His breath was warm, tinged with the taste of whiskey and something undeniably Sanji.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper.

Your lips parted slightly, breath catching. “Then stop talking and do it.”

That was all it took.

Sanji’s lips crashed into yours, warm and desperate. It wasn’t a careful kiss, no, he was too drunk for that—but it was deep, slow, intoxicating in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol. His hands slipped to your waist, pulling you closer, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to make you gasp softly against his lips.

“Fuck,” he muttered, barely pulling back. His forehead rested against yours, his breath coming out in heavy, uneven puffs. “You taste so good.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his half-unbuttoned shirt, nails scratching lightly at his chest. “You’re drunk,” you reminded him, but there was no real protest in your voice.

He hummed, lips ghosting over your lips, his voice lower now. “Yeah? So are you, sweetheart.”

His mouth was on your jaw before you could say anything else, slow and teasing, his teeth grazing over your skin just enough to make you shudder as he trailed down to your neck. One of his hands slid under your shirt, resting on the bare skin of your waist, his fingers warm and possessive.

“God,” he exhaled, voice strained. “You’re so addicting.”

Your breath hitched when his lips trailed lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your collarbone, slow and reverent, like he was savoring every second.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy. It was slow, drawn-out—because even drunk, Sanji knew exactly how to unravel you.

And maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was him, but nothing else mattered except how good he felt against you, how his lips sent shivers down your spine, how his hands gripped you like he never wanted to let go.

The night was hazy, the air thick with warmth, and neither of you cared about the consequences. Not now.

Not when it felt this good.

𝟒:𝟓𝟏 𝐀𝐌 | 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔.

satoru looks happy—the real kind. the kind where his lips are curved into a soft, giddy grin and not his usual smirk. the kind where his blindfold is pushed down to hang around his neck so you can see the little gleam in his eyes. the kind that makes him cradle a newborn in his arms and rock her gently as he kisses her temple every few moments.

“she has your eyes,” he says quietly, tracing over the soft skin of your daughter’s cheek with his thumb. his hand looks rather big compared to her tiny face, and you’re almost certain it’s hearts he’s tracing with each rounded motion.

“i know,” you murmur, watching relief dance around the corners of his expression.

“thank god,” he chuckles—and if there’s a wobble to his voice, you don’t point out. “she looks like me though. ‘s why she’s so cute.”

and normally, maybe you’d indulge him in a halfhearted argument, maybe you’d scowl and tell him to keep quiet for once, but satoru is happy. and it’s not just a thin blanket with tattered rips at the seams meant to cover the weight clung to his shoulders.

it’s real, and it’s woven seamlessly into the crinkles of his eyes.

“it’s our job as parents to think she’s cute,” you snort, “but she’s definitely the cutest baby i’ve had the pleasure of seeing,” you add with a little bit of pride in your voice.

“of course she is. she’s my baby,” he coos as he stares down at her, gently pinching her cheek. she stares up at him, comically small against his strong arms and broad chest, and when a tiny hand grasps around his finger, you pretend once more that his eyes aren’t wet and glossy.

“actually, she’s our baby,” you correct, glaring at him.

“you must be really sad you’re not my only baby anymore,” he snickers, looking at you with his usual smug grin. but there’s something on the edge of grateful and awestruck that’s in his eyes—and you think he stares at you like you’ve handed him a ray of light you plucked from the sun’s core, gently pressing the warmth to his palms and soothing over the cold and dry cracks on the skin.

Keep reading

Mission Impossible

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Word count: 33k

Fluff | Smut

Rosita embarks on mission impossible, and it results in Daryl almost getting into a fistfight at a bonfire.

or

Jealous Daryl. Protective Daryl. Lowkey possessive Daryl (my toxic trait is that I love this trope). What more could you want?

He wonders, for a second, if you forgot about him.

Though, Daryl hasn’t put himself in a position to be noticed by you quite yet. He’s standing by the doorway as he watches you take care of your day-to-day monotonies; admiring you, that’s what Rick would call it - makin’ eyes if Merle was here - and maybe they’re right, but he can’t tear his gaze away.

Pen between fingers, your tongue flicks out to wet your lips, eyebrows attempting to meet as you scrunch them confused. You’re not writing anything, he notices, and your non-dominant hand rises from the edge of the textbook to trace along the sentence you’re seemingly trying to comprehend. It’s simple, the movements are nothing groundbreaking - nothing particularly eye-catching - but it’s moments like these when Daryl feels a particular dull gnaw of longing.

