#and have the rest of the day go in as gentle of a way as possible

[okwonyo]

BEAUTIFUL SCENE 𓈒𓈒 ❪ 日语 ❫

TESTI ────── 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.

enhypen who has a crush on fem!rea 12OO fluff non-idol au 但 skinship kissing ❛ REBLOGS&CLICK ❜

지아 ⠀⦂⠀ sruchocopop helped me for this 🍀 it was supposed to be short but oh well ..

HEESEUNG

his body yearns to be close to you— to touch, to feel you. he wants to know how the feeling on his fingers brushing your soft skin feels. therefore, he finds any excuse to do so.

“you have food all over your face,” he chuckles. he noticed it a few minutes ago, as soon as the tiniest crumbs of your bread fell next to your mouth. of course, he stopped eating a while ago, too busy admiring your every move.

“wha’ d’ya say?” you mutter, cheeks round and full of the big bite you took a seconds before. your eyes are glistening with wonder, pure curiosity and wonder— clueless of how cute you are looking at the moment.

his heart beats faster as he reaches for the side of your mouth with his thumb, his body moves completely on his own. he tries to not melt under your gaze, wiping the cream off the corner of your lips, caressing your lips, “here you go.”

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

JAY

always so gentle with you. his tone is always soft. he smiles gentle, pearly whites showing perfectly as he talks to you. his inner nature always shows off whenever you are with him. his body warms up with chivalry.

your way often crosses the college’s hallways. he is quick to greet you with this lovely smile of his. beyond charming and beautiful.

today, he meets you again. his attention is first one your face, as always, then he peeks at the huge cardboard box in your hands. he doesn’t think before speaking, before moving towards you and telling you, “let me take this for you.”

he knows it already, what are your next words. he starts walking before you can even say, “you don’t have—”

“please, let me do this for you,” he immediately cuts you. the world stops, for you especially, well to hang on lips to say anything.

JAKE

he doesn’t realize it. it is as natural as breathing to him, as if being there—so close to you— is his birth right. you are his only compass, the star that guides him up in the sky.

his breath catches when you respond to him calling your name by turning around. the smile that grows on your face is immediately mirrored by him, “are you following me around?”

he jogs towards you, unable to keep his giggles for himself. “huh?” is the first thing he tells you, registering your question after a minute of staring at your smiley face.

“you are always somewhere close to me,” you chuckle— you don’t seem bothered by that fact. you look more pleased than not and that makes him pleased as well.

he shrugs, immediately following you like a puppy when you start walking to your class. he bumps his shoulder into yours gently, “maybe it’s destiny.”

SUNGHOON

he isn’t really the type to do much just yet. although, he had a crush on you since the day his gaze rested on you, since the first time he heard your laugh. he can’t keep you out of his mind nor his eyes away from you.

he knows it. that as soon as he catches a glimpse of you, it would be impossible for him to look away so soon. not until someone tells him that he looks like a creep— and even then, he wouldn’t be so sure.

he bites his lower lip as he observes you from afar. you look beyond mesmerizing, like everything you do, the simple way in which you sit is attractive. he feels his body being pulled closer by a force he can’t name.

he doesn’t move however. he only tries to not get into a spiral when you bite your pen. he has never seen someone so effortlessly pretty. you seem to think hard, harder than a pretty girl like you should and he wants remedy to that.

his heart skips a beat when your eyes shoot up— immediately looking deep into his. his chest heaves while you hold eye contact. your smirk before looking down on your notes makes him groan. you are teasing him too much.

SUNOO

in his friendly nature, he befriends the girl he finds so gorgeous. he becomes so close to you that he spends his days with you by his side.

he doesn’t think he has hidden his crush on you ever. internally, he hopes that it becomes something more and he never fails to show it. it is you who is oblivious.

he tries, he really does, to make you understand that he wants more than just ‘silly friends’ date’— but it seems that your head is too thick to realize it. he decides to use words, loud and clear: “what do you think of us?”

you seem confused, “us?” if it wasn’t for how cute you look with the small blush coloring your cheeks, he would facepalm.

JUNGWON

he knows you like him too. he just doesn’t understand why you are so sure he doesn’t see you like that. he decides to emphasize, “you and me, us, love!”

this man is always so sweet to you. always showering you in nice words and teasing you a little bit to get a reaction out of you.

“did you try something new with your hair?” he questions you— he is always the first to notice when you try something remotely new. even as little as putting a ribbon in your hair.

a flush creeps across your cheeks, “uh, yeah,” you respond. your voice is tiny and cute— your shyness is seen all over the surface of your face.

“don’t get shy,” he chuckles. he finds it endearing, how easily it is to make you shy. you are not even aware of the effect it has on him, “i didn’t even tell you how beautiful you are yet, doll.”

he laughs when you playfully beat his chest with your fist.

RIKI

he has never been the type to be so happy about such simple things. but he admits that he has been on cloud nine since he successfully got your number.

“i’m doing good,” pops up, accompanied by the cutest emoji. “what about you?” he reads on his phone’s screen. your contact name above the text he just received makes his body vibrate with pure joy and enthusiasm.

he falls on his bed, thinking about an answer to something as simple as this. “i’m doing good,” he types out first. “because,” his fingers tap on the keyboard. “i’m talking to you.”

he immediately puts his phone away. he does everything in his power to think about anything else but your answer— and he fails. he reaches for his phone as soon as he hears a notification.

“haha, you are too cute,” your text says, a kissy face is added at the end. the boy smiles, giggles even. his cheeks hurt from smiling too much and he realizes that he looks stupid, but he doesn’t care. you really manage to make him giddy though the phone.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[0xstarzx0]

NDA: Sleeping with Rafe was easy until you caught feelings. Unfortunately, you were married with kids, but let’s be honest, that was never going to stop the great Rafe Cameron.

+18

People would never understand.

William was a good man—wealthy, kind, affectionate. He had given you beautiful children, cherished you, loved you in every way a husband was supposed to.

So why did you cheat on him?

William was gentle, patient, and attentive, but you weren’t in love with him. The only reason you stayed was for your children, to give them the stability of a present, devoted father.

The first time you and Rafe slept together, it was a mistake. A drunken night that spiraled into something reckless, something forbidden.

It just happened.

You weren’t happy—not romantically, not sexually, not truly—and Rafe was the only man who made you feel like more than just a wife, more than just a mother. With him, you felt alive.

Yet, you had sworn to yourself that it wouldn’t happen again.

And now, here you were, standing in his dimly lit living room at 9 PM. Just the two of you.

“Rafe, I don’t want this anymore.”

He turned to face you, eyebrows knitting together as he poured himself a glass of whiskey.

“Did I miss something?” he asked, his voice calm, indifferent, like this conversation was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

You stepped in front of him, refusing to be intimidated by his height, by his presence.

“I love my husband. I love my kids. I have everything I could ever want,” you argued, trying to convince him—trying to convince yourself.

Rafe took a slow sip of his drink, eyes locked on you, unreadable. Then, he simply nodded.

“Alright.”

That was it. No fight, no plea. Just alright.

Your heart skipped a beat. That wasn’t what you expected. You had prepared for an argument, for persuasion, for the inevitable temptation. But not this.

“Okay,” you whispered, grabbing your things.

And then, just as you turned, he caught your wrist. Before you could react, his lips brushed against yours—just for a second. A mere ghost of a kiss.

You froze.

He pulled away, waiting. Watching.

And then, before you could think, before you could stop yourself—you crashed into him.

Rafe manages to stabilize you in a few seconds, his lips moving desperately against yours, damn it, is this what they call "love"?

He buries his head in your neck and you moan, his hands gripping your ass tightly, his breathing heavy against your neck.

"You're going to leave your husband and come spend the rest of your days with me." He carries you to his sofa and pushes you against it, you pull him in by tugging on the collar of his shirt.

"And you know why you'll do it?" He tears your tights, eliciting a loud moan from you. "Because you're completely crazy about me."

"Go to hell Rafe!" You moan, he laughs and pulls your panties to the side without warning, he thrusts deep inside you. You feel your body shake with pleasure. He curses under his breath as he pulls your legs over his shoulders, deepening the angle. "Say it," he growls, his hands digging into your thighs. "Say you'll leave him." You whimper, your nails clawing at his back. "N-no,"

He pushes harder, your pussy feeling so good around him—it's better than it was with William. "Fuck, you're so tight," he grunts, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. You gasp, your head tossing side to side on the sofa.

He leans down, his teeth grazing your neck. "You're so fuck up f’me, whether you admit it or not," he hisses. "Your body knows it, even if your heart doesn't." His fingers find your clit, circling it firmly. "Come on, baby. Give in."

Tears stream down your face from overwhelming pleasure as Rafe chuckles. He laughs because he knows that William has never had you like this—completely at his mercy, your body surrendering utterly. 

"That's it, sweetheart," Rafe purrs, feeling your pussy clench tightly around him.

"God!.." he groans, his pace quickening. "You make me lose control." He swallows hard, then asks darkly, "Are you on the pill?" You freeze beneath him. " Answer me," he growls, "Before I put a baby in you."

you bite your lip hard and scratch his back.

"Say it," he demands, his hands gripping your hips possessively. "Say you don't care if I knock you up right now." He pulls out slightly, teasing his tip at your entrance. "Say it, and I'll do it."

"I don't care if you put a baby in me Rafe Cameron. I just want you to do it." You look Rafe straight in the eyes, there's no ounce of doubt or hesitation, only love, love that has been repressed for far too long.

His eyes darken dangerously at your words, raw emotion flashing across his face. "Fuck," he mutters, then drives into you hard and deep, each thrust deliberate. "You realize what you're saying? That you want..." He breaks off, his voice becoming thick. "My baby."

"Say it again," he demands roughly, his body shaking above you. "That you'll carry my baby, that you'll be the mother of my children." He pants, his face contorted with emotion.

You remove your legs from his shoulders and cradle his face in your soft hands. "I'll be the mother of your children." You smile, your eyes starting to fill with tears. "I'll be the mother of your children." Rafe laughs, a hint of sincerity, and kisses you deeply.

For the first time in his life, Rafe felt like he had found the right one—and he had no intention of ruining it.

[hazelira]

up, up!

Jake leaned against the front door frame, arms crossed as he checked the time on his watch. His usual composed expression softened with the slightest hint of amusement—and maybe just a little bit of exasperation. Grocery shopping. That’s all this was supposed to be. A quick run, in and out. But here he was, waiting in the foyer like he was about to walk a red carpet, except the show's real star hadn’t even made her entrance yet.

The distant sound of your voice floated down the hall.

“I know, baby, but you can’t wear all the tutus.”

A high-pitched whine followed.

Jake pinched the bridge of his nose, suppressing a chuckle. His daughter—his bossy baby—was already making demands before she had even stepped foot outside. Like mother, like daughter.

And then, finally, the moment came.

You emerged, holding your toddler’s tiny hand. She waddled beside you, her pink tutu bouncing with every determined little step she took. Her chubby cheeks were slightly flushed, her dark lashes still heavy from sleep, and her messy baby hairs framed her face like a crown.

Jake’s brow arched.

“…Are you serious?”

Your daughter blinked up at him, completely unaware of the sheer ridiculousness of her outfit. A complete, fluffy pink tutu, glittery socks that barely stayed up, and a matching pink cardigan with a bunny embroidered on the pocket. She looked like a tiny ballerina who had just rolled out of bed and decided today was her day.

“She refused to get out of bed without it,” you sighed, adjusting the packaged diaper bag slung over your shoulder. “She threw a fit, Yunie. You know how she gets.”

Jake exhaled slowly, his gaze flicking between the two of you: his exhausted but beautiful wife and his daughter, who looked like she had just stumbled onto the set of a ballet recital but had no clue what was happening.

“Sweetie, do you even know where we’re going?” he asked, crouching slightly to meet her big, sleepy eyes.

His daughter sucked on her thumb for a second, deep in thought, before deciding it didn’t matter. Instead, she toddled forward and wrapped her arms around his leg.

“Daddy, up up.”

That was it. That was the final order.

Jake sighed dramatically, though his lips twitched as he bent down to scoop her into his arms. Her tiny hands fisted his blazer, her cheek pressing against his shoulder, and he felt her let out the most minor, sleepiest sigh.

“Bossy little baby,” he murmured, kissing her forehead.

You grinned, stepping closer to adjust her tutu so it didn’t get squished in his hold. “Well, what do you expect? She’s your daughter.”

Jake rolled his eyes, but how he held her—gentle, firm, completely wrapped around her little finger—told you he wouldn’t have it any other way.

With a resigned sigh, he shifted his daughter comfortably in one arm, then reached for your hand with the other.

“Alright, princess. Let’s go get some groceries.”

And just like that, the Sim family exited the door.

The drive to the grocery store was mostly quiet, except for the occasional backseat babbling. Jake glanced at the rearview mirror, watching his daughter absentmindedly gnaw on her milk bottle, her eyes still heavy with sleep. She was oblivious to how ridiculous she looked, pink tutu fluffing around her tiny legs like she was heading to a gala rather than a supermarket.

Conversely, you were scrolling through your phone, double-checking the grocery list you’d made.

“You know,” Jake started, lazily resting one hand on the steering wheel while his other tapped against the gear shift, “we could’ve just left her at home with my mom.”

A scoff left your lips as you turned to him. “She would’ve burned the house down.”

Jake let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “She’s a toddler, not a monster.”

“She’s our toddler, Yunie. She was ready to throw hands over a tutu.”

At that, he gave a single nod. Fair point.

From the backseat, a soft whine.

“Pink,” your daughter mumbled as if offended that she wasn’t included in the conversation about her beloved outfit.

Jake sighed, flicking on the turn signal as he pulled into the grocery store parking lot. “Yeah, yeah, we know. Tutu supremacy.”

When you unbuckled her from the car seat, she reached out for her dad again. “Up, up.”

Heeseung gave you a look. “You walked to the car by yourself.”

She blinked, utterly unbothered. “Daddy, up up.”

He scoffed, but there was no real fight in him. Jake wasn’t not going to carry her. So, with a deep sigh—his signature chill but entirely at her mercy Dad moved—he hoisted her onto his hip.

With one arm securely wrapped around his tiny dictator, he grabbed a shopping cart and nodded for you to lead the way inside.

The moment you stepped into the store, your daughter perked up.  

Her sleepy haze was gone.

Now, she was pointing at everything—bright-coloured cereal boxes, neatly stacked fruits, random strangers who weren’t paying attention to her but who she seemed to think needed her approval.  

You reached for a pack of strawberries, tossing them into the cart. “Yunie, can you grab—”  

Before you could even finish, Jake sighed. “Yeah, I got it.”  

He knew. He always knew. You needed milk. It was an unspoken rule in your household that there had to be at least two cartons in the fridge at all times, and after years of grocery runs together, he was already making his way toward the dairy aisle like it was second nature.  

You watched him go, but your daughter latched onto him, babbling about absolutely nothing.  

And then—  

A tiny gasp.  

She wiggled in Jake’s arms, her chubby hands smacking against his chest.  

“Daddy! Look!”  

She pointed dramatically to the pinkiest thing she could see—a massive display of Hello Kitty snacks, cookies, and juice boxes.  

Jake looked at the shelves, then at you, then back at his daughter, who was practically vibrating in his arms.  

“You don’t even *know* what that is,” he deadpanned.  

She was unbothered. “It’s pink.”  

You bit back a laugh, giving him a knowing smirk. “She makes a solid argument.”  

Jake stared at you, then at the display, and then at his daughter, who was now blinking at him with those big, round, pleading eyes.  

“…You’re killing me,” he muttered under his breath before grabbing a pack of pink Hello Kitty cookies and tossing them into the cart.  

Your daughter clapped her hands in victory. “Pink tutu and cookies!”  

“Unbelievable,” Jake groaned, but there was no real bite. He pressed a quick kiss to her temple before sighing dramatically. “What have I gotten myself into?”  

You grinned, leaning in to peck his cheek. “Welcome to fatherhood, love.”  

And just like that, Jake accepted his fate—wrapped around the little finger of his tiny, bossy ballerina, pink tutu and all.

As the grocery run continued, Jake found himself trapped in what could only be described as a pink-fueled hostage situation.  

