#Crooks: At least there's only one of them.

[maysileeewrites]

midnight answer

Robb Stark x fem! Reader || 18+; MDNI!

Synopsis: Moments like these, when he’s so tender and gentle are the hardest to remind yourself that this doesn’t mean anything. You and Robb are just friends - friends, helping each other out, as he put it - nothing more, nothing less. And Robb’s heart certainly doesn’t beat for you, like yours does for him. 

c.w.: angsty smut!! (I feel that this is the best way to describe this lol), lots and lots of angst and emotional hurt with an eventual happy ending, yearning & notions of unrequited love, Robb being an emotionally-stinted idiot (I fear that’s becoming a canon event in my Robb fics lol)

word count: 3.2k || masterlist

i’m your midnight answer,  queen of the night 

The nights are the worst. 

And yet, somehow, they’re simultaneously also the best. 

They’re the only part of the day during which you can really pretend that Robb is yours. And not even that’s entirely true, and maybe that’s what’s so disheartening about it. 

Because how can you really pretend that he’s yours when he always leaves your side, sometimes just moments after finishing inside you? 

How can you pretend that his heart is yours, when sometimes, he’s deliberately not looking at you, just thrusting himself into you, his head lowered to the crook of your neck? 

Robb’s heart was claimed a long time ago, when he first met Talisa - Talisa, who has been dead for almost a year now, not that that changes a single thing -, you’d known that when you first started sleeping with Robb. 

Just as you’d known that love was never supposed to be part of the arrangement - definitely not for Robb, at least. 

He’d made that abundantly clear after the first time you’d slept together. 

„Look, I really like you, but this - this isn’t - this doesn’t mean anything“, he’d said, his back turned to you, already walking back over towards his table with the maps of Westeros spread out on it, while putting his robe back on. 

„This is just - two friends helping each other out.“ 

„Sure“, you’d said, trying to swallow down the bitter pang of heartbreaking disappointment you’d felt. „Just two friends - two friends helping each other …“ 

Robb wasn’t even paying attention to you anymore, his eyes already glued to a letter from one of his allies. You’re not quite sure, but you think that he didn’t even notice walking you out of his tent a few moments later after you couldn’t bear the heavy, uncomfortable silence anymore. 

Robb was right - this really didn’t mean anything, you tried to tell yourself as you walked through camp back towards your tent, crossing your arms in front of your chest, trying to fight off the chill of the cool night air. 

This didn’t mean anything, you were just two friends, helping each other out. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

But, of course, your stupid little heart just had to go and fall in love with him anyways. 

Maybe it serves you right, if you really think about it. Maybe this is what you get for agreeing to this arrangement in the first place. 

Maybe you should have seen the signs, instead of trying to ignore them. Maybe you should’ve acknowledged that in all your years of knowing Robb, you’d always felt drawn to him, like there was something tying the two of you together. 

Maybe, you’d always held love for Robb in your heart and just didn’t realize it sooner. 

Not that any of that matters, now. 

Certainly not right in this very moment, when you’re in Robb’s arms, your hands tangled in his auburn curls, your legs around his waist, with him moving inside you, his hands on your waist keeping you in place, as he continues to thrust up into you. 

Just then, his ice blue eyes find yours, and for a moment, every sad, disheartening thought you’ve had about Robb and the hopelessness of your situation fades away. 

These bittersweet, dangerously hopeful moments are the worst. 

These moments when he looks at you like this could really be something more. Like there’s something there, something more, some feeling he’s having that goes beyond the purely phyiscal arrangement you’d initially agreed on. 

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and just when you think that he couldn’t possibly confuse you anymore, he cups your face with one hand and leans in to kiss you. 

Your stupid, traitorous little heart starts to beat faster as you tug on Robb’s curls harder, reciprocating the kiss. 

You and Robb rarely kiss. 

Sure, you’ve gotten each other off with your mouths countless of times, and Robb usually loves to explore the rest of your body with his lips, but you don’t really kiss. 

The few times you’ve kissed, it always was a spur of the moment thing. Like that one time Robb seemed so overwhelmed by his orgasm that he’d cupped your face, pressing his lips to yours in a hungry, bruising kiss. Or that other time you’d been in this exact position, Robb looking up at you and you’d felt that the tension between you so intense to the point that it was almost unbearable and so, you’d leaned forward and kissed Robb, trying to somehow dissolve the tension. 

But other than that, you barely kiss. And when you do, it’s usually hungry and bruising, your mouths clashing together. 

Not so tender, and - loving. 

And no, you can’t go there, thinking thoughts like that. 

You simply can’t. 

And so, you do the only thing you can think of trying to distract yourself - you use Robb’s distracted state and start moving your hips, meeting his powerful thrusts with your own movements. 

Robb groans loudly, the sound alone enough to have you clenching around him. 

„Gods“, he groans, his blue eyes finding yours again, „keep doing that and I won’t last much longer.“

You smirk, doing exactly what he tells you. 

Robb closes his eyes, groaning again. You love seeing him like this, coming undone, pure, unfiltered pleasure overtaking his features. 

It doesn’t take much longer for both of you to reach your peak, your hands tugging harshly on Robb’s curls, trying to steady yourself against the white-hot waves of pleasure crashing over you. Robb pulls out of you just in time, though you can’t help but think that this time, it feels more like an afterthought instead of the usual necessary precaution. 

After, when he’s cleaned you both up and tenderly tucked your robe over your shoulders, Robb presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head - another thing he rarely does, if ever. If you think about it, this might be the first time he’s ever done that. 

You bite down hard on your lip, avoiding Robb’s gaze for a moment. Moments like this, when he’s so tender and gentle are the hardest to remind yourself that this doesn’t mean anything. 

This doesn’t mean anything - you and Robb are just friends. 

Just friends. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

And Robb’s heart certainly doesn’t beat for you, like yours does for him. 

And so, you get up, trying not to look at Robb, tying your robe tighter around yourself. 

But just when you turn to move away from Robb, his hand suddenly grasps yours. 

He softly utters your name, and you can’t help it, you look up to meet his bright blue eyes. 

„I - you - you don’t have to go … I-“

Your heart starts beating faster. 

„What - what are you saying, Robb?“ 

„I’m saying that I want you to stay“, he says, running a hand through his curls, which only serves to make them look even more disarranged. 

„Oh“, you say, suddenly feeling quite breathless. „Oh, I-“

Just say yes, your heart seems to tell you, pounding fast in your chest. 

Don’t agree, is what your mind tells you. Don’t agree - you’ll only fall harder for him, which will make it all the more unbearable when he’ll break your heart in the end. 

But what if he won’t break your heart? 

What if maybe - just maybe - he’s starting to feel the same way you do? 

„You alright there, love?“ Robb’s concerned voice breaks you out of your thoughts. 

And of course, now he has to go and call you love as well - something he also never did before. 

You tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, trying to force a smile onto your face. „Just - a litte lost in thought“, you say, trying to shrug it off. 

You’ve never before asked me to stay the night - what is it that’s changed for you now? 

„But sure, I, uh - I can stay the night …“ 

Robb smiles. In this moment, he looks so happy, his smile lighting up his whole face; so serenely beautiful, it physically pains you to look at him. 

„That sounds wonderful, love“, he says, coming to stand in front of you and cradling your face in his hands. 

Your heart aches as you smile up at him. 

„It really does.“ 

🐺⚔️ 

When you wake up, Robb is still fast asleep behind you, one hand spread rather possessively across your stomach, his other arm slung over your waist, keeping you pressed to his chest, just like every other morning. 

Two months have passed since Robb first asked you to stay the night. 

Two months in which you stayed nearly every night. (Two months for you to fall even more in love with Robb, and for the moments in which you think that there might be more to his feelings than he’s letting on to only become even more painfully bittersweet.) 

A few times he even came to your tent - something that also never happened. 

He’s never stayed the night though, at least not until now. 

Another first. You seem to be experiencing a lot of firsts with Robb, lately. Like last night, when he’d kissed you good night, before scooping you up in his arms. He’s never really done that before. Sometimes, he’d kiss you on the cheek or on the crown of your head, before walking back to his own tent. He’s never before given you a proper good night kiss, though. 

What does it mean - if it even means anything, because sometimes, when you get really frustrated with your whole situation with Robb, you feel as if with Robb, you can never really be sure of anything. 

These moments during which you feel as if there’s more to his feelings for you than what he’s letting on - do they even mean anything in the grand scheme of things? Because if he’d truly developed feeling for you, wouldn’t he have said something, anything by now? You’ve been sleeping with each other for over a year now - surely if he’d really feel more than just friendship for you, you’d have noticed it somehow. 

Which, in the end it just means that you’re a fool - a fool not to have better protected your emotions, especially when you’d always known how this would end. With your heart broken into a thousand pieces, and Robb’s heart still dead and unbeating, never beating for you. And how could that ever be, when he loved Talisa as much as he did? When you’re nothing more than a friend, and what you’ve been doing for over a year is nothing more than just two friends helping each other out. 

„Mornin’, love.“ 

Robb’s soft voice, still heavy with sleep, draws you out of your thoughts, as do his lips, tenderly exploring the soft skin of your neck. You’ve been so deeply withdrawn into your own thoughts that you haven’t even noticed Robb wake up. 

„Sleep well?“, Robb murmurs, before softly kissing a spot on your neck that’s already tender and sensitive to touch from all the attention he gave it during the night. 

You try to force yourself to say something, anything, but the words won’t come out. You feel your heart starting to beat faster, your throat starting to constrict. 

Robb, of course, notices your silence - and also the way your whole body stiffens, when he sits up behind you, resting his head on the crook of your neck. 

„Something the matter?“, he asks you, his voice now laced with concern. 

Still, you cannot bring yourself to answer him. 

His concern - it means nothing, you’re trying to convince yourself. You’re just friends - just friends. Oh, how you hate that word. Because how can it ever be enough for you to just be Robb’s friend, when you love him so much that sometimes it physically pains you to even be in the same room as him? 

Robb says your name, his tone pleading. When you still don’t answer him, he carefully lets you out of his grasp, before shuffling around on the bed, until he’s sitting right in front of you. 

„Love, please talk to me.“ 

And something about the urgency in his voice and the intense emotion in his bright blue eyes finally breaks you down. 

„What - what is this, Robb?“

Your voice is shaky and uneven, sounding as though you’re on the verge of breaking down in tears. 

„What-“, Robb starts to say, but you immediately cut him off. 

„No, really, Robb, what is this? What - what are we even doing? What - why are you still doing this to- why are we still doing this?“ 

„I don’t-“

„Look, I know - I know what we’ve agreed on, in the beginning. I know that - that this … we’re just friends, right? Just friends - friends“, your tone turns bitter and you laugh darkly. „Friends, helping each other out … well we’ve helped each other out a lot, haven’t we?“ 

You laugh again, shaking your head. The words continue to come, though - it feels like once you’ve started talking, started finally voicing your thoughts and pouring your heart out, there’s no stopping it. 

„Look, Robb, I get it - I do, I really, really do. This - it’s just - it … it doesn’t even mean anything, right? Not to you, anyways … I get it - and I wish I didn’t, but I do … you, you just - you needed someone - someone to be there for you, after Talisa-“

„Stop“, Robb suddenly interrupts you, the word so strong and forceful that you wince. 

Your heart aches and you blink furiously, because even though you've already faced away from Robb, you don’t want to cry, not in front of him. Not yet. In just a few moments, once he’s finally broken your heart once and for all, you can break down and cry. 

Because - of course. 

Of course, just the mere mention of Talisa is enough to scare him off for good. You shake your head, angry at yourself. How could you have been such a fool, not seeing that this was always how this was going to end - with your heart in pieces, because you’d been naive enough to believe that Robb might feel the same way you do. 

„Gods, I’m such an idiot“, you whisper, your voice breaking on the last word. 

„You’re right“, Robb suddenly says, his voice sounding just as broken as yours. You don’t care though, not in this moment, with your heart already aching. 

„You’re right - I did need someone after - after Talisa died. I did need someone - I needed you. Gods, how could I have been so blind and stupid?“ He laughs bitterly, and even though you’re still facing away from him, you can tell just by the tone of his voice alone and his frustrated sigh that he’s running a hand through his curls in desperation. 

„I needed you - I needed - gods, after she died, I felt as if nothing would ever make sense anymore, as if I’d never be happy again.“ 

You bite down hard on your lip, already regretting how you’ve just opened up to Robb. Your heart’s already bleeding, you really don’t want to hear about how much he still loves Talisa. 

„And I needed - I needed to drown my grief, to numb the pain, somehow. And you - by the seven, I was so stupid … I needed you, craved your presence so much that by the time I realized how much I wanted you, how much I loved you, I’d already messed everything up by starting this whole situation in the first place … but gods help me, I don’t regret it. I know I should - gods, I really, really should, when I’ve already hurt you so much, but - gods, after Talisa died, everything was so dark and heavy and I didn’t think that I’d ever truly feel alive again … but then you - you showed me so much light - and gods I wish that I’d realized sooner what I have with you …“ 

„Robb“, you interrupt him, voice shaky, heart pounding in your chest, „what - what are you saying?“ 

Robb doesn’t answer your question immediately, in fact, the only thing you hear is the rustling of the thick fur covers you always sleep under. Then, suddenly, Robb is right in front of you, kneeling down on the floor before you, carefully reaching for your hands and lacing your fingers together. 

His eyes find yours. 

For a moment, it feels as if the whole word has stopped moving. 

For a moment, there’s nothing else, just you and Robb, looking at each other, both of you breathing heavily, regret burdening you down. 

„I’m saying that I love you - gods, I love you so much and I’m an idiot for not realizing it sooner.“ 

You let out a choked little noise at his words, causing Robb to smile softly. 

„I’m saying that I love you and that if you’ll have me - if you can forgive me -  I’ll love you. I love you, and I just - I just want to be with you … if you’ll still have me, that is …“, his voice trails off, yet his gaze doesn’t leave yours. 

His eyes look watery and he’s blinking back tears furiously, but that’s not the thing you’re focused on. No, what you’re focused on is the intense emotion in his eyes - all his love and yearning for you, the emotions perfectly mirroring your own. 

„Robb, I-“, you start to say, but he cuts you off almost immediately. 

„I’m sorry for not realizing things sooner, I’m sorry, I - I’ve probably been quite the jerk, especially in the beginning, but I-“

„I get it“, you interrupt him, squeezing his hand. 

He looks like he’s on the verge of interrupting you again, and so, you do the only thing you can think of in that moment to shut him up - you lean forward and kiss him. 

Later, you’ll have time to reflect on your emotions and on what you mean to each other, together. Later, there will be time to properly talk things through. 

But right now, you just want to be in this moment with Robb. Because while you know that there’s a lot you both need to talk about, a lot that you need to process, you’re sure that there’s one thing you won’t need time to properly work through: Robb loves you. 

Because no mater how unattainable, how unbelievable that notion seemed only a few weeks ago, you just know that it’s true. 

Maybe it’s the way Robb said it, with so much sincerity, his voice so full of emotion. 

Maybe it’s in the way he kisses you, desperate and urgent, as if to make up for time lost. 

Maybe it’s in the way his hands have found their way to your waist, holding on tightly to you, as if he never intends to let go of you. 

Or maybe it’s in the way your heart flutters when Robb starts to bunch up the fabric of your nightdress around your waist with one hand, using his other hand to gently spread your legs apart, before he kneels back down on the floor again. 

But maybe it doesn’t matter how you know - maybe the only thing that matters is that you do know. 

Robb loves you. 

And so, you close your eyes, tangling your hands in Robb’s auburn curls, getting lost in the moment completely as Robb starts kissing his way up the inside of your thigh.

tagging: @rheanyraaaa @inkandarsenic @amethystinie @strrvnge @samieree @justmymindandstuff @prettydeeryess @whppxdit4chi

[samsalami66]

Cinnamon Warmth

I simply HAD to write a little continuation of @unpredictable-probabilities' wonderful fic Where It Goes, so definitely read her fic before you read this one or else this will make little sense!

Read either here or on AO3!

To be completely honest, Morpheus was a bit nervous now that he was standing in front of the Gadling family home, his one hand resting in the crook of Hob’s elbow. Agreeing to Christmas brunch with Hob's parents had been easy as they had laid in the bed of the hotel, relishing each other's presence and warmth in their own little bubble, away from the rest of the world. But standing in front of the other man’s childhood home as his unexpected plus one for Christmas was a bit more spontaneous than his usual endeavours, and so the nervousness perhaps should have been expected. 

Hob on the other hand seemed totally unbothered that he would be introducing a man he met the day before to his parents, even with what had happened to him last Christmas. Morpheus strived for such a level of self-assuredness and optimism. If he were lucky his family would only disown him for such a decision. Or behead him, if he were less lucky. 

“Promise they don't bite,” Hob murmured to his right, and Morpheus snorted in response. 

“I wouldn't be too sure of that. Their son certainly didn't seem disinclined if prompted, and he must have learned it from someone.” 

“That would be Marleen's influence right there, I tend to keep my teeth to myself.” A male voice suddenly answered from the doorway, amused to no end. Morpheus whipped around with a deep blush rising on his face to the man now standing in the doorway to Hob's home. Leave it to him to make a bloody fool of himself first thing. 

Mr. Gadling was a very soft man, with smile lines around his mouth and crows’ feet around his eyes, which sparkled with the same sort of mischief Morpheus had already witnessed on Hob's face. There was also the same sort of resolve to make him feel safe and welcomed, and Morpheus deflated a bit at that slowly familiar look on his face. 

“Apologies, Mr. Gadling,” he said quickly and held out a hand to Hob's father, determined to overcome his social faux-pas as quickly as possible. “I'm Morpheus, Hob's… friend. At least for now.” 

The man barked a laugh at that and ignored his hand in favour of giving Morpheus a full-bodied hug. “I do like a man that knows what he wants! Call me Frank. No need to be all formal with family, eh?” 

Morpheus was released with a clap to his back and the most stunned expression he had ever worn in his life. He was given a moment to collect himself as Mr. Gadling moved to hug his son with the same enthusiasm he had bestowed upon Morpheus. The comparison made something ache in his chest, but in the best way he could imagine. 

“Now come in, boys, it's freezing! Marleen will want to meet the new face, so prepare for all the usual motherly fussing.” Mr. Gadling winked at him then, and Morpheus had exactly zero seconds to prepare before he was being pulled into the next pair of arms at the same time as Hob. 

“Oh, Robert, you didn't say you would be bringing such a gorgeous young man along!” The woman now embracing them both had a smile that rivalled the sun and brown eyes the same shade as Hob's. She smelled faintly of garlic and bacon and herbs, which caused Morpheus' stomach to growl with interest. The croissant perhaps hadn't quite been enough to fully ease his hunger this morning. “And he's hungry too! Well thank goodness I just finished preparations for brunch.” 

Mrs. Gadling shooed them into the dining room before Morpheus even had the chance to introduce himself and then headed off back towards the kitchen to continue her preparations. All that Morpheus could now do was blink, but somehow it didn't help with his orientation. Beside him Hob chuckled, then slowly led them to the table so they could sit down. 

“Perhaps I should have mentioned that they're very handsy.” 

Honestly, Morpheus wasn't sure if that would have helped. Nothing could have prepared him for this welcome. 

“It's alright…” Morpheus frowned as he realised that it really was alright. Usually he hated physical contact. But somehow, this wasn't too bad. Some part of him was even hoping to experience it again. The Gadlings were… warm. Their touch felt soothing instead of irritating. Perhaps it was a quality the whole family shared. “They're nice.” 

“They try their best,” Hob agreed and Morpheus nodded in response. 

Pans and pots clattered in the kitchen and some colourful but delighted curses accompanied most sounds. Morpheus was itching with the need to make himself useful. 

“Shouldn't we help your mother with preparations?”

“Not if we want to keep our heads, no. She takes great pride in preparing Christmas brunch by herself, we get to do the washing up later, if we're lucky.” Hob’s voice was fond as he talked about his mother, about this joke that must be reoccurring every year. 

“Marleen is a very independent woman,” Mr. Gadling agreed with a smile from the doorway, and Morpheus got the feeling that popping in on conversations like this was simply his thing. 

“She certainly seems like one, Sir.” Morpheus cringed a bit at his politeness, but no offer of first names could erase a lifetime of addressing even one's own father as ‘sir’. 

“Polite boy you are, hm?” He chuckled and sat down opposite them, then rested his chin on one of his hands to look at them. “How did you guys meet?” 

Morpheus opened his mouth to answer, when Mrs. Gadling suddenly flicked her husband against the temple with a disapproving click of her tongue. 

“At least wait until we're eating before you grill them. Here, be quiet.” She instructed and shoved a steaming pastry into Mr. Gadling's mouth, who only shrugged and munched away happily on the very fluffy looking cinnamon roll. 

Mrs. Gadling then places the rest of the tray and several other types of pastries on the table, quickly followed by a spread of hearty cheeses and meats and bread, as well as a pot of tea. It was simple, but the heat radiating off the pastries and breads spoke of a very early morning spent in the kitchen and hours upon hours of preparation work. Morpheus felt slightly unworthy of being on the receiving end of such a meal, made with care and love and at the sacrifice of time and energy. 