He can’t call it a longing of his old life - not when all he remembers is drifting, an asshole redneck with an even bigger asshole for a brother - but of the old world, he guesses. One of them, at least. A kinder one to both you and him.  

One where he met you and wooed you through Black Sabbath concerts. Or one where you’re both younger - where he’d try and help you through your exams even though he’s about as dumb as a bag of rocks if you’d showed him just a page of whatever you were studying. Just… one where Daryl didn’t have to visit you every few days about some stitches threatening to pop off his skin or about how a fractured rib is healing up.

Shaking the thoughts away, he runs a hand through his hair and takes a step forward. Then another and another, clunky boots not making a single noise as he closes the gap between your doorway and your desk. He raises an eyebrow when you don’t seem to acknowledge him though he’s standing just a few inches from you, and he bites the inside of his bottom lip when he hears you sigh.

“Everythin’ okay?”

His voice breaks your concentration and your head lifts rather abruptly to him, the usual blankness of his expression morphing into an upwards tug of his lips when yours breaks out into a smile. Ever since Carol told him that you only smile like that when you see him, Daryl can’t stop wondering if she’s right. It makes his heart scramble for balance, but he never finds it - can never find it when he’s around you - and he doesn’t even really know if he wants to.

“Every word in here’s like fifteen letters long.”

Putting down your pen, you lean back and rub at your eyes, the action much too cute for his poor heart to take, and he thinks he may crumble into the ground if he keeps looking. Though, his eyes stick onto you, months of stolen glances forming a habit he can’t quite break yet. When he knows you can’t see him - when he knows you’re not going to catch him staring - he can’t help but to.

Keep reading

SO DAMN CUTE

character/s: jean kirstein x afab!reader

SYNOPSIS: jean shows you just how cute he thinks you are

WARNINGS: 18+/mdni, softdom!jean for the win (y'all i love him), oral (m receiving, talk of f receiving), fingering, dirty talk (mans doesn't stfu), heavy praise kink, female pronouns are used and reader is explicitly called a girl at some point, lemme know if i missed anything

A/N: this started out super fluff and then turned out really smut. :)

"You're gonna laugh at me," you hide your face from him, avoiding the incredulous look on his own. The only other person you had told this too was Sasha, and she was the idiot that convinced you to talk to Jean about it, for whatever goddamn reason. Sure, he was your friend, but he was also a guy, and that made this whole topic so much more embarrassing for some reason.

"When have I ever laughed at your problems?" You give him a look and he opens his mouth, "Ok, let me rephrase that. When have I ever laughed at your serious problems? Wait let me rephrase that-"

"This is why I didn't wanna talk to you about this! See, I told Sasha-"

"You told Sasha and not me? Wow, ok, I see where I rank in terms of friends. Second only to Sasha."

"No, it goes Sasha, Connie-"

"You put Connie before me? I want you out of my house."

"-Eren-"

"Jaeger?! Get fucked."

"That's actually the issue, I can't."

Jean went wide eyed and silent for just a moment. "Wow, what a transition." You shove him back as he chuckles at the embarrassed look on your face.

"Stop, Jean!" But he doesn't. He keeps poking fun at you because it's cute how flustered it makes you to talk about anything even mildly inappropriate. He likes the whiny little voice you have when you tell him to 'stop talking like that.' "You know, I came to you in confidence to share something that makes me really self conscious and you just wanna be a bitch."

"Ok, fine," he smirks, "I'm sorry. What did you wanna share with me?"

You avoid his eyes again and try to work up the courage to share with him what's really bothering you. "You know how I went out with that guy the other week and told you guys I just wasn't feeling it so I stopped talking to him?"

Jean shook his head and barely managed not to roll his eyes. He remembered how glad he was when you stopped talking to that dude. It was some guy from one of the classes you had together and he was honestly shocked you'd even gone for someone like him. Jean didn't wanna admit it, but he was a little peeved that you'd blown off the weekly movie night you, Connie, Sasha, and he always had just to go out with some jock who could barely pass an intro class. And he didn't know why, but it really bugged him when Sasha kept making comments about how jealous she was that you were out getting dicked down and she was stuck with 'you two (derogatory).' He'd chalked it up to just being upset that you blew off your friends for some dude and didn't think much else of it.