Your daughter, still securely in his arms, had taken complete control. Jake obeyed every aisle she pointed at. He sighed before grabbing every snack she eyed. You, meanwhile, were watching it all unfold with barely contained amusement.  

“Yunie, she doesn’t need that many cookies,” you murmured, crossing your arms as you eyed the growing collection of pink-themed snacks in the cart.  

Jake, looking thoroughly exhausted despite it only being twenty minutes into the trip, ran a hand through his hair. "Tell her that.”  

You turned to your daughter, who was now happily snacking on a teething biscuit you had packed. She blinked at you, completely innocent—except she wasn’t. You knew that tiny brain of hers was already scheming.  

“Sweetheart,” you said gently, tucking a stray baby hair behind her ear. “We’re only getting one treat today, okay?”  

She considered your words for a moment, tilting her head. Then, slowly, she turned back to Jake and, in the softest, most manipulative voice possible, mumbled:  

“…Daddy?”  

You nearly snorted. Oh, she knew what she was doing.  

Jake stared at her like he was fighting for his life. “Don’t daddy me,” he warned, shifting her in his arms.  

But the damage was done.  

She reached up, patting his cheek with her tiny hand. Then—the move that sealed his fate forever—she rested her head against his shoulder and nuzzled into him.  

You swore you saw your husband malfunction on the spot.  

His shoulders tensed, his grip on the cart tightened, and he let out a long, suffering sigh. Then, without a single word, he grabbed a second pack of cookies and tossed it into the cart.  

You gaped at him. “JAKE.”  

“She’s—” He gestured wildly to the tiny human in his arms, now humming happily like she hadn’t just emotionally manipulated her father. “She’s so small! How does she have this much power?”  

You couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore, shaking your head as you pushed the cart toward the checkout.  

Wondered what your favourite snack or that one candy/chocolate/chips, you'd whine for your parents to buy it for you? I remembered mine was Caramilk chocolate or Caramel Candy Apples!

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

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Baby Series Masterlist

[areislol]

hi!! i love ur writing sm and if you could make a dr ratio x pregnant f!reader omg that would just be superb like i wanna see this man slowly realize he’s going soft like ahhhhhhhh im just obsessed with him but i love ur writing sm ur amazing

pairings. dr. ratio x f!pregnant reader

warnings. just fluff.

a/n. thank you so much for your kind words! i love the idea of dr. ratio slowly realizing he’s going soft for his pregnant partner omg!!! also i kind of made it into three parts in a way.

wc. 1k

synopsis. dr ratio being soft with his pregnant wife.

recommend listening to: love. - wave to earth

‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSoft Spot

The first time Dr. Ratio noticed something was different, it was subtle. You moved a bit slower, a hand resting idly over your stomach more often than not. You were always warm, but now you seemed to radiate a different kind of warmth—a quiet, almost sacred glow. He didn't question it at first. Maybe it was exhaustion; maybe you were just adjusting to a change in your routine. But then he started paying attention.

You were sick more often. You turned your nose up at certain foods that you used to love, eyes filled with frustration that made him arch a brow. And then the realization struck him like a calculated equation coming together at last.

You were pregnant.

At first, Dr. Ratio didn't quite know what to do with that information. He sat with it, processed it the way he would a difficult medical case. The logical part of him knew what pregnancy entailed—the symptoms, the risks, the way your body would change to accommodate the new life growing inside you.

But what he didn’t expect was the way it changed him.

He caught himself reaching out more. A steadying hand on your lower back when you walked, a gentle nudge to remind you to sit down when you insisted you were fine.

He found himself monitoring your meals, his sharp eyes noticing when you hadn’t eaten enough. When you winced or sighed in discomfort, his jaw would tighten, his fingers twitching with the impulse to do something, anything, to make it easier for you.

And it terrified him.

Dr. Ratio was not a man who coddled. He was pragmatic, and efficient—someone who prioritized reason over sentimentality. But with you? With you, it was different. He caught himself lingering longer in bed in the mornings, his fingers tracing lazy circles over your belly, as if trying to understand the life growing within.

He caught himself talking to your stomach when he thought you were asleep, murmuring things he would never admit to in the light of day.

“You’re making your mother work too hard,” he’d say in a hushed tone, his palm pressing over the slight swell. “She’s stubborn. You’ll probably be just like her.”

You had giggled sleepily at that once, shifting closer into his embrace. “You love it,” you whispered.

He didn't answer. He didn't have to.

As the months passed, he softened in ways he never expected. The sharp edges of his personality remained, but now they bent in quiet ways when it came to you. He let you rest your head on his shoulder more often.

He indulged you when you had odd cravings, even if he teased you about them relentlessly. And at night, when you shifted uncomfortably, unable to find the right position, he would wordlessly pull you into his arms, guiding you into a space where you could breathe, where you could rest.

Dr. Ratio wasn’t a man easily shaken. But as he watched you carry his child, as he felt tiny movements under his palm for the first time, he knew—he was a goner.

— (yet another incident)

He had never considered himself the sentimental type. In fact, he prided himself on being the opposite—rational, detached, and entirely too jaded to be swayed by emotions. But then there was you.

And now, there was this.

He leans against the doorway of your shared bedroom, watching as you struggle to tie your shoelaces over the curve of your growing belly. A sight that, logically, shouldn’t make his chest feel tight.

“Tch. You’re hopeless,” he mutters, pushing off the doorframe and crouching down in front of you. His gloved hands bat yours away as he swiftly ties your laces with effortless precision.

You pout, crossing your arms. “I could’ve done it myself, you know.”

“Sure. And I could perform surgery blindfolded. Doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

Despite his teasing, he’s careful—too careful. As if the smallest touch could shatter you. He clicks his tongue, annoyed at himself. Since when had he become so delicate?

Your laugh is light, playful. “You’re such a grump. Admit it—you like taking care of me.”

Dr. Ratio scoffs, straightening up. “Don’t flatter yourself.” But his hand lingers on your knee for a second too long before he pulls away.

You smirk, knowing him too well. “You’re soft for me.”

“I’m efficient,” he corrects, crossing his arms. “If I don’t do things for you, you’ll just struggle and whine about it. So really, this is self-preservation.”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, doc.”

he huffs but doesn’t argue.

He doesn’t tell you about the way his heart clenches every time he sees you absentmindedly rubbing your stomach.

He doesn’t mention how he’s started scheduling fewer late-night research sessions just so he can be home earlier.

And he certainly doesn’t say how the thought of you—both of you—has begun to outshine even the sharpest of his logic.

But as you beam at him, your fingers brushing over his in a fleeting touch, Dr. Ratio has to face the truth:

He’s going soft.

And against all odds, he doesn’t mind one bit.

—

If you knew anything about Dr. Ratio, you know just how much he liked silence. It gave him space to think, to analyze, to breathe.

But right now, the silence felt different.

Softer. Warmer.

Because it was filled with the sound of your steady breathing as you slept beside him, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the curve of your stomach.

He didn’t know when this became a habit. Didn’t know when he started reaching for you in his sleep or why the feeling of your growing belly under his touch made something tighten in his chest.

It was irrational. Unscientific.

And yet.

He couldn’t stop.

His hand lingered, palm resting over where your child—his child—grew. The thought should have scared him. Maybe, once, it would have.

But now, with you curled against him, his body instinctively moulding around yours, all he could think was—

This isn’t so bad.

Maybe… this is what home feels like.

note: if you would like to be added to the honkai star rail taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy

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[cherrycocaineee]

42. The Firefighter and the Nurse - Toji Fushiguro

*Synopsis: Toji is a firefighter; strong, handsome, calloused, and scarred. You are a nurse who works a lot of shifts and doesn't make time for yourself due to your hectic schedule. You meet Toji after he inhales a bit too much of the smoke from a fire he rescued a child from. Toji's a shameless flirt, and he can't help himself around such a pretty nurse that's 10 years his age difference.*

*Warning: age gap, smut, 18+, MDNI. Everyone is of legal age. Use of Y/N. Size kink, Toji is significantly bigger (no matter your true size, Toji is bigger lol.) Dirty talk, hair pulling, spitting. Toji shows you how to take care of yourself since you're stressed and overworked. It's important. A bar scene. Whatever else is considered a warning.*

The hospital was busier than normal; there had been a fire at an apartment building and lots of the people who had gotten caught in it had made a beeline for the hospital to make sure they and their children were okay. You were standing at the receptionist's desk overlooking some papers on your clipboard; you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. There was a dull ache in the bottom of your feet from being on them all day; a twelve hour shift now turning into a twenty hour shift.

"Y/N, exam room 3 has a patient in need of his oxygen tank changed. He breathed in a bit too much smoke from the smoke rescuing a kid from the burning apartment.” Dr. Holloway informed you.

Giving Dr. Holloway a quick nod, you set down the clipboard in your hand and approached exam room 3. The clipboard to the patient hangs inside the clear folder beside the door. You pick it up, reading the patient's name: Toji Fushiguro. Also listed on the paper was that he was a firefighter. You opened the door and went inside, the door clicked behind you. Sitting in one of the cushioned chairs was a very, VERY large man with green eyes, black hair, and a scar on his full lips. He was very handsome; actually the best way to describe the man sitting before you was that he mimicked a Greek God.

"Mr. Fushiguro,” your voice pulling him from whatever he was thinking of. "I'm Nurse Y/N, I'm here to check on your oxygen tank and oxygen levels.”

Toji grins up at you. "Might need another one since they sent me such a pretty, little nurse.”

A shameless flirt.

Your stomach instantly feels like it has a million butterflies in it, a soft blush forming on your cheeks. You mentally shake your head, reminding yourself to remain professional. There were still a lot of other patients who needed you to focus. So you smile, pushing away the butterflies that have been released in your stomach, and approach him.

"Noted,” your voice is gentle but there's a hint of amusement laced in it. You take off the oxygen mask that's on his face then set it on the table beside y'all. "Can you sit up for me, Mr. Fushiguro?”

"Call me Toji.” He says, his voice still gravelly; he definitely needed some water. Toji leans forward as you put on your stethoscope. Once it's positioned properly on your ears, you place the metal piece on Toji's back.

"Deep breath for me, Toji.”

The sound of his name leaving your perfectly glossed lips sent a wave of arousal through his body. His name has never sounded better. Toji takes a deep breath in as you instructed.

"Now, slowly exhale.”

As Toji exhales the big breath he just inhaled, you listen to his lungs for any sounds like crackling or wheezing. There is a faint crackle. You pull the stethoscope off and step back.

"There is a faint crackle in your lungs,” you inform him. "I'm going to hook you up to a second oxygen tank. We'll start with half a tank first and give you the rest if the crackling is still there.”

"Sounds good to me, mamas.” Toji says, leaning back in his chair.

Once making sure he's comfortable, you head out to fetch him a new oxygen tank and some water. You return shortly with a cup of iced water and a full oxygen tank. You hand Toji the styrofoam cup.

"Here, drink this. I'm sure you're parched after being inside that fire.”

It's almost comical watching his large, calloused hand wrap around the tiny styrofoam cup. The clear liquid sloshed around as he pulled it up to his scarred lips. While Toji chugs the water you gave him, you hook up his new tank, connecting it to the oxygen mask. Once he placed the cup down, you secured the mask on to his face. Tojl takes several deep breaths that seem to relieve some stress.

"So, what's it like to be a nurse?” He asks as he begins to relax.

"Long shifts. Most nights or mornings when I go home I immediately crash out for hours. However, helping save lives makes it all worth it.” You answer, filling out his chart again. "What's it like being a firefighter?”

"Dangerous. Some days are worse than others but it's exhilarating. I wouldn't have it any other way.” Toji grins.

Toji's grin seems almost feral, like he gets off the extreme danger that he faces every day. You look up at him.

"How do you get rid of all the stress when you got home at the end of the day?” You're genuinely curious since relaxing outside of sleeping has never been your strong suit. You can't even remember the last time you've gone out with friends, had a date, or brought someone home with you for unattached sex.

Toji’s broad, muscular shoulders lift as he shrugs but there's an amused smile on his face.

“Suppose the same way any man in his 30's does. Going out to a bar, drinking, and dirty sex.”

You weren't expecting that answer… or well, you weren't expecting him to be so honest about his bedroom activities. There's a smirk on Toji's face as if he can read the shock on your face. He probably can, he seems to be able to read you loud and clear. You clear your throat.

"What, uhm, what bar would you recommend in the area?” You asked, desperate to move the conversation in a different direction.

A deep chuckle, almost a husky sound, flutters from Toji's chest.

"The bar on 52nd. O'Hannigans. Plan on stopping by?”

"If I manage to find the time.”

"Sweetheart, you can't find time, you have to make it. Sometimes it's good to prioritize yourself. The two of us see a lot of fucking shit in our line of work; nice to go out and treat yourself once in a blue moon.”

Sounds awfully unlike him. You can't imagine him being this…well rounded.

"Plus, if you do manage to get yourself to that bar, I might just get a chance to have you in my bed…begging.”

Okay, that seems more like Toji even if you've only known him for an hour. And now you can't help the rushing heat engulfing your cheeks. He's inappropriate; makes it difficult to do your job.

"Bold of you to assume I'd let you take me home.” You counter, hoping the blush on your face wasn't too noticeable.

Toji grins, it's somehow more feral. “I mean we can definitely fuck around in the bathroom, doll. Doesn't really matter to me as long as I get to hear what pretty sounds you can make.”

You can't help smack his muscular arm; Toji chuckles, unfazed.

Eventually Toji is all better and ready to return to his job. You instructed him to be careful and not over exert himself, you didn't want the crackling in his lungs to return because he prematurely ran into another fire. As Toji makes his way to the door, he stops and leans down, his scarred lips almost brushing against your ear.

"See ya, doll." he gruffs out, "hope you don't keep me waiting too long. Dying to get my hands on this pretty fucking body.”

Before you're able to reply with some sarcastic, uninterested response, Toji leaves with a very cocky smirk displayed on his face like he won a prize. You huff softly, clutching your paperwork to your chest. Pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, you watch Toji disappear before resuming your shift.

After your twenty hour shift, you went home and crashed like you knew you would. You didn't even change out of your scrubs or shower, just collapsed on your bed and passed out. Fortunately you were off today, so when you woke up you'd be able to do whatever you wanted to do. When you woke up, you had completely forgotten your conversation about O'Hannigans with Toji while you treated him until you saw a commercial on the television. It was just a little after six in the afternoon, not too late to go out but a part of you didn't want to go out tonight. Whether it was because you were tired or because you were afraid of seeing Toji again. He had caused a stir in your body that you've been ignoring.

However, you convinced yourself that you deserve a drink or two; so you pull yourself together and shower before getting dressed into something cute and cozy. You wore a pair of casual skinny jeans and a pale pink, long-sleeve, tight-fitted shirt.

The bar was packed when you got there, you almost turned around and went home. You sat at the end of the dimly lit bar away from everyone. You wished you could say you didn't look for Toji but you did. Your eyes scanned the crowded bar looking for the incredibly large man you treated in the hospital. You find him, it isn't hard either because he stands out like a sore thumb. He's sitting at a booth by himself drinking a glass of whiskey. You look away from him and towards the bartender who approaches you; you settle on a regular beer. Not exactly your favorite but it'll do. You drank alone, keeping your eyes ahead not wanting to stare at Toji or anyone too long.

"Must be my lucky fucking day,” a gruff voice said as Toji slid into the stool beside you. "Nurse Y/N, wasn't expecting you to actually come to O'Hannigans.”

"Well, it's like you said," you hum quietly, "gotta make time for yourself because time won't.”

He grinned while taking a long drink of his whiskey. You run your fingers through your hair, smiling as you take a drink of your beer. Toji looked at you again, but this time, he really looked at your taking in every curve, every rise and fall of your chest, every single move. He couldn't wait to get his fucking hands on you, if you'll let him.

So, you gonna take me up on my offer or do I gotta get on my knees?” Toji asks, meeting your gaze.

"What offer?" You inquire, crossing one leg over the other.

Toji grinned wider, "The one where I offered to take your pretty, little body home and taste ya.”

A deep blush crept up your neck and coated your face turning you as red as a tomato. He chuckles, loving the way you react to his shameless flirting. You swallow thickly. It's been such a long time since you indulged in pleasure, always so busy with nursing and saving lives; it was easy to say you placed your sex life on the back burner. Once again, you push the fallen strands of your hair behind your ear.