His own parents did not cook or bake or put any effort of their own whatsoever into Christmas dinners. They hired private chefs that made incredible eight course meals which only tasted of the craft but never of love. 

When Morpheus bit into a warm cinnamon roll dripping with sugary goodness and topped with an ungodly amount of frosting he tasted nothing but the love Mrs. Gadling held for her family. And possibly enough sugar to give him cavities overnight. He dove in again immediately after the first bite. 

Mrs. Gadling looked pleased at his enthusiasm as she cut off a piece of fresh bread for herself and buttered it generously. 

“So, now, how did you meet your lovely new friend, Robert?”

Hob chuckled at the curiosity in her voice and quickly swallowed his mouthful of cream cheese puff pastry. 

“Fell asleep on him on the train yesterday.” Two pairs of eyebrows were raised at that and Morpheus felt a blush dust his cheeks again. “And Morpheus very gallantly saved me from face-planting when the train suddenly broke down.”

Mr. Gadling made a face that said Yep, sounds like my son and Morpheus wasn't sure what it said about Hob that such a situation apparently was very like him. 

“And you just decided to tag along for Christmas brunch, darling?”

It took Morpheus an embarrassingly long time to realise she was addressing him with ‘darling’. Considering she didn't ask his name, he probably shouldn't be so surprised. 

“Er, yeah. Yes, sorry. I didn't have any other plans for the day and as Hob offered… I hoped his family would be as lovely to spend time with as he himself is. And I haven't been disappointed.” 

“Oh what a charmer!” Mrs. Gadling laughed in delight and nodded her approval. “I'm glad we didn't scare you away yet, sweetheart. But I gather if you survived a full day with Robert, you'll survive a meal with us.” 

“It is no hardship,” answered Morpheus quickly, then turned slightly more red than he had already been. “Neither spending time with Hob nor with you. I feel very welcomed, although you barely know me.” 

Both Mr. and Mrs. Gadling smiled indulgently at his words and Hob, too, seemed touched by them. 

“You're going to be good for our boy.” Mr. Gadling stated then and Mrs. Gadling hummed her agreement. “So, what do you do, son? Music or art?” 

[bet-on-me-13]

Bank Security Guard Danny AU

So, the People of Gotham are extremely desensitized to Rouge Attacks at this point. It got to the point that whenever a person gets a job at the Bank, they have a whole 1 Hour Training Video on how to deal with a Rouge Attack right.

So, when they hire a New Security Guard from a lesser known Security Company, they don't even bother showing him the Training Video. They assume that he'll either Die or Drop them within a Week.

Danny, for the record, did not know how bad the Rouge problem truly was. All he knew was that some random guy in a Ski Mask had just walked into the bank like he owned the place and started showing off a Gun telling everybody to get on the ground.

Danny did the sensible thing and Knocked him the Fuck Out.

Then, the same thing happened the very next day, but this time it was an entire group of people. Danny had them dealt with before the first person had gotten to the floor.

Then the same thing happened the Same Day!

By the end of the week he had become a Legend among the Citizens of Gotham. There was only a single Bank in all of Gotham that had avoided being robbed for a Whole Week, and it was all because of this one Security Guard who was freakishly good at his Job.

By the end of the Month, most criminals don't even bother trying that Bank anymore. It got worse when he got loaned out as Security for another Bank, and the same thing happened again.

Eventually, he ends up rotating shifts in Every Bank in Gotham, and it becomes a Game for the Criminals to see if the Bank they try to Rob is the one Danny is in that night. And they can't even reasonably predict his next location, since he always moves around at Random!

No matter what Bank he is in, he always manages to beat the Crooks trying to Rob the Bank.

Then it gets weird. Due to a scheduling Mix Up, Danny ends up being scheduled for 2 different Banks on the same day, each across the city from the other.

One Bank reports that Danny stopped a gang from Robbing them at 6:00 PM, which really confuses the other Bank because Danny did the same thing in their Bank at the same time. Security Footage proves it, Danny was somehow in 2 places at once.

They decide not to confront him about it, but they do test a theory. They intentionally hire him at multiple different Banks at the same time for a week. He shows up to work every time without fail.

By now they have basically confirmed that he must be a Meta, but they don't really care anyways. Now he can protect multiple Banks at once with his usual perfect Efficiency, and he'll be payed accordingly as well. The Banks get protected well, and he gets payed Extreme Overtime by the Banks, everybody wins!

Well...except for the Crime Bosses of Gotham.

Before this, it was a Game for them to try and beat Danny. They didn't really care since a single Uber Competent Security Guard was still perfectly fine for business, sure they would fail a Job once in a while if they ran into him, but he could only be in 1 place at a time. It wasn't a Huge Loss.

But now it was too much. They needed to take care of him.

Assassination Attempts didn't work. He was just as competent Off the job as he was On it, so they could never get to him.

They tried attacking his Bosses, but then they hired themselves to protect...themselves. It was hard to kill his Bosses when he was constantly Bodyguarding all of them at once.

Attempts to get to him through his Family were...let's not talk about that...

It continued on like this for a while.

...

Soooo...I don't know how to end this one.

Go ahead and put your own spin on this Prompt! The basic idea is that Danny is using his Duplication Power to get to every shift on Time, and he is really annoying the Local Crime Bosses.

What do you think?

[alexiroflife]

jjk men when you aren't feeling well but try to hide it...

"hello! i was wondering if you could write an angst but w comfort fluff headcannon w the jjk men? i was thinking reader has an injury or is sick but she hides it, but they find out. it would be great if you can, but if not i totally understand. your writing is amazing!!!" -anon

gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna

satoru gojo: (sprained ankle!)

you're fucked.

you know you are the moment you go to pick yourself up from your boyfriend's hardwood kitchen floors and wince in pain in reaction to the pressure in your left ankle.

you hiss, immediately stumbling back to a sitting position. You look over your outstretched foot to find that your ankle is rapidly swelling, and you curse under your breath.

this is so inconvenient. of all times to injure yourself, you of course had to a day before an important mission. you never handle injuries very well. you are always so quick to brush them off, or at least be in denial about them because you can't stand the thought of feeling helpless or incapable.

especially not when satoru gojo is your boyfriend, who unfortunately knows you far too well to overlook something like an injury to your ankle.

damn. what are you supposed to do? satoru will never let you out of his sight, let alone allow you to go on this mission if he finds out about your injury. as much as you love the way he looks after you, you're not in the mood to accept the fact that you may not be able to walk for a few days without his help.

you try to stand again, stubborn with determination. you grip onto the countertop and rise slowly on your able foot, then lean to press your injured foot down slowly. okay... not so bad! Maybe you can add just a little bit more pressure, and-

"fuck," you curse, sharp pain throbbing through your foot the moment you try to walk. You lift your leg immediately and whimper, leaning your body against the counter. "god dammit," you pout.

you should ice it, you think, but icing it will only make the injury more real. maybe it's not so bad, right? maybe if you just sit down for a bit and push it to the back of your head, it will go away?

you know it's not smart, but truthfully, you don't have the time to worry about a stupid ankle. you're sure you only irritated it. with some rest, you'll be fine.

you hop your way up the stairs with your hand gripping the railing tightly to your shared bedroom and ease yourself into bed. you decide you'll take a nap while you wait for satoru to come home, ignoring the simmering pain in your swollen ankle.

"babyyy!"

you wake suddenly to the sound of satoru's voice singing through the house. you jump and immediately hold in a whimper of pain when you accidentally shift your foot beneath the covers. you can tell solely by the lack of mobility in your ankle that it's, unsurprisingly, gotten worse.

you panic, moving quickly to prop your back up against the headboard. you fix yourself in the most normal possible position you can without agitating your foot, and you turn to the door with an innocent expression the second satoru bursts through with a beam.

"hey, pretty," he walks in and immediately crouches over the bed to wrap you up in a hug. you cringe as his lips meet every crook of your face, his body enveloping you in warmth. "missed you so much today," he sighs.

"missed you too, toru," you wrap your arms around his back. "how was your day?"

"same old same old. the higher-ups only get more annoying each day, if that's even possible," he grumbles into your ear, slumping against you. "what are you doing cooped up here all by yourself? you taking a nap?"

"yeah, I just woke up," you tell him with a hefty exhale, his lips meeting the crook of your neck lazily as he nuzzles into you. "you wanna take one with me, you big baby?" you giggle.

"god yes," satoru agrees. "but first, I'm starving. did you eat while I was gone?"

"nah, I waited for you, toru."

"well, you normally cook, baby, I was waiting for you."

you momentarily freeze and he pulls back reluctantly, not before dotting one more kiss to the crook of your jaw. you had completely forgotten about making dinner, but seeing how you couldn't even walk, those cards were off the table.

he looks down at you with his arms propped on either side of your figure on the bed. your ankle continues to throb, and while you try to hide the pain that you are currently in by shifting ever so subtly beneath him, his sapphire eyes catch the twitch in your brow and the motion of your body beneath his blindfold.

"not that I care if you cook or not. obviously you were tired..." he trails off. "you okay?"

fucking hell, damn those six eyes.

you nod despite yourself, keeping a soft smile as you brush your fingers over satoru's hair. "yeah, of course. just tired like you said. I'm sorry about dinner, it slipped my mind."

"don't you dare apologize," he ducks down to kiss your cheek loudly. "we can go out to eat. make it a date before your big mission tomorrow, yeah?"

you internally deflate. the idea sounds amazing, but going on a date would mean getting up, getting dressed, and walking out the door. you're unfortunately physically incapable of doing any of the above at the moment.

satoru watches the way your shoulders slump and your lips part as if to protest, and he tilts his head in slight confusion. "...or not..." he says slowly.

"sorry, toru, it's not that I don't wanna go, i just don't have the energy..." you excuse pathetically.

satoru's face tells you that he doesn't buy your words, but he complies nonetheless. "that's no problem, baby, we can order in instead."

you sigh and nod with a gentle smile. "that sounds great."

"someone's feeling real lazy today, huh?" he teases, hooking his finger into his blindfold to peel it from his face, revealing his bright irises gazing curiously down at you. "you sure you're just tired?"

"yeah... why?"

"i'm just askin," he says. his eyes dart over you one more time before he pushes himself up with an exhale and tugging at your arm. "come on, let's go to the living room to order."

why the hell does he want to move around so much?!

"um- why can't we just order here?"

a smile quirks on Satoru's lips as though you've made a joke. "cause, we'll be downstairs once the food gets here," he says.

you pucker your lips slightly and tilt your head. "can't we just eat it up here and you can go get it?"

gojo's eyes are now slim with suspicion as he pulls himself back over to you. "i mean, of course i can but you never eat takeout in bed, we always cuddle downstairs and eat."

"I'm tired, can't i change it up today?"

"you know i have no problem doing what you want and pampering you baby," satoru starts slowly. his eyes dash to your legs, and he suddenly notes that he has not seen you bend them in the few minutes he has been home. in fact, you had been rather stagnant instead of running up to clobber him when he entered the room, whether you were previously asleep or not. "but you're acting a little weird."

"no, I'm not," you deny adamantly. you have always been a poor liar, but in the face of Satoru Gojo, your lack of talent in the arena only proves to be more prominent. "you think too much, you know that?"

"you think so?" he raises a brow at you, a hint of playfulness remaining though it is steadily fleeting the longer he examines you. "you think i'm thinking too much if i feel like you're lying to me?"

you press your lips together tightly. "...yes."

"hm," he nods. "come here for a second, pretty," he requests, stepping back a bit to give you room to stand. "just real quick, then you can lay back down and I'll get us that food."

"why do you want me to stand?"

"i wanna give you a big hug," he opens his arms widely. "c'mon, give your loving boyfriend a hug. you'd never deny me that after such a long day."

"come hug me here, then," you roll your eyes, turning to look the other way as heat overtakes your body.

"i want to hold you and pick you up," he argues, knowingly. "just stand and walk to me for one second."

"no."

"no?!"

"no, i don't want to."

"don't want to or you can't?" he accuses, face falling along with his arms. he moves to sit at the edge of the bed beside your legs, resting a hand over your uninjured one. "why can't you get up?" he asks, this time a tad more serious.

"i don't feel like it, satoru, god," you murmur in annoyance, growing agitated with his swiftness to notice that something is wrong.

"don't 'satoru' me, baby, you're the one not telling the truth," he says. "what's wrong with your legs?"

"nothing."

"then stand up."

"no, satoru. stop telling me to stand."

"i will if you tell me what's wrong."

"nothing's wrong!" you shrug harshly, crossing your arms and suddenly taking interest in whatever is outside of the bedroom window. satoru stares at you intently for a moment then back down at your covered legs.

he gazes harshly between the two, pondering, before reaching over to rip the comforter upward to reveal your bare feet. you gasp slightly, jerking to stop him, when your swollen ankle is revealed.

his brows immediately angle and he leans to hastily look over it. "(y/n), what the hell?! what happened to your foot?"

you grow embarrassed suddenly, moving to brush his hands away. "it's not that bad, stop," you say, going to move your leg to the side when you hiss sharply.

"not that bad? baby, your ankle's the size of a golfball!"

"satoru, you're being dramatic."

"what happened?" he asks, concerned. "did this happen while I was gone?"

"it's fine, relax."

"(y/n)," satoru begins sternly. you can tell that you've pinched a nerve. "i'm about to lose it if you don't tell me how this happened and why you were trying to hide it from me."

you frown. "But-"

"Now."

you hug your arms around yourself with another meek shrug. "it's humiliating..." you murmur.

satoru softens slightly. "baby, humiliating? i'm worried about you getting hurt."

"yeah, but-" you sigh and close your eyes, your emotions suddenly getting the best of you. you hate feeling small and weak, as though you can't handle yourself, and you swear every time you injure yourself or get sick, it's the worst possible thing that could happen in the entire world. "i don't know. whatever."

"uh uh uh," your white-haired boyfriend tuts, leaning over the smooth his hand over your leg comfortingly. "it's not 'whatever.' i know exactly how you are. you can't fool me. is this about your mission tomorrow?"

"it's not just about the mission, toru, i just don't- i hate it when i can't do stuff on my own."

"you don't have to tell me something i'm already well aware of." you give him a look. "don't look at me like that. i know you like the back of my hand, and i especially know when you're uncomfortable."

"i get it, toru," you frown.

"why the attitude, hm?" he asks, leaning over to prop his elbow on the other side of you, his body resting against your lap as he peers up at you gently. "it's okay to get hurt- well, no, it's not okay for you to get hurt because it makes me wanna die, but you get what I mean."

your lips twitch in amusement momentarily, leading satoru to grin widely.

"there's that pretty smile."

"it's just-" you huff. "it was such a stupid thing... i rolled my ankle stepping down from closing the cabinets and when it started getting worse, i thought it was so dumb that something so small did that to me so i left it alone. now it's probably twisted, and i just feel really..."

"you're not weak," satoru interjects urgently. "if that's what you're saying, which i'm pretty sure you are. you're far from what i would call weak."

"still. it still made me feel weak. and i'm supposed to go on that mission tomorrow, and i don't know what the hell i'm gonna tell yaga-"

"forget the mission."

"...satoru, i can't just-"

"you can and you will. you have an injury, baby. you can't walk. it's okay, i'll talk to yaga and he'll get someone else on the assignment while I take care of you."

"but the fact that you even have to do that because i was clumsy!" you shake your head and look down. "it's so ridiculous. and i knew you were gonna worry..."

"of course i'm gonna worry, (y/n). no less than you'd worry for me."

"but you're you."

"so? do you worry for me any less because of that?"

"i mean... i know you're always gonna be fine, but... yeah, i guess."

"you guess?" satoru scoffs. "to think, my girlfriend doesn't care about me..."

"oh shut up," you nudge his head away. his grin remains, face turning back to you as he captures you in his soft gaze. "obviously I worry."

"then, there you go," satoru says. his free hand runs over your hip. "i know you can handle yourself just fine and that you're strong as hell, but whether you're going on a mission or stubbing your toe, I'm worrying 'cause i love you."

you pout slightly. "I love you too."

"i know," he beams, kissing your thigh. "so stop with that. as if you'd ever be weak for getting a little boo boo."

"yeah, but now you're not gonna let me do anything," you whine.

"is there really such a big problem with that?" satoru smirks. "try hiding an injury from me again, and you really won't be able to do anything. now let me see."

he pushes himself up to round the edge of the bed. he kneels down and cradles your foot in his hand delicately, fingers grazing the area of swelling. his brow angles. "can you move it?"

you shake your head slowly. "not without it hurting."

"in all seriousness, baby, you need to take better care of yourself. why didn't you ice it?"

"...i wanted it to go away."

"and you walked up the stairs after rolling your ankle?!"

"i wanted to get into bed!"

satoru lowers his head. "what am i gonna do with you? you're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days."

"it's really not that serious. i just need to rest it a bit and then I'll be fine-"

"i'm gonna go cook you some dinner, okay? then we can eat in bed and cuddle, and then I'll run you a hot bath later."

"satoru, i just said it's not that serious! please don't go burning down the house because of my ankle. we can literally still order food," you try to convince him, but the blue-eyed man is already on his feet, by your side, and kissing your lips.

"not another word. you're practically dying, now, i have to look after you."

"toru-"

"i'll be right back, i'm gonna grab you some ice and a pillow for your foot."

"satoru!"

but when you call him, he's already zooming out of the room and down the stairs. you sigh and plop your head back against the headboard with a soft smile. as humiliating as you find it to be injured, you can never say that gojo doesn't do everything he can, if not excessively more, to look after you when you are.

suguru geto: (cold!)

shit.

you step into the bathroom for the umpteenth time today to blow your nose, clearing your searing throat as you do so with a groan.

something in you knew this morning that you were coming down with a cold when you woke up to that dreadful scratch in the back of your throat, but the idea of getting sick physically ails you more than actually being sick does.

you're far too busy today to be weighed down by some common cold. you're in between meetings at work as you toss another tissue into the women's trash. You have paperwork to finish filling out by midnight, and you have to pick up the girls later from daycare.

how can you be sick of all things?

you know it's likely because you run yourself ragged more often than you need to, and suguru always tells you to slow down and take a breath, but you rarely listen to him. your life moves at a quick pace, constantly on the run from one task to the next, and you truly do not feel that you have the leisure of giving yourself one second to rest.

you're on the verge of earning a new promotion, and you need the money. you need the opportunities, and the accomplishments to care for the family you've built with geto. just as suguru works tirelessly to manage his cult, you work tirelessly to keep a living for yourself.

you're proud of the work you have done, truly you are, but at times it feels as though you are amounting to nothing, chasing promises of a higher position that have yet to come. despite the haziness of the path ahead, you push harder and harder each day.

suguru hates it, how you drive yourself to the brink of insanity day in and day out, but you can't help but be an overachiever. you can't help but work hard for those who may not even deserve it.

and now, of course, you're sick. you can feel your temperature spiking, your nose is stuffy, and your head is pounding. you want to go home and curl into bed, but you have responsibilities to fulfill. just a few more hours... then you're home with geto, with the girls, safe in bed just to wake up and do it all over again tomorrow.

you jump when your phone suddenly rings in your pocket. you pull it out to see your boyfriend's contact, and you straighten yourself up as best as you can to make it sound as though you aren't struggling to breathe through your nostrils.

"hello?"

"hey, babe, how's work going?" suguru's soothing voice echoes through the phone and you sigh, clinging to the comfort his tone provides. you miss him. you want to go home already.

"it's good," you lie. "i have a few more meetings. then some paperwork to finish, but I'll be able to get mimi and nana on time."

"actually, i called to tell you not to worry about that. i got finished up here with the group pretty early, so i'll be able to get them later."

you're relieved that you won't have to expose the girls to your germs in the car. "okay, thanks for letting me know. you need me to pick up some food on the way home?"

"no, we're gonna make pizzas later. the girls have been dying to try it making it from scratch forever, so i'll take them to the store once i get them."

"...oh. okay..." you nod. "there's nothing else you need me to do then?"

"just to come home in one piece," suguru says. "i'm trying to take some stuff off your plate, (y/n). you've been exhausted, and you can't tell me otherwise."

"sugu, I'm fine," you dismiss him, only to turn your head into your elbow to muffle a cough. you forget to mute the call when you do so.

"what was that? are you okay?" the dark-haired man questions quickly. "you're not sick, are you?"

"no, no," you deny fast, voice slightly hoarse. you clear your throat quickly. "something was just- stuck in my throat. but I'm fine. i'm not sick."

suguru's quiet for a moment, and you chew on the inside of your lip while you wait for him to respond. you know it's impossible to fool suguru, especially when it comes to matters regarding you or the girls, but you can't handle him worrying over you right now. his concerns would only bring you back to reality, pulling you from this cycle of overworking you've fallen into. you need to keep going. You can't stop, and if suguru knows you're sick, he will make you stop.

"suguru? you there?" you finally say.

"oh yeah, i'm here," he responds rather quickly, and you internally curse yourself. "what time do you get off?"

"uhhh..." you think about it for a moment. it's 3:30 now, and technically you only have an hour and a half left, but since the girls will be picked up by Suguru, you realize you can finish your paperwork in the office. "today's kind of a long day... so I probably won't be home until... 7?"