"Ok, well, I lied."

"What? You're still talking to that fucking idiot?"

"No!" Your answer made Jean sigh in exasperated relief. "He stopped talking to me."

"Oh..." Jean didn't know exactly what to say to that. Or why you felt the need to tell him the details of what happened. You didn't owe him an explanation or anything. In fact, it really wasn't any of his business. But, hell, if you were offering up the information. "Did he say why?"

"Yeah, um," you pulled your legs up to your chest, "well, we were kissing and stuff and then he kinda put his hand down my pants-"

"Oh my fucking god, I really don't need to know this."

"Jean, you said you would listen!"

"Yeah, I thought it was gonna be something like you were failing calculus. I didn't expect you to explain to me the details of one of my best friend's getting finger fucked in the back of some douchebag's Prius!"

"Bold of you to assume I would ever let a man in a Prius put his finger near my lady parts."

"You did not just say lady parts."

"Jean, be serious!"

"How am I supposed to be serious while talking about your pussy?"

"Ew! Jean!" You hit him square in the chest. You loved Jean, but he was anything but serious when you needed him to be. He stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue. "I didn't expect it to go that far and well I didn't exactly plan my outfit accordingly."

"Plan your outfit accordingly? Meaning?" He just looked at you until it was like a little lightbulb going off in his head and suddenly he was nonstop laughing. "Tell me you wore granny panties!"

You glared at him with the ferocity of a kitten. "I didn't know he was gonna do that! And he laughed when he saw-"

"Wait, he laughed?" Jean stopped. You pointed out that he himself was just laughing at the matter, but he silenced you. "No, I'm allowed to laugh at you because I'm your best friend."

"Sasha is my best friend."

"You can lie to yourself all you want, but there's a single person in this world who knows about that one time you used Connie's toothbrush instead of your own because you didn't want to turn the light on in the bathroom, and it sure as shit isn't Sasha."

"I regret telling you that."

"I digress." Jean narrows his eyes at the idea of some guy laughing at you when he should be counting his blessings for even being in the same room as you. "So, what? He ghosted you because you wore normal looking underwear?"

"No, no, that's not why he stopped talking to me." You took a deep breath, trying not to stress at the idea of talking about it openly. "We stopped after that. And then the rest of the night was just kind of awkward. I thought maybe I was just over thinking things, but when I mentioned a second date he brushed it off. Just said that I wasn't the type of girl he was into and that he didn't wanna get my hopes up."

Jean's face turned sour at the utter stupidity of that statement. You? Not someone's type? Hot? Funny? Single? How was that not someone's type?

"It's not the first time someone's told me that. Apparently, I'm cute. But I'm not very sexy, so..."

"What the fuck did he think wasn't sexy about you? Seriously, I'd like to know so I can make sense of the bullshit he's spewing."

You shrugged. "Like the way I dress and talk. And I don't know, like how I kiss or something."

"How you kiss? Who gets turned off by a cute girl kissing them?"

"I don't know. That's what he said."

"Show me."

You wonder if you heard him correctly. But when you look at him, his face is deadly serious. "Show you?"

"Show me how you kissed him?"

"I'm not gonna kiss you to show you what he meant by that, Jean!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby." He teased. It was to get a rise out of you, to bait you into it, and it was working. "What are you? Scared I'm gonna think you're just too cute."

"You're a jerk."

He leans closer and smirks at you, a stupid little grin you've seen one too many times when he gets overly-flirty. "Then I'm exactly your type." You narrow your eyes at him. "Oh, c'mon. I just wanna know what he meant by your kissing being cute. What's the worst that could happen? It'll be our little secret. Yet another one to add to the list, right under you using Connie's toothbrush-"

It's to get him to shut up. Or at least that's what you tell yourself. Your hands grip his face and drag him closer, pulling his lips down to meet yours. You start off soft and slow, pulling at his bottom lip and running your thumb against his jaw line. A little whine comes from the back of your throat and Jean gets it. It's a sweet kiss. One that draws him in over and over, forcing him to chase your lips every time they slightly break from yours. Jean can feel his head getting fuzzy, like his brain had stopped working at the feel of your sweet little mouth. It's a feeling that flows all the way down into the pit of his stomach, where he it feels like fucking butterflies are reigning hell on his insides, and god he hasn't felt this way since the first time he ever kissed a girl way back in high school, back when he was afraid he was doing it all wrong and his hands would grow sweaty and he'd have to think about the grossest shit just to stop himself from getting a hard- oh, fuck.

