Manjiro Sano smut collection

To Fix You

❉ Warnings: Bonten!Mikey x Medic!reader, some fluff and smut (cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie) kids stay away please!!
❉ Synopsis: There are not many people that Mikey trusts to tend to his wounds. Amongst the limited few is a novice medic - one that he's long felt affection for.

"Why do you always have to end up like this?"

The words are spoken more to yourself than him. Muttered. Annoyed. Yet, simultaneously gentle and concerned. Just like the brush of your fingers are, you dab the disinfectant around his wound and then wind the bandage tighter around his muscled side.

Mikey only hums. The heat of your infirmary and the warmth of your touch is nice and comforting. He knows that he can relax here. That he's safe with you.

Yet, your displeasure at his state remains obvious.

His hands raise. They settle on your hips. Insistent, yet gentle - broad and strong as he slowly tries to reel you in. Wanting to bring you closer to where he sits upon your bed. Ignoring the fact that even now as you stand above - straddling his legs while tending to his wounds - you're not far from him at all.

Still, he needs more.

Needs to be able to take refuge in the comfort of your warmth. Always a safe harbour in a sea of otherwise harsh terrain in his criminal life. Your soft words and kind eyes. An untrained medical student with more raw talent than half the nurses in Tokyo, and who only drabbles in the shallows of your gifts to heal and help.

Your head shakes in disapproval. Still, there's a smile on your lips, and so Mikey knows that you're not actually annoyed at his silent insistence. Pausing for a moment, your bottom lip rolls indecisively between your teeth.

Then, you move. Fingers flit up his chest, and the hem of his black shirt falls again. They trail teasingly across the fabric covering his skin, drawing soft patterns of spirals and twists. And then, with soft insistence, you tap the underside of his chin with your index finger. Those hollow onyx eyes like black holes that could destroy an entire galaxy, rise to meet yours.

"You should rest," you tell him softly.

He guides you closer. Your knees hit the edge of the bed, and then - despite your protests - you are atop his lap, knees pressed at either side of his hips. Mikey's hands slide around your body to rest on the small of your back. He can feel the warmth of your skin under your simple blue dress. Can sense how your breathing hitches slightly, increasing as the muscles in his arms bunch, and then he rolls.

You are guided down underneath him, hair fanned upon the mattress.

"Mikey," you warn - fingers pressing lightly against his chest. "No. You should get some sleep."

His lips brush over yours. "I don't want to."

Despite it all, that makes you laugh softly. He can feel the vibrations. How they pass from his chest to yours. The soft sounds of your voice are warm and reassuring. Your breath tickles his cheek - gentle and sweet. It breaks something in him.

He lowers once more, and his mouth captures yours in a firmer kiss. Yoyr hand pressed warning against his strong torso relents, and reaches up. It curls around the front of his black shirt. Then, you're pulling him closer and leaning up into the embrace.

Your body feels so very human under his. Your breathing is deeper. More hoarse. He can feel the increased beat of your heart as you tug at his shirt. He rises to pull it off without a second thought.

Gentle hands trace the scars along his stomach. They're twisted. Marred deep into the flesh. As carved and rigid as rockface. Your eyes fill with sadness and sympathy as you drink them in - just as they do each time that you catch sight of his old wounds. It only makes him softer further.