"(Y/n)."

"i know, i know, but listen, i just have to finish up this paperwork. that's all."

"weren't you just gonna do it at home?"

"well, yeah, but since you're getting the girls, it's kinda easier for me to finish it here..." you start mumbling lowly, knowing that whatever explanation you give is not one that suguru will willingly accept.

"babe, please just come home at a normal time today. you can't keep doing this to yourself."

"i promise it won't be past 7. i swear. just let me get this done, and I'll be home."

suguru releases a hefty sigh, and you can picture him rubbing his thumb against his forehead in stress. "7 o'clock, (y/n). i mean it. if you're so much as five minutes late, i'm coming over there myself with rainbow dragon."

you chuckle softly. "i promise it won't get to that. i'll be fine, alright? i'll text you when I'm headed out."

"okay. I'll see you in a bit."

after your meetings had ended, your cold symptoms grew worse. your coughs were more frequent, a pile of tissues were stacked at your cubicle, and the glare of your computer screen felt as though it was burning a hole into your already aching head.

you feel miserable, and as luck would have it, your boss placed a new stack of papers onto your desk to finish filling out before you went home on his way out of the door.

you're alone in the office now, surrounded by excess assignments, and you can hardly breathe through your nose. you check the time, and its thirty to the time you told suguru you'd be home. you groan, rubbing your hands over your face.

you're tired. your bones are aching. you want to be with the girls, you want to be home, you don't want to do this anymore. you're so burned out, it hurts, and you want to cry and collapse face-first onto your desk at the same time.

just then, your phone lights up with a message from suguru. you open it eagerly to be greeted with an image of the girls beaming up at the camera in the kitchen, hands covered in tomato sauce as they display them to the phone. beneath the photo, suguru types.

we miss you :(

you break, placing your phone down and shielding your face in your hands as the tears flow. god, you miss spending time with them. you're hardly home anymore because you've been so busy with work, and you're yearning to be held by your boyfriend, to hear the girls laugh, to sink into the bed combined with your deteriorating physical state makes you feel worse.

you miss having a life.

you don't know how long you spend crying in your empty office before your body shuts down on you completely. the energy you exerted shedding tears in addition to your long days at work send you into a deep sleep. before you know it, you're knocked out with your cheek pressed against one of your unfinished papers.

the second you failed to answer Suguru's text, he knew something was wrong. he calls, and calls, and calls after twenty minutes, but you don't answer. He wastes absolutely no time in calling up manami to look after the girls before trekking out of the house to you with rainbow dragon, just as he promised.

he's prepared to break a window when he sees the janitor leaving the building. he takes the opportunity to swoop in through the doors after grumbling something about his girlfriend being inside, before making his way up to you.

when he reaches your office, he finds you lying in the only occupied cubicle. His eyes go wide as he studies your slumped figure, walking slowly to where you're seated. he notes the tissues and cough drop wrappers crowding your space, then the tears that coat your lashes when he kneels down.

"jesus, (y/n)," he murmurs, swiftly getting to work and clearing your desk of all your trash. when he's done, he crouches by you again and runs a hand over your back. "baby, wake up for me. come on," he coaxes softly.

you stir, face tightening in discomfort. suguru sees the bags under your eyes and his frown deepens. Eventually, you wake with furrowed brows, adjusting your blurry eyes to the sight of suguru gazing down at you worriedly.

"sugu...?" you mumble weakly, only to be interrupted by a few coughs that rack your chest. suguru's heart aches.

"i knew it," he sighs, eyes hardening as his hand strokes over your warm forehead. "why don't you listen?"

"what are you doing here?" you grumble, picking your head up slowly. you're greeted with a retched reminder of your headache, and you wince, pressing your hand to your head.

"we had an agreement, remember?" he reminds you, and you slowly recall. you move to grab your phone and the time reads 7:15. "i wasn't joking."

"suguru..."

"stop," he immediately cuts you off. "look at you, (y/n). you've made yourself sick."

"it's just a- a cough," you murmur, rubbing your irritated eyes harshly.

"that's bullshit, baby," he tells you rather firmly. "i don't know why you're trying to hide this from me when i knew something like this would happen. we're going home."

"no, wait, Suguru, i didn't finish my paperwork yet."

"do you think I give two shits about your paperwork?"

his tone comes off rather harshly, and both of you notice. he blinks his eyes tensely and readjusts himself, attempting to reel in his anger. his anger for you, over your lack of care for your wellbeing, at your fucking boss for letting you work yourself like this.

"you've been killing yourself for weeks, (y/n). i won't let you anymore. this is the last straw."

"hold on," you urge. suguru looks down at you, befuddled. "i really can't just up and leave my work behind like this. I'm sorry, I can't."

"what's more important to you, (y/n)? being healthy or working yourself to death?" he proposes, almost pained by the latter. "if you cared about your well-being, you would have asked for an extension or at least had a conversation with your dick of a boss about doing this another time. anyone can see that you aren't feeling well, and someone who cares will tell you that enough is enough."

"don't make me do this, suguru," you whimper. suguru's face relaxes when he sees your eyes glossing over. "don't make me stop. I can't stop."

"baby," he curls his brows, holding your cheek in his hand as he kneels before you. "why are you doing this to yourself?"

"b-because, I have to..."

"no, you don't. i've been telling you this for years, you don't have to do this."

"but I need to make something of myself. i have to keep going. i can't just quit, because if I do, then what will any of this have meant? why have i been doing this?"

"you're breaking my heart, baby," suguru exhales. "this job doesn't define you. i see how hardworking, smart, and strong you are. i see the effort you put into everything you do. i see the commitment in your heart. i see it everywhere, all the time, and that is one of many reasons why i love you so much."

your lips wobble as you look into his hazel eyes as his voice and words melt you into his palm. you've been moving so fast all this time, you've been trying to prevent yourself from falling into suguru's warmth, which has always had the power to make you do anything he says.

"but I can't stand to watch you make yourself sick because you think there's more you need to do. this isn't good for you. you know it isn't."

you nod, red nose flaring as you sniff. "i know," you admit.

"so please, please take a break. i'm literally begging you. you need to come home and rest. i'll take care of everything else, just come home. lay down. come back to us. to me."

your shoulders jerk as a few tears drop from your eyes. "sugu, i can't do this anymore," you finally give in. "i don't even feel like myself. i just want to go home."

"then let's go baby, come on," he stands and takes you with him in his arms, pressing your body to his as he holds you. you sink into him, your exhaustion and your sickness finally crashing down over you. "i'm gonna fucking kill your boss," he murmurs into your hair.

you laugh weakly against him, closing your eyes. "later. just take me home, now. please."

"yes ma'am," he nods, kneeling down to pick you up into his arms. you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into his chest.

"m'gonna get you sick," you mutter.

"we can be sick together," he chuckles. "the girls and I can make you some soup. they've been obsessed with cooking lately," he says, leaning over to shut off your monitor before carrying you off to the elevators.

"that picture of them you sent earlier made me so sad. I miss you guys so much."

"i'm sorry baby, i didn't mean to upset you that much. i was only trying to guilt you a little into coming home early."

you slap his shoulder pathetically. "asshole."

"i know, i'm sorry," he kisses your head. "gonna get you all better in no time."

kento nanami: (low iron!)

you have always been a little anemic, and of course that never really posed as a terrible challenge for you until you ran out of iron supplements.

it is your responsibility undoubtedly to keep track of when you run out and when you need to restock, but recently, you've found yourself neglecting the habit.

you never did like taking iron pills, or any supplements for that matter. you feel as though they take too much out of your daily life, as though they're a burden to your existence, and the harder you think about it, the less inclined you are to keep track of it.

it's been about three weeks since you last took your iron, and while you would like to say that you have improved significantly, you would be lying.

perhaps the first few days of not taking your supplements was fine, but as time droned on, the symptoms kicked back in rather quickly. you are extremely tired all the time, you feel lighter on your feet as if you are going to pass out at any given moment, and your hands and feet are ridiculously cold though it is now the summertime, and the weather outside thoroughly contrasts your body temperature.

you're in denial about the changes, of course. you want to be able to feel fine without the crutch of your pills, but the reality of the situation is that you don't, and it's crushing you for some reason.

what's crushing you more is that you know how disappointed nanami will be to find out that you haven't been being responsible in stocking up on your supplements. he would normally keep track of when you run out in addition to you, but he's reeled it in a bit over the past few months because you wanted him to trust that you can handle taking care of something that you've managed all of your life, so he did.

and yet, here you are, trying to hide the symptoms of your iron deficiency that are only proving harder to veil. nanami has already asked you a few times if you are feeling okay over the past few weeks, therefore you know that he suspects exactly what is happening, but you brush him off each time.

"i'm good, honey," you'd tell him. "just had a long day. what about you? how are you feeling?"

you feel like shit lying to him, but you're afraid of being truthful for some reason. he would scold you, and you'd have to resort to the aid of your only weakness all over again.

god, why can't you just be normal?

you've even tried to ween off of the strict iron-sufficient diet that you've been on practically all your life because you feel like you have something to prove, especially in this world of jujutsu. how can you be a sorcerer with low iron? how can something so smell render you so weak? it's pathetic.

you don't want to think about it, in truth. you want it all to just go away. you want to be fine, to feel fine without eating certain things constantly or taking those damn pills, and you try to force yourself to, but it only grows worse the longer you hide it.

you stumble into your home after a long day of teaching and press your back to the door with a sigh. you know nanami won't be home for another forty or so minutes, so you kick your shoes off, go grab a water, and plop down on the couch.

you feel so tired. you pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, leaning back. this is stupid, you think. you're being stupid. just reorder the damn pills.

but something stubborn within you refuses. something within you that must prove you can push past this.

you decide to watch some tv to distract you as you wait for nanami to return home. he suggested cooking for you tonight, so you rest until you hear him walking through the door.

"hi honey," he greets. you turn to smile gently at him as he rounds the corner. your cheeks pinch with happiness, your current turmoil momentarily forgotten when you see your husband approach. you go to stand and walk into his open arms, just like you normally do when he comes home.

you put the remote to the side and shoot up. your mind is occupied only by nanami as you move toward him, but you see his face drop and your vision turns upside down, and suddenly, you're falling.

kento is quick to react, ducking down impressively to catch you in his arms before you can hit the ground. you collapse into him, head dizzy and breath suddenly gone.

"sweetheart?! (y/n) are you alright? are you awake?"

you groan, shifting in his strong arms as they cradle you securely. when your vision regains focus, you're staring up at nanami's worried face, your body resting over his lap. you blink rapidly before realizing what just happened.

"oh shit," you whisper.

"(y/n)," nanami says your name again, caressing your cheek sweetly. "are you here with me now?"

"y-yeah," you nod, moving to sit up and press your hand to his chest. "i'm alright."

"absolutely not," he stops you immediately, pressing against you to lay you back down on his lip. you frown, looking up at him. "don't even try sitting up like that right now."

"kento," you start, growing worried by the tense look on his face. "i'm okay, really. i just sat up too fast."

"i know," he affirms, his thumb still smoothing over your skin. "and care to tell me why that alone is making you pass out?"

you can't find the words to respond as you stare at him, likely as guiltily as you feel. he hums knowingly.

"right," he sighs. "(y/n), how long has it been since you've taken your iron?"

and there it is. the very question you had been dreading.

"...i'm not sure what you're-"

"don't. really, don't," he interjects firmly and you shiver, rather unfamiliar with this side of your doting partner. "i'm still trying to adjust to the fact that you haven't been truthful with me. the least you can do is tell me how long it's been."

your heart drops. "kento..."

"i'm not in the mood for stalling, sweetheart. go on. out with it."

the sternness of his voice hardly matches the way he is holding you and stroking your cheek, but nevertheless, you feel awful. you avert your gaze and shrink into yourself. "three weeks."

"three?" he repeats incredulously, and you nod in shame. "i knew it had been over a week, but three, (y/n)?"

"i know," you mutter.

"why? after you told me not to check after you, to trust that you'd take care of yourself," nanami questions. "this is why i tried to help you. i know it can be a hassle sometimes, and forgetting is one thing, but to deliberately stop taking them when you know how much i worry about it... when you know how important it is for you?"

you bite hard on your lip and look away, brows curling. nanami notices immediately and softens himself, leaning down closer to you.

"my love," he starts. "i don't mean to upset you, but this is very upsetting to me."

"i know. i know, i'm sorry..." you whimper.

"but not because it's about me, (y/n), because it's about you. and you've been hiding this from me, of all things. i don't understand."

"i just didn't wanna take them anymore, ken," you say quietly.

the blonde furrows his brows. "you didn't want to take them? have you not been taking them for years?"

"i have but that's the problem. i'm a sorcerer now, and..." you exhale. "the point of being a sorcerer is to not have anything weighing you down, and this weighs me down."

"if anything, (y/n), not taking the supplements weighs you down more."

"no, i just mean- all of it, the whole iron deficiency, i hate it," you confess. "i'm tired of relying on something to be strong. i'm tired of being tied down to this. i wanted to see if i could overcome it, but i can't. i'll always have this problem, and it sucks, ken," you ramble. "if i could go without taking these pills and still do my job like i always have, then just maybe.... maybe i could be better. and i could prove that i... i don't need those stupid pills, or the extra greens, or the- whatever. just all of it."

nanami looks down at you rather sadly. "i had no idea you felt this way."

"i haven't always felt this way. it's just lately, i don't know, i feel pressured to go beyond."

"darling, your iron-deficiency doesn't make you any less talented than other sorcerers."

"i know. i mean, i should know, but i can't help but feel that way."

nanami presses his lips together, smoothing a knuckle over your cheekbone. "i'm sorry you feel like this."

"it's not your fault, ken. and i shouldn't have kept this from you, i know. i'm sorry. i just felt humiliated by it."

"there's nothing for you to be humiliated by," he reassures you. "your deficiency is no different from any of us having to feed ourselves or drink water in between missions to keep ourselves alive. it's a necessity, and though we are sorcerers, we live off of necessities to keep ourselves physically and mentally able to work. you have a responsibility to yourself. just like the rest of us. just because your iron's a little lower doesn't mean anything about who you are as a sorcerer."

"...i never thought of it like that. i've just been thinking of it as a burden."

"it's only a burden if you view it that way. you are a grade one sorcerer who i have watched climb the ranks effortlessly since we were in high school, all the while with an iron deficiency that you have always taken supplements for. that never stopped you," he says. "the problem comes in when you don't keep up with yourself and take care of those needs. just like how i'd be unable to work if i decided to skip my last few meals and drink less water."

"that makes sense," you mumble, capturing his soft brown eyes with yours.

"good," he nods. "(y/n) you can't neglect your needs like this."

"i know."

"i'm being serious. i'll start checking behind you again if i find out that you're not doing what you need to do to take care of your body."

"i know, ken, i'm sorry, i-" you stop yourself and shake your head. "i just let my insecurities get the best of me."

"then, let me handle taking care of your insecurities. you handle taking your supplements. do we have an agreement?"

you nod slowly. "yeah. we do. i'm sorry for lying again, ken."

"please don't do it again," he sighs, ducking to kiss your forehead. "but i know you wouldn't lie to me about anything else, and that you hiding this was solely out of fear."

you slowly move to sit up, and this time, kento helps you very gradually. he guides you back to sit on the couch and cups your face gently, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "i'll go order some more iron and then get started on dinner. alright?"

you hum with a soft smile. "alright. i love you, ken."

he returns your loving smile. "i love you more, sweetheart."

choso kamo: (broken finger!)

it had fully been an accident.

you should have been paying more attention to what you were doing and at the same time, so should have panda.

it really was an honest mistake. you were standing in the doorway as everyone left the classroom, your fingers clutched around the frame as everyone filed out. you were asking around if anyone had seen your boyfriend, and yuta mentioned that he saw him with yuji earlier that day.

you thanked him, and just as you were about to pull your hand away, panda, who was the last out of the room, slammed the door shut behind him thinking you had already moved out of the way.

but you hadn't.

the door flew into your index and middle fingers and you screamed bloody murder. the cursed corpse as well as his classmates whipped their heads around, and to panda's horror, you were knocking your forehead against the wall with tears in your eyes as your fingers trembled in the doorframe.

"(Y/N), HOLY SHIT I'M SO SORRY!"

you hadn't expected panda to actually break one of your fingers, but you give the freak credit for his unnatural strength. you later find out that yuji and choso had gone out to grab food for you when you see a text from your boyfriend pop up asking what flavor ramen you want the second you learn that shoko will not be available until late tonight.

for the time being, you're given a finger splint and pain medicine as though you aren't freaking surrounded by jujutsu sorcery.

and god, did it hurt! like, really, really hurt. your fingers are throbbing, and the one that isn't broken is bruised and stained with some blood. you wish you could be angrier at panda, but his groveling before your feet on his knees eases your frustration a bit. after all, it hadn't been on purpose.

you're sent home and you are given no choice but to wait until choso returns, and you're... nervous. choso never handles the ailment of his loved ones very well. his spiritual and physical connection to his brothers wellbeings' often causes him to lose his mind every time yuji gets accidentally punched in the face during training, and when it comes to you? well, choso is just the same if not somehow worse.

you remember one time you got a papercut and winced when your finger made contact with soap. choso was quick to your side, grasping your wrist and looking over your hand as though it had been severed off.

one thing you have come to know in your relationship with the brunette is that he would (and has) killed someone for the sake of the people closest to him. he does not mess around when it comes to his family, and he certainly doesn't mess around when it comes to you.

and while you think he can be a bit excessive with making sure you're alright when it's hardly necessary, it's first and foremost endearing, and it only makes you realize that he will go ballistic the second he finds out that someone broke your finger.

he doesn't naively think that you can never go unharmed, though he would be incredibly content with the notion if it were plausible. he's familiar with scars, wounds, fights, and battles, and he knows you're in the very center of it just as much as he and his brother are. but still, he hates it when you're hurt. he wants to protect you as best as he can, or to at least prevent you from suffering any more than a sorcerer already has to suffer. he only wants you to be safe.

so to prevent him from having a heart attack, you decide it's better if he doesn't know about the incident. when you answer his texts before heading home, you mention nothing about your poor finger in hopes of him not finding out at least until after you're healed.

that plan of yours, however, fails when choso comes barging through the door three hours earlier than you expected him to return. your eyes go wide from where you sit on the couch, and you have no time to even go to hide your fingers behind your back when choso marches up to you, agitated.

"uh-" you're cut off when he grabs your arm gently and lifts it into the air, your taped crooked finger showcasing itself to him. you press your lips together at how poorly the plan to conceal this from him has failed. "cho-"

"were you gonna tell me about this?" his violet eyes fly to yours in a fury, and you're almost stunned by how aggravated he looks. his voice is calm, low, but his face is wrecked with concern and almost betrayal.

"...i was, but i wanted to wait because i didn't want you to freak out..." you say slowly, watching him softly. "like you are now..?"

"that's not fair, (y/n)," he frowns and you furrow your brows. "that's not fair at all."

"woah, hold on... are you mad at me?"

"i don't know," he answers you honestly, looking between your face and your trembling hand. "i'm... upset."

"who told you about my fingers, love?"

"yuji got a text from yuta," he tells you, moving to sit down on the space beside you with your hand still cradled in his. "he said that panda was begging me not to kill him, and this was after i had talked to you."

"oh..." you sigh. "okay, yeah, i can see how that looks."

"why didn't you tell me you got hurt? and pretty badly too? where's ieiri?"

"she won't be back on campus for another hour," you explain. "i didn't want you to worry, cho, i figured i'd just tell you after it was better, but..."

"why would you try to hide something from me?" he asks you, suddenly sounding hurt. it's clear on his face that he doesn't understand why you would conceal something as important as your health from him, whether it was small or not. you tell each other everything, and that shouldn't have stopped now of all times because you don't want him to worry.

"i didn't know you'd get so upset, cho, honestly," you tell him. "i-" you stop when a sharp pain shoots through your fingers and you gasp. choso's face drops and he gently sets your hand down to his lap, panicked.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes. "shit, you must be in a lot of pain."

"it's nothing i haven't experienced before," you try to reassure him, giving him a tight smile.

"why does that matter?" choso drags his brows together. "pain is pain. i don't like when you feel any of it."

you melt. "i know. i know you don't, i don't like when you feel any of it either."

"so don't... keep stuff like this from me, (y/n)," he says sternly. "please, i need to know. i don't have the same connection to you that i have with my blood brothers, but i'm still connected to you all the same. when you hurt, i hurt."

"i get it cho, i'm sorry," you nod bashfully. "i wasn't trying to make you mad. i just don't like it when you're stressed out."

"i'm always stressed out," he says flatly, and you raise your brows with a halfhearted smile.

"yeah, i know. so why stress you even more?"

"i'd rather be stressed about you if i'm stressing about anything," he says, looking over your face as the hardness in his gaze washes away. "you know you're everything to me."

"i know, baby," you push out your bottom lip, pressing your free hand to the side of his cheek and leaning in to kiss him. his ears burn when you pull away, and he sighs heavily.

"don't offend me by trying to hide stuff like this. it won't work."