You're pulling away all too soon, it's almost pathetic the way that Jean's lips chase after yours, his nose bumping against yours as he leans his forehead against your own.

"Well?" You ask breathlessly and a little worried.

Jean's eyes are half-lidded, his breathing a little ragged, and his eyes dart from your eyes to your lips and back again. Like he's contemplating. "Did-did you not use tongue?"

"No, I mean I did but like just a little,"

"Show me." And his mouth is hot against yours again, his body pushing against you until your back is against his bed. And your tongue drags against his bottom lip and he's so eager to let you in and let you have all of him. No, Jean gets it alright. It's the little sounds you make when his hand moves up your thigh and his mouth trails a path down your neck and towards your chest, and fuck, you're just so cute. He gets it. What he doesn't get is how someone doesn't find it so fucking hot when you squirm and mewl and whimper his name like it's some kind of saving grace. It takes everything in him to exercise the smallest bit of constraint, but he does so as his fingers brush against the line of your underwear. "Gonna sound this cute with my fingers in your pussy?"

You moan at the feel of his breath against your ear and shake your head incessantly.

"Yeah? Such a good girl." His fingers push pass the cotton material where they immediately seek out and circle your clit. He was right, you sound cute as shit, bet you looked like it too. It's that thought that makes his other hand seek out the back of your head, pulling at your hair to make you stare back at him. His thumb keeps a steady pace on your clit as he pushes two fingers deep in your cunt. "Look at me while I make you feel good. Wanna see that cute little face when I make you cum."

He can feel your pussy clench every time he says something you like. "I'll make you cum all over my tongue later. Right now, wanna see your face." Like now, that and the slight hitch in your voice tells him he's doing everything right. That you like his fingers being stuffed inside you while his thumb gives your clit all the attention it deserves. "Like that? Don't worry baby, I'll let you ride my face later until your legs are shaking and I can't fucking breath."

Your legs fall further apart, giving him more room to maneuver. He has to keep himself from grinding against your leg to relieve some of the built up pressure in his cock. He felt like a dog in fucking heat.

"Need you to cum for me, pretty girl, let me see those eyes." You struggle to keep your eyes open and on his as the pressure builds in your lower stomach. "There you go, baby. Make me proud, cum all over my fingers. Give me something to taste."

You grip his arms just to have something to hold onto and desperately try to keep your eyes open as your breathing becomes unstable and your orgasm peaks but Jean doesn't let up. He talks your through it, his words sweeter than his fingers that try and pull another orgasm from you right after the other. "Good fucking girl, did so good for me." Tears start to build as you push his hands away and whimper too much. Only when the tears fall from your eyes does Jean stop, cooing at you. "So proud of you." He brings his fingers up to his mouth and slurps. "Cute little pussy tastes like a dream."

He can't help but kiss you again. This time it's rushed and frantic, like he can't get enough. You push up against him, trying to turn his body so you can climb on top of him, until finally he gets the hint and lets you. "Wanna make you feel good too." You start to pull his sweatpants down and lower your head.

Jean's eyes go wide. He doesn't want to push his luck but you'd both gone this far. And what kind of idiot would he be to say no to you? Yeah, ok, so maybe Jean was starting to realize why he'd been so upset about going out with some other guy. And maybe it wasn't just because you'd blown off your friends, but because you'd technically blown off him. Maybe if you'd done this a long time ago you wouldn't have to worry about that asshat that thought you were too cute to be sexy, because Jean thought it was sexy as fuck how cute you were.

He's brought back to reality when he feels your hand wrap around his cock. His breath catches in his throat. You like the way his eyes squeeze shut and he looks like he's struggling to compose himself. "Can I put you in my mouth?"

"Fuck yes." He really tries not to grab your head and rail his cock into your mouth but it's so hard when your mouth is just so warm and your tongue feels so good against it. His hips move on their own accord, his movements rough but his words so soft. "Gonna make me cum just from that sweet little mouth of yours. Just like that, sweet girl. Love your fucking mouth, love that cute fucking mouth. Taking me so fucking well. Gonna let me cum in it, sweetheart?" You make a little noise that almost sounds like an 'mhmm' the best you can with your mouth wrapped around him. "Good girl, breath through your nose, relax your mouth, and let me just fucking use you. Swallow everything I give you, baby." And suddenly he's holding the sides of your face and chasing his high. You do exactly as he says.

