#as if he’s not incredibly willful and stubborn

[neixins]

i think it’s so funny when people call gija one-dimensional like. what a way to admit that you’re deeply uninterested in engaging with any elements of the story that aren’t spelled out for u. absolute the-curtains-are-just-blue-ass behavior

[shakingparadigm]

horrendously sick and twisted btw

[greenglowinspooks]

To be honest. DCxDP where the reason Danny meets the bats is Ace the Bat-hound

Like, just think about it for a second. Danny is in Gotham for college, or maybe he just moved out to find a city where having mad scientist parents isn’t actually that unusual.

He can see ghosts.

The ghosts know this.

Now he’s getting harassed left and right by spirits trying to get closure. Fine, whatever, most of them are a one-and-done type deal, and the amount of ghosts trying to get his help steadily decreases.

Except for this one very stubborn dog.

It just keeps showing up and leading him to crime scenes! He doesn’t know how many “anonymous tips” he can call in to the cops before they trace his phone! And this dog, this incredibly good boy, will not stop trying to help the city. He’s never met anyone with such a strong sense of justice, let alone a dog. Can dogs even have a moral compass?

And so Danny just accepts the fact that Ace isn’t going anywhere and becomes his reluctant sidekick/dedicated medium. He leans into the whole thing, dressing up in a mix of traditional magic-user attire and accessories that pay homage to the ghost dog.

He becomes somewhat well known. The psychopomp detective following around the shadowy figure of a German Shepard? That’s unusual! That’s weird! I mean, it’s not the weirdest thing in Gotham, sure, but he’s a new vigilante and he’s got a ghost dog that people can only see when it’s around him. Someone’s gonna notice.

Damian, as Robin, is the first to reach out to him.

Ace doesn’t know Damian but he does know a Robin, and while this isn’t his Robin, he’s still friendlier than usual. Danny’s panicking because oh god the bats are here and also is this kid gonna steal my ghost dog, Damian is absolutely delighted by Ace, and Ace is just happy to see a Robin again.

Damian decides that the psychopomp isn’t a danger to anyone, and there’s no reason to put this encounter into his reports, really, and perhaps Danny can help with some of his cases in the future.

Danny is sweating bullets because Damian basically tells him that he’ll keep him secret as long as he gets to play with Ace. Ace is happy that he’s finally getting some bat affiliated crime-fighting assistance.

And so, Danny is now both Ace AND Damian’s reluctant assistant. At least whenever he’s in trouble, he can always call a middle schooler to help him.

(Is Robin even in school? He’s out patrolling damn near every night, and he stays out late as hell. Does he have a bedtime? He should.)

Eventually it gets to the point where Damian is going over to Danny’s house. When he first sees it, he has a damn bitch you live like this moment, to which Danny responds that not everyone has the money to afford a nice place. Damian counters that he could at least take the time to clean up, and Danny replies that he’s working, going to school, and being a vigilante assistant to a ghost dog, something’s got to give.

Danny nearly has a heart attack when he checks his bank account the next day and sees that someone transferred him 10,000 dollars.

And so they get into a routine. Danny and Damian fight crime with Ace at night, and occasionally Damian stops by during the day to play with Ace and have Danny help with his homework.

(Damian is smart enough to do it on his own, but some of the instructions are written incredibly confusingly, and he would never admit to needing help to his family. Danny is just glad that the kid is in school and cares about his education, blissfully unaware that he’s basically emotionally adopted him.)

Damian is used to being in Danny’s company.

Eventually, when going over a case with the family, Damian absentmindedly remarks that he’ll have to ask Danny about some of the clues that they might be missing. Nightwing asks who he means and Damian makes a face like he just swallowed a lemon.

Cue shitstorm.

Who is “Danny?” Why is Damian willing to ask for help from anyone, much less someone outside of the family? Does he know who Damian is? Has Damian been compromised? What the hell is going on?

Damian now has to explain that Danny is the psychopomp with the ghost dog who he might have met hunted down while on patrol and conveniently not mentioned, but he’s not a bad person, really, and he lets him play with Ace, and he’s been quite helpful on certain cases due to his ability to talk to ghosts.

Bruce insists that the family meet Danny. Damian, hoping that he won’t just skip town the second he hears the news, relents.

Danny is surprisingly eager to meet the bats, considering his earlier fears.

Damian, blissfully unaware of what’s coming, sets a time and place to meet.

Once everyone is there, he gives Bruce the earful of a lifetime.

Robin is in middle school! Danny knows that there’s no way to stop the boy from going on patrol, but you could at least shift his schedule so he gets enough sleep on school nights! Does the Bat even know where he is half the time?! (No) And why isn’t he comfortable asking his family for help with both cases and homework? Did they ever even notice how much time he was spending at Danny’s house? If Danny was a bad person, he could have seriously hurt the poor boy! Shame on you!

Nightwing is mortified that Damian didn’t trust him enough to tell him about any of this. Red Hood is laughing his ass off, because yeah Danny is making good points but he’s also chewing out the literal Batman. Tim is recording the whole thing. Steph is delighted by the absolute gall of this Danger Twink™️, and already planning to add him to several groupchats. Damian is more embarrassed than he’s ever been in his entire life.

You, he points to Nightwing, did your academic life feel supported when you were a Robin? Nightwing is too stunned to speak. Red Hood, eternal shit-stirrer, says that oh, we all prioritized patrol over our education, that’s just how it is. Red Robin actually dropped out of high school to avoid distractions, did you know that?

Danny honest-to-god shrieks at this.

He finishes his angry rant and leaves, everyone too stunned to stop him.

And as it turns out, Tim wasn’t the only person recording the whole thing.

The entire internet is blowing up with Psychopomp The Danger Twink™️’s rant. People are taking sides. Things are getting messy. Red Hood literally admitting on-camera to previously being a Robin is somehow not the main focus here.

Eventually someone connects some dots from the video, as well as stories circling the internet about the psychopomp. A ghost dog named Ace, who is the literal only reason that the psychopomp is fighting crime at all, which seems incredibly fond of Nightwing and Robin.

A crime-fighting dog who wants constant attention from both the current and original Robin.