"i'm sorryyyy," you giggle and choso grumbles incoherently under his breath.

his gaze goes back to your fingers and his brows curl. "how the hell do you slam a door on someone's hand?" he hisses.

"it was an accident, cho, he didn't mean it."

"i know, and i shouldn't really be angry at him but i can't help but be irritated because you're hurt..." his fingers graze the tape. "how bad does it hurt?"

"cho, it'll be okay."

"that wasn't my question."

you roll your eyes at his attitude with a soft smile. "it hurts as much as a broken finger would."

"right. sorry," he murmurs.

"you're okay, love, you don't need to apologize."

"i still wish i- nevermind," he refrains himself from discussing how he wanted to be there to protect you from such an unpredictable occurence. "is there anything i can do to help you feel better while we wait? do you need anything?"

"ummm," you try to think. "actually, could you grab a new pack of ice from the freezer? and... the snacks you got me earlier."

the brunette's face brightens slightly with the thought that he can do something to help ease your pain as you wait for shoko to return to the school.

he nods in determination, carefully sliding your hand into your lap and kissing your cheek before hopping up to run to the kitchen. he returns with the items you requested, placing the snacks down beside him and lifting the bag of ice over your hand.

"like this?" he eases the bag down and you wince, nodding.

"mhm. yeah," you strain out. choso watches your face sadly, hating the fact that you're hurting.

"i'm sorry for getting upset," he mumbles. you turn to look at him curiously. "i just love you a lot."

"i love you more, cho," you smile gently, leaning your head against his shoulder. he sighs, resting his chin atop your head as he ices your hand. "and don't worry, i get it. i won't try to hide injuries from you anymore."

"i really hope so."

"now can you pass me those chips please?"

toji fushiguro: (knife cut!)

toji is going to absolutely kill you, and you are dreading the moment he does.

he has always told you not to touch his weapons. even if you see any of them lying around his place because he never bothers to clean up in between jobs. his one rule when you're over is to leave them alone and to let him handle them when he gets back. he doesn't care how much you protest, he doesn't care that you want to help him pick up after himself.

no touching. that is all he asks of you.

and of course... one afternoon when he's out sorting out some finances with shiu and one of his knives is glaring at you from where it lay on the kitchen table, you can't help yourself.

you don't really think anything is going to happen. after all, you're not a baby, nor are you an idiot. you know how to handle a freaking knife and you know where to put it, and yet, somehow, you allow your arrogance with the task to distract you. you're not handling it as carefully as you should be, and the second you hear the keys jingling outside the front door, you panic.

the blade, naturally, fumbles in your grasp, and swipes through the air, over your palm, and to the carpet. you jump, stepping away as quickly as it falls. you feel a sting in your hand and look down to see the fresh gash stretching over your skin. you gape as blood slowly simmers from the wound, befuddled as to how something like this even happened so quickly.

you have no time to clean it when you hear the key inside the lock. you hurriedly pick up the knife with your unwounded hand, place it back on the table where you first saw it, rip a napkin from said table to press to your bleeding palm, and clench it into a fist just as the door opens.

toji immediately greets you with a raised brow, jade eyes eying you oddly as he steps in. "the hell are you gettin' into?" he asks, confused by the way you are standing against the wall when he enters.

you're quick to move into his space to distract him from the vision of his knife and from looking any further downward from your face. you lean up on your tiptoes, normal hand on his forearm as you kiss his scarred lips. "what do you mean?"

"why were you just standing there like that?"

"can't I wait by the door for you to come back?" you bat your eyelashes, and toji grunts, gazing down at you with lidded eyes as his hand comes around the small of your back. "i'm just happy to see you."

"you take a pill or somethin', doll?"

you glare at him. "now why would you ask me that?"

"you're just acting a little too nice, that's all."

you scoff. "i don't know what you're talking about, i'm literally always happy to see you."

"yeah, but i was gone for thirty minutes and you never make a show of it like this."

"why are you making it sound like i don't show you love? you're the one who's mean all the time," you retort sassily.

a smirk captures toji's lips as he ducks down to kiss you again. "that's more like it," he murmurs against you. "still ain't answer my question though."

"i literally did. i told you i was waiting for you."

"sure," he says, unconvinced. his eyes drag down your body and momentarily go to your fist when you swiftly wrap both arms around his neck, pulling him down to crash your lips into him once more.

his brows narrow and as you kiss him, and you can feel the blood on your hand seeping through your napkin. you curse internally, lowering your hand back down behind him as he pulls away.

"not that i'm against this," toji starts, voice dangerously low against your mouth. "but it feels like you're tryin' to distract me from something."

"why would i be doing that?" you ask gently, looking up into his piercing eyes. he hums, dragging himself away from you. he grabs your chin softly and tilts your head left and right, looking over your face. "what are you doing?" you ask.

"lookin' for whatever you're hiding."

"i'm not hiding anything, toji."

"uh huh."

shit. it's never a good sign when toji doesn't even try to pretend to believe anything you're saying, and the way he's looking over your face let's you know that he at least suspects you've done something to yourself that he should know about.

you keep your fist to his back as he looks over the rest of your body with a rather relaxed expression, which only means that he doesn't suspect you touching any of his weapons. yet.

you have to keep his attention away from the knife on the table so that he doesn't figure it out.

"can you stop messing around already? i wanna go take a shower," you try to say, but toji doesn't listen.

"turn around f'me."

"huh?"

"huh?" he mimics you, looking at you unimpressed. "turn."

you suck your teeth. "i hate when you get like this."

"and i hate when you lie, now turn."

you grimance. you can't turn around with him looking down at your hand, and you're sure by now that the napkin you hold is coated red. your eye twitches in that moment when you feel a line of blood drip down your wrist.

god dammit. you're so dead.

nonetheless, you try to keep your palm facing inward as you slip it from his back and turn over your left shoulder, which connects to the uninjured hand. the second your back is to him, you bring your bloody hand in front of you.

"yeah, no," you hear toji gruffly say. your heart hammers in your throat and you know what's coming next. he moves around you to wrap his hand around your wrist and tug at it.

you cringe, allowing yourself to accept your fate when he pulls forward your balled up hand.

"open."

"can't we just-"

"open."

you sigh heavily, slowly peeling open your palm to reveal the red-stained napkin balled in it, the line of blood rushing down your inner arm, and the slice that stretches across your hand.

toji's eyes blow wide, and before he asks you anything, he throws his head over his shoulder to locate the knife that sits on the table. "are you fucking kidding me, (y/n)?" he growls, turning back to face you angrily.

"okay, let's not act like this is so crazy!" you immediately defend, throwing your other arm up. "you leave your shit lying around all the time!"

"and every single time, i tell you that i'll take care of it. what the fuck, do i have to go child-proofing the house now because of you?"

"if you would just be more mindful of how you leave your space, you wouldn't even have to worry about shit like this! you shouldn't even have knives lying around in the first place."

"i'm a grown man, (y/n), i know how to avoid cutting myself with the weapons i use daily."

"you're being a prick."

"oh baby, you must not know me because i'm about to be worse," he grunts, eyes heated with fury, and you frown.

"toji, come onnn, it was an accident."

"what do i always say about my weapons, (y/n)?"

"i just wanted to help you put it away, is that so crazy?"

"what. do i say. about my weapons."

you deflate slightly, uneased by the rate at which toji is growing angry with you. "...not to touch them."

"so why the fuck did you touch them?" he growls, picking up the napkin in your palm and tossing it over his shoulder. he looks over your wound and clenches his jaw. "fucking hell, (y/n)."

"look, i'm sorry."

"shut the hell up and come on."

despite his rage, he leads you to the bathoom with surprising care.

when you arrive, he flicks on the light with his free hand and swipes up a cloth from under the sink. he turns to you, pressing it down to your wound to stop the bleeding. once it seems like it's done, he puts the cloth down and turns on the faucet. "put your hand under," he orders, guiding it to the cool water nonetheless.

the water hits your open wound bitterly and you jump, watching the blood run through the drain as toji washes your arm as well.

"sit," he nods over to the bathtub, shutting off the faucet.

you oblige mutely, shuffling over and holding out your hand. you sit slowly on the ledge of the tub and watch as toji shuffles through his cupboards for a bottle of peroxide, some bandages, and ointment. you dread what is coming, for you know your hand is gonna sting like a bitch.

toji thuds over to sit hunched on the closed toilet lid, leaning over to grab your hand again. you stretch your fingers out and he sighs, shaking his head. "so fucking hard-headed," he murmurs.

you watch him screw open the bottle of liquid.

"go slowly," you plead.

"it's gonna hurt all the same, doll," he tells you, and you pout. "you should listen next time, then maybe you wouldn't have to go through this."

"shut the fuck up."

toji clicks his tongue, glancing at you momentarily before leaning down and holding the bottle over you, grasping your wrist loosely with your hand above his knee. "keep still."

the peroxide comes flooding out of the bottle and onto your hand, bubbling instantly over your gash. you whimper, tensing your body and scrunching your eyes at the sting.

"i know," toji mumbles, smoothing his thumb gently over your wrist. "you're alright."

your fingers dig into your thigh as it continues to burn. toji leans over to put down the bottle and continues to caress your arm, lowering your hand to his lap. he blows over your palm slightly as the peroxide dries, and you eventually open your eyes.

"not so bad," he tells you. he leans himself back to reach for a new cloth then pats it around the gash, drying your hand and your arm. he reaches back again for the tube of almost empty ointment he found and twists it open, squeezing it over your wound. "shit, hold on," he stops. he lets you lift your hand as he rushes to wash his own before coming to sit back down at hold yours on his leg again, now with bandages in hand.

you watch him gently as he works the bandage over you with such attentiveness, a dip in his brow proving his focus. you suddenly feel guilty for making him worry.

"i'm sorry," you finally say again, this time with more meaning.

toji's green eyes snap up at you amidst his wrapping. "yeah?"

"i really was just trying to help you. didn't mean to stress you out."

toji sighs, pausing his movements to look you in the eye. "you need to be more careful. i tell you not to touch my stuff because it's not your responsibility. obviously i know you can yourself, but some of my shit's really dangerous and i don't want you gettin' hurt," he gestures to your hand. "it could've been a lot worse, but still."

"if you don't want me touching your weapons, toji, you should probably clean them up more," you quirk a brow and he exhales loudly.

"i'm seeing that now, yeah," he says. "i'll be more careful if you are. don't need my doll getting a bunch of scars 'cause of me, now."

you smile softly. "yeah. i won't touch your stuff anymore, i promise."

"...how about instead i just... teach you how to handle 'em the right way?"

you perk up. "really?"

"i don't see why not. i'd rather you know how to use some of it than see you scrape yourself up because you don't know how to hold a knife."

"don't be a smartass."

toji smirks, continuing with his wrapping of your hand. "i mean it. i'll sit down with you sometime to show you."

"...how about after we're done here?"

"don't fucking push it."

ryomen sukuna: (fever!)

you wake up in a cold sweat, shivering.

you groan in displeasure, rolling over, slightly discombobulated. it can't be any later than 7 am, but you are boiling hot. you press your hand to your forehead and curse. you're sweating profusely and you feel incredibly lightheaded.

you don't even have the energy to get up, but you know that you need to take your temperature. you shudder, carefully shuffling out of bed and wincing as every brush against your skin feels like the stab of a thousand pins and needles.

you lethargically make your way to your bathroom, the cool air hitting your neck and sending you into a fit of shivers. you cling to yourself, teeth chattering, and reach into your cabinet for a thermometer. with half-open eyes, you pop it under your tongue and make your way back to your bed, bundling up in your blankets and curling into a ball.

it feels like hours before the beep resounds, and you slowly lift it from your mouth to read the little digital numbers.

102.4. perfect.

you shudder in pain, tossing the thermometer to the side and nestling your face in your pillows. you feel like absolute shit, but you can't bring yourself to do much else. you need medicine, water, a cool compress, but none of those things you have access to currently.

you close your eyes as your mind swarms, body throbbing and shuddering with chills though the last thing you need is to be cuddled under the covers. you think maybe it will go away if you get some rest. maybe you just need to relax, to take some time in bed. you'll let sukuna know when-

shit! sukuna.

there's no way in hell or on earth that sukuna will allow you to go untreated if you tell him, but god, you don't feel like letting him know. despite his likely haste to make sure you have everything you need, you can only imagine the snarky comments about your fragility, your strange body, your vulnerability that he''ll spout.

you don't want to hear it. you don't want to hear any of it, because you're sure that if you do, you'll start crying. you're already worn down, clearly, and the last thing you need on top of a fever is your boyfriend joking about your weak state.

you elect to stay in bed and tell sukuna you'll see him another time if he pesters you today.

which of course, he does.

a whirlwind of alarming dreams that you almost thought were hallucinations are disrupted by the persistent buzzing of your phone on your dress. you groan, reaching out a shaky hand to blindly grab the device and answer the call, pressing it to your ear with no knowledge of who you're speaking to.

"yes?" you croak.

"can't answer a telephone call the first time it rings?" sukuna's voice thunders through the mic, and you lift your brows.

"kuna?" you try to say his name normally, despite the constant chatter of your teeth.

"who the hell else would it be?"

"sorry... i was asleep."

"at this hour?"

"...what'dy'mean?"

"jesus, woman, it's 2 in the afternoon. why the hell are you still in bed?"

you reel momentarily at his words. 2 pm? it was just 7 in the morning! have you really been sleeping all this time?

"oh..." is all you can manage to say before a chill wracks your body again. you cringe, curling into yourself and holding the phone away from you.

"oh?" the king of curses repeats. "what is the matter with you?"

"n-nothing," you respond quickly. "i guess i was up late last night. i was c-completely knocked out..." you tremble.

"last night you told me you were going to sleep early because you were tired, you brat."

fuckkkk.

how could you have forgotten about that? you hadn't been feeling well last night, which is likely the reason why you feel so much worse today, so you turned in early. "i- couldn't fall asleep until later, though," you mumble.

"you are attempting to deceive me," sukuna grunts. "care to explain why?"

"m'not, kuna," you sigh halfheartedly.

"what exactly do you take me for?"

you're really not in the mood for this. you're aching at this point, and you can tell your body temperature has only risen. you're so weak. you can barely even process the fact that you're on the phone, and you can't handle sukuna's attitude. not if he's not going to help, which you automatically assume that he won't.

"i'm going back to bed," you say softly.

"what do you mean back to bed?!" sukuna fumes. "seriously, what the hell is the matter with you. you sound ill."

"i'm not i-ill."

"then why do you keep stumbling over your words, woman?" he questions, his voice mellowing out into a steady intensity. "what is it now? your monthly plague? whatever you people call allergies?"

this is exactly why you don't want him to know. he handles these things too crudely, as if it's a burden upon his existence. "y-you ask too many damn questions."

"i wouldn't have to if you answered them. now talk."

"i'm fine, sukuna. i'm just gonna go back to sleep."

"you hang up this phone, i'm at your door in two seconds."

"that's impossible."

"try me."

you know he's serious, but you don't have the energy. you can't stay on the phone with him any longer, trying to speak like nothing's wrong. it's cold. so cold, but you're so hot. you're probably drenched in a pool of your own sweat, but you can't feel it. you want to sleep. you just want him to let you sleep.

your vision grows dizzy as you stare ahead, brows arching in discomfort. you think you press the end call button, but you can still hear his voice picking up in urgency... is he shouting? are you even on the phone anymore? you aren't sure.

your vision suddenly drifts into inky blackness as the phone rests beside you on your pillow. the last thing you are aware of before you slip into unconsciousness again is banging at your front door.

sukuna bursts into your apartment mere minutes after you stopped answering him on the phone. he looks about ready to kill, crimson eyes wide and pupils shrunken as he breathes heavily, looking all over your apartment.

he's stomping to your room and throwing the door open when he sees you laying in the bed. "(y/n)!" he barks, searching for some response from you, but all he recieves or nonsensical murmurs.

he moves quickly to the side of your bed and grabs at your shoulder, turning you over to find your sheets drenched and your face tight with discomfort. he falters, heart jerking at the sight. "...the fuck?"

he presses a hand to your sweat-drenched face and furrows his brows in concern. you're hot. too hot for the temperature of a human being, and you're sweating like crazy, mumbling things under your breath in your sleep he can't even hear.

"the fuck did you do?" he grumbles, starting to internally panic. he scrambles to remember what this could be. he knows of plague, of pestilence, so maybe you're suffering some form of that?

hell, he can't tell. not from a glance. he's not even sure if he knows how to help you. you're entirely too hot for him to brush this off like it's nothing, and you passed out in the middle of speaking to him.

he looks over and sees the thermometer on your sheets and leans over to pick it up. the screen reads a high number, which he assumes is the temperature of your body. curious himself, he prods open your jaw and tucks it into your mouth, pressing the button the way you had shown him when you had the flu to reset the time.

"come the fuck on," he growls as seconds tick by before it beeps, and he pulls it from your lips to read 104.7.

he doesn't know how far it is from your usual temp, but he knows it's high. too high.

he's quick to dial uraume for some more information, and the second he hears that you need immediate medical help, he's picking you up and making a run for it without even thinking that uraume can likely help you.

when you wake, you're blinded by nauseating lights blaring down overhead. "ugh," you groan, feeling light and disoriented. you turn your head to the side and blink, to find sukuna's face staring directly at you rather harshly.

you jump slightly, startled. "what-?" you start, scrunching your eyes to adjust to the sight before you. "sukuna? what are you..." you trail off when you realize that you aren't in your house, nor are you at sukuna's estate. instead, you're in a hospital bed hooked up to a series of fluids.

your eyes go wide as you sit up suddenly, only to be hit with a sudden dizzy spell that sends you leaning back into the bed.

"don't move," he orders, and you turn to him in confusion. never would you have expected to see the day that sukuna sits in a chair beside you in a hospital.

"why are we... what happened?"

"apparently you had a high fever," he answers harshly, fist-propping his chin up over his leg. "too high for you to be seen in my care, and too high for you to be lying in bed as though nothing was wrong."

your heart sinks. "how high?"

"when we got here, tipping past 105."

"...are you serious?"

"i had to come bust down your door to make sure you were alive. i put you on an empty roller downstairs because these fucking dumbass doctors can't see me and i had to get their attention so they could notice you. yes, i am serious."

he sounds pissed. and you hardly want to think of what he means by ‘getting their attention.’

"what do you have to say for yourself? for daring to lie to me? for pretending like you weren't on the brink of a much worse fate?"

"...i..."

"you're so lucky you're unwell, girl, because you don't even want to imagine the things i would do to you as punishment for putting yourself in such a ridiculous situation," he growls. "all you had to do was tell me and i would have taken care of it before it got worse."

you blink, almost dumbfounded. you still aren't all there, but you can tell that your fever has gone down significantly. you're no longer sweating and fewer chills wrack your body. "...huh?"

"did that fucking fever scramble your brain or what?" he fumes, eyeing you sharply. "you should have told me."

you part your lips slightly as you look at him. "honestly, sukuna, i didn't think you'd really... i don't know-"

"care?"

"no, not care. i just didn't think you'd handle it well. i didn't even handle it well myself."

"you believe me to be incapable of tending to sickness?"

"no, i just thought you'd like... not take it seriously."

sukuna's eyes darken, and you realize that you may have said the wrong thing. "in what reality would i fail to take any threat to your health seriously, whether you are frail or not?"

"see, that's what i mean. you always have to slip in something about me being frail."

"because you are. as a member of your species. look at where you lay currently," sukuna grimaces. "that is not an insult to you, it's an observation. it's an insult, however, to everyone else who isn't you."

you relax slightly. "then you were actually worried?"

sukuna scoffs. "why the hell do you think i'm sitting in a human hospital with your sick ass right now? i thought we were past you believing i do not concern myself over you."

you suddenly feel foolish, having forced yourself to suffer in your isolation and simultaneously made sukuna, of all people, worry over you.

"hm. feeling foolish, are you?" he says, reading your mind.

"shut up,," you whine, only to clutch your stomach suddenly with a groan. sukuna sighs as he gently eases your head back onto the pillow.

"i told you not to exert yourself. you give me a headache."

"kuna," you mumble.

"what?"

"can you... take me home?"

sukuna raises a brow. "home?"

"to your place," you clarify. "i don't wanna be here. i just want to be with you. want you to hold me."

"you're such a needy thing," he exhales, toying with a strand of your hair as he leans over and gazes gently at you. "you have medications you need to take."

"then bring them with."

"and if you get sick again? you've only been here ten hours."

"ten?!" you exclaim.

"you were very ill, (y/n)."

you groan. "ten is long enough. i hate hospitals. take me home. i feel better anyway, and if i get worse, i’ll just go to uraume."

sukuna sighs, standing slowly. "after i get these tubes out of you without further damaging you, i will take you home," he says, looking over the IVs that you're hooked up to.

you close your eyes tiredly and nod in acceptance. "okay," you murmur.

he grunts. "let me find some damn instructions.”

"kuna," your hand weakly reaches out to catch his wrist and he stops, turning to look down at you.

"what is it?"

you open your eyes to look up at him fondly, exhaustion welling in your gaze. "thank you."

the king of curses clenches his jaw. he smoothes ahead over your now warm forehead and leans over you. "don't do some shit like this again."