His hand flies out next to him, gripping against the pillow as he struggles to gulp down air, like he's the one being choked on his cock and not you. His vision clears up, and he pulls your mouth back up toward his lips so he can kiss you again, missing the feeling already.

"Did perfect." You're glowing at his praise. Jean lets you burry your head in his chest as he recovers his breathing. "Now lay back and show me how cute you are all split out on my cock."

i'm here for you. [ fushiguro megumi x reader ]

✾ warnings: lowkey existential topics/themes of self doubt, hurt/comfort

✾ synopsis: overwhelmed by everything, you take refuge in fushiguro megumi's room for a while. he knows you, though, and you can't hide from him in his own room.

✾ notes: part of a small series called "comfort" <3 check out the other characters' versions from the links below ! feel free to request a character i haven't done ^^

♡ comfort - a short series of drabbles: itadori yuuji, gojo satoru, okkotsu yuta

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

"what's up?" fushiguro asks.

it's been a while now, since you decided to sneak into his room and hide under his covers. at first, he thought you were just tired, and came to take a nap away from the noise of everything else.

as the minutes passed, it became evident this was not the case. he could hear you shuffling about; restless, and definitely not asleep.

"mmffh," comes your muffled reply.

fushiguro sighs, and you feel the bed dipping with his weight as he sits down next to you.

"fine. we don't have to talk." he pulls you, wrapped in his duvet like a huge burrito, into his arms and holds you. you wriggle in protest, but his embrace is firm.

soon, you give in and flop against his arms. you then poke your head out and look into fushiguro's deep blue eyes, as if contemplating something.

despite the nearly irresistible urge to kiss you, he waits.

"hi." you decide to say, giving him a small smile. he returns it softly.

"do you feel like talking? i could just hold you for a while if you don't." he offers.

you'd initially thought you were doing a pretty good job of hiding that something was off, but it appears the act wasn't enough to fool fushiguro. you don't know how he does it, but you're silently grateful for his observant nature.

"let's talk." you say. you close your eyes and take a deep breath. "everything happens very fast."

"what do you mean by that?"

"hmmm... exactly what i said, i think." you ponder for a moment. "you could be perfectly okay one day and then the next day, something happens and there are consequences and suddenly, nothing's the same anymore."

"that's just the way life is, bubs." fushiguro caresses your head gently.

"knowing that doesn't make it any easier, though." you counter. "there are just, you know, times where i feel like i'm stuck in a little glass box, watching everything and everyone around me.

and then some days, everyone is moving and everything is going and i'm still trapped in my little box, watching everyone's backs until they become little black dots." you take a shaky breath.

"i'm being left behind."

fushiguro's eyebrows furrow a little at this. nevertheless, he doesn't say anything and hugs you a little closer to him, prompting you to go on.

"i know i have no one to blame but myself, because i probably built that box myself. i... i don't know how to get out without hurting myself." you finish with an exhale.

fushiguro waits a beat before starting. "do you think you could tell me when you feel like that? we could have a little code, or a safe word." he kisses your forehead.

"i don't want you to go through that alone, i'm here if you need me. it's like, if i'm walking a little too fast you could always tug at my sleeve a little to let me know to slow down, you know?

and i will. i'll wait for you. we'll even figure out how to leave that box behind, okay? i'm here for you."

JJK/ How they fuck you + visuals

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Toji Fushiguro, Choso, Sukuna Ryomen, Mahito

Warning: NSFW content, p#rn links.

Masterlist

Tagging: @chosos-angel @skunaryomen @kittyymew @sunascumdoll

Sukuna: LINK / LINK

Sukuna loves you; more like, he loves your body. There’s no hiding that he uses you as his sex toy, but you don’t mind that at all, since he makes you feel so very good. The way he wraps his arms around you and bites your shoulder while pounding hard into you, leaving marks so you won’t forget who you belong to. Or the way he fucks your throat as if he’s fucking your pussy. It doesn’t matter how much you whine. There’s no escaping from him.