Oh my god, Ace the Bat-hound died and became a crime-fighting ghost.

And, somehow, that’s still not the strangest thing going on in Gotham.

[elssero]

/ BITE ME

-elssero kinktober

✟ vampire!reader x sub!prohero dynamite, dom!reader, fem! reader, monsterfucking, bloodsucking, cumming untouched (kinda), overstimulation, public, m!masterbation. porn WITH plot. sorry it’s a lot of plot. (you attack him, slight violence) (apologies for any typos!)

pro hero dynamite- often described as a strong willed, stubborn, determined and valiant man- a role model to many. but most importantly- he’s incredibly overconfident.

he could guess that’s how he found himself in his currently situation. on a solo mission deep inside dark woods that he’s unfamiliar with- a mission that he was warned over and over again should have been a team up.

but he’s dynamite? the number two ranked hero? a symbol of power and strength. he doesn’t need backup or help on trivial missions like this. it should be easy, in theory- at least for him.

the brief he was given for this particular mission has minimal information- with each victim seeming to not completely remember the events of the night they were attacked, memories coming back to them in fragmented pieces.

the case involves a series of attacks that take place in a small, rural town. rich with folklore and community, on the surface- the location seems perfect. having a low crime rate and filled with life.

from what each victim can remember, the attacks seems to begin the same. the statistics of the assaulted immediately draw the hero’s attention- young people, ranged in their early twenties with eighty percent being men.

now normally, in cases like these that describe who seems to be a serial attacker, the victims, most of the time are women. and although it is not impossible, it it very rare that most of the victims are men.

this in itself interests dynamite. he feels stupid, and incredibly sexist for thinking it- but he can’t help but enjoy the challenge of taking down a villain who appears to be targeting men around his age group.

seemingly- each attack begins somewhat innocently. the setting of a bar or the local park being the beginning of the story.

the victims describe being approached by an entity that seems to take the form of a beautiful women. with eyes so enchanting they struggled to look away, a smile so captivating they couldn’t say no.

their lured- seduced into a forest, the same one he’s in now. they describe following the women as she leads them deeper into the trees, under the impression that she had a home- or at least a place for them to stay inside the woods.

as they move further and further into the forest, a piercing feeling of unease fills their stomach. an indication that something isn’t right, but when the women turns around and gives them a sly smile they can’t help but continue to follow her.

a shift happens almost immediately- the entity they were previously trailing behind seems to disappear in front of them, moving faster than able to understand by the human eye.

it happens in an instant, a cold breeze catches the victim, before their able to process the change she appears directly in front of them, pulling said victim towards her with inhumane strength.

if they’re able to see her- for even a second they would take note of her eyes, once captivating now glowing a deep shape of red- she approaches almost invisibly, illuminated only slightly by the glimmer of the moonlight. sharp fangs extrude from her mouth for only a second before a piercing cold slices their neck.

victims describe feeling something they can only describe as being drained, their life force being taken from them before they blackout- waking up the next morning on the outskirts of the forest, alone.

as far as the local authorities are aware, no one had died from these encounters, just severe pains and blackouts lasting upwards of a week.

what intrigues dynamite the most about this case is the way the victims describe their attacker- as someone beautiful, enchanting, even going as far to describe her as having ethereal beauty, somewhat otherworldly.

he can’t help but be interested, wanting for himself to see the mythical appearance of the entity who continues to terrorise this town. the assumption the commission have came too is that it must be a downside of a quirk. a quirk that forces the inhabited town feed on the blood of others in order to stay alive.

the cold of the night is beginning to affect bakugo as he wanders aimlessly through the darkened woods, the air is cool and thick with the scent of nature. his senses are heightened as his vision adjusts to the dim light. it makes every silhouette of the trees, every breeze of a branch appear more mysterious.

every step on the soft and damp earth feels purposeful, amplified by the surrounding silence. the deeper he ventures, the more disoriented he feels. the trees feel like their closing in, wait? has he seen that log before?

that’s when he hears it, a louder, heavier rustling of leaves, branches snapping under what sounds to be a prominent weight unlike any of the forest creatures he had encountered during his journey.

the hair on the back of his neck stands sharply as he whips his head towards the sound- not fast enough when he hears it again on the other side of him. he’s being surrounded, circled.

the forest seems to breath with him as he takes faster, heavier breaths, fighting the fear he feels inside the vast, dark woods, filled with whispers.

seemingly in a flash he feels a hand reach his back- his reflexes allowing him to turn towards to figure before he’s tackled, his back hitting the ground his a thud, closing his eyes quickly as he winces in pain.

the feeling of the hand on his back and the weight of the creatures legs beginning to straddle him make it clear he hasn’t been attacked by an animal, certainly not.

upon opening his eyes, he is met with a sight he hadn’t fully prepared for. you. illuminated only by beams of starlight that struggle to penetrate the dense canopy of trees surrounding you.

he can see you though, the glow of your red eyes captivate him, he knows he has the right person. you look down on him, hair drapes along your figure, looking up at you now, he feels as through the previous descriptions of your sightings don’t even do your intense beauty justice.

your mouth is agape, breathing almost animalistic, before you move your face down into his neck, taking a long, drawn out breath. when you move back to look at him his breath hitches, a smile evident on your face.

“your not from here, are you?” the smile on your face makes him feel uneasy, unable to move even if he tried due to your intense grip on him, he can’t speak.

instead you nod, taking his silence as an answer, thankfully. “cute costume.. what are you? some sort of hero?” the mocking in your voice agitates him.

he groans as he attempts to move- you only increase the grip you have on him in return. “oh come on hero- your really trying to run away so quickly? the fun part hasn’t even begun”

the vice you have on his waist with your legs only tightens, digging your knees into the ground to capture him properly. this isn’t the way this was supposed to go- you had him trapped before he even laid eyes on you.

helpless- a feeling dynamite does not enjoy, but with every struggle against your grip it becomes clear you aren’t letting him go anytime soon.

a pit in his stomach begins to grow- you won’t kill him, it doesn’t seem to be your style but he can’t help the fear- and the desire that pools inside.

it was foolish of him to wander into unknown territory- he knows that now as he watchesyou take in the scent of him- his eyes go wide when he feels your breath on his neck once again.

a giggle escapes your lips, thighs tightening around his waist, an increased pressure building in his pants, he feels pathetic.

rushing to force something out of mouth he attempts to speak to you- “w-wait!”- it comes out a little more breathy than he’d like.