[pearlywritings]

New day - same you

synopsis: morning routine with them and other sweet moments

pairing and characters: Argenti, Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Dan Heng, Gallagher, Gepard Landau, Jiaoqiu, Jing Yuan, Loucha, Sunday, Veritas Ratio (separately) x reader

tw: established relationship (marriage/dating), fluff, halovian!reader in Sunday's, halovians have back wings here, foxian!reader in Jiaoqiu's (and his part is written before 2.5)

word count: ~4k words

Argenti

With Argenti it almost feels like competition - who's going to be the first to awake and marvel in the morning beauty of their sleeping lover. He, with his flashy but sincere words and loving kisses all over your wrists, and you, with your soft touches and quiet murmurs of the declarations of love.

The fog of the dream is hard to fight through this particular morning - Argenti stayed up way past midnight to fix the “One and Only’s” engine and practically fell into your embrace after the shower, worming his way under your lax arms. His body clock, however, is sending alarms to his brain, pushing him to wake up, stimulating the thought of opening his eyes and having a blessing of witnessing your angelic face.

Which is gone as soon as it appears. You, awake, and still holding your lover in your arms, tug him a bit closer and let his face nestle into the crook of your neck. As a fellow Knight of Beauty there is no hate in your heart for the broken engine that kept Argenti busy tonight, but it doesn't mean you can't dislike it and let him sleep a bit more. It's not like you two are rushing anywhere.

When your tender hand is laid upon his head, lovingly patting and threading fingers through the heavy locks of crimson hair, the knight feels bliss. His mind is sedated and willingly enters the gates of another dream, just as sweet as your presence.

This morning you may not have your share of compliments, breaking the little ritual, but it's more than alright. After all, the beauty of the proper rest is a nice alternative.

Aventurine

No matter what day it is - Aventurine is always the first one to wake up. An occupational hazard, if you could name working for the IPC this way. However, the one of the Stonehearts despises leaving the bed without you, and even more despises waking you up before your alarm clock goes off.

Aventurine is a busy man, who is used to starting his days with calls and messages, managing to have at least three little ‘meetings’ throughout his morning routine. And he can’t have you waking up from his voice taking a sharper edge in the conversation with one of the partners. So you reached a compromise - you sleep with earplugs and he gets to hold you in the morning while on the phone, waking you up with some nudges and kisses once the time comes.

He loves to see your sleepy but absolutely lovesick eyes after he pulls you out of the dream and lets you rest onto his chest with his arm around your body a bit longer, until this exact call is over.

Then you’d take your sweet time in the bathroom and then, as you are cooking breakfast and he is on the phone again, the man would cling to your back with his chin on your shoulder and one arm wrapped around your waist. Then he’d keep talking with you on his lap, keep talking with his hands busy with the dishes, keep talking as you pack his and your lunches. He’d be having the fourth or the fifth call by the time you are all dressed up and smoothing some invisible creases on his clothes, but he’ll always put the caller on hold to get his ‘good morning’ with a kiss and ‘have a wonderful day’ with another kiss.

But don’t be fooled - he does all that only because you explicitly expressed that you don’t mind. Just one word of yours - and he’ll swiftly finish the call, turning off his phone and giving you so much attention that by the time you both leave for work, you're gonna be affectionately sick of him.

Blade

It’s ten more minutes, the swordsman reminds himself after a quick glance at the wall clock and back to your sleeping figure. Nowadays, the Stellaron Hunter doesn’t deny you the request of staying in bed with you even if he can’t sleep normally and stays awake many hours through the night. After some nagging from you he even stopped getting in bed with his clothes on, opting for the sleeping pants and shirts you’ve bought for him to match most of yours.

Blade is leaning back on the headboard with a pillow squeezed in between as one hand, wrapped in bandages, resting on his thigh, while the other is carefully caressing the side of your head. It’s hard to believe that someone is able to snooze so peacefully next to a man like him, let alone, pressing their face into his thigh with arms wrapped around his leg.

And ‘peace’ is what Blade cherishes the most during the mornings spent with you. He makes you feel safe. You make him feel relaxed. His body next to yours is the fruit of your successful worming into his heart, your body next to his is his sanctuary. The man’s mind is at ease and he more often than not falls into the light slumber, dreamless, yet lacking nightmares too.

You crinkle your nose under the more prominent touch of his fingers across your face, and Blade stiffens. It’s still three minutes more, he doesn’t want to wake you up earlier than that. Yet at the same time, something inside him is burning with the strongest yearning of seeing your eyelids sliding up and the prettiest drowsy eyes looking up at him with so much adoration, that his heart starts bleeding like pierced.

The Stellaron Hunter looks at the clock again. One more minute. Maybe tomorrow morning he’ll let you both sleep in. Maybe it’s because you are not in any of the upcoming scripts. Or maybe it’s because he’d like to try cuddling once more.

Boothill

When in his travels, the cyborg doesn't sleep in the usual sense of this word. The correct way to describe it would be ‘recharge’, hiding somewhere in the secure corner, not even lying down, just sitting comfortably enough and letting his systems cool off and eyes plus brain rest.

When he is back home to you however… He literally starts whining and complaining if you take too long to join him in your shared bed.

Boothill always asks you to sleep in panties/shorts only. Not because he is a pervert (though he indeed can touch or lick or suck a time or two), but because in his absence he missed the heat and softness of your skin so much, that he immediately takes the little spoon position, burying his face into your chest and keening on the feeling of your fingers scratching his scalp and playing with his hair.

He loves falling asleep to the tender thumping in your chest, and even more so he loves waking up to the very same sound. It reminds him that he isn't alone in this world, that even with all the losses he experienced he still has someone to adore and treasure. He always hugs your waist a little tighter upon awakening and presses a long kiss to the valley in the middle of your chest, closing his eyes and focusing on the deep breaths you release. It feels like heaven. It is home.

Plus, he loves your confident morning behavior, when you don't bother putting on a shirt after getting out of the bed and walking around the house still mostly bare, playfully swatting his hands away when he reaches to you with grabby motions. Well, given he sometimes walks around completely naked, he has nothing to accuse you of.

Dan Heng

Dan Heng isn’t particularly fond of you sleeping in his room. Not because he guards its contents akin to a dragon that fusses over its treasures or because he doesn’t want your body pressed close to his, no. Simply because his ‘bed’ is hard. And, admittedly, the mattress is not big enough to fit two people comfortably.

But you, oh you, are always so sweet about it and reassure him that you love the close proximity it brings, and that you are ready to deal with the slight body ache in the morning, understanding that Dan Heng himself is more at ease while staying in his own ‘den’ (he is working on it).

Mornings usually start with you on top of him - even in his unconscious state the man still worries about you, so he’d rather have you use him as a pillow (and, as you once teased him, he’d use you as a weighted blanket). Next, you’ll be swift to leave his side, throwing his coat on and quietly tiptoeing to the kitchen.

Usually, by the time you return, your boyfriend is already awake, but still staying under the blanket, waiting for you. He gratefully accepts a steaming mug with a calming herbal tea and you peck his cheek, flopping next to him with your own mug in a hand. You are sitting quietly, shoulders touching and knees bumping, while you are sipping on your drinks and chasing away the remnants of sleep.

Dan Heng smiles when you wiggle your feet under the blanket and put your head onto his shoulder, and as he turns his head to kiss the top of yours, securing a tender end to your special morning ritual, the man thinks he is indeed healing. And that’s what he cherishes about mornings with you most.

Gallagher

Gallagher takes extra long showers in the evenings after his shifts, because he doesn’t want to bring the smell of alcohol, cigarettes and anything else of the bar’s patrons to your bed. He doesn’t want you to grimace first thing in the morning and push him away, complaining about the stink. He’d much rather have your body tightly pressed against his, maybe face squished into his chest, arm thrown over his waist and legs stuck between his.

Gallagher loves just lazing in bed with you, as you are both awake. Loves rubbing his cheek against yours and hearing you reprimand him lightheartedly for the stubble. And yet, you never move away, welcoming his big palm resting on your hip, fingers lightly digging into fat and dragging you even closer to him.

Today you, however, throw a leg over his body and swiftly climb on top, immediately settling onto his chest like many times before. It’s because you know he has a night shift and you don’t plan to let him go until at least lunch. And your lover is strong, he can throw you off using just one arm or by simply turning his body under yours, but he does none of this, all because he absolutely adores your little sparks of possessiveness.

His heavy hand lowers onto your head, gently ruffling your hair, to which you grumble, poking his side with a single finger, only to scratch him lightly with all five a second later. Oh how deliciously he shivers and even a following pinch to your ass is unable to wipe a pleased smile off your face.

He’ll tell you stupid stories from the night before at the bar, share the worst jokes his patrons slurred and admit the teasing Sioban put him through once again, because ‘the old dog was glancing at the clock, counting the minutes till running home to you’. And you’ll be laughing. And he’ll be laughing too.

Gepard Landau

The Captain of the Silverman Guards is obviously the man of schedule. He wakes up at the same time, he wraps up his morning routine in the same period of time, and he leaves the house at the same time.

Every morning the man is trying his hardest to get out of the bed as sneakily as he can, because otherwise there are chances of waking you up and his heart cries when you follow him around wrapped in the blanket while whining that it’s so cold to be out of the bed and his warmest embrace (yes, you’re sometimes faking it, but come on, your golden retriever of a boyfriend is warm and comfy to cuddle with).

Can never deny you, when you squeeze yourself past him in the hot shower, explaining that yes, you are cold, and yes, it’s saving water (obviously not to admire your handsome lover and steal a couple of morning kisses from him).

You are still sleepy as the water is gushing on your body, which is held in place by two strong hands on your hips. Gepard can’t take his eyes from your cute droopy expression and smiles softly when you lift your head to let the water splash against your face. He doesn’t like it when you sacrifice your sleep in the mornings, but he can’t lie to himself that he loves spending these moments with you either. He gently brushes your wet locks away from your cheeks and forehead, leaning down to plant a small peck on your chin.

A cheerful ‘hooray’ is coming out in bubbles due to the water getting into your mouth, but you don’t care, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face into his chest instead. Oh Qlipoth, let this poor man be not that obvious with the raging blush from the new mark blooming under his uniform while leaving the house

Jiaoqiu

Waking up with the rays of rising sun to throw on an embroidered robe and get to the kitchen to cook another delicious breakfast for you and him is indeed a pleasurable and relaxing part of the healer’s morning. However, much more than that he enjoys wondering in his head who’s going to wake up hugging whose tail the evening before, just to arise the next morning and see if his guess is right.

Opening his fanged mouth in a big yawn and squeezing still shut honey golden eyes even more, Jiaoqiu starts his day with a nice full body stretch. Something soft gets into his mouth and immediately jerks, provoking an abrupt puff of air released from the male’s lungs. There is a dissatisfied mumble somewhere close to his collarbones, and when heavy eyelids slide open, the foxian catches just the swift motion of your ears pressing back against your head.

He can't help but smile softly, leaning down and kissing the top of it (his own pink ear slightly twitching as you quietly murmur in delight), then moving back and looking down to assess your sleeping positions.

Face to face and legs tangled together, your bodies lay closely to each other. With your nose buried into his neck and arms wrapped around his frame, Jiaoqiu, to his greatest disappointment, notices both your tails peacefully resting on the mattress behind your backs.

What a pity… Now it means you won't be helping him comb through his fur to make it look presentable and he won't be doing the same to you… Unless…

As the clawed hand carefully reaches behind you with a clear intention to mess up your tail and sly eyes crinkle in mischief, Jiaoqiu is truly ready to start his morning routine even to the extent of your complaints.

Jing Yuan 

Jing Yuan is a true connoisseur of soft things. He has the fluffiest carpets back at home, silkiest fabrics for clothes, his bed is like one big white cloud, and his pet is a lion with a huge mane. Not to mention his beloved, who has the softest thighs to nap onto in the whole universe (he has never compared to others, but he is a firm believer).

The General has been having trouble waking up in the morning for a while now. Alarm clock? Ignored. Mimi’s nudges and complaining groans? Ignored too. Your loving voice and tender kisses all over his face? Careful, he is the Dozing General, not the Weak one - you are very much at risk every time to be dragged back in bed in your husband's embrace.

And that little fight you put up every morning to get him from under the blanket and send him off to the bathroom is his favorite part. Just like today.

If anyone was to walk into your bedroom, they'd see a strange image of your strained form being hunched and jerking backwards, trying to rip your arm from an iron grasp, and just a single hand visible in the mess of pillows and blankets, holding onto your wrist and trying to pull you back onto the bed.

You swear, the man hasn't even opened his eyes, relying solely on his other sharp senses to effortlessly catch you when you tried to flee after kissing him good morning.

It's pointless to remind him of the meeting today - he'll get there in time either way, but you still try to hold your ground and win this fight of stubbornness.

Jing Yuan laughs, when with a loud gasp you fall onto his swiftly sitting up figure and are immediately thrown back onto the bed with his sturdy body pinning yours underneath. He loves the heat of your face he feels when his cheek is pressed to yours. He adores when you wiggle under him, refusing to admit that this display of his strength didn't leave you hot and bothered. And he is absolutely smitten when eventually you let out a long exasperated sigh and wrap your arms around his shoulders, admitting your defeat, agreeing to sleep for a little bit more.

Loucha

The merchant is too used to the feeling of loneliness in his travels. Getting out of a hardly couple-of-days-familiar bed, grabbing a pin from a nightstand table to fix a quick messy bun and, swiftly stopping by the bathroom to freshen up his sleepy face, the man drags his feet to the kitchen.

Oil is sizzling in a pan, as the man throws the cut vegetables in it, grabbing a spatula. He is barefoot, still in his sleep wear and long locks of golden hair hanging in messy waves to his shoulder length. It’s the sight that is hard to resist, and as much as you’d love to keep watching your lover, so uncharacteristically unkept and cozy, the need to get closer to him gets too strong. As your arms encircle his waist and lips press to wherever you can reach, Loucha doesn’t fight a soft smile. Yes, on some of his trades he’s on his own, but your presence is such a sedative to his soul and mind.

You ask him what he is cooking and he answers, letting you duck your head under his arm, so you could see for yourself, and then offers you to choose something extra if you so desire. Giving him your response, you immediately suggest helping, but he declines, carefully prying one of your hands from his stomach and lifting it to his lips, murmuring how he doesn’t want your pretty fingers to get all tired and dirty in the very morning.

But you are a little stubborn, so when he lets you go, you stay behind his back and reach for a simple jade pin, heroically holding the whole mass of his hair, and take it out, letting the heavy waves cascade down his back. The fingers he’s just been so worried about, bury into the locks, brushing out the knots, dividing in parts and then twisting them one around another, collecting his hair into a nice, but simple braid.

The merchant is used to spending his mornings alone. But admittedly he loves you being by his side and your adorable little gestures much more.

Sunday

It is a well-known fact that the halovian has OCD and his prior commitment to the Order only proves it more strongly. Admittedly, ever since he’s been released from Gopher Wood’s clutches and left Penacony, he’s been getting better: less paranoid, less twitchy, more forgiving to not only ones around him, but himself. He’s been working on abandoning some of his habits, going as far as styling his clothes in a kind of mismatched yet still smart manner. And still he’s having a hard time not to fuss over his appearance.

While sleeping, Sunday is restless. Having been sharing a bed with him for a long time, you’ve been a witness to all - thrashing from side to side, kicking off and then dragging back the blanket, both head and back wings flapping in sleep, messing equally his feathers and hair (sometimes yours too).

And sometimes, Sunday wants to cry. It’s so intimate, it’s so sweet, it’s something he was used to doing on his own, but here you are - doing it for him, cooing lovingly and pressing tender kisses to the smaller wings protruding from the back of his head, making them tremble slightly and the milky skin of his cheeks - flash with crimson.

But you are understanding. You are gentle, when you offer the miserably looking man your hands and tug him out of the bed, walking him to the huge mirror and asking him to sit down in front of it. Your hands are soft and careful, as they are grooming his wings, rearranging the feathers correctly, removing broken ones, fluffing up the beautiful plumage that reminds of the night sky.

And you trust him to do the same for you! His hands are shaking, his breath is hitching while you keep encouraging him to clean up your wings after sleep, being nothing but patient as the morning sun arises.

The ex-head of the Oak Family used to say that patience is a virtue, but in the dawn glow of your bedroom it turns into his paradise.

Veritas Ratio

No matter what your sleep schedule is, Veritas is always the first one to wake up. Sitting up he reaches for his nightstand drawer, tapping the phone’s screen to stop the alarm clock’s ringing. His other hand automatically reaches for the black-furred critter, nestled onto his lap, to gently pat its soft ‘shell’, receiving a quiet content chirp. Once done with the phone, the man turns to the other side of the bed, reddish-pink eyes lowering to your still sleeping form, with another critter snoozing under your arm. One more is spotted at the end of the bed.

Every single morning Veritas witnesses the same view - well, maybe your sleeping pose is different, or the placement of your ‘cats’ on the bed, or how much of the blanket you've either stolen from him or on the contrary thrown at him… still it's always you, him and your recently adopted pets.

And every single morning your lover can't help but take some minutes from his work out session and dedicate them to simply sitting in bed next to you, observing, doing his own little research. Today he notes how you've moved slightly onto his part of the bed, head occupying both yours and a small part of his pillow. Then his gaze moves downwards, noticing the covers being pulled down your waist and feet peeking from under the blanket. That's so you - feeling stuffy and hot yet still moving closer to his body.

Carefully, not to disturb you and give a couple of more minutes to rest, Veritas bends down and kisses your cheek, testing another hypothesis of his - would you smile in your sleep, upon feeling the touch of his lips on your skin?

He is surprised, when you open your eyes, staring back at him in a haze. Sensing your awakening, the orange critter practically zooms from under your arm, then onto the man’s pillow and off the bed, disappearing somewhere in the hallway. But he hardly pays attention to it. No, his eyes are glued to yours and that sweet smile that tugs on the corners of your mouth as you reach forward to circle his neck with your arms.

Yes, his thinks contented, closing his eyes, another hypothesis of his has been proven right.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

58 / 2.2k / shapeshifter familiars 141 tormenting witch reader for Halloween c:

...

You hum a song to yourself as you pull herbs from your garden and pile them into the crook of your arm. The sun sets rosy this evening; the sky is clear and the moon will be new.

You turn to go in, brushing off your black skirts with your free hand. But a familiar face darken your doorway. Nobody was there a moment ago. Your serene face falls into a sour frown.

"Soap."

Soap gives you a cocky grin. He hasn't lost that insufferable arrogance. "Evenin', witch."

You approach him with your herbs in tow. "What sad state of affairs brings you to my doorstep?"

"Aw, no warm welcome for your favorite scoundrel?"

"I favor you more as a crow."

"Handsome in all my forms, then."

You stop in front of him. It's clear you're going to have to wait for him to move or else squeeze past him. You plant your feet and wait, squaring your sight with his. "Where are the other two?"

Soap plucks one of the flowering herbs with his fingers to inspect it, then twirls it between his fingers. "About somewhere, likely causing the usual mayhem. They'll be right on my heels."

Your frown deepens. This is the fourth impossible quest you've sent them on. And they keep coming back. "Did you fetch what I asked?"

Soap raises an eyebrow as he moves closer to you, his eyes fixed on yours. He raises the plucked flower to his lips. There's an edge of challenge in his voice as he answers. "We did indeed." He gently sets the flower back on top of the pile. The he pulls out a small vial and dangles it in front of you. "And a little extra somethin' for you."

You reach for the vial only for him to pull it back.

Soap's smirk widens. "Pay up first."

Cold irritation spikes through you. You know just how he'd prefer to be paid. You shoulder past him and into your cottage with a scowl.

Soap, of course, follows you in, saunters through your front door, and kicks it shut behind him. He's not the least bit deterred by your annoyance. In fact, he quite likes it. He runs his fingers along the various bottles and implements on the shelves with idle interest. "Oh, come now. You ought to be glad we're back."

You cast your herbs into a basket near the sink. Then you stand at your scrying table, flensing knife in hand, and carve a niche into your palm. The pain is nothing. Not even when you squeeze your hand into a fist to force more blood out. It drips into the wooden bowl underneath.

Payment is payment.

Soap's breath hitches. He's watching you with keen interest. He likes watching you work, your precise, calculated movements and your confident touch with the knife.

The sight of your fresh blood only makes his smirk wider. He takes a step closer behind you to get a better view. "There are easier ways to pay your dues," he says. His hands come around to rest on the countertop on either side of you. "More pleasurable ways. Other, ah, fluids with which to slake thirst."

"Keep your distance, shapeshifter," you tell him. "Or you get nothing."

Soap rests his chin on your shoulder. The touch is far too familiar. His fingers twitch with anticipation, as if the blood on your hand tempts him forward. He's always been a touch perverse, anyway, about you wounding yourself to feed him. This is all your fault isn't it? Sending them quest after impossible quest. They only demand payment because you insist upon such extremes, naively thinking it will kill them.

"You think you have enough blood for all of us? There's an easier way. Just think," Soap murmurs in your ear. "My lips on your neck. My fingers inside you."