Toji: LINK / LINK

He’s a big guy, so it is really easy for him to lift you up and just fuck you anywhere. He’ll always have the control though. Even when you ride him (oh how he loves that), he’ll guide your moves, making sure he hits you sweet spot with every single thrust. Big guy? Big cock. He’s huge so if you’re fucking him, you definitely have a size kink. This big boy always makes sure you feel just as good as he does. He thrusts fast and deep into you, making you moan into his mouth and struggle kissing him back.

Geto: LINK / LINK

He can both be super sweet, or go rough. It all depends on what you want and how he feels. There are times when he fucks you and besides moans and groans, he doesn’t say a word, but there are also times when he won’t stop praising you, letting you know how well you are doing. He might not look like it, but he’s got a huge damn schlong. And every single time you’re making love, he takes your hand and presses it against your belly, so you can feel him deep inside you.

Nanami: LINK / LINK

This man is so stressed most of the time, and, that’s right, you’re his main stress relief source. Always there when he needs you, doing exactly what he tells you to like the good girl you are. How could he not love you? Well, he won’t admit it easily, but when he’s deep inside you, having you all tied up and at his mercy? He will say it, and not only once, he will keep repeating it, while praising you and making sure that you’re as satisfied as he is.

Choso: LINK / LINK

Huge breeding kink and a cuddle fucker. Depending on how he feels, he might either stuff you with his cum, or just fuck you slow while hugging you lovingly from the back, arms around you as he lazily pounds into you. He is quite often getting aroused by the idea of getting you pregnant, so he doesn’t even know what a condom looks like. Also a big fan of cockwarming, especially after cuddlefucking.

Gojo: LINK / LINK

He’s a manwhore✨ So he’s reeeally good at what he’s doing. He never disappoints, every single time having you reach multiple orgasms in the same session. He’s a master at fingering, eating you out, and abusing your hole. Gojo’s the man that can charm you with his words alone, so he’s always seductively whispering things in your ear. He loves it when you let him know that you need him by sending him nudes while he’s away or entering the room he’s in completely naked. You also got used to him interrupting you from cooking, or doing your makeup and fucking you over the table, sink, or pretty much wherever.

Mahito: LINK

You didn’t actually think he’d get some pussy, did you?

© do not repost, plagiarize or translate my works on any media platform, such as tiktok, ao3, wattpad etc.

made a chart of the straw hats' skin tones with the colors being screencapped directly from the episodes, to show how much they've lightened. this is more than just an "artstyle change" or "design evolution" or "just the timeskip" this is blatant racism/colorism. it's fucking ridiculous and i don't understand how toei is continuously getting away with it please reblog btw, i think this is something people should see

never lose hope

Sanji in his little "Kiss the Cook" apron.

Is it romantic? Starting as a joke with kisses on the cheek and temple until the two of you end up full on making out?

Or is it platonic? With the straw hats giving him little kisses in passing, starting with Luffy and spreading through the crew until even Zoro relents? Because what's better than kissing the homies goodnight?

You tell me snail, what's the move?

-♡♡ lots of love

"porque no los dos?"

Kiss the Cook

Masterlist here

Word Count: 1,700+

Synopsis: Sanji was gifted an apron from Nami after returning back from town. Every member of the crew aside from Zoro and you have followed the embroidered instructions written on his chest, and he wasn't happy about the lack of kisses from you. You finally relent and give him what he wants.

Themes: platonic kisses, fluff, implied f!reader - but can be read as gn!reader, sanji has feelings for you, you have unspoken feelings for sanji, idiots in love, Sanji has lost that 'line-cook rizz'.

Notes: This has been in my ask box for less than a day. I don't know what it is about you, anon. As soon as I see those two little hearts I'm just overtaken by something. I blame the "kisses". @chikariart on twitter.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @indydonuts @feral-artistry @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @writingmysanity

“Could these onions misbehave any more?” the chef grumbled under his breath, gritting his teeth and clamping hard down on his cigarette, “C’mon, now. What have I gotta do to get your layers off? Talk dirty to you?” He used the steel edge of his knife to attempt to pry the brown outer layer away from its fleshy underside with shaking hands. 

Sanji’s nerves were ignited, his whole composure on edge and waiting for the next intrusion in his kitchen and potential distraction from his work. 