“huh- so you do talk.” you don’t appear to be taking him seriously- instead aiming to mock- make fun of his resist.

“w-what are you?” it seems like the right question to ask- even if he can’t turn you in, maybe he could get more information to give to the commission. even if the story is ultimately too embarrassing to bear. “oh? me? are you sure your in any sort of position to be asking questions right now?”

he lowers in his head in response “you have put me in a good mood.. it’s a little difficult to explain-” he doesn’t fully understand what you mean, opting to stay quiet and allow you to continue “you might not believe me, but i guess you don’t need too- i’m a vampire.”

his mouth forms an o in shock- and confusion? his brows furrow slightly, unable to determine if your being serious or not “w-what?- like in the stories?”

“hmm yes i suppose so-” you don’t seem to be paying any mind to his confusion- instead moving your fingers delicacy along his chest.

“so w-what you just, feed on people?” he watched the movements of your fingers- as they rise and fall with every breath he takes-

“i have too” you seem amused by his questioning- he wonders if you’ve ever had to explain yourself before, you look down at his face now, noticing his red dusted cheeks “however it appears that you don’t seem to mind huh hero?”

he feels uneasy, the tone of your mockery going straight to his stomach, his pants tightening “you wanna give me your name hero?”

“d-dynamite-” you shake your head at that, clearing unimpressed by his answer “what about your real name?”

he takes a second to think about his answer- not finding any positive reasons to lie he continues “bakugo- katsuki bakugo.”

you analyse him for a second- trying to work out if he’s feeling the truth, you take his flushed expression as honestly “katsuki huh- that’s pretty cute- and there’s so much of you too-”

you move your attention away from his face, moving your hands around his frame, a hand coming up to grip his throat “how do you feel about letting me you drain you?”

his breath hitches- his stomach begins to flutter at the thought- his hips rutting up slightly as he imagines it “you wanna let me suck your blood? hm?”

his answer is immediate- it comes of desperate, worried if he takes too long to reply you’d leave him here- alone “o-okay- fuck.”

he feels your breath on his neck again, this time even closer, your nose inches away from his nape as you bury your face into him.

with a vice-like grip the feeling of your fangs  immobilises him, the sharp cold bite pierces the soft flesh of his skin and a flood of warmth spills into your mouth- “taste even better than i’d imagined-“

it comes out deep and gritty- matched with the groan that leaves his throat, you both seem to be enjoying this- “s-shit”

unable to control himself- his hips beginning rutting up against your own- the bulge in his pants feeling to heavy to ignore, moaning at the feeling of you against his neck, getting impossibly more hard when he attempts to move his hands but is stopped by your grip.

totally under your control- unlike anything he’s ever experienced before, the feeling begins to pool in his stomach even quicker- embarrassingly quickly.

sooner than he’d like- he’s bucking up with an increasing fast pace, you don’t make any move to help him- instead entirely focused on the blood seeping from his neck.

in a sudden move he’s cumming- dampening the inside of his suit with his seed as he continues to rut upwards- unable to contain his moans of pleasure.

this seems to grab your attention- moving your head away from his neck and lifting your hips slightly- he whines at the loss of pressure “oh? this is new.”

you take a moment to look at him- taking in his fucked out expression due to both his premature orgasm and his loss of blood “god aren’t you pathetic? the feeling of me sucking your blood made you cum hero?”

degradation- this is new to him, infact everything going on right is new to him, he’s not used to this feeling of submission, it makes his cock stir. “oh. f-fuck”

you think for a second- contemplating your options before you completely remove yourself from him, ignoring his plea “yknow- blood isn’t the only way a vampire can steal human essence.”

manoeuvring yourself beside him you delicately place your hands around the belt of his suit- teasing him. his eyes blow wide as you tug on his pants, taking his ruined boxers with them. he groans at the sudden feeling of the air against his cock.

gaping at him, you run your fingers up his dick- it’s long and thick, covered in cum from the ruins of his previous orgasm, you take some on your fingers and lick it off- all while maintaining intense eye contact- “i think this will do just fine- you wanna cum for me again hero?”

he can’t help the way his eyes roll back when you hum against your fingers- sucking them clean of his cum “y-yeah” the same feeling of patheticness washing over him “fuck y-you!”

a low chuckle comes from your lips-“hm i don’t think you mean that- look at you! made a mess all over yourself-” the sentence itself makes his cock twitch-

wrapping a hand around his dick- squeezing it slightly before before you begin to move your hand up and down- listening to his groans.

“o-oh fuck” his words come out disgruntled- his cock painfully hard as you work your fingers up and down it.

“what’s that katsuki? you wanna cum?” yes- yes god his head falls back at your words, mouth agape as he’s unable to control the sounds leaving his throat- doing nothing to stop you ruining him. “y-yeah!”

“how badly?” he groans in response- unable to deal with your relentless teasing- wishing nothing more than to cum again.

you stop your movements in an instant- he whines at the lack of stimulation “cmon answer the question katsuki? how badly do you wanna cum for me?”

it comes out in whines as he speaks- “s-so bad- ah!” his hips buck up into you as you begin to move your hand again- attempting to match your pace.

unable to control himself any longer due to the sensation your movements- and your words are giving him- he cums again- this time shooting ropes all over the pair of you-

you move quickly in order to catch it all, licking up his chest to catch the parts that landed there, you continue the movements of your mouth until it reaches the base of this cock- now red and twitching.

“coming all this way to deal with me too.. i’m starting to think that maybe you came looking for this” he shakes his head in refusal-

instead you begin to take long- slow licks from the base of his cock to the tip- teasing him relentlessly “you think you can give me another?”

tears breach his eyes when you take his tip into your mouth, tongue swirling around it- “n-no! can’t ! it’s too much!”

you remove yourself from him in an instant- tears now rolling down his face as he whines “are you sure?”

he’s too far gone already- completely immersed in your movements- embarrassment bubbling in his throat “no- no stop! touch me!”

you smile- a wicked one, you know you’ve got him. “i knew it- gonna cum again for me?” you dip back down- latching your mouth onto his cock yet again, hands move to grip his waist to stop him fucking your face.