His words sends heat unbidden into your core. Unnaturally so. Immediately, your eyes flash, and an unseen force pushes him away from you.

Soap stumbles backwards from you, his body slamming into the nearby shelf. His shoulders heave, and he breathes heavier. Still smirking, but also looking a little more interested.

You see it in his eyes, what he doesn't say or acknowledge: he likes when you push back. He craves it. He likes to see you assert yourself.

"No need to be so inhospitable." That insufferable grin, cocky and smug again. "Just thought you might want to save your bleeding for more important things."

You ignore this. He takes a seat in your chair, and you resume your work. Another cut. Something brushes at your ankles--something purring and black.

"Gaz."

He purrs, deceptively soft and sweet as he twines around your feet. More blood from your palm hits the bowl. Gaz's nose twitches. He turns his intense cat-gaze upward to watch you from the ground. You ignore it.

Gaz is a more patient man than Soap. He knows exactly what effect Soap's words had on you. He can smell your response on the air, and it entices him. But he knows not to press.

Still, after a stretch of silence watching your blood pool, Gaz grates out a low meow as a bid for your attention. Then he jumps up onto the counter and pushes his kitty face into the blood bowl.

Soap clicks his tongue. "Jealous."

You push Gaz away just as his whiskers start to tremble. "Stop that."

Gaz gives a dissatisfied meow. He sits back on his haunches. With a glare, he licks one of his paws in distaste for your scolding.

You deposit him on the floor. Then you get back to work. Quickly, as you hear the distant call of a screech owl. Gaz saunters away with a languid stretch of his back legs.

The owl's cry echoes again. Louder now. And in reply, a dog outside your window howls.

Your heart thumps. Faster, you bid yourself. You dig your fingertips into the gash in your palm just to draw out thicker clots. Faster. No, there's no time. Casting the flensing knife aside with a clatter, you take the bowl in your uninjured hand and turn, hurrying to stand in the doorway. Two of them inside is enough. You don't want any more in your home. No more. It's all you can do to protect your home from what you brought upon yourself.

The dog howls again. Right outside. Then there's the sound of animal shifting to man, and an enormous shadow darkens your doorway before you can reach it. Ghost. He fills the door frame, towering over you and blocking your path. He's so tall and broad that, deliberate or not, every move feels like a challenge to your authority over him. He's on your side, you remind yourself. His size makes him a formidable ally. And a devastating foe, when he wants to be. He's looking at you like he's contemplating being just that.

He doesn't need to announce why he's here, and he doesn't need to say anything else. He's come for payment just as Soap and Gaz have. He'll take it from you one way or another.

Ghost's expression remains inscrutable. But he burns with an emotion you sense and he carefully hides.

"What's the hurry?" The words are low and gravelly.

You stare up at him as you force your nerves to steady. "Must you transgress into my home?"

Ghost's broad shoulders bunch beneath his tattered cloak. His dark eyes take in the scene before him, the way Gaz and Soap make themselves too comfortable in your home. Then they flicker down to the blood. He doesn't have much patience for these games of push and pull. "You expect us to drink from a bowl? Like swine at a trough?"

You cock your head. "Shall I fetch you all soup spoons?"

Ghost's scowl deepens. "Smartass witch. Be grateful we've been lenient with you."

"Have you?"

It's either amusement or contempt that flashes across Ghost's face. You're not sure which. "Do you need me to demonstrate what it means to not be lenient?" He shifts his weight, his shadow stretching and darkening the room around him. "With your insults and feeble scraps?"

"Payment is payment. Whether or not the blood comes in a bowl shouldn't matter. The source is the same."

He doesn't appreciate mind games. And he definitely doesn't appreciate when you, his witch, are the one playing them. You shouldn't play with him when he's already on edge. "Spoken like a woman who's never known how to starve." He strides closer. The sound of the floor shifts under his weight. He only stops when he's close enough to make you feel like the walls are closing in on you. He reaches forward, and with his forefinger, wipes one of the droplets from the rim of the bowl. He brings it to his lips and licks it off his finger. "The blood doesn't matter."

"The blood doesn't matter?" you echo, doubtful. "That doesn’t seem to be the case."

Ghost's eyes flicker with something. Hunger. "No," he murmurs. "You could fill the bowl with anyone's blood. It's you that makes the difference. You spill it. You offer it. That vulnerability is… personal. Better than blood. Fresh. Warm. A piece of you."

He runs his finger along the edge of the bowl and leaves a wet streak along the rim. He's watching you watch him. "You and your foolish demands. Your workarounds. Blood in a bowl isn't real vulnerability."

He takes a step closer and towers over you. "You think we don't notice how you go out of your way to make it as impersonal as possible? You're meant to give us something we want for our services. You'd be better off bleeding someone else dry and offering that up." He leans in closer and runs his gaze over you with a subtle tilt of his head. "But you would never try that, would you?"

"I told you I won't hurt other people for you. The contract is with me and me only."

Foolish promises. "That doesn't mean you get to cheat us."

You offer the bowl with more force. "Drink."

His annoyance flares. Your stubbornness, your arrogance--qualities that both make you a desirable object of focus and chip away at the shapeshifters' patience.

But they’ll be able to teach you a lesson for it sooner or later.

Ghost reaches forward, grabs your wrist, and raises the bowl to his lips. He looks you dead in the eye as he drinks.

Soap is at his side instantly. His pale eyes fix on the bowl.

You hear Gaz shift from feline to human behind you. He draws up until you feel his body heat.

"Now isn't that much nicer?" Gaz says, his voice just as cocky and insufferable as ever. "Nothing wrong with making it personal once in a while. No need to be so stingy."

You watch Ghost, eyes still locked on you, as he swipes his sleeve across his mouth and hands Soap the bowl without looking.

Soap gulps down two mouthfuls with an orgasmic growl.

Gaz chuckles as he brings it to his lips, drinking until it's empty. Then he lets the wooden bowl clatter to the floor. His mouth twitches up into a lazy smirk.

You pull your wrist free from Ghost’s grasp. "You got what you needed. Give me what you brought me and get out."

"Oh, don't be like that," Soap purrs as he prowls towards you. "You enjoy our company."

"Such poor manners," Gaz says mildly. "Seems we've still got to teach you what your responsibilities are. Price won't like hearing that."

You slow, lowering the bloodied bowl into your washbasin. "Price won't come. It's not time yet."

Ghost scoffs. "Price will do whatever he damn well pleases." He prowls closer as well, the predatory sound in his voice more obvious now, like a beast preparing to sink his teeth in. "And he won't like hearing how his second-favorite witch is a lousy hostess."

"He's not coming," you snap. A tinge of fear crawls up your spine.

"Price comes when he wants," Ghost snarls. "You should remember that before you act so foolish."

You hear the screech owl again. Closer this time. The bowl clangs against the bottom of the basin and dread churns deep in your gut.

"Do you hear that?" Gaz asks softly.

"You drank all the blood," you mutter. "You didn't leave any for him. This is your fault."

Soap smiles, but he’s not meeting your eyes. "We left him plenty."

You're helpless to do anything but watch as the sound of beating wings turns to boots falling on the undergrowth outside your open door.

He stands tall, his form blocking the moonlight and shadowing the already dim room. His dark eyes land on you, and he takes in your blood-stained hand and bloodied bowl with a hard frown. What a mess you've made.

"Witch."

He crosses the room to you and takes your jaw in his rough hand. His gaze drives ice into the blood still roaring hot through your veins.

"We're going to have a chat."

...

more Soap / more Gaz / more Ghost / more Price / masterlist

[dmitriene]

simon riley loves himself a chubby girl — being a big man he is simon addicted to the feel of weight against him, as well as the softness, plushness of the supple flesh, and he isn't small by himself at all.

he's got a lot of muscle mass, a wide body with a small belly and wide palms that will fit perfectly on your body, he's ready to swear he's just going crazy when he sees the chubby girls, and you've come to him at the best time to knock a man to his knees before you.

simon is gentle and caring — all the best for his girl, he can't keep his hands to himself, he can't stop carrying you in his arms like a princess and moving mountains for you alone, he even learned to cook, no matter how difficult it is, just to please you with your favorite treats.

and he especially loves you in the bed, with passion and tenderness, stroking the supple skin and every fold and your pudgy belly as if you were about to shatter like a marble sculpture.

simon treats you like one, too — calloused and rough, wide palms caress every hollow and stretch mark that forms on your skin like tiger stripes with a tenderness that makes you shudder, fingers greedily, almost possessively gripping your rounded ass and digging in before moving to your waist.

he caresses, kisses, whispers sweet words of affection that slip past his thin lips with rumbling purrs like — “fricking hell you pretty, my beautiful girl with such a perfect, mind blowing body„ and you can't even muster anything harsh against yourself, tell him he's not right, because he is, you're a goddess to him.

a goddess with a sweet, fat pussy that he likes to devour with you sitting on his face, your body is literally limp and occasionally trembling with small convulsions of pleasure while simon's crooked nose fidgets and rubs against your clit, his wide tongue flattens against your weeping, fluttering cunt.

you drown his face in your honey like sweet slick and creamy cum, letting it dribble past your folds against his lapping tongue that already curls deeper again — simon won't let you off till he pulled at least couple of orgasms out of you.

because he likes to see how you look when he folds you in missionary, to see your glossy and half lidded delirious gaze, your body feels even softer, limp after all that he's done with his tongue, emptying you completely and leaving only mess and pulsing need in your puffy, clenching pussy.

so simon will fuck you nicely, stuffing you full of his meaty cock as you'll cunt grip him tightly, sucking him balls deep and he wouldn't even mind — harsh rolls of his hips leaving you gasping and mewling into the thick air, skin glistening with sweat as he toys with your pretty, rounded tits and cups them as gently, while rearranging your insides.

he'll make you cum again and again, fill you with his potent, creamy loads just to see how it dribbles out of your gooey cunny, making simon's every new thrust squelch.

and he won't stop fucking his pretty girl into the mattress, with his slightly pudgy stomach rubbing against your belly — until you squirt all over the sheets and shake against the sheets, vision whitening out as your cunt clamp and pulse around his fat length, with simon grinning smugly.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨His Queen✨

Short drabble I wanted to write because I am unwell for this man…

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: Your first time with the King of Hell, and he might be even more nervous than you are~

(I don’t even have a set up for this, I’m diving in head first like I would for Lucifer. This is just porn without plot 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Tag list: @trashbin-nie

@yellowsubiesdance

@j-jinxee

@stevensdickrider

@airwolf92

@mrssabinecallas

@myhornybrainonlyknowsthis

@bee-sinner

@thesoccerenthusiast

Warnings: 18+, smut, humping, pet names, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, p in v, service top!Lucifer

All throughout, the only thing that could be heard in Lucifer’s home was the sound of your lips crashing into his relentlessly. Your nightgown draped over his legs while sitting in his lap for at least an hour now, on his throne, no less. You’re breathless, your lips are swollen, and you can’t get enough. You haven’t pulled apart in what seems like an eternity, Lucifer moaning into your mouth as your tongues intertwine. However, you’ve become increasingly more aware of the bugle that’s growing between your legs. Ever so slowly, you start to rock your hips back and forth. Lucifer instantly freezes from the sudden sensation, inhaling sharply.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized sheepishly, “I didn’t mean…”

Lucifer cut you off with another kiss before you could finish your sentence. “Please don’t stop, love,” he whispered.

Blood rushes to your cheeks from hearing those words. You felt Lucifer’s hands travel down the sides of your body, stopping at your hips. You start rocking your hips again, eliciting such sweet moans from him. He was so sensitive and you knew it, you knew you could make him putty in your hands and that excited you!

“F-Fuck, sweetheart…,” Lucifer moaned, “this is…this feels amazing.”

One of his hands slid down your thigh at an agonizingly slow pace and you continued your motions. His hand stopped when he felt the soft cloth of panties. He tried to hide his small smirk from you, but you caught him. You knew the fabric must have been wet, and it’s clear from his reaction that he noticed too.

“May I, my angel?”, Lucifer asked softly. You nodded your head wordlessly. You stood up almost too quickly as Lucifer reached for the hem of your panties. You felt them get dragged further and further down your legs until they finally touched your feet and hit the floor. You resumed your potion, straddling Lucifer once more.

He reached down to press his fingers at your folds for the first time. You felt your face heat up, it was something you’ve been wanting for so long. Lucifer exhaled heavily, his painted cheeks flushing a different shade of red. You could feel his hand trembling against you.

It’s been a while since he’s been intimate with anyone, Lilith had been gone for so long. Lucifer had been so alone during that time, never pursuing another lover. Until you, of course.

Noticing his hesitation, you brought your hands to his cheeks, cupping his face. His shining red eyes stared into yours as you leaned in for another kiss. “It’s alright, Luci, take your time,” you soothed him.

“Thank you, love,” he smiled. After a deep breath, Lucifer finally began to tease your entrance, running his fingers up and down your slit. You grabbed onto his shoulders as if you were hanging on for dear life. His thumb found its way to your clit, circling it slowly. You couldn’t help but let out a moan. His fingers began to push up into you, thrusting them in and out of you at an even pace.

You rested your forehead on the crook of his neck, your cries were stifling and your checks were burning. “O-ohh my God, Lucifer, you fee-feel so good.” Lucifer placed his lips on your neck and began to bite and suck every inch of it. Your knees were becoming weaker and weaker, you felt a tightening in the pit of your stomach with every motion of his fingers.

But suddenly, Lucifer removed his fingers from you, making you whine in protest. You pulled your head up to ask why he stopped, but it became very evident. He brought his fingers to his mouth and began to suck on them. You pushed your face back down into his shoulder to hide your reddened face.

“Mmmm, you taste absolutely delightful, darling, ” he murmured in your ear. “I need more.”

Without warning, Lucifer scooped you up in his arms and carried you to his bedroom right across the hall. You always forgot how strong he was considering his stature, but it never failed to amaze you. Once he reached the side of his bed, he laid you down as gingerly as possible, positioning your head onto his pillow.

“Wait,” you said, pulling yourself upright and positioning yourself on your knees. You reached for Lucifer’s shirt and began to unbutton it hesitantly. Lucifer said nothing, only nodding, letting you continue your work. His face became flushed once more, you couldn’t help but smile at the way you made him feel. Almost prideful. Almost.

You made your way to the last button and gently push his shirt off his shoulders, letting it hit the ground. He was beautiful, his pale skin was mesmerizing like a marble statue. But he was warm, very warm, you noticed as you ran your hand down his chest. “Beautiful…,” you said to no one in particular. But Lucifer had impeccable hearing.

“My love, nothing compares to your beauty,” Lucifer sighed. “I want to devour you. Please, let me see you?”

With some hesitation, you reached down to the bottom of your nightgown to pull it up over your head. Your body now laid bare before him. You went to cover yourself with your arms, but Lucifer held your wrists before you could.

“Don’t cover yourself, darling,” he pleaded, “you’re the most intoxicating creature I’ve even had the pleasure of laying my eyes on.” He leaned into you again and planted a passionate kiss on your lips, you couldn’t help but moan into him. He pulled away, looking longingly into your eyes. But only for a moment. His eyes couldn’t resist trailing down to look at your chest, his face turning beet red.

“My eyes are up here, Luci,” you said jokingly.

“Forgive me, sweetheart,” Lucifer apologized and snapped his head back up to look at you once more. You chuckled and pulled your hands away from his loose grip to grab his instead. You placed each of his hands on your breasts, almost making Lucifer lose his composure. “So soft…,” he murmured as he began to softly knead at your skin. “Lay down on your back for me, love. I only had a small taste of you, I have to have more…”

You gulped hard, doing as he says. You untucked your legs from under you and rested your head against his pillow once more. You stared at the ceiling, too embarrassed to think about what was happening. You felt Lucifer’s sharp hands on both of your knees, snapping you out of your trance and forcing you to focus on him.

“Open up, angel,” Lucifer asked sweetly. Whenever he spoke like that to you, it was impossible to say no. With a shaky breath, you part your legs, exposing your glistening pussy to him. Lucifer’s shaky breathing echoed in his large bedroom. “S-Shit,” he choked out, “forgive me for this.”

Lucifer’s head fell between your legs in an instant, his hands resting on the inside of your thighs. You let out a strangled yelp at his tongue began to lick up and down your wet folds. Fuck! It felt better than you could have imagined. His tongue darted in and out of you, his lips vibrated against you and he moaned and hummed from lapping you up.

“L-Lucifer, f-fuck ohmygod!,” you cried out. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear,” he responded coyly. You could feel a smile creep across his face as he continued to eat you up. Lucifer took one of his hands and placed two of his fingers right by your entrance, it was almost painful waiting for him to put them in you. “I need you to cum for me, I’m not stopping until you do,” he whispered before plunging his two fingers into your ruined cunt once more. That alone almost sent you over the edge. He began to pump his fingers in and out of you, faster and faster, while his tongue tortured your clit. He continued at a relentless pace, never giving you a chance to relax. Your mind was beyond foggy, you couldn’t even tell him to stop even if you wanted to. Which you didn’t.

“Luci…L-Luci I’mgonnacumFUCK,” you nearly yelled. The tightness in your stomach was threatening to snap. You gripped his soft and silky blond hair as he brought you to the very edge.

“Promise?,” Lucifer responded while pushing a third finger inside of you.

That was it, your head snaps back and a breathless scream escapes your lungs. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train. You feel your walls start to pulsate around his fingers which refuse to slow down. Lucifer devours the mess your soaking pussy made while letting you ride out your high. You finally come back down to earth (so to speak) and are able to breathe again, beads of sweat pooling on your forehead. Lucifer retreats his fingers from you and takes one last taste of you from his now cum-soaked fingers.

“Mmmm, fuck sweetheart, never tasted anything more enticing than you in my entire existence,” Lucifer praised. You brought your hands to face to cover up your cherry red cheeks. His words never failed to make your head fuzzy.

“Luciferrrrr,” you whine playfully, “you can’t just say things like that!”

Lucifer chuckled, “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, love.”

You propped up onto your elbows. Lucifer had straightened up and was now on his knees in front of you. Your eyesight trailed downward and it was obvious how hard he was. His cock painfully straining against his pants. He noticed your stare sheepishly looked away.

“Your turn,” you said as you crawled towards him, only stopping an inch away from the large bulge he had in his pants. It lit a fire in you. It was his turn to be devoured.

“Y-You don’t have to do that, hon, I’m alr-”

You cut him off by placing your hand on his clothed cock. Lucifer immediately tensed up. “You’re right, I don’t have to,” you said looking up at him with ravenous eyes, “but I want to.” You heard Lucifer audibly gulp. “On your back, Luci,” you coerced.

Lucifer nodded and did as you said. He made his way to his pillow and laid down, holding his breath. You began your ascent, crawling and hovering over him. He looked so adorable beneath you. Your hands made their way to his belt, pulling it off in a flash with a clank to the floor. The button and zipper were next. Carefully you undid both with ease. You reached for the hem of his white pants and eased them down his legs. All that remained were his briefs. And my God, they left little to the imagination.

It didn’t occur to you until just now that you’ve never seen Lucifer’s dick before. It drove you wild just seeing the outline of it. He was huge. You bit down on your lip without thinking, Lucifer looked away from you in embarrassment. It was then that you noticed the large wet spot on his briefs from his leaking tip. He was an absolute mess, all because of you. A wonderful sight to behold, for sure.

You couldn’t wait any longer. You reached up to pull down his briefs, setting his cock free at last. It was impossible to look away, you knew you had to eat him up immediately. His dick continued to leak precum onto his stomach, Lucifer’s hands gripped the sheets beneath him as he watched you inch closer and closer to his cock. You placed your hands on either side of it, massaging everything around the one area he needed you to touch. He bucked his hips up at your touch impatiently.

“Please,” you heard Lucifer beg, “pleasepleaseplease!” The sounds of his desperate pleas sent waves of pleasure through your body, it drove you mad. Not wanting to torture him any longer, you took ahold of his cock and placed his tip into your hot mouth. You heard a broken moan escape from him as you lapped and sucked on the head, licking up every drop of precum that had leaked out. It was salty, but you didn’t mind. He tasted divine.

You began to bob your head up and down on his shaft, taking in as much of him as you possibly could. You knew you would choke otherwise. Your one hand remained on his hip to keep him from bucking up into your month while the other hand pumped his cock in tandem with your mouth. You figured it might be fruitless to try and hold him down since he could overpower you in an instant, but you knew he wouldn’t ever hurt you.

You saw that he was unraveling quickly, but you didn’t want this to end so soon. His staggered breathing and wanton moans were music to your ears, you’d do anything to keep hearing them. You trailed a long lick up from the base of his shaft to the head were you peppered a few kisses. One of Lucifer’s hands flew to his mouth to keep himself from being any louder than he already was while the other white-knuckled the bed sheets. It was an absolute dream to see the King of Hell be undone by you.

You felt him throbbing in your mouth, you knew he was close. But all of a sudden, two hands flew to your shoulders to push you off. “Wait, wait, wait!,” he pleaded as you let go of him completely.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?,” you asked ashamed.