"I'm flattered, Tojl, but honestly I'm probably no good at it anymore. Been quite a while since I indulged.” The best thing you could do was be honest that you've lost your touch when it came to bedroom magic.

"You're telling that a girl like you can't manage to get some dick every once in a while?” Toji asked.

You roll your eyes. "It's not that I can't get laid. I've just been too busy so I've neglected that part of myself to focus on being a nurse.”

Toji chuckled as he gulped down another mouthful of whiskey. "Poor girl. You must really need a stress reliever.”

Maybe you did. Maybe Toji could be the one to help you find some type of stress relief. It was a very tempting offer especially considering Toji looked the way he did. You could almost drool at the sight of him; imagining his large body covering yours as he pounded into you. It was a dream come true that he was offering. Toji grinned at the way you were staring at him.

"C'mon doll, I can see the way you're looking at me. You want me just as bad as I want you. Don't fight it, come home with me tonight.”

You take another gulp of your beer while looking into his very sexy green eyes. You set the beer bottle down with a quiet thud.

“I suppose one night can't hurt.” You whispered.

He groans lowly, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. "Such a good little girl.”

Toji took his wallet out of his back pocket and paid for both y'all's drinks before grabbing your wrist and hauling you to your feet. The two of you made your way out of the bar and to Toji’s vehicle. You look at him skeptically, questioning whether or not he was sober enough to drive. Toji looked down at you, smirking.

"Don't worry your pretty, little head, doll. One glass of whiskey is nowhere near enough to intoxicate me.”

Relief washes over you before you climb into the passenger's seat.

Toji doesn't waste any time as soon as the two of you arrive at his apartment and walk through the front door. Immediately, he lifts you up with one arm and pins you against the nearest wall, then smashes his lips against yours in a hungry, passionate, sloppy kiss. Toji digs his fingers into your thighs, and you wrap your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his black hair. It's softer than it looks, and you can't help but tighten your fingers. Toji growls in pleasure as he pulls your bottom lip with his teeth before shoving his tongue between your pretty lips. He held you easily, like you didn't weigh a damn thing.

As y'all's lips moved in sync, Toji moved his hands from your thighs and pulled off the shirt you had on to reveal the cute bra you had decided to wear. It pushed your breast up nicely and the slightest jostle caused your breast to jiggle. Toji buried his face into your cleavage, groaning at the feeling of your soft, plushy boobs against his bare skin. He ran his tongue up the valley of your chest, eliciting a moan from you that went straight to his cock. Another growl leaves his throat; his fingers worked expertly fast as he undid your bra. You could tell he wasn't new at this. Once your bra hit the ground next to your discarded shirt, Tojl removed his own shirt then captured one of your hardened nipples in his mouth. Your back arches on the wall you're pinned against, a moan filling the space around y'all.

"Fuckin’ perfect body.” Toji grins against your breasts. He looks up at you with those striking green eyes as he runs his pink tongue over your flesh. He runs his tongue up the valley between your boobs again, moving it to your neck and jawline. His hot breath hits your ear as he undoes the buttons and zipper on your jeans. "So fuckin’ pretty. Look at you ~ I bet you're already soaked beneath these cute little clothes of yours, huh? Bet that gorgeous cunt is just dripping for me, doll.”

A light whimper leaves your lips; you were definitely aroused, definitely soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. Toji grins at your whimper. He pulls off your jeans in one swift motion revealing your panties; the thin lacy fabric hugs your hips but what really catches his attention is the growing wet spot between your legs. Toji fell to his knees in front of you. He buried his face into the wet spot of your panties causing you to gasp; he inhaled your arousal and let out a deep groan. Your scent was like heaven to the huge, muscular man in front of you.

"Ya smell fuckin’ divine too.” He grumbles, causing you to instinctively push your thighs together.

Toji growls, his eyes narrowing up at your flushed face. Hauling you up, Toji carried you into the kitchen and set you down on the counter. Toji grabbed your throat, his callouses rough against your neck, then shoved his lips onto yours. The kiss is messy and heated; as the two of you kiss, he spreads your legs before ripping off your panties. The fabric is nothing more than shreds.

"Don't ever…and I mean ever…close those pretty fucking thighs as I'm tryin’ to worship that little pussy again,” Toji growls against your lips.

You nod your head, your eyes glassy with arousal. The cold air from his air conditioner lightly touches your soaked core now that he's got you completely exposed in front of him. Trji steps back, taking in the sight of your dripping cunt. Your arousal was starting to pool onto his countertop. Toji grins as he pulls a chair towards him and sits. You're confused.

"Show me how you pleasure yourself, mamas.” He says.

Embarrassment shrouds your glistening eyes. You've never touched yourself or played with yourself in front of anyone before, but the look in Toji’s eyes told you he wasn't going to change his mind. He wanted to watch you play with your pussy. swallowing thickly, you ran your middle fingers over your wet slit. Your thighs tremble from even the smallest amount of pleasure; it's been such a long time since you touched yourself too, always busy working. Toji leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares holes into you with those gorgeous green eyes. You swallow again.

"It's been a l-long time since I've touched myself,” you admit for some reason. All logic goes out the window when he looks at you.

Toji clicks his tongue as he shakes his head and stands up. You watch him as he approaches you, but his eyes are glued to your neglected pussy.

"A cunt this gorgeous should never be neglected, Y/N,” Toji scolds.

"It isn't like I've meant to,” you defend. "I'm just busy.”

It doesn't really seem like he's interested in your excuses. Instead, he removes your hand from your pussy then smacks your cunt causing a wet smacking sound. You yelp, your body jumping from the sudden impact; your thighs tremble from the pleasure.

"T-Toji…”

"Hush it girl.” He grumbles out causing you to whimper. "All I wanna hear from you are those cute moans as I make you feel good. Otherwise, I only wanna hear this pretty pussy tell me what she's craving!”

With that, Toji delivers another sharp, wet slap against your soft folds. A moan slips through your lips and your toes curl. Toji grins like he's found a gold mine.

"Good girl.”

Toji spits on your pussy before using his thick fingers to rub his saliva in with four juices. Your eyes flutter close and you moan. Toji looks up at your face taking in the pleasure ridden look you wore. He continues to massage your folds and clit before slipping his middle finger into your clenching hole.

"Holy shit.” You moan out, clenching around the singular digit.

"That's it, mamas.” Toji purrs, curling his finger up into that sweet spot. "Needy, little pussy. she's trying to suck me in.”

Another Moan leaves your glossy lips as you raise your hips to push Toji's finger deeper inside you. Toji chuckles, huskily as he watches you. He pulls his finger out before pushing it back in. There's a light squelching sound as he pushes his finger deeper inside you; your juices coat his knuckles as he continues to finger you with his middle finger. Your legs fall further apart in a welcoming gesture which Toji uses to slip a second finger into your tight hole. Another string of moans and whimpers leave your lips; your eyes were trained on his hand as he continued to fuck your cunt with his thick fingers. Toji used his other hand to grab your chin forcing you to look at him as he moved his fingers, his hand moving faster.

"Eyes on me, darlin'. Look at the man who's makin‘ ya come undone.” He chuckles.

Your toes curl, and you can feel your orgasm approaching you quickly; your eyes stay locked on his.

"It f-feels so good, T-Toji.” You mewled out.

"I know, baby.” he grins, speeding his fingers up. The squelching grows a bit as your orgasm teeters on the edge of exploding or staying at bay so you can enjoy the pleasure some more. "Come on, baby. Fucking cum for me, doll.”

Light pants leave your slightly parted lips. Sweat was coating your naked body. Toji curled his fingers inside you again and that pushed you over the edge. Your eyes rolled back. Noticing your orgasm coming, Toji moved his fingers faster. You reached your hand up and grabbed his shirt. Your nails graze his muscular body through the fabric as you cum. Toji disappeared from view as you see white from the intensity of your orgasm.

"Oh my God!” You screamed out, rolling your head back until you were facing the ceiling in his kitchen.

"Good fucking girl.” Toji growls; he pulls his fingers from inside you then brings them up to his lips. He wraps his lips around his fingers, tasting your cum. A deep, husky groan leaves his lips as you watch him. The taste of your cum on his tongue is addicting like cocaine is to a drug addict or alcohol is to an alcoholic. He licked your juices off completely before pulling them out, his saliva replacing your cum. With the same hand, he grabs your chin and forces his lips on yours again. The taste of yourself coating your own tongue as he swaps spit with you one more.

When the two of you pull away from each other, Toji pulls you off the counter by your wrist and forces you down to your knees by pushing on your shoulder. As you position yourself properly on your knees in front of him, he undoes his belt and jeans pulling out the longest and thickest cock you've ever seen. Your eyes widen slightly at the sheer size of him. Toji guides his cock to your lips, tapping the angry red tip against your lips. You could take his thick precum that he dabbed onto your lips, your tongue darting out to taste the salty substance. Toji chuckles.

"Open up, doll.”

He doesn't have to tell you twice, your mouth instantly falling open. Toji pushes the tip of his cock into your mouth, a deep groan leaving his lips as soon as he feels your tongue brushing against the slit that was thinly coated in his precum. His breathing started getting heavier with each inch that he continued to push past your lips. Toji's eyes were hooded with lust.

"Wider, Y/N.” He's demanding when he uses your first name.

You open your mouth wider for him and he pushes his cock deeper into your mouth. He tangles his fingers into your hair, guiding your head further down until your nose is pressed against his neatly trimmed, black pubic hair. The hair tickles your nose causing your face to scrunch up a bit to stop the tickling. Toji throws his head back, his hands tightening in your hair as a deep groan leaves his lips.

"Goddamn,” He groans out; his vision blurred with spots of white from the pleasure. "Tight fuckin’ throat, doll,”

Toji pulls his hips back, a soft gasp hitting you as you take a deep breath in just in time as he slams his hips forward again. His large cock being swallowed by your throat; out of reflex, you swallow around him making your throat constrict around him. Toji lets out another groan as he starts moving his hips to fuck your pretty, little mouth. With hooded eyes, Toji stares down at you, watching your glossy, spit covered lips stretch to accommodate his size. You hummed and moaned around him causing his hips to buck forward completely out of rhythm.

"That's it. Fuckin' take it. Open wider ~” Toji draws out, one hand leaving your hair to grip your jaw wanting you to loosen up a bit. You relaxed your throat and jaw, letting your jaw go slack so you could open wider for him. There are tears glistening in your eyes from the stretch your throat and jaw had to endure to fit him. It isn't painful, in fact, you're loving it. Toji growls deep in his throat as he begins to move faster.

"Just like that, doll,” Toji pants out, never stopping his movements. His hand is tightening in your hair as he wraps the strands into his balled up fist. He uses it to his advantage, guiding you on his dick harshly. "Gonna make me cum, fuck, doll.”

A swell of pride blossoms in your chest as he declares that he's about to cum. Saliva drips down your chin as your mouth waters at the thought of swallowing his cum.

"Eager slut.” Toji grins, his abs clenching; he can tell from the drooling and the desperate look on your face that you want to taste his cum. You whine around him. "All of it, ya hear me? I want ya to drink all of it, don't waste a single fucking drop.”

As soon as you nod that pretty head for him, Toji shoves his cock down your throat one last time before thick ropes of cum glide down your throat. Because you want to impress him, you swallow every last drop. He grins. "Perfect little slut.” Toji pants.

He doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath. Instead, he hauls you to your feet and kisses you again. The taste of your saliva and his cum coating his taste buds. Toji picks you up, securing your legs around his muscular body, then carries you to his bedroom. Your body bounces as Toji tosses you down onto his bed; he rips his shirt off completely revealing his attractive body littered with scars from being a firefighter. Now Toji is completely naked just like you. You keep yourself propped up with your elbows staring at his incredible body. Toji crawls into the bed and on top of you; he's now towering over you with his famous grin plastered on his face. Your chest rises and falls heavily from arousal and exertion but you don't want this night to end. Toji pushes your knees to your chest, throwing your legs over his broad shoulders, as he pushes you into the meanest mating press you've ever experienced. This position left you feeling exposed and completely opened for him but that was the point. Toji pushes his hard body against yours, effectively pinning you down. He drags the tip of his still bulging cock against your wet folds; your body trembles beneath his.

With no warning, Toji slams into you with one powerful thrust that makes you see stars instantly. Your tight cunt clenching around him causes you to feel every part of his cock dragging along your inner walls. You dig your nails into his biceps that are caging you in.

"Oh fuck!” You cry out.

Toji keeps up the brutal pace; pulling out almost all the way before slamming right back into your tight cunt. His eyes never leave your face, watching pleasure contort your delicate features as he fucks you. The mixture of sounds coming from you…the squelching from your lewd cunt as well as your needy moans…only serve to spur him on further. Toji's heavy thighs smacked against the underside of your thighs filling his bedroom with the sound of skin hitting against skin. Each thrust causes your quivering, dripping pussy to clench tighter around him earning a satisfied grunt.

"Oh God, T-Toji,” you manage to mran out.

Toji slams into you faster, harder, his entire bed smacking against the wall from how hard he's going.

"Bet you're fucking loving this,” Toji grunts out. "Probably been waiting for someone to properly fuck this tight pussy, huh? Neglectin’ something so damn perfect because you were 'busy’ but really, you just needed a real man to fuck you, right, ma?”

A moan leaves your lips, eyes rolled back as he keeps drilling his cock into you. You swear you can feel him touching your cervix but you're unsure.

"W-was busy.” You protest with a lewd whimper.

"Can never be too busy to--fucking hell--to take care of this perfect fucking pussy.” Toji growls, his hips smacking recklessly against the back of your thighs. "But don't you worry your slutty, little head…I'll give you just want ya need.”

Toji, keeping you pinned into a lewd mating press, snakes his hand into your hair fisting the soft strands as he grips your neck with the other hand as his hips move faster. Your eyes watered as tears slipped down your face.

"Oh my fucking God!” You screamed out; pleasure rippling through your entire body. Your thighs tremble with each smack from his own hips and thighs. "Right t-there! Fuck!

His cock drags against your velvety walls. Toji grunts, his teeth clench as a string of curses leave his lips.

“Atta fucking girl.Takin’ this dick like a real pro.” Toji grumbles horsley; his already deep, gravelly voice even deeper. Toji pulled his cock all the way out before roughly slamming into your dripping heat again. The sudden thrust caused your sloppy pussy to clench around his cock. Toji yanked your hair harder so that you were making eye contact with him. He wanted to stare into your glistening eyes as you came on his cock.

Toji released your throat and gave your spit covered cheek a smack, not enough to hurt you. However, when Toji smacked your cheek, your pussy fluttered around him. Toji grinned.

"Slutty girl,” he groaned, smacking your face again, "Slutty, little girl. Love gettin’ smacked too, huh? Slutty fucking bitch loves getting manhandled.”

Your eyes rolled back. "Toji ~ I'm gonna…c-cum.” You slur out, the pleasure making you feel drunk.

"H-hold it,” Toji growls out in a stutter, grinding his hips against yours while continuing to pound into you vigorously. He didn't want this to end, knowing that as soon as you finished he'd be right there behind you filling you with his load.

You whined desperately, it became increasingly difficult to hold back your much needed orgasm as Toji continued to slam into that perfect spot. Toji knew what he was doing, he knew he was making it practically impossible for you to hold your orgasm in like he had demanded.

"Toji p-please!” You begged, your impending orgasm causing your toes to curl. Drool dripped down your chin, your glossy lips parted. Toji hooked his thick, calloused thumb on your lip brushing it against the inside of your cheek. Toji pushed your knees harder into your chest, his feet practically digging into his soft mattress as his thrust got rougher and harder.

"Cum.” He growls, sweat thinly coating his muscular body. "Fucking cum, Y/N.”

It's a demand, and you're happy to oblige letting pleasure take over. A loud, pornographic moan leaves your lips as your cunt flutters around Toji's dick. Toji yanks your hair, revealing your neck to him. As you cum on his cock, he continues to slam into you in a sloppy way. He leans down and bites down on your neck.

"That's i-it, that's fuckin’ it, doll.” he growls out, his body jerking as he got closer to his own orgasm. "Fuckin’ squeezing me so tight, ma. Suckin’ me in. Gonna take m-my fuckin’ cum like a good little whore, yeah?”