“gonna cum like some touchstarved bitch for me huh?” you stop your attack on his dick only momentarily to speak before lunging down again- this time taking him fully.

it doesn’t take long to have him cumming again- thick ropes down your throat as both of your eyes roll back in pleasure- “thaats it- good job..” you allow the remaining seconds of his orgasm to rush though him- by the time he’s conscious enough to open his eyes your already stood up, fixing yourself.

“this was fun dynamite-” you take a look at him from the ground below him- dominating him as he pouts up at you-

“however, if you come around here looking for me again.. i can’t promise that you’ll be so lucky a second time round.”

he’s upset- upset that your moving away from him so quickly, upset that you seem to be leaving him“w-what? what do you mean?”

almost- you almost take pity on him, his fucked out face and the dust of red on his cheeks- he looks cute like this. that’s the problem. “was already hard enough for me to hold back this time”

you begin to walk away from him- ignoring how he seems to grasp himself up- fixing himself in the process“well- have a good one katsuki-” your voice comes out even more mysterious than before-

“s-stop! where are you going??” there’s longing in his eyes- already missing the effect your touch has on him- but by the time he gets up to catch you- your gone.

he whips around in circles- hoping- maybe to find a trace of where you went, failing miserably.

leaving him alone- in that same dark forest he first ventured to find you- he feels a sense of emptiness, alone with a pang of drowsiness that seems to hit him all that once. reaching his hand up to take a feel at the pain in his neck- he graces over the marks you left. cold, wet blood lacing his fingers before his vision goes black.

[siriuslylantsov]

canine tendencies

pairing: sirius black x reader

description: in which, you put charms in sirius' hair and confront certain traits of his.

tags: fluff! fem!reader, mmm pining, cuddling, totally platonic activities going on here, r is muggle-born hence the vet and dog anatomy knowledge, sirius is a puppy agenda, pretty women from the 70s mentioned (dont pay much attention to it), flirting.

a/n: staying true to my username with more sirius black. wanna play with his hair for days tbh. happy reading!

wc: 1.7k

“you don't know when to give up, do you?”

you raise your chin indignantly, “i'm stubborn.”

sirius fixes you with a withering glare, it doesn't pack much of a punch but you can tell he's stalling. he finally relents with a long sigh, ever the dramatic. you squeal, walking over to his bed with a little pouch that jingled as you moved. you nudge at his shoulders to lean against the headboard and set yourself down beside him. he grumbles, muttering something along the lines of waste of time and how your neck is gonna hurt. you bite back a smile at his cause for concern: you. 

“complain all you want, but you know this is gonna look good,” you muse, with an air of smugness. “you’ll be singing my praises.”

he lets his head hang to the side, looking at you, up those pretty eyelashes of his. his eyes are indifferent, yet they crinkle at the corners, trying to not prove you right. pools of grey and blue, you could drown in them. 

your elbow is wedged between a pillow and the headboard, propping you up, knees curled, poking into his thigh. his legs are sprawled out in an obnoxious man spread, effectively making you move closer so you don't fall off the bed–that's small enough regardless of the space he's taking up. 

he's avoided you all day since you proposed the idea at breakfast: putting charms in his hair. what's strange is that you’ve done his hair plenty of times before sans protest. you ponder it quietly, simultaneously willing him to concede with squinted eyes, as he deadpans you.

if he could, he would've told you that he’s afraid to be alone with you. not that he hasn't been before, he has and he's been this close to you too (he constantly is). but something is different now, something about your hands in his hair that he can’t deal with. especially recently, you've taken to scratching behind his ear and it drives him a little crazy. he won't stop you though, on account of it feeling so good. usually, you're around the others so he can shift his focus elsewhere rather than think about how softly your fingers pad over his scalp, but now you’re alone and he's cursing lily for dragging his friends to some stupid baking endeavour that he stealthily got out of. 

you watch as annoyance passes over his features (directed to lily but you don't know that) and it instantly worries you. maybe he was serious about not wanting this, were you pushing him?

“sirius, if you really don't want me to do this,” you start, a nervous edge to your fast rush of words, “please tell me. i don't want to force you into doing anything-”

“hey,” he stops you with a hand over your arm and a small reassuring smile. “i'm sorry, i do. i just think you’re hot when you're irritated.”

“you must think i'm farah fawcett all the time then,” you mutter, rooting around in your pouch for the gold cuffs you thought would suit him. “and i'm not irritated, i have a surprising amount of patience for you,” you correct, inspecting the cuffs in your palm.

sirius sits up a bit to peer at them, chewing his lip in thought. “mmm not her. barbara carrera maybe,” he adds, looking back at you, his resistance fading away.

your eyebrows shoot up slightly, in mild shock. “she's pretty,” you remark to his comparison and the seemingly honest delivery.

“yeah,” he says, incredibly earnest, “so are you.”

curious and curiouser. “you think flirting with me is gonna get you out of this?”

“i don't know, is it working?”

“nope,” you say curtly, bring your hand back up to his face, this time with a few charms as well. “pick.”

he does, and sets them in your other hand held out. you begin parting his hair for the braids, you settle for placing them under the top of his hair, since his layers are short they'll peek through nicely. you tie a sloppy half bun to the unused portion of his hair so it's out of the way and section out a piece to braid. 

sirius dutifully holds the gold adornments in his hand as you work, suddenly quiet. he always gets like this, you've noticed. all quip remarks are silenced when your hands are in his hair. you make note to tease him about it later but for now you're content to stay quiet. 

he's humming something quietly, a tune you're unfamiliar with, it's ok he’ll tell you later. it fills the silence nicely. you pick the first charm, looping it into a strand of hair and continuing the braid to secure it. his hair is unbelievably soft, it's probably why you like touching it so much. you both know it gets greasier faster because of your constant contact but sirius makes no move to stop you, ever, simply muttering a spell to revive it. 

it goes on like this for about ten minutes, mostly because the charms were a bit more difficult to work with than you thought and also because you were extremely wary of trying not to tangle his hair. he stares at you diligently out of his periphery and you try not to meet his gaze. 

when you're done you lift the handheld mirror to his face. fuck, he looks beautiful. you have to look away, allowing him to assess everything on his own. 

he shoots you a blinding grin, looking exceedingly pleased with how it turned out, “thanks, dove!”