“No, no! Of course not,” he reassured you, placing a hand under your chin. “You…fuck, you felt so good, my love. But…”

You didn’t even know what happened until you were on your back now looking up at Lucifer hovered above you. You noticed his eyes had turned a haunting red and yellow, with black slit irises piecing your soul. His horns had burst from his head with torn flesh wrapped around the base of each, adorning his snake-shaped halo with a burning flame below it. His angelic wings sprouted out from his back, enveloping the entire bed in shadow. His tail had popped out as well, whipping back and forth behind him as if he were a predator on the hunt. You were his prey.

“I’m having a really hard time keeping it together, darling,” he spoke quietly, almost ashamed at his lack of control. His more demonic form caught you off guard, but you weren’t afraid. You smiled at him, reassuring that you were alright. He smiled back, showing off his large sharp teeth. It made you shiver. God, you wanted him. And you wanted him now.

“I-I need…shit…c-can I…,” Lucifer fumbled over his words, struggling to form a coherent sentence. You cupped his face in you hands and planted a soft kiss on his lips. You reached one hand up to stroke one of his wings, curiosity getting the better of you. You could have sworn it was the softest thing you’ve ever felt, you were entranced. Lucifer let out a low hum, his wing leaning into your gentle touch.

“Yes, you can, Lucifer,” you murmured into his lips. “Fuck me now, please, I need you…”

His composure broke completely. His lips crashed into yours with a vigorous force. You wrapped your hands around his neck to bring him as close to you as he could possibly get. You felt the head of his cock graze your entrance. You whimpered at the sensation. Lucifer looked at you expectantly, only for you to silently nod your head.

All you felt next was his cock sliding into your pussy until he was fully sheathed inside of you. It took a few seconds to remember how to breathe again. He stretched you out, filling up every inch of you completely. Lucifer couldn’t help but bite down on your shoulder, desperately trying not to cum right then and there. After only a moment or two of getting used to his size, your body started to relax around him.

“Please move, Luci,” you moaned.

Lucifer retracted the grip his teeth he had on your shoulder and placed his forehead onto yours. Ever so slowly, he started to shift his hips, taking his cock out just to pump it back into you at a rhythmic speed. But of course it didn’t take long for him to pick up the pace, his thrusts becoming more and more staggered and uneven.

You could have sworn you were seeing stars. Or perhaps it was the light bouncing off the tears forming in your eyes. It was a pleasure you’ve never felt before. You felt whole. That new knot in your stomach was tightening once again, and was threatening to release with more force than before.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Lucifer whispered, clenching his teeth and screwing his eyes tight. “Gonna cum, love…gonna cum, FUCKFUCKFUCK!”

Quickly you wrapped your legs around his waist, making sure he stayed in place. “M-me too, sshhhiiit,” you managed to choke out. “Cum in me, pleasepleasepleasecuminmeLucifer!”

Those words made him incoherent. He held your hips down as he thrusted into hard and fast. At last, you felt him throbbing inside of you, emptying his load into your waiting cunt. You screamed as that sensation pushed you over the edge as well, your newly painted white walls pulsating on his cock.

Both of you could hardly catch your breath, your orgasms finally fading away. He stayed inside of you for only a minute longer before pulling out. Your body mourned that sensation already. Lucifer fell down next to you in the bed, his demon form receding. You watched as his chest rose and fell at a slow and even pace. He turned towards you and smiled, he tucked some hair behind your ear that had fallen in your face.

“Thank you for that, my angel,” he spoke softly. “You were perfect.”

You couldn’t help but smile. You scooted your body closer to him, nuzzling yourself into his chest. Still so warm. “No,” you said, “thank you, Lucifer. That was heavenly…no pun intended!”

He chuckled. “Funny you say that considering where we are, my little duckling.” He grabbed you by the waist and ever so gently placed your body on top of his. He let his wings spread once more, wrapping them and his arms around you in a soft and tender embrace. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