You nod dumbly, your body twitching with unadulterated need and desperation.

"Words or I won't give ya anything.” Toji taunts, never stopping his brutal thrust.

Your head was spinning, your heart was pounding against your rib cage, it was difficult to find your words. But you manage.

"Please, please cum inside me. I need it.” You definitely needed it; at least that's what you kept telling yourself so you wouldn't stop Toji from potentially knocking you up.

Your begging pushes Toji over the edge; he slams into you one last time, a deep groan leaving his throat as thick ropes of his cum paint your insides white. Toji's hips stutter as he grinds into you wanting to be even deeper, needing to be deeper. It was like he was trying to knock you up. Like it was a mission.

After a few moments, the two of you come down from your highs still pressed against each other. Your body was sticky with sweat and drool, Toji's cum plugged deep into you by his now softening cock. Both of you were still panting; Toji releases your damp hair, pressing soft, open mouth kisses along your jaw and neck. You close your eyes, taking a shaky breath; all that pent up stress is gone.

"Feel better?” Toji grins against your sticky neck.

A soft giggle leaves your lips and nod. "Much better. Thank you, Toji.”

"Any fuckin’ time, doll.”

[holyguardian]

If it had been any other time Aerith might have offered an apologetic smile, or even acknowledged what she had just done in some teasing capacity. But it was all deeply necessary and she didn't pause long enough to realise the implications of what she had done.

Maybe Somnus could one day forgive her for spraying him down in front of his countrymen like some filthy farm animal.

She was far more concerned by his subtle reactions. The way he inhaled when she pressed that cloth to his injured side. She took no pleasure in drawing out pained reactions from others — and she had an entire night of it, healing wasn't for the weak of heart.

Coaxed to look up at him, her lips pursed together in a gentle line. "It's still hard." she mused, knowing better, but that didn't erase her own selfish feelings.

Her mouth opened and closed. There was more she wished to say to him. But when he brought up having a wedding gift now, a good scar, all she could do was manage a very small, very sad smile.

Somnus had been hurt because of her and it didn't feel good. Even though he wore it proudly, with a smug kind of smile that belonged to a young warrior being decorated by a new battle scar.

Aerith sighed a small breath at the suggestion of rest. "... not before you dress yourself in something clean. Go on. I need to make one last round." She didn't hand over her duty lightly. Somnus had time to dress himself in new clothes and still had to stand around waiting. Soon enough she was stepping away from the medic taking over from her... and there was quiet... she left the tent peaceful, no groans or whimpers followed after her.

The first words that she uttered to Somnus when she rejoined him weren't anything deep or profound. In fact, they were probably words he could do without hearing. "I think I'm going to hurl." she admitted in a quiet-spoken voice, not making the announcement for all to hear. That sickly feeling was clinging in a way that didn't relent.

Somnus had expected a lot. But not this. Aerith comandeered him around - and as the healer in charge, she had every right to that. Still.

Somnus took little issue with stripping down. To his toga and those folded down, of course. Not his pants – because there were none. And he would not yet strip down to his loincloth in front of the entire lazaret tent. He could already feel the Lucian soldiers’ looks and grins on him before the spectacle even started.

It took all of his selfcontrol not to yelp at suddenly being sprayed with fresh water that’s he simply pulled from thin air. He could not humiliate himself any more, so Somnus tried to endure this, only turning his head away a little.

The look he gave Aerith afterwards was a little bit of the ‘oh really?’ kind, though there was a grin blooming around that. He took the actions in stride. He knew she only acted logical to lower the infection risk on the cut.

Inhaling a little when the healing water soaked cloth touched his wound, Somnus watched Aerith doing her work. She was acting like a professional. She was… invaluable in what she had done for everyone around here.

There was little miracle as to why Jacob wanted her so badly. A healer like her… she could turn tides in wars. Did she even realize that…?

Her uttered words made Somnus smile a little softer, as he laid his fingers against her jawline to make her look at him.

“Please do not.”, he requested her to hold onto this fight, “Do not treat me better than our soldiers.”

It was a fine and political line. Of course, he was her husband. But Somnus also prided himself in being a warrior and being granted different, better treatment than his soldiers, many of whom were way worse wounded than he was…. It would reflect badly on him and they would begrudge him that.

“Besides… I consider it a wedding gift. It will be a good scar. And neither is it the first, nor the last I will have.”

That grin was a little smug, but Somnus did not want her to worry about this. It was just a cut. Nothing serious. And her healing water would minimize any lasting effects. He had full trust in that.

“… you should rest yourself. You treated everyone now. I know your father wants me to bring you to his tent… apparently we will share this one tonight. Gilgamesh will join, too. So, I hope you and your maid like it cozy with a bunch of paranoid men.”

[rhiannonsknife]

hc of yj characters asking fem!reader out for valentines?

— VALENTINE‘S DAY WITH THE YELLOWJACKETS

— it’s february, so valentine’s day is coming up, yellowjackets s3 is coming out, and it’s my birthday month!! if you don’t have a valentine yet, consider this your invitation for us to all be each other’s! 💌

SHAUNA SHIPMAN

৻ꪆ shauna spends weeks rehearsing how she’s going to ask you out for valentine’s day. she writes and rewrites little notes, practices lines in her mirror, and almost talks herself out of it half a dozen times because she’s convinced you’ll say no or think it’s silly. even though you’ve given her zero reason to think that.

৻ꪆ she eventually settles on something lowkey but heartfelt: she spends hours preparing her attic room, decorating it with string lights, candles, and little paper hearts she cut out herself. it’s simple but so intimate, so very her. the effort shauna put in is obvious, and she hopes you see that.

৻ꪆ when you arrive, she’s practically buzzing with nerves, immediately giving herself away. she ushers you up the stairs to her room, watching your face carefully as you take in the space: on her bed, there’s a handwritten letter waiting for you, sealed with a little heart sticker. she insists you read it, standing by your side the whole time. as you read, you notice her mouthing the words. she’s memorized every line.

JACKIE TAYLOR

৻ꪆ jackie is not about to settle for a basic valentine’s day ask. i mean, it’s jackie taylor. she doesn’t do things halfway, especially not when it comes to you.

৻ꪆ while you’re in class, she sneaks out to decorate your locker with perfectly arranged hearts and ribbons (color coordinated, obviously). inside, there’s a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a handwritten note, and a coupon for ‘one valentines dinner date with jackie taylor’. she delivers the whole thing while casually leaning against the lockers, looking completely unbothered but making sure there’s an audience.

৻ꪆ jackie acts like she’s totally confident (you see right through her from the start), but the second you say yes, that fake composure cracks just a little. she’ll beam at you, maybe brush your hand, and say, “great. pick you up at 7?” on the inside, though, she’s screaming with excitement.

LOTTIE MATTHEWS

৻ꪆ lottie’s approach is definitely gentle and thoughtful!! she decides to ask you out during one of your shared moments of quiet: she invites you over to her house one evening, leading you through the back door to her spacious yard, where twinkling fairy lights are strung between the trees.

৻ꪆ you’re sitting together on a blanket, knees almost touching, when she finally brings it up: “i was thinking,” lottie starts, “i’d really like to spend valentine’s day with you. just us. would that be okay?” shes holding your hands with both of hers, glancing up at you from under her lashes hopefully.

৻ꪆ when you agree, lottie’s face lights up with the softest, happiest smile, the kind that makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. “i was hoping you’d say yes,” she admits, squeezing your hand before bringing it to her lips for a soft kiss. the rest of the night is spent planning your actual valentine’s date together: nothing too over the top, just something that feels right for the two of you.

NAT SCATORCCIO

৻ꪆ out of all the yellowjackets, nat is the least concerned with valentine’s day…at least, that’s what she tells herself. if it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t even think twice about it. but because it’s you, she finds herself secretly stressing over how to ask you out. she wants to do this right. nat spends way too much time trying to come up with the least awkward way to do it, all while telling herself she doesn’t actually care that much. (she totally does)

৻ꪆ after practice, nat catches you outside the locker rooms, leaning against the wall with her hands awkwardly hidden behind her back. “hey,” she says, trying to sound casual. “you doing anything for valentine’s? no? cool. cool, cool, cool. uh- wanna hang out with me? maybe?” it’s simple, direct, and couldn’t be any more nat until she pulls out a slightly crumpled bouquet of roses when you say yes.

৻ꪆ the gesture is so unexpectedly sweet coming from her that you can’t help but grin. before she can fully recover, you lean in and press a quick kiss to her cheek, and nat lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. she stands there for a moment, stunned, before a slow, lopsided smile spreads across her face. “yeah…okay,” she murmurs.

[chrissssssmut]

CLASSROOM 3-B

Vampire Ahn Yujin x Male Reader

It started with Lee Jiwon.

One day, she was there, laughing with her friends, tying her hair into a neat ponytail. The next day, she was gone. No message. No explanation. Just an empty seat by the window that no one dared to look at for too long.

The teachers told us not to worry. “She must have transferred schools,” they said. “Maybe a family emergency.” But no one had seen her leave. No one had heard from her since.

Then Kim Haneul disappeared.

By the third missing student, panic set in. Police officers swarmed our classroom, questioning us one by one. Had we noticed anything strange? Had they mentioned anything before they left?

I had no answers. None of us did.

And then it kept happening.

Every week, a girl from our class vanished.

The empty desks grew, the halls of our school became quieter. The teachers stopped calling roll. Nobody wanted to acknowledge the truth—our class was shrinking, and no one knew why.

At first, I convinced myself it was just a coincidence. Maybe they all had reasons to leave, reasons we just didn’t understand. But then I started noticing things. Small, unsettling things.

The missing girls all had one thing in common: before they vanished, they had all spent time with Ahn Yujin.

I didn’t want to believe it. Yujin was… different, yes. She had a presence that was both alluring and unnerving, like a beautiful statue that felt just a little too real. She was quiet but never shy, confident but never loud. She had this way of looking at you, as if she knew something you didn’t.

I had always liked her. Maybe that was why I ignored the signs at first.

But then I started piecing things together.

There was the way the missing girls were always last seen with her. The way she never seemed concerned, even when the rest of us were terrified. And then there was the strangest part—Yujin never ate at school.

Ever.

Lunch breaks, class parties, snack time—she always smiled and said she wasn’t hungry.

That alone wasn’t damning, but then I overheard a conversation between two teachers.

“She’s never sick, have you noticed?”

“She has perfect attendance, too.”

“And she doesn’t go on school trips. Not once in three years.”

I had never thought about it before. But once I did, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

That’s when I decided to investigate.

I started retracing the missing girls’ last known whereabouts. Checking places they used to go. Looking through old messages, old photos. And a pattern emerged.

They had all gone somewhere before they disappeared.

Somewhere after school.

Yujin’s house.

That’s how I found myself standing in front of her home late one evening, my hands clenched into fists, my heart pounding so loudly I thought she might hear it from inside.

Her house was nothing like I expected. No eerie mansion, no gothic towers—just a regular two-story house at the end of a quiet street. But something about it felt wrong.

The windows were too dark. The air too still.

I took a deep breath and stepped forward.

The front door was unlocked.

That should have been my first warning.

The second was the silence. No hum of a fridge, no distant sound of a television. Just stillness, pressing against my skin like a heavy fog.

And then, the third warning—

I found their things.

A dimly lit room at the end of the hall. Lockers stacked against the walls, each containing something chillingly familiar.

Jiwon’s school bag.

Haneul’s sweater.

and many other more things that definitely did not belong to Yujin.

A metallic smell clung to the air. A faint, sickly-sweet scent.

I turned to leave.

SLAM.

The door shut behind me.

The lock clicked.

And then I felt it—a presence. Cold. Watching.

I turned around slowly, my pulse thudding in my ears.

Ahn Yujin stood in the shadows, red eyes glowing like embers.

“You weren’t supposed to see this,” she murmured.

Her voice was calm, almost gentle. But there was something underneath it. Something dark.

“Yujin,” I breathed, my throat dry. “What did you do to them?”

She stepped closer.

“Why are you here?” she asked instead, tilting her head.

My feet refused to move. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run, but I knew—I knew—I wouldn’t get far.

“I had to know the truth,” I said.

Yujin sighed, almost disappointed. “I liked you,” she admitted. “You were different. Curious. Kind.”

She was right in front of me now. Close enough for me to see the way her pupils dilated, the way her fangs glinted in the dim light.

“You should’ve just stayed ignorant.”

And then she was on me.

I barely had time to struggle before I felt it—her fangs sinking into my neck, piercing my skin.

A sharp pain, like fire, followed by something strange, something intoxicating. My head spun. My body shivered. It was like drowning in warmth, like falling into something I wasn’t meant to feel.

She pulled away suddenly, breath shaky. Her eyes were wide, her expression dazed.

“…You taste different.”

Her grip on me tightened.

I gasped, my vision swimming. “W-What…?”

Her lips parted slightly, as if she were trying to understand something herself.

Then she whispered, “I can’t let you go.”

Something in her voice sent a shiver down my spine.

My body felt weak, but I moved. My elbow jabbed into her ribs, enough to make her stumble back.

I bolted.

I barely made it three steps before I was yanked back.

Her strength was unreal. Inhuman. She threw me against the lockers like I was nothing. Metal bent under my weight, pain shooting up my spine.

I tried to crawl away, reaching for the door, but she was already there, watching me struggle.

Her expression was unreadable.

I lunged again, a last-ditch attempt at the window—

She caught my wrist.

Effortlessly.

My heart sank.

Yujin pulled me in, crushing me against her body. I could feel her breath against my neck, her voice a whisper, almost… sad.

“Don’t fight me,” she murmured. “You’ll only make it worse.”

I thrashed, punching, kicking, anything—

But her grip never loosened.

It was over.

Her lips brushed against my skin again, fangs teasing before she bit down—this time, slower. Deeper.

And suddenly, I felt my body give in.

My limbs grew heavy. My fight… disappeared.

My eyes fluttered shut as a strange, blissful numbness took over.

And then I heard her voice, soft and possessive.

“You’re mine now.”

And I knew I had lost.

[tactical-jellyfish]

The Mistakes That Have Been Made

Part two :)

Warnings!: Angst, angst, and more angst. Reader will be MAD sad for most of this. Poorly-practiced, unhealthy polyamory. Reader will experience a LOT of gender and body dysphoria over the course of this (though I will do my best to keep it gender-neutral throughout, bear with me), but there WILL be comfort over that.

You spent most of the night following the surgery in a light doze, after a certain man named Gary walks you to your room, only slightly entertaining your efforts to walk upright on your own two legs.

Of course, he can't stay, he's got things to do, and he's not your fucking nurse, but he still makes you unlock your phone and watches you set the timer so you take your antibiotics first thing in the morning.

He still leaves to fill up his own water bottle, and sets it by your tiny, shitty nightstand, and he still brings the thing to your lips to make you take a couple sips, even as you try not to drift off right then and there.

When you look up with tired eyes, he offers a small, sympathetic smile, and leans down to gently bump your forehead with his own.

It's... an oddly endearing gesture, considering that's a grown-ass man, but your delirious smile seems to inspire more of that gentle treatment, because when his hands are free again, he's finger-spelling to you once more.

I googled some stuff for the recovery. Should I send you the links to the articles?

You melt, just a little bit, but nod, tiredly resting your heavy head on the pillow beneath it, just really soaking in not feeling like you're dying. Feels great, you've gotta say.

"Yeah. That'd be real sweet of you, luvie. Thanks for all the help."

He beams at you. You hate to admit it, but you smile, too.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day after is slow for you. Seeing as you're one organ down, it feels perfectly fit to work quietly in your own small office space, finding more information for prospective ops down the line.

It's comfortably-paced, much unlike how you'd been before your mistake. Back then, you were frantic, under a deadline you knew wasn't realistic trying to find documents that didn't ever exist.

Your job feels so much better without Price and the team on your ass. They never understand how discovery works, they think it just happens in a way that's frankly, stupid.

And, you're no liar, you'll say that getting periodic texts from your new friend really does brighten your mood.

Roach was a riot. And you forgot how it felt to be with that energy, the spark of new meat that you had felt yourself losing in the team.