“you’re welcome,” you respond. “it looks good, right?”

he nods, looking into the mirror again. “really good. you did an amazing job.”

your heart flutters at the praise but you don't let it show, accepting his words with a smug smile. it doesn't last long though as he jumps you with a hug, winding you. arms wrapped around your middle, his head rests on your chest, just below your chin, squeezing you in appreciation. you wrap your arms around him in tandem and lean back against the headboard and the pillows, practically pulling half of him on top of you.

it's rough and tumble for a moment before he settles with a low hum, arms still circled around your torso. he knows they’ll go numb the longer he stays like this but he doesn't care. 

you trail one hand into his hair instinctively, like it's second nature. your nails lightly graze over that spot behind his ear and he’s done for. when you begin scratching, he melts, like truly melts against your body, letting out a long, pleased sigh. he makes note to kick himself later for acting like this. beneath his cheek, he feels you shake. are you laughing?

he lifts his head, a little incredulous. “what?”

you chuckle, seeing how he blinks away the blissful air to his expression. “nothing, it’s just-”

he looks at you expectantly as you contemplate your words.

you let out an amused snort before speaking again, “i don't know if it's, like, a subconscious response to your animagus form but dogs really like being scratched behind their ears.”

he gapes at you, affronted. “are you calling me a dog?”

“you are, padfoot.”

he whines petulantly before dropping back to your chest. he noses at your sternum, his own wordless way of getting you to continue. so you do. 

“dogs have a very concentrated area of nerve endings here,” you explain quietly, scratching his scalp again, just behind his ear. “when stimulated, it causes the brain to release endorphins, making them feel relaxed.”

he hums in thought though it sounds more pleased and it scarcely proves your point. 

“how’d you know that?” he asks, voice muffled by your shirt.

“my friend had to take her cat to the vet and i read one of those pet magazines to pass the time,” you murmur, your voice still quiet as you begin to feel sirius growing heavier over you.

“y’so smart,” he slurs, words trailing off in the beginning of sleep.

“don't fall asleep,” you whisper, though you make no effort to wake him up.

he mumbles something incoherent, nuzzling further into your neck but giving you a little grace by shuffling off of your body. one leg is still tangled with yours and his arms are still tightly wrapped around you but at least he's not crushing you. 

“tell me more,” he requests, words trailing up at the end in question.

you think for a moment, reaching to the depths of your brain to retrieve the dog facts you read about that day, perking up when you do.

“hmmm dogs have incredibly sensitive noses. they have up to, like, 300 million scent receptors, where humans have about 5 million and the part of their brain that processes smells is 40 times larger than ours,” you mumble, tapping a light finger to the tip of his nose. 

“cool,” he exclaims, though it's anything but. his eyes slowly flutter shut as you coil a piece of his hair, sealing your fate for the rest of the evening. that is until, much to sirius’ dismay, his roommates come bursting in.

flour scattered over their clothes and hair alike, they’re boisterous as they enter, chatting something along the lines of baking is actually kinda fun. he groans against your body, sleep stretching far and wide from his grasp. you stifle a laugh as he glares at them annoyedly. they pay no attention to the boy, instead making plans on playing quidditch. to this, he brightens. jumping from the bed at a speed you can't quite justify, not being overly fond of the sport yourself. you were more inclined to flying for fun, rather than competition. 

he glances back at you, tentatively, asking for your permission almost. you shrug indifferently, you were going to make your way down to the field anyway. he grins and leans down, pressing a quick firm kiss to your cheek before rushing after the dwindling voices down the stairs, his own broom in tow. 

you bite your lip to push down the giggle that bubbles up in your throat, maybe there are some innate canine tendencies.

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

[alexiroflife]

“stubborn”

fluff, sickening fluff

toji fushiguro x reader

Synopsis: you finally ask your boyfriend Toji to help you with something after months of pushing him away

to sum it up: reader is a stubborn, independent woman who despises asking for help, but you're just too short to reach your top-shelf

WC: 1,778

Warning(s): none

Toji knew he was done for when his heart flipped after you had asked him such a simple question, so stubbornly and quietly, your arms crossed over your chest and eyes casted to your feet.

“What was that, doll?” he asked you, smugness clear in his tone.

“Shut the hell up.”

You had to be one of the most stubborn people he had met right after himself. You were a small, pretty thing. Toji was twice your size and towered over you like a damn skyscraper. At first glance, he hadn’t taken you for someone with such a persistent habit of trying to handle everything on your own, but you surely had proved him wrong. 

In the two months you had spent together, the assassin had watched you turn down his help time and time again. 

He offered you money if you mentioned that you were a little low on funds? Hell no, you were finding a way to rack up the change you needed for your next meal. You couldn’t find what you were looking for in the store? You’d turn down his offer to ask a clerk and wander the isles for damn near forty-five minutes before you finally found what you were looking for. Someone was giving you the stink eye as you walked by? You didn’t need him to defend you, you’d turn around and tell the stranger off yourself.

Toji had to admit, he admired how dedicated you were to handling yourself. He found it attractive, how much of an independent woman you were. Half the time he hardly even felt like you needed him around. He was your boyfriend, sure, but you never let him do the things that ‘boyfriends’ typically did. You spent plenty of time together and stayed over at each other’s places, but getting him to kill a spider or put together a new work desk or help you move around your furniture was never something you expected, asked, or even wanted him to do. 

Toji almost didn’t know what to do with himself. Here you were, a young woman hardly taller than his pectoral muscle, pushing him away anytime you were clearly struggling when you had full access to a ginormous mountain of a man over six feet tall. While he commended you for your hardened spirit, he worried for you just the same. You were more willing to wear yourself down to nothing for the sake of your stubborn pride rather than to ask him to pick you up from work after putting in overtime. 

At times, he almost felt foolish as your partner. He was there to help you, and when you still didn’t want the help he willingly offered after weeks, he had begun to grow annoyed.