You smile and gave Lucifer one last small peck on the lips before your body collapsed from exhaustion. “I love you more, my king.”

~~~~~

I’m not seeing the pearly gates after this one, lads!!

But please let me know what you think of my very first NSFW fic, I was nervous about writing about something I’m not well versed in 😅

I had fun though and that’s what matters!

[ink-n-shadow]

Being knotted in John’s lap as he mumbles that he’s gonna breed you full of his babies right here in his office

(Or literally any of them bc 🫠🫠)

Or your boys rubbing their faces in your neck before they go to work in the morning bc they’ll be damned if they don’t go to work smelling like you

the second idea is so adorable heLLO???

SCENTING

𝜗𝜚 the one about how the pack!141 scents you (almost) every day

𝜗𝜚 pairing: packforce!141 x omega!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: slight smut at the end (minors—DNI), scenting, kissing/sucking scent glands, fingering (reader!receiving), allusions to threesome at the end

it would become so routine and mundane for the five of you, something that came almost as natural to you as breathing.

the routine would begin at around 4 in the morning when john begins stirring in bed, mumbling out your name as his hands pat around the mattress and other bodies for you. once he found you (which was curled up with johnny, most of the time), he’d tug you against him, instinctively burying his face into the side of your throat and nudging your scent gland with the tip of his nose. he would lap at it, give it a bite or two, smother it in soft almost feathery kisses, anything to make your sugary sweet scent stick to his skin.

and once john’s had his fill and gets out of bed to amble downstairs for coffee and a cigar, simon’s coming up from behind, tugging your back against his chest and holding your throat in the palm of his hand as he immediately attaches himself to your gland. he’s more primal in his movements than john is, taking long (almost lewd) drawn out sniffs from your neck as he rubs his stubbled cheeks in the smell of you. (he may or may not dip his fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear, sliding through the wetness there before bringing his fingers up to lap at hungrily. but hey! at least he makes you come!)

seeing you whimpering and slack across the mattress is what makes kyle move over in bed, gathering your now jellied form into his arms and pushing your head into the crook of his neck. because kyle’s a beta, there is no scent gland for you to nuzzle into, but the smell of soap and lotion on his skin is enough to have you further relaxing in his arms, head still spinning and clit still throbbing beneath your underwear.

johnny only scoots over in the bed and cuddles up with you from behind when he notices the lack of body heat against him, making him whine sleepily and paw at the mattress until he finds you against kyle. by now, you’re drowning in the different scents covering your skin, not to mention the new scent of arousal and slick festering between your thighs. johnny finds comfort in them all, which immediately has his brain feeling dumbed and his cock twitching to attention.

if it’s not too late, johnny will let you ride him, with kyle in front of you and guiding your movements with his large hands pawing at your hips. if it is too late, then kyle’s drawing johnny out of bed with promises of a blowie in the shower

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[tame-the-lion-writes]

cat shifter reader x 141 pt.5

(Some angst today, but not without the added comfort.) CW: implied past abuse

Though you've had plenty of time to grow closer with the boys, they still haven't seen you as--well--you. Not since you first got sick.

The next time isn't the most fun, either.

You'd returned after another day hunting rodents--this time voluntarily, since you've witnessed how disappointed Gaz looks when seeing chewed-through grain sacks. You tell yourself it's only a returned favor; he did cook for you while you were sick, after all, and you don't like having unpaid debts. At least, that's what you tell yourself. Still, you huffed at the now-dried mud clinging to your fur--the result after a chase through the pig pen. Ghost seemed to notice, too, and scooped you up before you could dirty the wood floors inside the house, muttering something about you being too dirty to go trapsing around the place.

You let out a disgruntled meow, thinking he'd just throw you back out to wash your paws with the outdoor facet. Too tired to fight back, really. But instead, he heads to the bathroom.

And your heart drops.

You wriggle around, but the man just won't let go.

"Don't be like that. You need a bath. I already warmed the tub," he argues, wrapping you in a towel from the linen closet to try and avoid more scratches. You'd been doing so well, having let them carry you around most days. What now?

"Don't think she cares much for water," Price says, having just walked in as well. "Might be human somewhere in there, but she's a cat all the same."

"Even cats need baths once in a while. Especially this one," Ghost mutters. But as soon as he lowers you, and your paws hit the surface of the water--

"NO!"

In a blink, you're human--scrambling to stay in Ghost's arms with reckless abandon, your own hands wrapped around his neck and legs around his torso.

"What the!--"

He's about to lash back reactively when he sees the fear in your eyes--teary--and the shudder, the shaking of your shoulders before you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

"Not the water, not the water--" you mumble over and over again, hiccupping softly. Your cheeks are red as apples from the anxiety, and knuckles white as snow. It's clear that this is no simple dislike, but something more. Something that makes you cling to even him--to think, the man you've been so keen on despising.

But a man you think cares for you nonetheless.

"Hey, hey," Ghost eases, grip softening into something still firm but gentle. "Won't do nothin' you really don't like. Promise," he sighs, backing away from the tub. As soon as you're out of the bathroom, you calm down somewhat, though you refuse to speak or explain. Just sniffle in the awkward quiet before shifting back and bumping your head repeatedly into Ghost's chest--this time, grateful he hadn't let go. Price's idle talk fills the empty space.

"Easy now," the Captain mumbles, placing a hand to the top of your head. "You're alright."

They don't know why you're scared, and it's not as though you've offered any explanation. Despite your words, you seem fine with water itself--they've seen you paw at the water pouring from the sink, or dipping your feet in shallow--

In shallow water.

"... You think she had previous owners?" Price says slowly, watching as Ghost cradles you, frozen in gentleness.

"Don't know. Dunno if I wanna think about it."

_

Bonus Thoughts:

Ghost is extra nice to you after this. I think we (breaking the fourth wall as actual readers) know why. You've got a temper; he's got a temper. You're stubborn; he's stubborn. And for fairly similar reasons.

It's also him who brings up giving you your own room first. "Can't have her stay in Soap's forever," is his only explanation. They have an extra office they use as a storage space, anyway.

"Since when did you get all soft on the cat?"

"'m not soft."

[noirscript]

My Valentine

details: yandere!husband x AFAB!reader | Mentions of female genitalia, detailed sexual scenes, breeding,

note: I forgot where I got the image.

Despite the questionable setup and job description of your current job, your husband did not question it and even supported your endeavors. He cook your breakfast on the dot and even prepared your lunch and some snacks.

The warm touch of his soft lips against yours as soon as he sees you, somehow made you guilty of what you're getting yourself into. Truth be told, you haven't told him about the entire truth about your job. Only that you work as an agent.

You let him make an assumption about your job. Perhaps you'll never be able to tell him all about your job.

"Are you sure you still want to work there?" he asked while resting his firm hands on your hips. "I can support us both. We can even start our family and live comfortably."

You smiled as you cup his cheeks. "Val..."

He sighed before pulling away. "I don't really get why you're doing this," he said before meeting your gaze. "It's been two years since we've been married, you even begged me to let you enjoy for awhile before starting our family."

"Val, it's not that! I just..." you sighed. "I want to have my own money. I can't rely on you everytime. It... It doesn't feel right."

You looked up and feared what you've seen. His jaw clenched while his hold on your hips tightened.

"Was it my mother?"

Your brows furrowed. "What, no!"

"My grandma? My sister?" He closed the gap between you two. "Who was it, huh? Who influenced your decisions this time?"

You removed his hands from your body before taking one step away from him.

"Let's... just talk later." You tiptoed to reach his cheek before grabbing your packed lunch.

Maybe it's time to submit your two-week notice.

—

Your husband, Valentin, could get clingy at times. He'll tightly wrap his arms around your body, never missing the chance to feel the warmth of your skin.

It starts with gentle caresses against your skin, then the next thing you knew, you're being screwed and under his mercy for the next hours.

His honeyed voice that you love to hear turns to something deeper as he whispers the nastiest threats you've ever heard from him.

"Gonna make you a mommy... hngg... gonna be round and full..." He buries his face against the crook of your neck as he sensually grind his thick cock against your tight and creaming pussy.

"Pleasepleaseplease... make me cum... wanna cum..." you begged as you claw the arm that's been keeping you in place. "Val... Val... please... cumming..."

"Ah-ah... such a naughty girl." He took a deep breath against your neck before ramming his cock against your tightening pussy. "You don't get to treat me like a toy. I'm not a fucking dildo. You hear that?"

"M'srry... cumming please... please..."

"You're cumming, hm? You're gonna take my cum? All of it? Hm?"

You frantically nodded as you match his movements. It didn't take long until his cum painted your insides.

He nozzles his face against your skin. Peppering kisses against your neck, nipping it at times.

"We're gonna start our family soon..." he whispered while lazily grinding his dick inside you. "You, me, and our baby."

You chuckled. "We've talked about this before, Val..." The sheets rustled as you turn to face him.

"I still want to work. You know, to save up a bit." You pushed yourself up and looked into his eyes. "I also want to spoil them."

"You can spoil them with my card. What's mine is yours too, you know?" He responded while pulling you close to him. "We can have just one child. We'll take care of them. Raise them well..."

"Val... at least give me some time to think about it." You slowly run your finger against his chest down to his abs before barely touching the tip of his erect cock. "Besides... don't you want us to have some more time together?"

You slowly grind your moist pussy against him before he pulled you down with him. He aligned his cock and swiftly penetrated your pussy.

He doesn't hate the idea of getting you all to himself, but still. Your feelings might change once you learn more about him. He's not gonna have that. You're his for eternity, even if that meant having to share you with your child.

[sstargirln]

❞ ᝰ .ᐟ call me so i can see?

patrick x fem!reader x art (on the phone)

TW: smut MDNI - oral (f receiving), p in v, masturbation, one bit where he slaps her- patrick is kinda a perv idk, mentions of vomit, swearing

word count: 1637

¡! ❞ a/n: au where they all go to stanford and tashi doesn't exist ig (love her js could not incorporate her!)

"show me what you're wearing, baby," art mumbled. you picked the camera up from where it was resting on your vanity and switched the view to show him your little pink skirt and grey tank top through the mirror.

"and then i think i'll wear these white panties," you hummed, flipping up your skirt to show him the lacy white underwear, turning round to show him the back. "d'you like?"

art looked almost pained on the other end, eyes dark and jaw slightly slack. "you look gorgeous," he grunted. "why does patrick get the white ones?"

you sighed and placed the phone back on the desk as you finished curling your hair. "they're his favorite."

"they're my favorite too," art whined, brows contorting in a way meant to make you feel bad for him.

"liar," you huffed. "you like the blue set," you said, shooting him a glare through the screen.

"i like all of them," art complained, raising his arm so it was balanced behind his head while he watched you get ready. "can't you guys just wait until i get home?"

you finished the last ringlet of hair, examining yourself in the mirror. "you want me to go 2 more weeks without any sex?"

"well, i don't want patrick to have you all to himself."

"you get me all alone all the time, don't be selfish."

"will you at least call me? i wanna see."

your lips curled into a smile at art's blatant voyeurism. "sure," you smiled. "okay, baby, i got to go. love you!"

art responded with a kiss through the air, puckering his lips and planting them on the camera, leaving the view blurry and slobbery.

"gross," you giggled, hanging up on him and heading out your dorm.

—

patrick was incredibly horny. in fact, he had jerked off 3 times today, once to a picture of you and another the second he saw you walk into his crowded dorm room, palming himself through his pants in desperation.

he knew that the only reason you were at this grimy college party was to fuck him - causing his dick to rise even higher as he realised your tiny little skirt and perfectly curled hair was just for him. and with art out of town, it meant he got your pretty pussy all to himself. you locked eyes with him across the room, smirking at the firm position his hand had on his crotch. you tilted your head to the door after scrunching your nose at the pool of vomit that had already been released onto the floor. patrick nodded with a crooked smile, pushing himself off the bed and making his way to the door.

patrick's eyes practically crossed with need as he watched you bend over a little to grab a beer, flashing your lacy panties - his favorite set. his breath hitched in his throat, he maneuvered his way through the sweaty throng of college students towards you.

"hey, sexy," he murmured, hand immediately gravitating towards your ass as he led you towards the door. "i like your underwear. great choice."

"all for you."

patrick internally groaned at your low, purring tone, lips latching onto your neck the second you were out in the hallway of the dorms. he led you to art's dorm, only doors down from his own.

you let patrick slip off your skirt, watching his eyes turn pure black as he surveys your bottoms hungrily. you fumbled with his belt buckle as he ripped off your shirt, lips locking with his sloppily. your panties stayed on even when patrick's fully erect cock came springing out of his boxers. patrick's mouth travelled down your torso, nipping and sucking at your tits before moving down to your thighs.

"wait," you panted. patrick looked up at you with furrowed brows. "i told art i'd call him."

"call him later," patrick huffed, going back to attacking your thighs, marking the soft flesh with love bites.

"no, i told him i'd call him now."

patrick groaned loudly and pushed himself off the bed, searching through your discarded clothes for your phone. "here," he growled as he tossed it you. as you fumbled with the screen, tapping on art's name, patrick pulled your panties off and latched his mouth onto your cunt with fervor.

art picked up immediately, and you angled the camera so he could see patrick in between your legs, sucking and tugging on your clit, eliciting loud moans from you.

"fuck," art said lowly. patrick looked up at the phone with a deathly glare. you got the hint, moving the phone away from your face and balancing it on the side table near your head so you could see art and he could - very clearly - see the two of you.

patrick could see your face now too, and he took immense satisfaction in the way your mouth hung open and your eyes fluttered as he pleasured your pretty little pussy with his tongue. you shuddered under his mouth, reaching out to tug at his hair. his hips rutted against the bed in an attempt to ignore his own erection, because he won't even think about fucking you until you've cum on his tongue.

art watched through the phone, eyes low and burning with jealousy as he watched his favorite boy eat out his favorite girl. he clenched his jaw while he slowly pumped at his dick, saving his orgasm for when the real action started.

patrick began to suck and lick and swirl faster when he felt your legs clench around his head. "shitttt, patrick," you moaned almost pornographically, whiny and loud. "please, please, please, please," you whined, fingers tangled in his hair and head thrown back against the headboard.

you didn't even have to voice that you were finishing, because patrick knew - from the way your thighs shuddered and your cunt began to tighten around his tongue. art knew too - as he watched your eyes begin to cross and moans became louder and louder. once patrick's chin was slick with your release, tip of his nose shiny, he lined his throbbing cock up with your entrance.

you were still completely fucked-out, eyes fluttering open and closed while you panted heavily. as patrick spat on his hand and ran it painstakingly slow down his length, you glanced up at the phone, taking in art's dick, which was out in all its glory. his tip was glossy with pre-cum and he was still slowly jerking himself off. he gave you a crooked grin as he watched your eyes travel towards him. "focus on patrick, baby. he's got you all to himself today."

you nodded compliantly, shifting your gaze to the massive cock that was brushing your entry. "need it real bad, pat," you whined, rutting your hips so you could feel the tip on you.

"you're gonna get it, baby. be patient," he looked up at the phone, making eye contact with art and shaking his head. "look at our girl, art. being so needy."

art hummed in agreement as patrick reached out for a condom, making a visible (and slow) display of the way he stretched it over his cock. he teased your cunt with a finger, pushing back your folds and smiling as he examined the slick hole. "turn around," patrick commanded, watching you with low eyes as you turned onto your belly, sticking your ass up into the air and looking back at him expectantly.

"pleaseeee," you whimpered.

patrick couldn't resist, and he grabbed you by the hips to line himself up just right. with one fluid movement, he snapped his hips against your ass and plunged his cock inside you, making you moan loudly. his thrusts were deep and frantic as slapping sounds filled the air, making art practically salivate.

he felt as if he was watching porn - the way you cried out so erotically, and the intense motions of patrick's hips. your ass stuck up in the air perfectly rounded, and he was pissed at the fact he didn't have the view patrick did, positioned behind you. his hands began to quicken on his dick at the sight of your breasts bouncing up and down against the mattress as patrick relentlessly pounded into you.

as if hearing his thoughts, patrick reached out to grab the phone, flipping the camera so he could see your beautiful cunt, all filled up with patrick. art's breathing quickened, moaning loud enough for you to hear. you snapped your head back, flashing him a large smile and sticking your tongue out. maybe you were a pornstar in another life or something, because holy shit. art and patrick both groaned at the sight and patrick's pace inside you began to quicken.

unable to hold it in any longer, he placed art back on the side table and thrust into you even more passionately than before, hard enough that you could feel it in your fucking stomach. art was moaning too, right along with you and patrick, furiously stroking at his dick. all three of you seemed to come at once - you squirting all over patrick's cock, art shooting ropes of cum all over his hands and the phone, and patrick (unfortunately contained within the condom) releasing inside you with a loud keening sound.

"that was very hot, you two," art praised, panting.

"thanks," patrick replied, still buried inside you. "it's gonna have to happen again, 'cause there is no way i'm going another two weeks without this."

¡! ❞ © sstargirln 2024

[heich0e]

yuuji calls sukuna a lot.

it's almost like second nature to him now, muscle memory even, so many years since getting his first cellphone; any time he finds himself idle, maybe on his walk home after his part-time job, or on a break between his college classes, he picks up his phone and dials his older brother without thinking. they never talk about anything of importance—maybe just what yuuji did that day, or some gossip he overheard, or what the two of them should have that night for dinner—but he still makes the call.

sukuna always acts annoyed when he answers, greeting him with a characteristically terse 'yeah, what?' that yuuji never pays any mind to. but he still answers the call—at least most of the time—and that simple truth speaks volumes in and of itself.

sukuna's phone rings at a few minutes past 1am, and his little brother's name lights up the caller ID.

"yeah, what?" sukuna snaps groggily, holding his phone up to his ear. he'd passed out on the couch soon after he got home from work, a half-drunk and now room temperature can of beer left abandoned on the table in front of his spread knees. yuuji's babbling starts as soon as the call connects and his brother greets him, and it takes sukuna a moment to make sense of him.

"—'n now i can't finder!"

"the hell are you talking about, dumbass?" the elder of the two grumbles, scrubbing a hand across his face. his brother's voice is panicked and hard to understand.

"we got spliddup at the bar, 'n now i dunno where she is anymore—"

"don't know where who is? fuck, are you hammered?" sukuna complains, sitting himself upright on the sofa as he wipes sleep from the corner of his eyes, suddenly a bit more awake than he was when the phone first rang.

yuuji says your name with a croaking, worried voice, and sukuna sighs exasperatedly. he stares down pensively at the can of beer he forgot to drink on the coffee table, then his eyes flicker to a framed photo hanging on the wall across the room—the glass smudged, frame slightly crooked, and photograph sun-bleached from the years it's spent hanging there.

"just..." he grunts as he pushes himself up to his feet, "fuckin' send me the address and stay where you are, idiot."

it's not hard to find his little brother once he arrives to the address yuuji sent him—especially since the youngest itadori brother is waiting (as promised) right by the entrance of the familiar bar near the university campus where both you and yuuji attend classes. it's still busy for so late in the night, but the clubs are closed now and little bars like this are the only places still open. sukuna's not even sure what the difference is anyway, because the lights here are still dim and the music is loud and there are still people dancing off to one side of the establishment, so the distinction between the two seems tenuous if not entirely negligible. but as someone who's spent his fair share of nights in bars just like (and including) this one, he's usually not really one to complain.

but tonight's different.

yuuji is teetering a bit when his brother arrives—an unusual sight, considering he's usually pretty good at holding his liquor.

"shit, how much did you drink?" are the first words out of sukuna's mouth when he approaches.

the youngest itadori's cheeks are flushed as pink as his hair, and he grimaces in the wake of the eldest's question—he's always been a terrible liar, especially when it comes to his brother, so he doesn't even bother trying to deny it. sukuna doesn't wait for a response in any case, turning his head towards the thick of the crowd and letting his eyes scan through it.

he doesn't see you.

"where'd you see her last?" he asks, leaning towards his brother to be heard over the music.

"by the bar!" yuuji replies, raising his own voice to overcome the bass. "she said she was getting one last drink, but she never came back to the table."

yuuji's lip wobbles a bit as he concludes his sentence, but he sucks it quickly into his mouth and catches it between his teeth.

"and you looked for her?" sukuna asks again.

"all over," yuuji nods, letting his lip slip out from between the bite of his incisors to reply. "fushiguro's doing another lap. nobara's checking the bathrooms."

sukuna ruffles a hand through his hair, suddenly realizing it's probably a mess from his rudely-interrupted slumber. "maybe she just left or somethin'."

"she wouldn't do that, you know that," yuuji says firmly. there's an insistence burning behind his eyes as he looks to his older brother, and it's the most sober he's seemed all night.

sukuna rolls his eyes, even though he knows yuuji's right—you'd never leave on your own, much less without so much as a goodbye. the two of you have been joined at the hip for long enough he's almost surprised that yuuji wasn't able to find you with some weird telepathic form of echolocation. he swings an arm up over his little brother's shoulders pushing him down a little just to tease him, before using his grip to tug him towards the crowd.

"you track down that little sea urchin friend of yours and i'll take a look around. meet me back here in ten minutes or text me if you find that little pest, alright?"

the bar is harder to navigate the further in sukuna travels from the entrance, the bodies pressing closer together with every step he takes away from fresh night air. he's pissed off, but that's not out of character for him. he's more pissed off than he usually is, considering not even an hour before he'd been peacefully sleeping at home, and now he's glaring at some drunk college kid who just almost spilled their beer on him.

"move," he hisses through his teeth at the wide-eyed kid whose life he can practically see flashing through his eyes as he shoulders past him. sukuna would be lying if he said the look didn't improve his mood at least marginally.

as sukuna weaves through the bodies in the bar, his eyes don't stop looking for you. it's almost startling how quickly he can rule people out—how definitively he can say that someone is or isn't you with just a passing glance. he starts to doubt himself as he reaches the far corner of the bar and begins to round back towards the entrance, an annoying, grating irritation in the back of his mind. worry, maybe, if he were the type.

then he sees you.

just the faintest glimpse of your profile, caught behind the shoulder of the man who has you backed into a corner by a pillar, hidden mostly away from the crowd—at least as hidden as anyone can be in a place like this.

sukuna feels his lip curling into a furious sneer as he takes a step towards you—people move out of his path wordlessly as he trudges over to that dark corner where you're tucked away.

it's only when he gets a bit closer that he's able to read the lines of your body properly. you're teetering, just like yuuji had been—the two of you had probably enabled each other in your intoxication that night like the stupid kids sukuna knows you both to be. but you're also distinctly uncomfortable, pressed up against the wall as if to put as much distance between you and the man hovering over you as you possibly can. your eyes glance off to the side, like you're searching uselessly for an escape.

instead, they meet his.

"sukuna," you gasp out in surprise, and the man you're speaking to glances over his shoulder in confusion. he seems annoyed, and a bit nervous, when he spots the man (taller, and broader than he is) standing behind him with a scowl.

sukuna hears the relief in your voice when you say his name. reads it behind your glassy eyes.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, reaching out towards him clumsily.

the man in front of you puts a hand on your waist—possibly to steady you, more likely to stop you—and it makes sukuna see red.

"hands off," sukuna snaps, wrapping a hand around your upper arm and tugging you into his side away from the creep.

"who's this? you said you don't have a boyfriend," the kid asks you, jutting a thumb towards sukuna accusatorially.

you mumble something quietly in reply about him being yuuji's brother, tucking yourself a bit closer to sukuna as you say it.

"your brother?" he asks as his eyes squint in confusion, having clearly only caught part of your explanation. "you're ditching me for your brother?"

sukuna's anger flares again at the entitlement this little brat has the nerve to display so flagrantly. the older man's hand slips down to your waist on instinct, and then lower still to the curve of your ass, making a show of how his big hand grips into the flesh beneath it. you squeak quietly at the contact, turning and hiding your burning face against sukuna's chest. he keeps his hand right where it is.

the stranger's eyes widen at the inappropriate display before him and sukuna leans in close with a vicious, almost manic grin.

"we're very close."

[feyascorner]

At first, he blinks when you wrap your arms around him.

For as much as he can remember, sex has been a tool to him. A necessity to survive under Cazador's influence, leaving him in a state that loathes the touch of others. Most encounters remained the same--he'd disassociate, and by the time he'd come to, he'd want to leave immediately, wishing to scrub his skin raw. But no matter how much he'd cleaned his own body, it never seemed enough.

At least, until you.

He feels your bare form press against his back and tenses. It's different from before---not out of disgust, but out of surprise. He'd thought you'd leave. He'd given you his services and had nothing left to offer you, yet here you were, your cheeks smushed against the crook of his neck. He has no idea what you're doing, but you simply hold him tighter.

"What is this?" he finally says.

You don't budge. "What's what?"

His hands brush against your own. "This."

"My hand?" you snort, but he adjusts his body so he's now facing you, your eyes meeting with such seriousness that the smile vanishes from your face. "Are you okay? Did you not like it?"

He nearly balks at your words. Not like it? It's the first time he hasn't lost himself in the cage of his own mind during the act in---well, forever. He doesn't even want to scrub until his skin peels because he wants your touch to linger as long as possible. "I did, I just--we had sex, my dear."

The slightest pink tinges on your cheeks, and he wants to move his hands to cup them. "We did."

"...People usually leave by now."

Your face falls. "You want me to leave?"

"No, of course not, but it's just what usually..." he trails off, and his brows furrow. You suddenly seem to understand his confusion as your eyes soften in that irritatingly beautiful way of yours. But they almost seem sad...for him.

"I can stay," you say, your fingers tracing the shapes of his face. It feels nice if the way he nearly shudders means anything. He wants more.

"If you insist on adoring me, then," he replies, but his voice isn't as performative as it usually is. "Who am I to stop you?"

You smile wider, and he's sure his poor heart is doomed.

The first few times after this, he's still hesitant, unsure if you're really going to stay. But after a while, he's the one to wrap his arms around you, bringing you impossibly close as he breathes in the scent of your soap. You let him hold you until morning, and even then, he doesn't want to let go.

"Thank you," he mumbles one day. "Truly."

You only squeeze his hand, and it's enough for a thousand unspoken words.

[3mmalg]

Just Us | Old Man!Logan x Reader

🌶️ 18+

Summary: You and Logan have been on the road with Charles and Laura, but finally catch a moment for yourselves.

It has been too long since you and Logan have spent time alone together. Ever since taking in Laura and making the decision to take her north at her mother’s wish, the four of you have been sharing dingy motels and catching whatever rest you could in the truck. Charles needed to be taken care of and the kid had to be corralled, exhausting you and Logan on top of the constant threat of Dr. Rice and Pierce.

You could tell this sudden change of pace was weighing on Logan’s shoulders heavily. The circles under his eyes were darkening and the worry lines on his forehead were deepening. The frustration was eating away at him, but deep down he knew he had to do this. You could tell he needed release. He found this situation ridiculous and constantly asks you why you let him do this. After all, you, Charles, Caliban and Logan had been successfully under the radar until now. Life was peaceful and even somewhat enjoyable for Logan’s standards. Now, Caliban is dead, Charles refuses his medication, and the pair of you are tasked with taking a child to a sanctuary that could not even exist.

An unexpected change of your path lead the four of you to the farmhouse of a sweet family whom Charles and Logan helped on the highway. They fed you dinner and offered to lend you all a place to sleep, which Logan quickly accepted, catching your gaze from across the dining room. Your eyes trail down his body, catching a glimpse of his clenched fist, and a certain outline in between his legs. Your eyes travel up once more, sharing a shy smirk with Logan.

After helping Charles into bed and getting Laura comfortable, Logan grabs your hand tightly and nearly drags you off into your shared room. His heavy footsteps drown out your giggles- His body language could only mean one thing.

“Well, aren’t you eager?” You say to Logan in a lowered voice, biting back a smile. He closes the door behind you and locks it, spinning you and pressing you into the door.

“You have no idea, bub.” Logan growls.

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head tightly. His head dips to the crook of your neck, biting and sucking desperately. Your head drops back instinctively, bumping the door behind you. He was so impossibly close already, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to be inside you.

With his free hand, Logan finds the buttons of your jeans and masterfully undoes them. He releases your wrists and your hands quickly find his cheeks to pull his mouth away from your neck and to your lips. He groans deeply into the kiss and shoves your jeans to your knees as your hands tighten in his dusty grey hair. He pushes his knee into yours, forcing your legs open, and shoves his jean covered thigh against your core. You instantly moan into Logan’s mouth.

“You know how long it’s been since I’ve had you to myself? Too damn long.” He says, guiding your hips as you grind on his thigh.

“I’ve missed you.” You choke out, causing Logan to chuckle.

“Well you’ve got me for at least tonight sweet girl.”

He removes his knee from between your legs and helps you step out of your jeans and panties. He takes your hand and leads you to the bed, laying you down on the edge of it. You prop yourself onto your elbows and watch Logan unbutton his flannel and reveal his weathered body. He had been through so much in his life, but he would always make time for his girl.

He works off his jeans, leaving him only in his plain boxers, and leaving you with a wide eyed stare. This would never get old. He inserts himself between your legs and reaches for the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head and unclasps your bra while he’s at it. He sighs at the sight he had been missing for the last few weeks. He may not tell you often, but you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You ready, bub? Don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

You whimper out a desperate reply, but it isn’t good enough for Logan. He leans down, hands placed on either side of your head. Your legs immediately wrap around his hips.

“Use your words, honey. Let me hear you.” He growls into your ear.

“Please, Logan. I need you.”

He chuckles, breath fanning over your ear and neck.

“That’s what I like to hear. Such a good girl for me.” His voice dripping with desire.

He pushes his hands up and pushes his boxers down his hips, revealing his hard cock. He strokes it lazily before guiding it to your entrance. He enters you inch by inch, teasing you both. Even though it’s only been a few weeks without touching each other, being on the run has made it feel like years. Logan finally sinks his hips to become flush with yours, filling you completely. The two of you are panting into each other’s mouths, just completely full of desire and love for the other.

“You ready for me to move, hon?” He whispers in between labored breaths. You nod meekly, hair sticking to your forehead. He kisses you tenderly, his beard scratching your chin. Logan begins to move at a slow pace, but quickly picks up speed. He wants nothing more than a passionate night with you, but it’s been too long to hold himself back.

His speed increases, thrusting into you as hard as he promised. Your jaw goes slack to release a moan, but he covers it quickly with his large hand.

“As much as I wanna hear you, we don’t want to wake our hosts, huh?” He says, smiling at your fucked out expression. You nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fucks you hard.

“You’re close bub, I can feel it. Just let go for me baby.” He whispers, forehead against yours.

You let out a stifled moan against Logan’s hand as he pulls out and releases all over your stomach and thighs. He flops beside you with a groan and maneuvers himself to the top of the bed, pulling you into his muscular chest and wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders.

“I missed you.” You whisper, eyes fluttering shut.

“I know.”

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: yandere, kidnapping, captive reader, noncon, somnophilia

follow up to this part one

gn reader

Yeah, he kidnaps you within the same day…

He knows it isn’t inherently right, but he can justify it! You see, if anyone else were to find out your technique, you’d be in a lot of trouble—and by trouble, he means certain death or worse.

You’re a paradox. If he’d reported his find to the elders, they’d surely have sent assassins, given how terrified they are of the unknown—and you’re worse than an unknown—you’re a threat to jujutsu’s very foundation. He wouldn’t be surprised if they’d make weapons out of your body until nothing was left of you—just think about it—a bullet made from your flesh would have the instant power to disintegrate a curse on the spot. Or worse, they’d keep you alive and locked up somewhere, feeding you only to drain you of a dozen blood bags per day—like a farm.

Yes, this was better for you—with no one knowing of your existence except him. He’s the only one who can keep you safe.

Of course, you think he’s crazy. And he doesn’t blame you. You were just abducted by a stranger in the streets who not only insists that you’re an anomaly but wears a blindfold and claims to be a wizard out to protect you from people who would harvest your blood. Yeah, he wouldn’t believe him either.

The whole situation is messy, but at least you’re alive.

He gives you your own room. Of course, he’s not out to make you uncomfortable. You have your own room, bed, and bathroom, which is where you spend most of your time.

He can’t blame you for that, either. He won’t force you to spend time with him even though he wants to. But he’s not entirely innocent either—watching you through the cameras in the ceiling. It’s funny, but even on tape, you’re crystal clear. It’s calming to watch. Everything else makes his eyes hurt, hence the blindfold—but even that is but a dull salve. You’re the cure.

You warm up to him after a month or so. You come out of your room. He can tell you’re looking for weak spots to escape from, but you won’t find any. He’s gotten better at reading you now—having busied himself learning the language of your body looking at you without your knowledge. He only feels slightly guilty about it.

He can’t stop thinking about touching you, though. It really doesn’t have to be much—he’s never really been much of a playboy, despite people’s assumptions. Women and men have never been all that appealing when what he sees is everything they’re trying to hide. Though he has tried it a few times, he usually just takes care of it on his own if he needs to.

He's needed to a lot in the past weeks. But he promises himself he won’t force you into anything. That wouldn’t be fair.

You start talking to him another month later—actual conversations aside from the usual swearing or claims to let you go. No, you begin asking questions about the jujutsu world. He can’t tell if it’s because you’re curious or seeking information that might aid in your escape or if it’s simply a ploy to lower his guard, but it’s clear you still think he’s delusional. Either way, he doesn’t mind humoring you. He even tries demonstrating limitless for you, holding different objects as well as himself midair—but you seem convinced he’s just some talented crook. You’ve seen more compelling magic acts before, you say. He laughs.

He'd show you something more convincing, but you can’t see cursed spirits even with special glasses as the curse imbued into the lenses disrupts the moment you put them on, so to you, it’s the same as wearing fakes. In a way, curses don’t exist in your world. He’s tested it out a few times—simple flyheads, just to see what happens, and wow… It’s actually kind of scary how they just crumble upon contact with you—no residuals or anything left to prove that they were ever even there.

The only way to prove it to you would be to let someone else get mangled in front of you. Of course, it would only look like a body getting warped beyond recognition by the air—but he’s sure at that point, you’d no longer be able to assign normal logic to it. Not that he’s going to do any of that. He doesn’t really need you to believe him after all. It wouldn’t change anything. In fact, he prefers you don’t know. The jujutsu world is an ugly one—he doesn’t mind sheltering you from it.

Another four months in, and you’ve gotten comfortable. Well, it’s been half a year, so it’s taken its time, but still, he’s happy to have gotten there. You’re at the point where you ask him for things unrestricted—hobby stuff like books and paints and groceries. 

You’d taken to baking and cooking rather early on, which was great as his kitchen was practically in pristine and unused condition. He can’t blame you for growing tired of his unhealthy food habits—microwave dinners for the most part, other times leftovers he brings home from restaurants, otherwise just candy and pastries. You’d refused to make him anything in the start, but you’d soon caved when you realized he could just as simply refuse to bring you the ingredients. You’re now the designated cook of the house. It’s cute, like having his own little housewife.

Your guard has also dropped. You no longer flinch away when he’s close. Not that he allows himself to touch you improperly—just a little—a few accidental rubs here and then, brushing along you in passing, blaming it on the blindfold even when he can hear your feet pad along the floors in the utter silent emptiness of his house. And other innocent things... laying his hand on your head when he reaches for a glass in the cupboard above you, telling you he wouldn’t want you to hit yourself—brushing your back with his chest and his crotch on your rear. It can’t hurt—it only barely touches and just for a few seconds.

It makes him feel like a filthy drug addict, though. Desperate for a fix, then only wanting more once it’s gone…

He’s been coming to your room to watch you sleep almost every night. You don’t know. You’d be more wary of him if you did. But no, you’re under the impression he’s just some poor, disillusioned man who’s otherwise harmless. You don’t know, and he aims to keep it that way.

It’s for your sake. Just the same as you don’t know curses exist, you needn’t know of the cursed thoughts simmering within his head either. So, he does it for you. To spare you.

That’s what he tells himself when watching you obliviously drink the crushed pills he’s been feeding you for the last many months.

He’d reached his breaking point much sooner than he thought—just after he swore against it, actually. Limiting himself only seemed to make him ever more in need of you. But it was to be expected—he’s never been too good at abiding by rules. He’s always felt above them—even those he sets upon himself.

He’s happy you’ve warmed up to him when you’re awake now, too, utterly unaware you’ve been more than accommodating in your sleep.

Of course, he feels bad! But what you don’t know won’t hurt you.

Besides... give or take a few more months, and you’re bound to invite him into your bed at some point. It’s only natural—humans require contact and will accept what’s available to them. He’s only early in taking what he knows you’d give him sooner or later anyway.

You have no way of knowing how long you sleep, no windows, no watch—no idea you sleep more than half a day every night—half of that time spent with him.

He’d only spooned you at first—his bare hands laid in reverence against your soft skin, reveling in your heat while cuddling into you. It had been nice, but ultimately not enough. He’d resorted to undressing after a while, lying there naked—but still, doing nothing but holding you—skin-to-skin. That, as well, had only been enough for a while—now keeping a hand on you while tugging himself in the other. It seems that every indulgence he allows himself only serves to make the need within grow deeper. You rivet his entire body ablaze like nothing else… and he has this undying feeling pounding in his chest and throughout his body, down to his throbbing dick, that being inside you is going to feel like nothing he's ever felt before.

And you're so cute down there—pretty on his fingers—welcoming. Kissing there makes his candy addiction go to waste. He’s convinced burying his face between your thighs is where he belongs. Right there, smothered in the warmth with your taste flooding his mouth. He could die happy. 

And fuck if it doesn’t look like you need his cock inside you once he pulls away—spit-slicked, swollen, and fluttering for him—crying to be filled and fucked. 

The little sounds you make as he enters you are the sweetest sounds he’s heard in his life—pretty little mews and sleepy moans as he fills you out until you’re neatly settled around his base and fuck—he’s already cumming, melting within the surrounding cloudy warmth. 

It doesn’t stop him from remaining hard. 

Dropping his weight atop of you, he smothers you like a duvet—bodies pressed perfectly against each other as he kisses every and any part of you he can reach, snapping his hips in short thrusts deep within—sucking your lip while sinking his fingers into the plume of your haunches, lapping up the spit from within your mouth like a well granting all his wishes.

He cleans you up after—wipes you down, and frets over the bruises left on you, hoping you won’t read too much into how sore you are. Leaving the crimescene just as it had been before, then kisses you good night.

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