When Nami brought the frilly pink apron his way, he was initially ecstatic at the notion he was thought of enough to be given a little gift. But as the red embroidery with white stitched hearts expressed consent for his body to be given sweet kisses at all times, he was truly alert. With an assault of affection from all who approached him each time he adorned the fabric in its wake, he was finding it difficult to focus on each mundane kitchen task. 

In this case, peeling onions was the bane of his existence. As the flickered peel almost withdrew from the circular bulb, it split and only chipped off a small amount of the outer layer. 

Sanji loved kisses, adored kisses: all the cheek, forehead and shoulder kisses he'd received from the crew. Cheeky Nami kisses, soft Robin kisses, and nibbled toothy kisses from Chopper were his favorites. 

He was less enthusiastic about hulking, wet kisses from Franky, nor the hungry cheek kisses from Luffy which was used to depict the state of his appetite. Usopp was the middle ground, his kisses were a tease on his shoulder with a rough clap and a gaggle of laughter immediately thereafter.

Brook’s kisses were actually quite funny to the blonde cook. As the skeleton man had no lips to kiss with, he resigned himself to the notion of simply walking past him, and taunting him with a melodic hum of the words: “kiss,” “kisses,” or an emphatic “mwah,” as he did so.

Of the members of the remaining crew, he was happy that the stinky moss-head kept his lips to himself. There was no way he would allow him the closer proximity to his body without starting a sparring match. He was, however, not so happy that you were yet to place your lips sweetly on the apple of his cheek. 

Sanji adored you, wanted to treat you with the utmost respect and dote on you alongside the other members of the crew. You were special to him, and he rationalized that his small crush was why he was craving a scrap of your attention so much. As he continued cursing at the onions, he heard a soft tap on the doorway to the kitchen. 

“Need help, cook?” Sanji looked up, noticing you leaning on the side of the door. He smiled softly at you, biting back his smile and gulping his insecurity. 

“Oh, beautiful angel,” he managed to turn away from the counter and look out the window as he resumed his battle with the onions, “I'm all good here, don't you worry yourself. Go relax with the others.” You clicked your tongue and stepped closer to the bench and stood a few feet away from the blonde cook. 

Noticing his posture, you knit your brows in puzzlement. He was twitching while he was going about his peeling, finally managing to coax the shell away from the exterior and sigh in relief. His cheeks were tinted a soft shade of pastel pink, his nose the most darkened by the blushy hue. 

Looking down, the frilly pink apron with ‘Kiss the Cook,’ held the final piece of information as to his nervous composure. You smiled softly at him, looking to where his hands skillfully minced the onions and threw them into a scorching pot with molten butter and aromatic herbs. 

He rinsed his hands in the sink, lathering them with soapy froth and soaking the suds with glassy water. The scent from the pot of sweetened onions with rosemary, sage and thyme had your mouth salivating in anticipation of what was to come. 

“What's cooking, good looking?” you smiled at him softly, gesturing with your chin to the pot on the stove. He froze up, his ears tinting darker with the shade of pink. 

“J-Just a mirepoix,” he stuttered out, prompting you to shake your head and offer him a soft laugh in response. Taking the extinguished cigarette out of his lips, he placed the butt in the bin beneath the sink. 

Noticing the tension in his body, you reach up and place a hand on his shoulder to urge him to turn to face you. He meets his gray orbs with yours, a sheepish look on his face as you gaze up into his eyes. 

“You've been off the line for too long, Sanji,” you scrunch your nose up playfully at him, “Lost that flirtatious kitchen charisma and banter, blushing like a bride at the most simple of compliments. What's going on with you?” You graze your fingers along his jaw, leaving a rising layer of goose flesh in its wake. 

“I-It’s-...” Sanji gulped his nerves back, hanging his head with a soft laugh and subtle shake in response, “...It's this stupid apron.” You look down at the apron with a smirk. 

“What about the ‘stupid apron’, Sanji?” you ask with a raised brow before gazing back into his eyes, “Not your color?” He continued smiling and shaking his head at you before looking up through his eyelashes into your questioning and puzzled eyes. 

“To be honest with you,” he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth to halt his words from sounding too eager, “I actually love it. Even though it started as a joke, it has actually made a big difference the way I’ve been feeling lately.” He shrugged, turning his eyes back to the ground and snickering, “Stupid, right?” 

Cupping his face, you elevate his head and hum at him in deep contemplation. 