You both were pretty horrible at expressing your feelings and relying on people other than yourselves. You were both incredibly self-sufficient, and you came together because you enjoyed each other’s company rather than depended on it. Toji enjoyed being with someone who could hold their own, but did you really have to hold your own to such a drastic extent? Hell, he had found himself asking you for more things than you’d ever ask for him. Since when had he become the vulnerable person in the relationship (though his definition of vulnerability was hardly the same as an ordinary person’s)? 

He knew that he cared for you and was only falling deeper into your relationship, so he wanted you to rely on him more. He wanted you to ask him for things. He wanted to give you more than what you needed. He wanted to give you the world.

But you never appeared to ‘need’ or ‘want’ anything outside of his company and presence. 

He loved it and hated it at the same time.

So when you approached him where he lounged on your couch, lips twisting and leg bouncing, looking surprisingly bashful for such a tough woman, and fighting against yourself internally to ask him quietly:

“Can you help me with something?”

His heart burst and his mouth fell agape. 

“...Heh?” he squinted, leaning forward and craning his neck as if he hadn’t heard you.

You flushed, crossing your arms tightly and chewing on the inside of your lip. You looked so angry with yourself for coming to him, but you truly had no other choice in the matter. Besides, you and Toji had shared enough disputes about your hesitation to open up and seek his shoulder to lean on. He wanted to take care of you. You were his girl after all, and he was practically useless as a man if he wasn’t there for you when you needed assistance. 

You closed your eyes tightly and opened them again, looking off to the floor in embarrassment. “I need your help… reaching something on the top shelf…”

Then and there, Toji realized just how doomed he was. He felt fireworks burst, heard bells ring. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, for he almost had to pinch himself to ensure that he hadn’t fallen asleep in your living room and wasn’t dreaming up this entire conversation.

But no, this was real. You, his gorgeous, stubbornly independent girlfriend, who wouldn’t have dared to ask him for help with anything over the course of the two months you had been together, had finally approached him with a rather mundane task. 

And you looked like it was destroying from the inside out to do so. You would have thought that you’d just asked him to strip down completely before her and do jumping jacks by looking at your bashful face… as a matter of fact, you probably would have looked far less tightly wound if you had been asking him to do something as ridiculous as that.

Toji smiled, a warmth spreading over his chest. 

“What was that doll?”

“Shut the hell up.”

He chuckled lowly, pushing himself to his feet to stand before you. You didn’t look at him, too humiliated to meet his eye as his hand curved over the side of your neck, his frame towering over you. He tilted his head to look at you, lips quirking up in a smirk. “You askin’ for my help, baby?”

You were visibly fuming, jaw clenching and unclenching, lips puckered forward in an adorable pout. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Ask me again.”

“Fuck you.”

“Come on, you getting this worked up over asking for my help?” he murmured, leaning down. “Ask me again.”

“Why are you getting off on this, you freak?” you bit, snapping your fiery eyes to meet his. Toji melted. He just loved that fire in you.

“I’m not getting off on it. I’m just pleasantly surprised, is all.” His hand dragged down to your waist, holding you gently. “Why ask me now, all of a sudden? What’s at the top of the shelf?”

Your nose flared as you hesitated once more. God, you were absolutely adorable. 

“A bowl,” you answered stiffly.

He raised a brow. “A bowl?”

“Stop asking so many damn questions! Will you help me or not?” you frowned, face heating.

“Not until you tell me what you need it for,” he teased, and you growled. He was having entirely too much fun with this, but how could he not? It was your first time asking him for anything. He had to make the most of this moment and treasure it.

“Toji, stop being an asshole.”

“Just tell me what you need it for, baby, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

You rolled your eyes, grinding your molars together. “I wanted to start trying out baking…”

Toji smiled. “That’s all?”

“Yes, that’s all, and I need the big glass bowl at the top of the shelf to make you these fucking brownies with the new recipe I found.”

He laughed, thoroughly amused by the whole ordeal. “You wanna bake for me?”

“It was gonna be a surprise, but I can’t…” you swallowed your pride, practically choking on it while doing so. “I can’t reach. Haven’t been able to since after I moved here. Used to have a stepping stool, but I can’t find it.”

Toji couldn’t believe how happy he felt to have heard that stupid request come from you. His stomach was doing flips and his smirk was brightening, leading you to believe that he was making fun of you.

“Shut up, Toji!” you whined before he had even responded.

“C’mere,” he pulled you into him by your waist, your face colliding with his chest. He kissed the top of your head sweetly, rubbing your back. “You’re cute, you know that?”

“Whatever,” your voice was muffled by his shirt, arms hanging limply at your sides as you flushed furiously.

“Of course I’ll help you, doll. ‘Coulda asked me a long time ago. It’s just a bowl.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up and do it before I find a way to climb up there myself.”

Toji pulled away to look down at you, green eyes gleaming tenderly with affection. “What’s the magic word?”

You glared at him. “I’ll kill you.”

He shook his head, entirely too please with himself. “Nuh uh. Try again, or no bowl for your brownies.”

“That harms you more than it does me!"

“Say the magic word, doll.”

Your blood was boiling, heart pounding with the shame and anxiety of vulnerability. You knew he wasn’t going to let you off the hook unless you indulged him, but you knew why and he had good reason. 

He wanted you to ask him for things, and that desire of his was sweet enough for you to indulge him.

“...Please.”

You ruined him, truly. You had asked him to carry out such a small task, one that in the end would be serving him and not even yourself, but had taken everything within you to muster up the strength to even walk over to him after battling against it for so long. 

He was proud of you. Your first steps were small, but they were steps further toward him nonetheless, and he couldn’t have been more grateful. He would have grabbed a million bowls off of a million shelves for you if it meant that you finally felt comfortable enough to rely on him for something. 

He was done for, because he knew at that moment that he had fallen so deeply in love with you. You in all of your stubborn glory.

His smile crinkled his weary eyes as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. He pulled back to find that your angry pout hadn’t gone away, leading him to kiss you again. “Atta girl. Now show me that shelf you're talkin' about.”