He's a good lad, might have to get him a dinner, as-

Your train of thought is (rudely) interrupted by your door opening, without a knock or anything, and an irritated Johnny standing behind it.

"Mind tellin' me why ye werenae runnin' feckin' drills today? Ye said ye'd fuckin' spot me."

You're not surprised that his voice is supremely annoying to you right now. Normally, that Scottish slang is a comforting noise, a reminder of the company you hold, and how they've always had your back.

This time, you kind of want to knock him in the jaw for it.

This anger, it will pass.

Maybe.

"If you've got an issue, go to Price. It's not my job to fill you in on every little detail of my life, and I have a job other than training that I need to be up-to-date with."

The metal of Gary's water bottle makes a quiet noise on the textured plastic of your desk as you raise it to take another sip, effectively silencing Johnny for just a second as you hear him sputter to himself.

"Th' fuck are you- you're not drinking coffee."

Of course that's the thing he notices. He can't notice when you're on death's door begging for help, but he knows how you take a morning beverage.

You really wanna punch him now.

"Detox."

You answer is terse, not quite like you, and he furrows his brows.

"Ye're hidin' somethin', ain't ye? S' it 'cause of the mission? 'Cause that was a stupid call, an' you can't fix stupid."

What a way to make amends, Soap, show up at my door and insult me after a brief interrogation. Charming.

"My god, would it kill you to shut your mouth just once? Is that too big an ask, now?"

Harsh. That was harsh. You know it was, and that it was a mistake, but when you open your mouth to apologize, Johnny beats you to it.

"Fuck you."

The slam of the door makes you cringe, and look back down to your documents, the little notes you've drawn in the margins and the highlighter that's smudged the pen just a little bit.

Before you dwell too long, there's a quiet ping.

A small, stupid looping video pops up when you open the offending chat.

It's a poorly-rendered cockroach, spinning is stupidly whimsical circles and turning colors as a song you don't care to name plays in the background. The text under it is what makes you soften.

medicine checkk in!!! take the medcine if you havent :)

His spelling is amateurish at best.

You're really fucking screwed, with that one, and you know it, but still, you set the phone down, and open a new tab.

British Sign Language basics. You could do that.

Part One | Previous | Next

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 4 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇Raphael’s biggest hater

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Lethea sat on the edge of their bed, her hands nervously resting on her swollen belly as she watched Acrisios pack his armor and weapons. The sight of him tightening the straps on his breastplate filled her with dread. The glow of the evening sun filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room, and yet the atmosphere felt colder than ever. “You’re really going to leave me,” she said quietly, her voice trembling.

Acrisios paused, his hands frozen mid-motion as he folded a tunic. He glanced at her over his shoulder, his face set in a mixture of determination and guilt. “Lethea, you know I have to.”

She stood, her hands clutching the sides of her dress as if to keep herself steady. “You don’t have to do anything, Acrisios,” she said, her tone sharper now. “You’re choosing to go. You’re choosing to leave me—leave us—at a time when I need you the most.”

He turned fully to face her, his brow furrowing. “This isn’t just about you or me, Lethea. Y/n and Adonis have been taken. Telemachus needs me. Ithaca needs me.”

Lethea let out a bitter laugh, tears welling in her eyes. “Ithaca needs you? What about your wife, Acrisios? What about the child growing inside of me? Does your family mean nothing to you?”

“Of course you mean everything to me!” he snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself and sighed. He stepped toward her, reaching out, but she flinched away, and it felt like a dagger to his heart. “Lethea, I swear to you, I don’t want to leave. But what kind of man would I be if I stood by while my family and my kingdom were under threat? I can’t live with myself if I don’t do something.”

Her tears spilled over now, and she shook her head, her voice breaking. “And what kind of man will you be if you don’t come back? What kind of father will you be if you never get to hold our child because you got yourself killed in some war?”

Acrisios’s jaw clenched, and he looked down, unable to meet her gaze. “I’ll come back,” he said quietly, though the weight in his voice betrayed the uncertainty of his own promise.

“You don’t know that,” Lethea whispered, stepping closer to him. Her hands, trembling, found their way to his chest. “I can’t do this alone, Acrisios. I can’t raise this baby by myself, wondering every day if you’re lying dead on some foreign shore.” His hands covered hers, and for a moment, they stood there in silence, the tension between them softened by the raw vulnerability in her voice. “I’ll come back,” he repeated, firmer this time. “I swear it, Lethea. I’ll do everything in my power to return to you and our child. But I can’t live with myself if I don’t try to help them.”

Her tears fell freely now as she looked up at him, searching his face for any sign that he might change his mind. But she saw only the stubborn determination she had fallen in love with—the same determination that now felt like a curse. “You’re an idiot,” she said softly, her voice breaking with both anger and love.

“And you’re the strongest woman I know,” he replied, his lips brushing her forehead. “Which is why I know you’ll be okay, even if I’m not here.”

She shook her head, gripping his tunic as if to anchor herself. “I hate you for this.”

“I know,” he whispered, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

Lethea buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking into the fabric of his tunic. “You’d better come back, Acrisios. If you don’t, I’ll kill you myself.”

He chuckled softly, though his own eyes burned with unshed tears. “I wouldn’t dare leave you alone for too long. You’d never let me rest in peace.” For a moment, they stayed like that, holding each other in the quiet of their room, both knowing that the days ahead would test them in ways they could barely imagine.

——

Telemachus stood in the armory, inspecting the newly forged blade in his hands. The steel gleamed under the light of the torches, but his mind was elsewhere, filled with thoughts of his wife and son. He gripped the hilt tighter, his jaw set with determination. Behind him, the familiar sound of steady footsteps echoed. Telemachus turned to see his father, Odysseus, stepping into the room, his expression unreadable but heavy with the weight of experience.

“You’re really going through with this,” Odysseus said, his voice low and calm. It wasn’t a question—it was an observation.

Telemachus straightened, his posture stiff. “I don’t have a choice, Father. They took my wife. They took my son. What would you have me do? Sit back and wait?”

Odysseus walked further into the room, his hands clasped behind his back. His steps were measured, his gaze fixed on the weapons lining the walls. “No, I wouldn’t expect you to sit back. But I would expect you to think carefully about what you’re walking into.”

Telemachus frowned, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You think I haven’t thought about this? About the risks? I can’t let this go unanswered, Father. Y/n and Adonis are my family. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring them home.”

Odysseus stopped and turned to face his son, his piercing gaze locking onto Telemachus’s. “Do you think I don’t understand what you’re feeling? Do you think I didn’t feel the same when Helen was taken, when Menelaus called on all of us to fight for her? We all thought we were doing the right thing back then—fighting for honor, for family, for our kingdoms. But do you know what I got in return?”

Telemachus hesitated, his grip on the sword loosening. “I got ten years of bloodshed,” Odysseus continued, his voice hard. “Ten years of watching men die, of seeing friends fall beside me. Ten years away from your mother, from you. And even when it was over, the gods weren’t finished with me. It took another ten years to make my way home. Do you know how many men I lost? How many friends I buried? And for what? A woman who wasn’t even mine to fight for.”

Telemachus clenched his jaw. “Y/n isn’t Helen. This isn’t about some stolen bride or some king’s pride. This is about my family. This is about my wife and my son being taken from me.”

Odysseus sighed, his expression softening. “I know. And that’s what scares me, Telemachus. Because I know what it feels like to fight for the people you love. And I know how much it can cost.”

Telemachus looked down at the sword in his hands, the weight of his father’s words settling over him. “So what are you saying? That I should just let them go? Let Raphael get away with this?”

“I’m saying you need to be careful,” Odysseus said, stepping closer to his son. “This isn’t just about swords and ships, Telemachus. The gods are involved in this, and they’re fickle. They don’t care about you or me. They play their games, and we’re just pieces on their board. You need to be smart. Think like the man I raised you to be, not the man they want you to be.”

Telemachus met his father’s gaze, his resolve unwavering. “I can’t sit by, Father. I can’t let this go.”

Odysseus placed a hand on his shoulder, his grip firm. “I’m not asking you to let it go. I’m asking you to think. Don’t let your anger drive you into a war you can’t win. Don’t let the gods use you as their pawn.”

Telemachus nodded slowly, though the fire in his chest still burned. “I’ll bring them home,” he said quietly. “No matter what it takes.”

Odysseus studied him for a long moment before giving a small nod. “Just remember, son: war is never what you think it will be. It takes more than it gives. Don’t let it take you, too.”

With that, Odysseus turned and walked away, leaving Telemachus alone with his thoughts and the weight of the decision he had already made.

——

The clang of swords echoed across the training grounds as Antinous drilled himself mercilessly. Sweat dripped from his brow, but he didn’t care—his strikes were sharp, his movements precise, and his fury palpable. His focus was unbreakable. Until he walked in.

Eurymachus.

Antinous froze mid swing, his head snapping toward the man who dared enter. Eurymachus stood at the edge of the training grounds, looking uncomfortable and avoiding Antinous’s glare. “Well, well,” Antinous drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “If it isn’t the great Eurymachus. You’ve got some nerve showing your face here.”

Eurymachus sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m here to train for the war, Antinous. I don’t want any trouble.”

Antinous let out a bark of laughter, setting his sword down and crossing his arms. “No trouble? You are the trouble, you rat. Alive all this time, hiding like a coward while I rotted in a dungeon. What’s the matter? Couldn’t be bothered to check if your old leader was still alive?”

Eurymachus’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. “Ah, don’t tell me,” Antinous continued, his tone mocking as he stalked closer. “You were too busy sipping wine and lounging in some corner of Ithaca while the rest of us paid the price for your failure. You know, I thought you were dead. Turns out, you’re just pathetic.”

Eurymachus glared at him now, but he still didn’t speak, his fists clenched at his sides. Antinous smirked, leaning in with a sneer. “Cat got your tongue? Or are you too ashamed to admit that you abandoned me? Let me guess—you were lying low, hoping Odysseus wouldn’t find you. Coward.”

Finally, Eurymachus snapped, his voice sharp. “At least I wasn’t in a dungeon!”

The air went still. Antinous froze for a moment, his smirk vanishing as his eyes widened in disbelief.

Then, he lunged.

With a roar of fury, Antinous tackled Eurymachus to the ground, his fists swinging wildly. “You bastard!” he bellowed, slamming his fist into Eurymachus’s jaw. “Say that again, I dare you!”

Eurymachus struggled beneath him, trying to shield his face as Antinous’s punches rained down. “Get off me!”

“At least I wasn’t in a dungeon,” Antinous mocked in a high pitched voice as he pinned Eurymachus down. “You absolute waste of air! You think you’re better than me because you ran away? Because you survived?!” He grabbed Eurymachus by the collar, shaking him violently. “You don’t even deserve to be on this battlefield!”

Eurymachus coughed, his voice strained. “I didn’t have a choice—”

“You had every choice!” Antinous shouted, slamming him back into the dirt. “You chose yourself over your brothers. Over me!” His voice cracked with raw anger.

It took three soldiers to pull Antinous off of Eurymachus, and even then, he was still thrashing and shouting insults. “You’re a snake, Eurymachus! A useless, spineless worm!”

Eurymachus sat up, his face bruised and bloodied, glaring daggers at Antinous. “And you’re a washed up relic who can’t move on!”

Antinous tried to lunge again, but the soldiers held him back. His chest heaved with rage as he spat on the ground near Eurymachus. “If we weren’t going to war, I’d kill you myself.” With that, Antinous stormed off, leaving Eurymachus sitting in the dirt, wiping blood from his lip. But even as he tried to compose himself, Eurymachus couldn’t shake the weight of Antinous’s fury—and the guilt that came with it.

——

Y/N thrashed in Raphael’s arms, her hands pushing at his chest, her words a venomous string of curses. “Get your filthy hands off me, you delusional snake!” she spat, her voice trembling with both rage and fear.

Raphael, undeterred, merely chuckled, pulling her closer as if her struggles were no more than a child’s tantrum. His grip was firm but not yet painful, his cheek pressing against her hair. “You’ll grow used to it, my love,” he murmured, his voice silky and calm. “Soon enough, you’ll see that this is where you belong—with me.”

“Belong?!” She growled, twisting in his hold. “You’re insane if you think I’ll ever love you! I already have a husband, and I’d rather die than let you replace him.”

Raphael’s jaw tightened slightly, but his calm exterior remained. “A husband who’s leagues away, powerless to save you. I am your reality now, love. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for you.”

She froze for a moment, her chest heaving as she glared up at him with pure hatred. Then she hissed, “You’re pathetic, Raphael. A coward who hides behind the favors of a goddess because you’re too weak to win anything on your own.”

That struck a nerve.

Raphael’s playful smirk dropped, his grip on her tightening in an instant. His eyes darkened as he stared down at her, his jaw clenched. “Say that again,” he demanded, his tone deadly quiet.

She refused to back down, even as her breath hitched. “You heard me,” she said, her voice trembling but defiant. “You’re nothing without Aphrodite’s pity. You couldn’t even have me without—”

Before she could finish, Raphael grabbed her arms and yanked her closer, his expression void of warmth now. She gasped at the sudden shift in his demeanor, her heart pounding. “Watch your tongue, y/n,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You seem to forget that I hold all the power here. Do you really want to test my patience?”

She glared at him, swallowing hard but refusing to look away. “You’re just proving my point.”

Raphael’s lips curled into a cruel smirk as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Do you know what happens when you push me too far, my love? Do you want to find out what I’m capable of?”

Before she could reply, Raphael’s gaze flicked to the crib where Adonis lay, peacefully asleep. His smirk widened, and he released her only to step toward the child. Her blood ran cold. “Don’t you dare—”

Raphael turned back to her, his hand hovering dangerously close to the sleeping boy. “You seem to think this is a game,” he said, his tone icy. “But let me make one thing very clear, Pandora. If you defy me again, if you insult me again, it won’t be me who pays the price—it’ll be him.”

Her knees nearly buckled as fear gripped her chest. “You’re bluffing,” she whispered, though her voice lacked conviction.

Raphael’s smirk was back, though it was sharper now, more sinister. “Am I?” He reached down, gently brushing a strand of hair from Adonis’s face, and Pandora’s breath caught in her throat. “Do you really want to find out?”

“Stop!” she cried, lunging forward. She grabbed Raphael’s arm, her voice breaking. “I’ll do whatever you want—just don’t touch him!”

Satisfied, Raphael straightened and pulled her into his arms once more, cradling her like a fragile bird. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he murmured, his tone returning to its sickeningly sweet facade. She shuddered in his hold, tears streaming down her face as she buried her hatred deep within her. For Adonis, she would endure. For now

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere

@eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches

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@h0ne4bee @minteaspoon @zendoesstuff @xo-cuteplosion-xo

[jjaehyunnxie]

drabble gf!reader x bf!jaemin, where reader is on her period

! MDNI, period sex, mentions of: throwing up, blood, fainting.

Jaemin who nods in an understanding way with a soft smile whenever you crash out and end up yelling at him due to your drastic mood swings. He understands you don't feel well, and tries to find all means possible to make you feel as heard and validated as possible. But also he just finds your angry side adorable.

Jaemin who buys you heat pads because he knows that above all the pills you take, heat pads are still the cure to your unbearable cramps.

Jaemin who tries his best to stay beside you whenever you're not feeling well. Giving head pats, holding you in his arms and rubbing his thumb gently on your shoulder, whispering sweet praises and soft words, or even playing your favorite song on the speakers.

Jaemin who's always by your side when your cramps get so bad you have to throw up. He holds your hair up as you puke in the toilet, completely spent and exhausted. "There we go. Let it all out, princess. You're doing great." Then, he'd help you gargle water while also wiping your tears and comforting you with hugs. "I know, I know. It's scary. But you did so well."

Jaemin who loves coming home from work to see you cuddled up, asleep, in bed with his cats. Something about seeing you so peaceful, arms carefully wrapped around Luna, the others curled up elsewhere near you, fills his heart with adoration. He's quick to shower and get in bed with you.

Jaemin who prepares all of your favorite meals when you're too weak to do anything. He'd look up recommended meals for that time of the month and make them all for you.