“Not stupid,” you shrug at him, darting your eyes between his and flickering your gaze down to his lips, “Not stupid at all.” His breath hitched in his throat, eyes beginning to fill with hope as you drew your face ever closer to his. 

Closing his eyes, he parted his lips and anticipated feeling yours brush with them. His heart beat in his throat, his ears hearing that drum of hope ringing with his elevated pulse. As he drew his face closer still, the balloon of anticipation was instantly deflated as he felt your lips brush with the apple of his cheek and linger for less than a single second. 

As you withdrew from his cheek, Sanji was left feeling like a complete idiot. He stared vacantly, directly ahead with unblinking eyes and his ego completely deflated. His heart fizzled out like a flame being snuffed by a wet blanket. 

Looking at his vacant expression and the soft blush on his cheeks, you couldn’t help yourself. A single, timid kiss was not enough of an indulgence to grant to the blonde cook, in your opinion. You leaned forward once more, pressing a soft kiss on his angular jaw before pressing another on his neck above his pulse and beneath his ear lobe. 

Sanji’s breath hitched, his hands opening and closing in clenched fists and shaking extensions. Gasping, he leant his head to the side and whimpered at the soft touches you were pressing into his skin. His pulse quickened, his breath hitched, and his eyes clenched tightly shut as he argued with himself where to place his hands on you. 

Trailing your lips down to his collarbone, you pressed a sweet and gentle kiss against the bone before clamping your teeth down onto the flesh. Sanji mewled in pleasure at the attention, throwing his head back and drawing up his forearm to his face to catch the damp blood from exiting his nose. His head was dizzy, his lips parting and whining as he felt your tongue swirl around the soft bite to his collar. 

Pulling away from him, you sucked your lips into your mouth and bit-back your smile at his reaction. He slowly drew his eyes down to meet yours, the irises eclipsed by blown pupils and his desire. Giggling at him, you tilted your head to the side and clasped your hands behind your back and rocked on your feet. 

Sanji surged his body forward, claiming your cheeks beneath his hands and carding his fingers through your hair the moment his lips descended onto yours. You squeaked in response, immediately placing your hands on Sanji’s hips as he pinned you against the sink with his hips. His kisses were needy, desperate and full of desire. 

As he rotated his chin to deepen the oscillation, you reached up to his shoulder and tapped it twice while gasping in his mouth. He tugged himself away, looking down at you in shock with wide eyes and panting breath.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he began to hastily relay his apologies, “I didn’t mean to do that, truly. The other kisses I get from the crew are usually a little more hasty and less indulgent. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, honest-.”

“-Sanji,” you laugh at him, looking up through half-hooded lashes and brushing your nose with his, “Your mirepoix is going to burn.” 

Immediately, Sanji broke himself away from you and stomped over to the large pot. He grumbled as he stirred the aromatics with a wooden spoon, growling under his breath, “This stupid apron has been nothing but a complete distraction.” You giggled at him as he aggressively began stirring at the pot to salvage the caramelizing vegetables. 

“That’s it,” he tore the apron away from his chest and cast it to the side, “No more kisses in the kitchen. I refuse to have good food spoil because I’ve been getting distracted by soft kisses… sweet kisses…” he trailed off, fishing around in his pocket for a cigarette after he rotated the vegetables within the butter. 

Shaking your head, you go and retrieve the apron from where he cast it aside and hung it over the kitchen table. Eyeing him over mischievously, you walk over to him and hold his hips firmly from behind and place one more soft kiss between his shoulder blades. 

“Come find me when you want to put on that stupid apron again, hm?” you utter, releasing his hips and making your way over to the kitchen doorway and out of the room with haste. 

Sanji shook his head with a warm smile and a dark blush. Looking to where you had just left, he sighed deeply and began to focus solely on the meal preparation with no more cause for distraction.

no need to be brutal

||  getou suguru x reader || T || hurt/comfort ||  wc: 4.6k || ao3  ||

There’s no need to be cruel to yourself. Suguru reminds you of this.

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

a/n: hurt/comfort with suguru!! AU where everyone lives/nobody dies. no spoilers! just some happy, jujutsu tech moments. student is a student, prolly a third year but its unspecified. 

warnings: unhealthy coping with drugs and alcohol, reader’s body size is referenced (wearing getou’s clothes, being picked up, etc) 

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