[sosa2imagines]

Hiii please can I ask for a Steve x reader where they have broke up for some stupid reason and the whole Avengers team trying to make them up again? Maybe something like a team-trip and they get them "stuck" in a "only one-bed" situqtion or Bucky/Thor trying to flirt with the reader in a Tony party just to make Steve jealous and make a move. Thanks 🫶🏻

Hi thanks for this ask. I have used both of the suggestions and I hope you like it. Warning- Angst, fluff, idiots in love, misunderstanding.

The party was in full swing, the hum of conversation and laughter echoing through Tony’s sprawling penthouse. You found yourself in a corner, nursing a glass of something you weren’t entirely sure was non-alcoholic, avoiding Steve like the plague. After the last mission, it was easier this way, less awkward, less painful.  

That mission. Damn that mission!

It had started as a straightforward retrieval op, but things had gone south fast. You’d disobeyed Steve’s orders, convinced there was a better way to secure the asset without risking innocent lives. Your plan worked, but the fallout had been brutal. Steve had confronted you the moment you were back at the compound, his anger laced with something deeper, disappointment, frustration, hurt.  

“Do you even trust me?” he’d asked, his voice low and wounded.  

Your response had been defensive, born of exhaustion and stubbornness. “Do you trust me? Or do you just want someone who’ll follow orders without question?”  

It was the kind of argument that didn’t end in resolution but in silence, the air between you heavy with everything you didn’t say. Two days later, you broke up.  

Now here you were, trying to pretend you weren’t glancing at Steve every few minutes as he stood across the room, talking to Natasha. You wondered if she knew. Probably, Natasha knew everything.  

Unbeknownst to you, the rest of the team had noticed the tension and decided to take matters into their own hands.  

“Alright, here’s the plan,” Sam said, leaning over the bar where Tony and Bucky were gathered. Thor joined them, a gleam of mischief in his eye. “Steve’s too stubborn to admit he still loves her. So, we make him jealous.”  

“What are you thinking?” Tony asked, turning to look at Sam and Thor. Bucky raised an eyebrow, looking just as puzzled, “How?” Bucky asked, his tone skeptical.  

Sam grinned. “Thor and you are gonna flirt with her. Get under his skin, make him realize what he’s missing.”  

Thor’s booming laugh earned a few side-eyes from partygoers. “I am more than willing to assist in this endeavor. Who could resist the charm of a god?”  

“Subtlety’s key, big guy,” Sam muttered, patting Thor’s arm.  

It didn’t take long for the chaos to begin.  

Thor approached you first, his smile dazzling. “Lady Y/n,” he greeted, taking your hand and bowing dramatically. “You are radiant tonight, as always.”  

You blinked at him, a laugh escaping before you could stop it. “Thank you, Thor. That’s sweet of you.”  

From across the room, Steve’s posture stiffened, his jaw clenching. Natasha raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Interesting.”  

Next came Bucky, his approach smoother but no less deliberate. “Hey, doll,” he said, his voice low and familiar. His hand brushed your arm as he leaned in. “You look incredible tonight. Mind if I steal you for a dance?”  

Your cheeks flushed. “What’s going on with you two tonight? Did Tony spike the drinks or something?”  

Bucky chuckled, but his gaze flicked toward Steve for a brief moment. “Just saying what I feel.”  

Steve, who had been silently watching the exchange, clenched his jaw, his gaze on Bucky and you. He was clearly bothered by the scene unfolding in front of him. Steve’s glass hit the bar harder than necessary, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. His expression was thunderous as he shot Bucky and Thor a glare before abruptly turning on his heel and leaving the room without a word.  

“Steve?” you called after him, your voice lost in the music and chatter. He didn’t stop, the doors to the balcony swinging shut behind him before he disappeared entirely.  

“What the hell was that about?” you muttered, turning to Bucky, who looked sheepish.  

“Uh, maybe we went a little overboard,” Bucky admitted, scratching the back of his neck.  

“Overboard with what?” you demanded, your frustration growing.  

Sam approached with an innocent grin that didn’t fool you in the slightest. “Just trying to give Captain Grumpybear a little nudge in the right direction.”  

“What?”  

“You two are miserable without each other,” Sam said, shrugging. “We were just trying to help.”  

Your heart clenched as his words sank in. Miserable wasn’t the word you’d have used, at least not out loud, but it wasn’t entirely wrong, either.  

Tony, overhearing, smirked from the bar. “You’ve got to hand it to him…Rogers has perfected the art of storming out dramatically.”  

“Real helpful, Tony,” you snapped before turning back to Sam. “What do I do now?”  

Sam gave you a knowing look. “You go after him. Talk to him. The rest of us did our part, it’s your turn now.”  

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. Clutching your glass tightly, you headed toward the balcony, hoping Steve hadn’t gone too far.  

Behind you, Thor clapped Sam on the back with a booming laugh. “A most excellent plan!”  

Bucky shook his head, “Yeah, except for the part where I nearly got murdered.” 

The cold night air on the balcony seemed to cut through your resolve as you found Steve leaning against the railing, his shoulders tense and jaw tight. His gaze was fixed on the city lights, but you knew his mind was elsewhere, likely back in that room, reliving whatever had caused him to storm out.  

“Steve,” you started softly, approaching him.  

He didn’t turn around. “Go back to the party.”  

“I’m not leaving until we talk.”  

That earned a bitter chuckle. He finally turned to face you, his blue eyes sharp and guarded. “Talk? About what? How you let Thor and Bucky flirt with you like it’s some kind of game?”  

Your mouth fell open, incredulous. “Let them? Steve, I had no idea what they were doing! I thought Thor was just being, well, Thor, and Bucky...”  

“Don’t!” Steve interrupted, his tone laced with anger. “Don’t defend them. Do you have any idea how it felt, watching them act like that? Watching you laugh with them?”  

“Steve, that’s not fair,” you argued, stepping closer. “They’re our friends. And I…”  

“Friends,” he spat, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t do this, Y/n.”  

He turned away again, his broad back a wall you couldn’t seem to break through. Frustrated, you finally gave up and returned to the party, your chest aching.  

The next day, Natasha strode into the common area with a smug smile that immediately set everyone on edge.  

“I’ve got a plan…” she declared, crossing her arms.  