Jaemin who got so worried the first time you fainted due to rapid loss of blood. When he heard the sudden thud from the bathroom, he rushed over, knocking with pure fear in his voice. When you didn't answer, he opened the door with a warning only to find you on the floor. You woke up quickly once he shook you back to life, his eyes widened with worry. "Oh gosh, thank god, you're okay..." he'd sigh heavily before giving you a cup of water and insisting you stay in bed the whole day.

Jaemin who now knows you sometimes have a tendency to not let yourself rest and you always want to prioritise your work over your health so he takes matters into his own hands, calling your boss and explaining to him that you need to take a few days rest. Although you complain whenever he does this, you end up thanking him because, really, you were too weak to do any work.

Jaemin who's always ready to assure you about how beautiful you are whenever your period gives you body dysmorphia. "Look in the mirror for me" he'd say with a soft yet firm voice, making you face your full-body mirror while he stays behind, holding your waist gently. "You're so beautiful, princess. I fall in love with you every time I see this gorgeous body of yours." he'd whisper in your ear while tracing your curves before giving your cheek a loving kiss.

Jaemin who never has to ask you for which size pads, or what specific pills you need, or what snacks you're craving, because he just knows you that well.

Jaemin who has an app installed on his phone to track your period so he's always ready for any phase you might be in; be it your moody period or your overly horny ovulation week.

Jaemin who's ready to do anything you want him to do whenever you're on your period. Be it make you meals, change your clothes, shower you, praise you, give you kisses, and even sing you songs. You often find yourself with your head on his chest as he sings you songs to put you to sleep.

Jaemin who absolutely loves period sex. He just loves showing you how much adoration he has for you, even in this state where you feel the most disgusting. He'd prep the sheets with a cloth so no blood stains your bed before giving you the most gentle and passionate love-making session ever. Thrusting in you at a calm pace, absolutely no intention of rushing anything. Stripping your clothes while pressing kisses on every inch of your body, worshipping and cherishing it. "You're so beautiful. I love you...fuck, I love you so much, princess." he'd say between grunts. Just as he's about to cum, he quickly pulls out, releasing on your stomach as he continues to thrust his fingers in you, pushing you to your orgasm as well.

Jaemin who always excels in aftercare. He never leaves you hanging after sex, no matter how tired he might be. Whether its by carrying you to the tub to give you a warm shower, or by wiping you down with a wet cloth, he always makes sure to leave you sparkly clean and smelling like red roses.

Jaemin who adores how high your sex drive is after your period. How you always wake him up by grinding your hips on him, or how you never forget to give him a certain look only he knows. He enjoys seeing you so needy for him and is always ready and excited to give you exactly what you want.

[nothoughtsjustfic]

Thinking about: Nanny K.MG

💭Who: Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x female reader 💭What: Friends to lovers. Fluff. Suggestive (18+). Live in nanny Mingyu. Single parent reader. 💭Word count: 2.4k 💭Warnings: Reader chose to be a single mother and medically conceived. Reader is Mingyu’s boss so I guess you could say power imbalance but it’s also very much not - that’ll make sense when you read. Alcohol consumption - they don’t get drunk. Suggestive scenes at the end. 💭Summary: “You expect to go home and hear about your son’s day from his nanny as the little boy sleeps soundly upstairs, just like normal. You certainly don’t expect to wind up in Mingyu’s bed with a dramatic change to your dynamic, but you really aren’t going to complain about that.”

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist

A/N- This is in the same universe as Thinking about: Nursery teacher L.JH, and the Juni mentioned in this is the same Juni as in that story! In February, I will be releasing a prequel to the Jihoon story, which will have our dear nanny Gyu and little Danil as characters! I’m very excited and hope you will enjoy that one too when it’s available!

Getting home late isn’t unusual for you; with your company in the process of expanding you haven’t had a lot of option but to stay late almost every single day for the past handful of weeks, unfortunately.

Which means that by the time you’re home, your darling son is already tucked up deep asleep in bed, looking so cosy and cute that you want nothing more than to crawl up next to him, pull him into your loving embrace and fall asleep. But you can’t, you don’t want to risk waking him when you know he always fights sleep so much in hopes of seeing you.

Of course, you feel like a terrible mother these days due to rarely seeing Danil during weekdays, what with you having to leave for work while he’s still getting ready for school and returning hours after his nanny has managed to soothe him to sleep. You hope that within the next few weeks, you can return to normal times to join the two for dinner and take over from Mingyu afterwards, allowing him to clock off and do whatever he wants for the rest of the night.

Not that you think the giant hearted nanny would do anything out of the usual even given the rest of the night off. At this point, you think Mingyu would spend his days off with Danil every weekend all the same if not for his friends dragging him off to make sure he remembers that he is a real person outside of his job.

You’ve tried to shoo Mingyu away yourself many weekends and convince him to call up his friends or go on a date, just something other than always being around to dote on your family of two. Yet the tall man always looks at you with round eyes shining sadly and without even needing to say a word, he bends your arm, and you give in, invite him to whatever activity you’ve planned for you and your son. Though at this point, you always make sure to factor in Mingyu when planning, knowing that he’ll likely puppy eyes his way right back to your son’s side.

And honestly, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Seeing Mingyu with your son always settles you in a way you’ve never experienced. You’ve never seen Danil with a male figure in his life other than Mingyu. There’s never been a father around because you decided to do this solo, and you haven’t once regretted that decision to be a single mother from the moment of planned conception.

But there’s something special about seeing Danil hang off of Mingyu’s every word, or the gentle way Mingyu helps the boy with his homework and teaches Danil how to be a good human, and it makes you feel like maybe there is one person who you wouldn’t mind being the father of your child, and perhaps even more in the future.

Yet Mingyu is someone you’ve been paying to live in your house and look after your son since Danil could walk. In fact, you had been paying Mingyu before then as a babysitter, not a live in nanny, and the man had been there for Danil’s first steps and had looked as proud and emotional as you felt seeing your little boy unsteadily put one foot in front of the other without assistance of either of your hands.

As much as you wish you could pluck up the courage and ask Mingyu on a date, at the very least, you’re his boss and you can’t risk it. If things went wrong, Mingyu might leave and that wouldn’t just break your heart but Danil’s too. So, for the sake of your son, you keep your feelings to yourself.

“Hey,” Mingyu’s soft whisper makes you jolt slightly where you’re leaning against the doorframe of Danil’s bedroom to watch your son sleep.

You should’ve known that Mingyu would appear, he always does when you get home, but only after you’ve had the chance to peer in on your son and whisper your love into the air in hopes that it will reach Danil’s subconscious and bless him with nothing but sweet dreams. Tonight though, you had been too deep in your own mind with thoughts of the tall man to hear him near.

“Hi,” you reply just as quietly as you peer over at him.

“Come on, I’ve got exciting news, and a bottle of your favourite open,” he tempts you, not just with his cheekily grinned words but the outstretched arm and fingers wiggling invitingly at you.

There’s no hesitation, no thought as you put your hand in his and let him lead you downstairs and to the living room where, as promised, there’s a bottle of your favourite wine open on the coffee table and two glasses with the drink already poured within.

You both settle in the dimly lit room, only the sounds of whatever movie Mingyu had left running playing lowly in the background. He doesn’t even look at it, instead turns on the sofa so that he’s got one leg tucked under him and his shoulder against the backrest so that he can look at you as you gratefully swallow down your first mouthful of wine.

“Tough day?” He comments, smiling amusedly as you consume the contents of your glass before he’s even taken his first sip.

“No more than usual, just wish I could be home with you two more,” you reply forlornly as you watch Mingyu top up your glass.

“Two?” He repeats quietly and carefully puts the bottle down on the table.

“Mm. You and Danil.”

“But I’m just-”

“Mingyu, if you say you’re just his nanny, you’re not allowed to spend this weekend with us.”

Immediately, Mingyu looks at you with his sad puppy eyes and slightly protruded bottom lip. “But that’s my favourite part of the week, spending time with you two doing fun stuff.”

“Mine too, but you don’t get paid on weekends, Mingyu, which means you’re not his nanny during those trips.”

“Then why do you let me stay if you don’t think of me as the nanny?” He frowns confusedly. “If you don’t want me there to help and do everything I usually do, why do you let me stay and include me?”

“Because you’re one of us,” you answer honestly. “Our family.”

“What?” His expression melts as somehow, his eyes turn even bigger. “You consider me family?”

“What else would I consider you? You’ve been around since Dan was a baby; you’ve done probably more child care than I have at this point, even when you don’t have to. We love having you here and although I feel bad when you choose to spend weekends with us instead of joining your friends or going to find yourself a girlfriend and start your own family, I’m glad you stay.”

“I don’t want another family,” he admits and puts his slightly trembling hand over yours where they both remain around your glass propped on your folded legs. You look down at his touch and remove one hand from the glass to allow him to hold it. “I only want this one.”

“Mingyu…” you swallow thickly as your heart races with what this could imply, if he is saying family in the way you wish for, or in a broader sense. Maybe he means he wants to be Uncle Mingyu, not the father of your son, which you would accept, of course you’d accept Mingyu wanting to be Uncle Mingyu, but hearing Danil calling him daddy in the same breath as you mama, that would be something wonderful, you think.

“I know I’m overstepping, I’m just the guy you pay to watch your son, and honestly I’d do that for free if this wasn’t my only source of income, but you see��the thing is that I…I’ve fallen in love with you both and I would really, like really love to be a family with you,” he confesses.

For a second longer, you stare unblinkingly at his hand before you register that you haven’t just fantasised his words like you have many times before. Mingyu really did just confess to being in love with you and that he wants to be a family, which sounds like he wants to take on the exact role you’ve been yearning for him to for years now.

“J-just to clarify what you mean,” you say as you slowly look up at him and find his anxious gaze locked on you. “By family are you saying you want to be Uncle Mingyu or…daddy?”

“Uhm…the second one…if-if you would allow me to be.”

“I need to get a new nanny,” you mutter dumbly and watch as Mingyu’s features fall.

“Oh.” He looks away and turns, removing his hold from you as he swallows down the contents of his glass faster than he ever drinks any wine. “Right, I’ll uhm, pack my stuff and be gone by tomorrow evening so the new nanny can have my room.”

“Gyu,” you breathe out and shuffle closer to gently cup his farthest cheek and turn him to look at you. There are tears gathering on his lashes. “Oh, baby, I didn’t mean it like that,” you assure softly and brush your thumb across his cheek as a tear falls and drips down across his skin.

“N-no?” You shake your head and give a little, reassuring smile. “Then h-how?”

“I can’t really keep paying you to be Danil’s nanny when you’re his daddy.”

Mingyu’s breath catches in his throat and his eyes dart over your expression rapidly for a handful of seconds before settling back on your eyes. “You mean it?” He whispers.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

“For Danil to have a dad?”

“For you to be his dad.”

“Oh,” he breathes out. “I love you, I-I don’t know if you love me too or-or just want me to be his dad and I’ll accept that, whatever I need to so I can be that for him, but I just need you to kno-know. I love you and I have for…” he lets out a breath. “It feels like I’ve always loved you, even before I knew you. It’s just…”

“Natural,” you finish, and he nods in confirmation.

“Yeah, it feels natural to love you, like it’s all I was made for; to love you and Danil.”

“Do you have more love?”

“Huh?”

“Well…Danil has been asking to have a little brother; it might take us a few tries to get the right gender, but I don’t mind repeat attempts if it’s with you.”

The tears in Mingyu’s eyes return with a vengeance and start to spill over, trickling down to meet your thumb still smoothing over his cheek. “Y-you want to have babies with me?”

“I do.”

“And that?” You make a confused sound. “Will you say I do in another circumstance with me one day?”

“Are you asking if I’ll marry you one day?” You wonder in surprise. He just nods and then you surge in to kiss him, utterly overwhelmed with emotion and unable to even attempt to verbally answer right now.

Mingyu whimpers slightly at the sudden, passionate kiss but then he’s blindly taking your glass from your hand to place onto the coffee table with his own so that he can pull you onto his lap and wrap his arms around you, all without breaking the kiss.

You kiss for long enough that your lips are bruised and tingling, chests heaving as your lungs search for air by the time you break apart and look at one another with matching hooded eyes.

“I love you, so fucking much,” you inform when you have your breath back enough to speak, running your fingers through his hair to try and tame the mess you’ve already made of it. “I want it all with you, Mingyu; marriage, babies, everything.”

“Fuck,” he pulls you in to another intense kiss with one hand threaded into your hair at the back of your head and his other arm around your waist to pull you even closer and press you down against him where you can feel how aroused he is, and it only makes your body burn brighter. “I’ll be the best daddy, I promise.”

“To me or the kids?” You joke and watch as his eyes darken before his lips spread into a seductive smirk that makes you wish you’re already in your bedroom. Or maybe his; it’s further away from Danil’s, therefore, much more suited for your current urges.

“Tonight, yours,” he answers and leans in to nip at your bottom lip teasingly. “Sound good, baby? Wanna go upstairs and show daddy how much of a good girl you can be?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Later, you lay in Mingyu’s bed naked, where he excitedly tells you that Danil has been invited to his first ever birthday party this coming Sunday, a picnic for a little girl named Juni that you’re both invited to as well, and you’ll repeat your love into one another’s skin in between discussing where to go from here.

Mingyu can’t technically be Danil’s nanny anymore, even if you agree to not tell anyone about the change quite yet as you want to ease into it, so Mingyu will be more like a stay at home dad and although he has savings and you both don’t want you to give him an allowance because it’ll feel too much like paying him to look after his own son, you agree that for now, you’ll keep paying him until things are settled and he can look for a job if he wants to have his own income.

There’s a lot more that needs to be discussed too; how to tell Danil, when to tell Danil, if Mingyu will move into your bedroom so you’re both closer to your son or you’ll move into Mingyu’s so there’s less chance of Danil hearing your private, late night activities, or if you’ll just swap between for the best of both worlds, plus a whole list of practicalities and legalities about the change of status, but for now, you decide to just enjoy what’s fallen into your lap.

Mostly because it’s your new boyfriend’s mischievous grin before he presses your thighs apart to get his head in between them for the nth time, and there’s really not a chance in hell that you’ll ever stop the man from loving you in every way he sees fit when this seems to be his favourite method.

As soon as Mingyu is done and you’ve got your strength back, you’ll return the favour and show the man how grateful you are that he’s agreed to take up the title of Daddy, but for now, you lay back with your fingers in his hair and enjoy the ride.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess

Special tag: @ourdawnishotterthanourday

[fadingdaggerr]

sumpta sanguine (18+, mdni)

part 1 | part 2

pairing: agatha harkness x gn!witch!reader

summary: stuck in her ways, lost in your vision | 4.4k

includes: domestic fluff but the red flags are waving, blood magick!reader, angst, more angst

warnings: description of injury (brief), mentions of blood/death, description of illness, brief smut, afab reader (no chest description), fingering (r receiving)

translation: tolle hunc dolorem et restitue hoc corpus (latin) - take this pain and heal this body

note: i literally rewrote the entire last two sections bc i had a dream about this fic. it’s been rotating in my brain for weeks and i suddenly redid 70% i swear

August 1752

Hot air brushes through the trees, finding its way into the stuffy walls of the cottage. Not a single room could spare you of the suffocating heat. With all the windows and the door open, there is a small reprieve in the farthest back room, but most definitely not in the kitchen where you find yourself perched at the window.

Clumsy footsteps smack against the wooden floor behind you, a body toppling into the back of your legs. Turning to look down, a mop of brown curls and big blue eyes peer up at you. Hands grasp at your legs, tugging at the cloth of your rolled up trousers, a grabbing motion directed towards you.

With an exaggerated oof, you lift Nicholas into your arms, leaning back against the counter to sit him on your abdomen. His chubby hands fly to the strings of your shirt, fiddling with them with furrowed brows. Before you can even ask, he looks up at you.

“Mama?” He asks, staring you down as if he is trying to read your mind.

You smile, freeing one hand from under him to push a rogue curl from his face. With a gentle touch, you stroke his cheek with the back of your index finger, “Mama will be home soon, my sweet. Before the sun goes away.”

“When?”

Chuckling at his insistence, you lean into his space. His nose scrunches in time with yours, ever similar, and you cannot help the way your laugh becomes a giggle. “She will come home, Nicky,” you whisper, “she will always come back for us.”

This seems to calm his mind, immediately crushing himself against your chest in relief. The warmth of his body makes you feel woozy, but you refuse to let him down until he asks, or rather, wiggles free. Sweat lines your brow as you stand there, eyes closing as you savor the cuddles as long as they will last. Swaying gently side-to-side, you walk around the house, hoping the passing breeze will cool you.

The rest of the day, Nicholas stays glued to your side. When the heat grows too much for the toddler, he spends his time two steps behind you, watching your every move with his full attention. As you prepare dinner, you let him pick out the prettiest flowers from the bunch to make a new bouquet for the table. His murmurs of pu-ple and bwoo are music to your ears. Every time to try to sneak a peek at his choices, he tries to cover your eyes with his tiny hands.

By the time that you had completed dinner, and were finally able to look at your son’s choice of flowers, the sun was beginning to dip behind the trees. Both of you look at the window every now and then. Pursing your lips, you hope that Agatha returns before Nicky is to go to bed. He will never sleep without a good night’s kiss from both of you, each kissing a cheek with a loud smack of lips.

Worry does not even have a chance to take root when steps come up the wooden deck. The sound is enough to have the toddler whining, begging for help down from his perch. With quick hands, you scoop him up and place him on his feet. Little legs carry him with urgency to the door, breathing fast with excitement.

“Oh, my baby! It’s been ages, you’re practically a man now!” Agatha’s voice rings into the house, a muffled chuckle passing her lips as she tucks her face into Nicky’s hair.

Holding him on her hip, she finally meanders into the kitchen. Finding you leaned over the counter, she wraps her free arm around your waist, cheek squishing against your shoulder.

“Hello, my love,” she whispers, nuzzling her nose against you.

You hum, dropping your head to rest against hers, “missed you today, my heart. I trust it went well?”

“Always does,” she answers through an exhale. “Not a knick or scratch, I promise.”

Her words, no matter how much you believe them, do not stop you from reaching a hand around to check for yourself. The beat of her heart finds you easily, a balm to any anxiety you will ever have, steady and calm. Not even so much as a pinprick can be found, and the breath you were holding is let go.

Agatha stays there for a moment, soaking in the comfort that is you and Nicky. There is solace in your cool skin, drawing the exhaustive heat out of her own body. After a moment of solace, she peels herself off you, taking Nicky with her to change into nightclothes.

You and Agatha listen with small smiles as Nicky babbles on about what his stuffed rabbit had gotten up to today. Fern had fed the goats and fetched water, both of which were obviously not you. Chuckling at his antics, you push his spoon into his hand a little more, urging him to eat. Talking through every bite, he continues on the recount of your day. It was early into his rambling days that you realized why Agatha never asked you about the day, always waiting for your son to share it all.

As the sun disappeared and the crickets began to sing, the little boy had become limp on your lap, barely playing with Agatha’s hair anymore. His weight grew heavy, Agatha sensing it too as his fingers stopped fiddling. Sitting up from her spot resting against your legs, she turns to rest her chin on your knee.

Bedtime? She mouths. You nod, standing carefully and cradling the toddler. Walking to the farthest back room, you gently lay Nicky in his bed. Squatting down on either side of the bed, the two of you press a kiss to each of his cheeks.

“G’night, my sweet boy,” you whisper, walking backwards out of the room. It is hard to look away from him, the same every night. A piece of your soul out there, just in the other room, but still far enough to ache. You keep his door open, letting the air flow and to keep him within sight.

The wear of the day tugs you and Agatha to your own shortly after. Bare against the sheets, a pale leg drapes over your body, the warmth seeping in.

“Must you?” You question with a joking tone, the tips of your fingers dancing over her skin.

Agatha sighs in comfort, “I must. You’re an icicle and I’m sweltering.” Her nose brushes against your shoulder. The coolness once bothered her, fearing the worst of your health, but she realized in time that this was just you. Gone were the warm hands that held her close in that flowerbed, now she has the cold hands that temper the fire within her.

Turning your head, you press a kiss to her head, “perhaps that’s why I melt when you’re around.”

Agatha lets out a snort, nudging closer to you. Reaching lamely, you grab the edge of the sheet and throw it over you both. Turning onto your side, you let Agatha wrap herself around you. Your fingers trail up and down her spine, counting her breaths as they brush your neck. An arm wraps around you, nails circling the jagged scar that sits beneath her hand.

—⛤—

November 1754

The market is the most peaceful this time of year. Cold enough that few dare to venture outside, but warm enough to not yet suffer snow on the ground. Hand-in-hand, you and Nicky trail through the stalls. Small containers of goat’s milk and herbs you collected before autumn ended are all you have to trade. Hunting has never been your strong suit, but dressing the animal is another thing entirely. The pelts had been enough so far to give your son warm clothes for the winter, but none for you or Agatha.

Pulling slightly, Nicky tries to direct you towards a table of toys and instruments. Tugging him back to your side, you release his hand to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

“Stay with me,” you murmur, looking over a table of fabrics. The four-year-old sighs, leaning against you with a pout, staring off at the object of his desires.

Hugging your legs, he pleas, “I jus’ wanna look. Can I, please?” He draws out the last word, batting his lashes. His mother’s son, most definitely.

“Look, don’t touch,” you relent. Pressing a kiss to his head, you watch him run off.

Looking back at the fabrics, you pull out jars of milkweed and blue iris. The woman running the table eyes them, then her table. Folding up some, she shoves it your way and grabs the jars from your hands. Wordless exchanges are your preferred mode of conversation, giving the people what you know they need for what you know your family needs.

Rolling up the wool, you shove it into your bag. Clipping the satchel shut, you are disturbed by yelling at the other end of the market. From the toy table, a woman yells, three others running after something. A flash of brown hair and a giddy smile passes by, all too familiar.

Immediately, your feet carry you in the direction of Nicky and his pursuers. Hopping over logs, the boy bolts in the direction of your home, just past the treeline. The women never stop chasing him and neither do you.

Your knee aches numbly as you run, making you want to slow down, but with lost sight of the boy, you refuse. As you crash through the trees, your small cabin comes into view. A flash comes from the windows, a blurred mix of orange, pink, and blue, fading into purple. Scrambling up the stairs, you catch yourself in the doorway.

The bag on your shoulder drops to the floor of the cabin, the one you had only moved into in the early autumn. Three bodies lay on the floor, shriveled and sunken, grey and gone. In front of them all, Agatha. Her hands stretched before her, the purple magick swirls around her fingers. A sickly sweet smile crosses her lips, eyes closed in satisfaction.

Blue eyes pop open, suddenly aware of your presence. Her hands drop, moving to step over a body to close the distance between you. Noticing the worry in your features, she cautiously reaches out, warm hands on your face.

“Are you okay?” You murmur, knowing the answer already. A soft kiss presses to your cheek, lingering for a moment, letting you feel the safety. With the sureness of it, you pull away, eyes searching for the boy.

Sat on the stoop, Nicky’s back faces you. Rounding him, you squat down, hand on his knee. Refusing to meet your eyes, he wipes his nose with the back of his hand, a whistle in his palm. Your thumb brushes over his knee, feeling a small, tacky spot. Pulling away, blood sticks to your fingers. Carefully, you pull his pant leg up, seeing a large scrape across his skin.

Quickly, to not let him see, you slice your palm across a loose nail, letting red tears fall. Pressing your hand to his knee, you close your eyes. “Tolle hunc dolorem,” you whisper, “et restitue hoc corpus.” Repeating the words, you feel your hand warm, and your knee tingles, skin ripping. Holding your breath, you force yourself to not react. Pulling your hand away, all you see on Nicky is a small scar, one that will disappear with time. You place a soft kiss to his knee, rising and ruffling his hair as you walk back into the house.

As you look around the house, Agatha’s refusal to meet your eye is obvious. Taking in a deep breath, you grasp Agatha’s arm, hauling her into your bedroom with crooked steps.

“You made him do this,” you assert. “You used our son as bait.”

She rips her arm from your grasp, “I did not! All I asked is that he tell me if he sees someone, not to bring them to me.”

Your brows furrow, eyes widening, “he is four, Agatha. A mere suggestion from you is as good as a command. He has no place in this.”

“Is he supposed to never know magick? To never know what we are?” Agatha’s hands rest on her hips, making herself bigger. Blue eyes bore into you, a useless intimidation in your view.

“Do not play that game with me,” you step closer to her. “Nicholas is not a toy to draw in those wretches, he is a child. Our child, Aggie.”

The crack in your voice is a shock to you both, not having realized the tears swelling in your eyes. All you can feel is a burn, in your eyes, in your knee, in your heart. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to rid yourself of the thought. Though with every blink, the image of your son being chased is burned back into your mind, hardly fading and ever present.

Defensiveness rolls off Agatha’s back at the sound of your voice, hands dropping to her side. Without a second thought, her arms wrap around you, hand cradling your head as the other rubs your back. You stand stiff in her arms for a moment, but the overwhelming comfort that is Agatha takes you in, and you relax completely against her.

“I’m sorry, my love,” she whispers, lips brushing your ear. “I will not involve him, not even with a whisper. He will know purple, not red.”

Clasping your arms around her, you bury yourself in her neck. Breathing her in, you try to focus on her pulse. The steady thrumming, for the very first time, does not soothe you as well as you had hoped. “Get rid of them,” you murmur, “and don’t let him see.”

In an extra effort to show her apology, Agatha makes dinner, letting you cuddle with Nicholas in front of the fire. Eyeing from her spot at the counter, she watches you twirl Nicky’s hair with one hand, the other hand resting on his previously injured knee. You took it from him so quickly, noticeably hiding a little limp in your step now. The fact alone makes Agatha squirm with guilt, looking away.

When bedtime comes, she does not allow herself within his room and stays in the hall. Pressing a lingering kiss to his temple, she brushes a stray hair behind his ear. The boy stirs, rubbing his head against your shoulder, “g’night, Mama.”

“Sweet dreams,” she whispers, taking a step back. Carrying him as if he weighs nothing, you disappear into his bedroom. Agatha stays for just a moment longer before going to your shared room.

Laying Nicky down, you bring the blankets up to his chin. Rolling over to face you, his eyes crack open, “are you mad at Mama?”

His little voice makes your heart squeeze, fighting the frown that tries to make its way on your face. You place a hand on his shoulder, rubbing with your thumb, “only a little, but that’s not for you to worry about. I will always love Mama, even if I’m upset with her right now.”

“Are you mad at me?” He is even quieter now, as if he is scared to ask.

You take a deep breath. Tears burn at your eyes, and you pray the cover of darkness does not let him see. “Nicholas, I could never be mad at you,” you say gently. “Today, I was scared. And I need you to promise me that you will never do something like that again?”

Sticking your pinky out, you feel a smaller one wrap around yours. You rise slowly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You are my blood and bone, Nicky. All I want is to keep you safe.”

“I promise,” he whispers, voice muffled as he shifts against the pillow.

With a low good night, you slip out of his room, leaving the door open. Walking back to the main room, you scour the floor for any remnant of earlier events. Not a scratch or so much as a hair. Sated, you slowly make your way to your own room.

On her own side of the bed, Agatha tries and fails to nonchalantly fake read her book. Wordlessly, you undress and lay down facing away from her. Reaching out, you cover the flame on your side of the room, shadows filling the corners. They crawl faster as Agatha’s own candle goes out behind you. Shifting in the sheets, you feel Agatha press against you, skin warm in contrast to yours.

A pale arm wraps around your middle, fingers tracing against your stomach. Her lips find your shoulder, trailing lazily with soft kisses. As her teeth graze over your skin, her hand slips lower and lower.

You can feel the tension gnawing at you with fading anger not far behind, yet your eyes shut almost instinctively. The thrumming of her heart fills your mind, beating in time each wet kiss pressed against your neck.

“Agatha,” you say through a breathy whisper, teetering on a moan. Lithe fingers brush over where you need her most, but she does nothing to soothe the growing ache she so easily caused. You attempt, poorly, to sound more stern, “Agatha.”

She shushes you, hand moving to knead at your thigh, trying to manually remove the anger from you. How she can calm you as easily as she vexes you will forever be a mystery. A shiver runs through you, which Agatha acknowledges by nudging you with her nose.

“Please, my love,” she presses her lips to your neck. Her warm hand slides from your thigh to your center, and at the hitch of your breath, she faintly smiles. Another kiss to your neck, “forgive me.”

A firm press against your clit forces you to bite your lip, eyes squeezing shut. Her saccharine words and addictive touch turn you to putty in her hands. Your hips roll against her, searching for more friction as you grow wetter. At your invitation, her fingers move in slow circles. Thighs quivering as they open, you give her control as you lean back further into her body.

Leaving your clit, her fingers slip through your folds, the tips probing your soaked entrance. With the whine that passes your lips, she sinks two fingers into you, palm rubbing deliciously against your still aching clit. Her agonizingly slow pace quickens as your hips chase a different speed. Pumping her fingers, she lets you ride out the pent up tension on her hand.

The soft clench of your inner walls alerts her to your approaching orgasm, lips reconnecting with your neck. Every scrape by her teeth and gentle nibble makes the fire in your belly grow, the curl of her fingers tightening the coil further.

Your blunt nails dig into her arm, all your effort focusing on not making too much noise. Curling tightly, the tips of her fingers reach that spot that makes your vision turn white, hips rutting faster to chase the feeling. Forcing the heel of her palm harder, the pressure sends you over the edge with a silent scream.

Warmth fills you, slowing your hips, closing your legs to trap her there. Shaking pants pass your lips, eyes slowly cracking open. You feel soft pecks against your sweaty neck, barely there, but grounding. Finally letting her hand free, she slowly pulls out of you, and you have the fight whimper that crawls up your throat at the loss

Lolling your head back, you watch Agatha bring her fingers to her lips, eyes flickering shut at your taste. Reaching up, you pull her hand from her mouth, cupping her face. Drawing her down, you whisper, “I meant what I said. Today will never happen again.” She tries to speak, but your hazy glare shuts her down. “Just nod or shake your head,” you command.

With a stiff nod, she tucks herself into your touch. Removing your hand, you grab her own to wrap her arm around you, pulling her flush against your back. Settling against you, you feel her hold you tighter than ever as you fall asleep, anger snuffed out, replaced with a distant longing.

—⛤—

April 1756

Early in the morning, with the sun still hiding, you felt the bed shift. Groaning, you tug the blankets more into your side, subconsciously seeking warmth as Agatha leaves the bed. Tip-toeing around the bed, she presses a long kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” she mutters against your skin, another kiss placed there.

“My heart,” you murmur, slurred with slumber.

You do not hear her shaky breaths, or the creaking of doors. Faintly, you feel two kisses press to your cheek, small and wobbly. But the sniffles do not reach your ears, nor does the crying after the front door shut.

When the sun rises and the birds begin to chatter in the trees, your body stretches under the covers. A grunt passes your lip at the stiffness of your thighs, a pleasant and light ache. Squinting eyes opening to sunlight filling the room and you flop over onto your back, turning your head expecting to see your beloved. What you find instead is an empty bed and cold sheets.

Sitting up, you immediately wrap your robe around your frame, flying through the house. Shoving open the door, your son’s room is empty, his blankets still pulled back. Only Fern the bunny sits on the pillow. The kitchen and sitting room are empty. The yard is filled only with goats and chickens.

Running back into the house, you frantically look around for something, anything. All you find is silence and nothingness. Alone with your thoughts, a bunny, and a piece of paper on the table. Slugging over to it, you read the best you can with tear-blurred vision.

My dearest love,

It’s what must be done to extend his time. We know what is left is borrowed, and we cannot divine when it runs dry. I wish nothing more than to take you with us, but apprehension will not give us more time. And my love, you are too gentle for what is demanded of us.

I’ll pray to the Divine Mother that you shall find me again, for you seem to have a talent for it. It is one of your many, my sun and stars. My heart will forever beat in your name.

Yours in every way,

Agatha

And in messy, but legible, writing below, a message that sits heavy on you.

I love you to the moon and back. And Fern.

Your Nicky

The weeks that follow are filled with sorrow and turmoil. Every township gave nothing, not a sound or a rumor. The nights were nothing but nightmares within short bouts of sleep. Your body felt weaker by the day, feeling similar to a sensation from years ago.

A gnarly cough rips through your throat, unforgiving and sharp. Your chest aches with each one, gripping the counter in front of you as you sway. Looking up into the mirror, you examine your appearance. Skin ashen and eyes sunken into dark circles, you truly looked beyond recognition.

Not once in over sixty years had you been sick, not even an allergy. Your whole body seemed to repel illness and injury, healing and curing with every beat of your heart. The illness that has consumed you in the passing weeks has only confused you. All remedies you knew did not so much as soothe your ailing.

In the market, you force a cough down, not letting it slip. Any sign of illness was assumed to be deadly here, and the people were unforgiving. As you wait for the wave to pass, to eavesdrop on passing strangers, hoping for anything.

Five, ten, fifteen people pass before anything is worth your time. But then, two women walk by slowly, deep in conversation.

“I’ve heard it, it’s true,” the one in a light blue dress says excitedly, “the Witches’ Road. It promises glory for those who dare.”

The one in orange scoffs, “it’s nothing but a song, Violet.”

Standing from your spot, you try to follow. You knew exactly what song they spoke of, it was one of your own, written together through the seasons with a sweet little boy and his captivating mother. Yet now, it was something to sing to yourself in times when grief claws at you.

Stumbling slightly, you catch up with the women. Falling in line, you hope you do not look desperate.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but were you speaking of the Witches’ Road?”

The one in orange speaks first, eyes firm, “yes. And what of it?”

You raise your hands in a show of no harm, “I merely ask where you heard of such a thing? Was it close by?”

Violet interrupts her friend, “it was at a tavern some days back. This adorable little boy was singing of it. Quite well, if I’m to say so.”

Her comment tugs at your heartstrings, a small smile crossing your cracked lips. Your little song bird. It’s replaced by the unsureness in her declaration of time. If they were only speaking of this now, it should not have been too long ago. How close you must be, yet you feel you are far.

“Are you well? You seem…” Violet trails off, concern flooding her features.

“Come with us,” the other says. “You’ll be among your own. I’m Margot, that’s Violet.”

Nodding, you walk in line, letting them practically hold you up on either side. They lead you through town, to a cottage at the edge. Neither ask many questions, just speaking quietly among themselves as they work around you.

Nightfall comes, and you tuck yourself into the small sofa, graciously accepting the several offered blankets. The warmth of the blankets and dying fire tug you into a reluctant sleep, tearing at your sickly mind. Slowly, the rubbing of the stuffed rabbit ears ceases, your hand going limp at your side. Dreamless and dark, it is a heavy slumber.

A dense, ice cold feeling rips through your veins, seizing your heart. Eyes flying open, you sit up to grip your chest, fear flowing as you wake in confusion. Struggling to get up, you fall onto the floor, scratching at your shirt to reach your skin.

Pressing your palm to your neck, you feel your pulse, steady and normal. It is a jarring difference from the pain and unsettling feeling around you. Your heart breaks as you come to realization. Hollow. You feel hollow.

Looking up towards the window, over the hyacinths on the sill, you are greeted with the sight of the moon. Your only companion stares back, capturing your entire attention. A ringing in your ears replacing your ragged breaths. One voice, many unified, echoes behind the static.

Only one, they said. No other.

title translation: sumpta sanguine, latin - the blood taken

note: as always, feedback is appreciated! especially with something like this because it’s not like my previous works. let me know if y’all would be interested in me continuing this <3

[sensitivepluto]

Rooftop Bliss

Short & Sweet - Day 1: Oh. Oh.

Megumi Fushiguro x Gn! Reader

TW: none really, mention of injury, tooth-rotting fluff.

So for this month I'm going to try to do @thewritingstar's Short & Sweet prompt list! I haven't decided if I'm going to do multiple fandoms yet so we'll see!

Here's the link to the original post

It was a breezy night when Megumi Fushiguro snuck away to climb atop the rooftop of the dorms after a completed mission. This wasn't his first time doing this, as he enjoyed getting away from the chaos of Jujutsu even if just for a moment. A gentle sigh escaped his lips as he started to lose himself in the starry sky. Of course he didn't expect to be alone for long. Every time he'd decided to come up here, you had a way of figuring it out. Not that he minded. Actually, he'd come to deeply appreciate your company.

And just like clockwork, he heard the familiar sound of you making your way to him on the roof.

"Hey." You spoke softly, carefully crawling up to him. A small smile graced his lips when you joined him, and he ignored the slight increase of his heart rate.

"Hey." He said, watching you adjust yourself into a criss-cross. "Did I wake you?" You shook your head.

"I wasn't asleep. Besides today was particularly rough so I figured you'd be up here." A hum left his lips in response.

"When did you get back from Shoko's?" Megumi questioned. Even in the starlight he could see the embarrassed sheen on your face at the mention of Shoko. During the mission you fumbled managed to get yourself impaled through the arm. The whole ordeal was embarrassing and you were ashamed to have gotten hit so easily.

"A little bit ago. You know it wasn't anything major." You waved off. He rolled his eyes at your dismissiveness. He'd never tell you, but he worried whenever you got hurt. He couldn't figure out why. Other mission partners of his have gotten hurt in the past, so why was it so hard to watch when you did? The question lingered in his mind for so long he didn't even realize he was staring you down.

"Megumi? Earth to Megumi, are you in there?" You snapped him out of it, waving you hand in front of his face. A slight blush crept onto his face at the realization.

"Oh. Sorry. Lost in thought..." He mumbled, turning his gaze away from you. You giggled and looked up at the stars.

"They're beautiful tonight." You hummed mindfully. Megumi looked up at the stars and nodded in agreement. For some reason tonight's sky yielded many more stars than usual. He once again turned his gaze toward you and his breath caught in his throat.

In the starlight your eye's shone with a brightness he'd never seen before. Your hair rippled against the breeze and the smile radiated an unfamiliar feeling in his chest. It felt like he was going to burst and when you finally turned to look at him with those eyes he'd come to...

oh.

oh.

"Beautiful..." He muttered with a wide, almost panicked look on his face. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, blush now creeping onto your own face. It was like his body was being possessed at this point. Pure instinct had him reaching for you and cupping your cheek delicately in his hand.

"Megumi..." Your words almost died on your tongue. An unspoken flurry of feeling bringing the two of you closer together. "A-are we still talking about the stars?" He rolled his eyes and pulled you into him, his hands cupping your jaw as his lips finally made contact with your own. A small gasp left you before you relaxed into him and reciprocated the kiss.

Megumi had never realized how much he'd wanted this. The feeling of your soft lips against his. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling you both closer together. When the two of you finally parted, simply for the lack of oxygen, he rested his forehead against yours.

He finally understood it. The worry and anger when you got hurt. The uncontrollable palpitations in his chest whenever you came near. The inability to think clearly whenever it came to you. All just side affects of the feeling he now craved more of.

[daydreamteardrop]

Girlhood - Sylus x Reader Drabble

Note: Hello! This is a drabble Ive started, maybe I'll continue it. I thought about how Sylus would be so up for helping MC be more confident in a girly style, because her whole life she wasnt allowed to present girly for her safety. (im massively projecting). Grandma Josephine is carrying the brunt of that LMAOOO, idk, is not being a Josephine fan controversial?

Not beta read, we explode like Josephine.

Spoilers for Sylus' Story!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• °.•

Girlhood wasn't really something you got to grow into.

Middle school introduced the full throttle of make-up, accessories and hairstyles onto the girls your age. And you found it fun, in fact, you always wanted to join the bandwagon.

But your dear gran was just so worried. She'd hold your hands tight and tell you that presenting so feminine can be dangerous. You will be stared at, perhaps even talked to by strangers, god - it would hurt your dear Grandma's heart should you walk outside while presenting in a girlish way. She'd be worried sick.

‘The boys would stare…’

‘Think about the way home, it gets dark so quickly during fall and winter.’

'It's unsightly.’

‘You are way too young.’

‘You’d get unwanted attention.’

And you didn't want to worry her.

So with a sad smile you were always the odd one out. You'd wear big T-shirts and pants. The girls in your class looked at you with such a pitiful yet mocking expression. One time they even ‘accidentally’ cut your hair and when Caleb picked you up from school that day, your silent begging to just go home was the only thing that stopped him from acting against the bullies. Grandma saw it as an opportunity to keep your hair short. It stayed the same even in highschool, where you were mistaken as Caleb's little brother once.

In the Hunter Academy, you were able to loosen the insistence of your grandma and managed to grow your hair to just above your shoulder again.

When you first wore the official Hunter's uniform, you couldn't be happy. The only thought that crossed your mind was ‘Grandma would worry if she saw the bare stomach.’.

When Tara would try to convince you to do anything girlish, you'd decline with a sour smile. Too scared, too constricted.

Even when the explosion took her, you just couldn't free yourself of the shackles.

-

Now, the dress Sylus made you wear for the auction was…gorgeous. The black and velvet felt so nice on your skin, it was practical to move in. The accessories glittered and reflected the dim lighting of the hallway. You didn't dare touch your hair, not knowing how, so the matching black claw-clip was in your hand. You didn't have any make-up you could use. And so it felt sinful to walk along this disgustingly expensive carpet in heels you weren't used to.

He held his hand out for you to take and wore that smirk. Black gloves met his calloused hand and he observed you. Looked you up and down and there was no way to tell if his gaze was scrutinizing. Red eyes met your face and then your hair, then to the claw clip in your hand.

“...not to your taste?”

“That's not it…”

Fingers clenched around the material of the hair accessory. He raised an eyebrow, urging you to continue.

“...I don't know how to put it in. I mean, it's kinda obvious how to, but-”

Before you could bring a finished sentence into the room, he grabbed the clip from your hand and spoke “Turn around.”

“Huh?”

He sighed. “I'll help you.”

With a bit of hesitation you turned around. Something about turning your back to the Onychinus leader was unnerving, an inner part of your brain scratched that it was crazy, but the moment his hands pulled your hair to the back with an uncharacteristic gentleness, the scratch stopped. He left a bit of hair out on purpose, letting it frame your face, and clasped the rest in place neatly by the claw clip.

Your hand traced over it carefully and you turned around and met his eyes. He huffed, satisfied with himself and put his hands in his pant pockets.

You recall the sentence that left him earlier.

‘No one can stay wary, when there's a beauty walking around.’

You're not used to being described with that adjective.

-

After the auction, Sylus waved you off when you wanted to return the dress and its accessories to him.

‘It was tailored for you. It's yours now.’

His way of using his money was…questionable to you. The dress was miles outside of your budget range and you hung it straight and neatly, in order to not even get a hint of a wrinkle in the luxurious fabric.

Closet doors were open and you stared at it, like it was some sort of glorious painting in a museum.

‘Maybe I should frame it.’ you thought as you sighed dreamily. When the tips of your hair slide over the back of your neck, you shudder, because it reminds you of Sylus' fingertips in your hair when putting it up with the clip.

Your poor pillow is the target of your suppressed squeal. A dress was in your possession.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

DaydreamTeardrop2025

[sillygoose067]

A Masked Promise

Ch. 37

Dick Grayson (Nightwing) x Reader

The infirmary felt suffocating. Not because of the sterile scent or the quiet hum of the machines, but because of him. Because Dick hadn’t moved from your bedside since you woke up, hadn’t let go of you, hadn’t even thought to take care of himself.

The dark circles under his eyes were deeper now, his exhaustion evident in every slow blink, every sluggish movement. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days—like the weight of the world had settled onto his shoulders and refused to let go, like Atlas doomed to carry the heavens without rest, his burden as endless as his guilt.

“Gray…” you murmured, your voice still rough from disuse. Your fingers brushed over the back of his hand, drawing his attention. “You need to get some sleep.”

He scoffed lightly, shaking his head as if that was the most ridiculous thing you could have suggested. “I’m fine.”

“You look like hell,” you countered, watching as his lips pressed into a thin line. “And this bed sucks.” You shifted against the stiff mattress, wincing slightly to sell your point. “I feel gross. I need a shower.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion flickering across his face. “You’re still weak.”

“I’ll be fine.”

His response was immediate, firm. “You’re not walking.”

Before you could protest, he was already moving, arms sliding under you with ease. Your breath hitched as he lifted you as if you weighed nothing, his warmth immediately surrounding you.

“Gray—”

“I said you’re not walking,” he murmured, voice unwavering.

You exhaled, knowing better than to argue with him when he was like this. Instead, you leaned your head against his shoulder, letting him carry you through the hallways to his quarters—the same place you’d been staying with him. The tension in his body was palpable, his grip on you firm but gentle, like he was afraid you’d slip away again.

You tried to lighten the mood. “So… are you planning to carry me into the shower too?”

His gaze flicked down to you, unimpressed. "I'm still mad at you, you know that, right?"

Inside his quarters, he set you down carefully on the edge of the bed, hovering like a worried mother hen as you pushed yourself up. The moment you were steady, he hesitated, as if torn between giving you space and staying close. You squeezed his arm before making your way to the bathroom, letting him know you were okay.

The warm water helped wash away the remnants of blood, battle, the grime, the sweat, the exhaustion clinging to your skin. By the time you stepped out, towel-drying your hair, you felt marginally better. You slipped into one of his shirts—soft, oversized, smelling like him—and returned to the bedroom to find him sitting on the bed, a fresh bottle in his hands.

You frowned. “Seriously?”

His grip tightened slightly around the bottle, but he didn’t meet your eyes. “Just one.”

“No,” you said firmly, walking over and plucking it from his hands before he could argue. “You need sleep, not this.”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t resist as you set the bottle aside and nudged him toward the pillows. He let out a heavy breath, rubbing a hand over his face before finally relenting, settling into bed. You climbed in beside him, shifting closer until your bodies aligned, your head tucked under his chin.

The moment you did, his arms locked around you, pulling you against him as if afraid you’d disappear. His face pressed into your hair, his breathing slow but uneven, his hold unyielding. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, his presence, his scent.

“Sleep,” you murmured against his chest.

He tensed slightly, then exhaled, his fingers tracing slow patterns against your back. “I can’t.”

You pulled back slightly to look up at him. His gaze was distant, haunted.

“Every time I close my eyes,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper, “I see it. You died. The way your eyes—” His breath hitched, and he shook his head, swallowing hard. “I lost you.”

His voice was so raw, so broken, that it cracked something inside you. Without hesitation, you shifted, moving above him, gently guiding his head against your chest, your arms wrapping around him as he had done for you before. He didn’t resist—just let himself sink into you, his body finally releasing some of the tension it had been holding. The steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his ear seemed to soothe him, grounding him in something real, something alive.

Your fingers threaded through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. “I was scared too,” you admitted softly. “Watching you fight Slade, knowing there was nothing I could do… I couldn’t imagine a world without you, Gray. Without Richard Grayson. Without Nightwing.”

His arms tightened around your waist.

“I’m expendable,” you continued, your voice steady but gentle. “But you’re not. More lives would have been lost if—”

“Stop.” His voice was muffled against you, but firm. He shifted, burrowing further against you, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re not expendable. You’re—” He exhaled shakily. “I can’t imagine a world without you either.”

The room was quiet after that, save for the steady rhythm of your breathing. You continued running your fingers through his hair, grounding both of you in the moment. His body slowly relaxed beneath you, exhaustion creeping in.

And then, as if the thought had been weighing on you all night, you spoke. “I’m ready.”

A low hum vibrated against your skin as he shifted slightly, not quite lifting his head. “Mmm?”

“To go all the way,” you clarified. "You know...Sex."

That got his attention. He pulled back just enough to squint up at you, sleep-heavy but alert. “You’re only saying that because you’re drained right now.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I’m saying that because I almost died.” He winced. “And it put things into perspective.”

His gaze softened, his fingers brushing slow, aimless patterns over your ribs. “I get that,” he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion. “And believe me, I feel the same. But I don’t want you making this choice because of fear.”

“It’s not fear,” you insisted. “It’s clarity.”

He hummed again, skeptical but not dismissive. His fingers trailed just beneath the hem of his shirt draped over you, warm against your skin. “Still… sleep on it,” he said, voice softer now, heavier. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sighed, about to argue again, but he silenced you with a kiss—first to your forehead, then your nose, then finally, your lips. It was soft, lingering, filled with quiet understanding.

“Sleep,” he murmured against you, and this time, it was an order.

He shifted, tucking himself against you once more, his head beneath your chin, his arms holding you close.

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