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Another one? Because the last one almost got us all killed.”  

Tony, who had been nursing a cup of coffee, raised an eyebrow. “What kind of plan?” he asked.

“Watch and learn!” Natasha said, smirking.  

The plan was simple, send you and Steve on a mission. Steve's eyes had widened when he heard the news. He did exchange a glance with you, the implication not going unnoticed. “Oh, great...”/ he muttered under his breath.

Before you knew it, you and Steve were assigned to a mission together. Natasha conveniently left out the detail that the safe house you’d be staying at had… limited accommodations.  

The tension was palpable the moment you and Steve arrived. The safe house was small, with a single bedroom, a tiny kitchen, and a living area that felt more like a closet.  

Steve grunted as he set down his bag. “Not much, but it’ll do.”  

You ignored him, dropping your gear on the table and surveying the room. The bed caught your attention immediately.

One bed. Of course.  

“Don’t even start!” Steve muttered, catching your look.  

“I wasn’t going to!” you shot back, already irritated.  

The next few hours were filled with petty bickering. You struggled to reach the top shelf in the kitchen, refusing to ask for help. Steve watched you for a moment, then muttered under his breath as he came over to grab what you needed.  

“You’re welcome.” he said, handing it to you.  

“I didn’t ask for your help!” you snapped, cheeks heating.  

“And yet, here we are…” he replied, walking away.  

When it came time to gear up for the mission, you predictably forgot to strap your knife correctly. Steve, out of habit, fixed it for you without a word.  

“I can do it myself…” you grumbled.  

“You never could…” he retorted, his fingers deftly securing the blade.  

Later, when Steve came back with a shallow cut on his arm, you instinctively grabbed the med kit and started cleaning the wound. He watched you in silence, his gaze softening despite himself.  

“You don’t have to…” he murmured.  

“Shh…I always do.” you replied, your voice quieter now.

But the real test came, when it came time to sleep. That’s when the real battle began.  

“I’m taking the bed!” you declared, crossing your arms.  

Steve raised an eyebrow, like hell you are getting the bed, “We’re sharing it.”  

“Like hell we are.” you mumbled.

You then told Steve to turn around so that you can change your clothes. But Steve simply shrugged, seeing no point in turning around.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you without clothes before,” Steve said, smirking and your face turned crimson. “Steve!” you hissed, throwing a pillow at him.  

Eventually, you both relented, setting a clear line down the middle of the bed. “This is my side!” you warned.  

“Fine…” he said, lying down already dozing off to sleep.

But as the night wore on, old habits took over. You turned in the middle of the night and curled against his chest, his arm draped protectively around you. Steve instinctively pulled you closer.  

The next day, as the sunlight shined in the room, you stirred awake to the feeling of soft lips pressing against your forehead. Your eyes fluttered open to find Steve gazing down at you, his expression unguarded for the first time in weeks.  

“Steve…” you whispered, your heart pounding.  

“Morning…” he murmured, his voice warm and familiar.  

The moment shattered when you both realized the state you were in. Scrambling apart, you began arguing again, this time over who got to shower first.  

“It’s my turn!” you insisted, clutching your towel.  

Steve smirked. “We could always save time and…”  

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Rogers!” you snapped, shoving him aside, though Steve saw the way you blushed.

Later, as you sat across from him, the tension finally broke. Steve couldn’t take it anymore and neither could you. 

“I miss you…” he admitted, his voice soft. “Every damn day, I miss you.”  

You swallowed hard, your defenses crumbling. “I miss you too. But you have to trust me, Steve. I’m not your soldier, I’m your partner.”  

He nods, his blue eyes earnest. “I know. And I’m sorry. I should’ve trusted you then, and I should’ve listened.”  

Before you could respond, he leaned across the table and kissed you, his lips capturing yours in a way that made your heart race.  

When he pulled back, you smirked. “Tit for tat,” you said, as you pulled him in for another kiss.  

You and Steve talked. Talked about trust, understanding, communication, respect. By the end of the conversation, you and Steve decided to start afresh.

When you and Steve returned, hand in hand, the team was waiting. Natasha’s smug grin was matched by Sam’s triumphant cheer.  

“Finally!” Sam yelled, high-fiving Bucky.  

Even Tony clapped sarcastically. “Congrats, lovebirds. Don’t ever make us suffer through that tension again.”  

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling, especially when Steve’s fingers tightened around yours.  

Everyone was happy, but not more than you and Steve.

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[vagabond-umlaut]

you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry

only the sun has come this close, only the sun

gojo satoru x wife!reader; tooth-rotting domestic fluff; gojo LOVERBOY™️ satoru; you aren't any better than him [but less poetic abt the predicament]; tw: pregnancy, 1 tiny mention of throwing up; satoru calls you 'cookie'; and he redefines the word besotted here; his thoughts are also a little yandere-ish but tht's cute, methinks; 2.3k wc; i just wish satoru was real and in my arms rn T-T

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

the fic title and summary don't rly hv a very strong connection to the fic plot— except the fact they fit both satoru's & reader's characters in this series to a tee ^_^

fic title and summary from 'gps' by shauna barbosa // header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

you are clingy.

always have been, in fact, now that gojo thinks about it. long before the two of you were married. long before you were engaged. quite a long time before the two of you were anything apart from friends at best, acquaintances at worst.

yet now, as he feels a pair of arms squeeze tighter around his middle, not really still very much squeezing the air out of him— your husband reckons you've grown loads clingier now—

and he loves you for this. loving you even more when he feels kisses being pressed into the space between his shoulder blades.

soft lips, a tad chapped. not without the shy grazing of your teeth.

just how he likes it.

very much how he adores you.

affection, settled deeper than should be feasible into the hollow of his chest, flutters a little when you nuzzle into his back; that pleased little hum of yours quick to follow it. smiling, gojo turns his head a touch to catch a glimpse of you. it takes a beat before you remove your face to lock eyes with him, before returning your face to his back.

he huffs a chuckle, sounding incredibly fond all the same. his feelings for you can never be suppressed anyway. time has proved this to him enough number of times.

he runs a finger down the length of your arm, relishing how it leaves a line of goosebumps in its wake—

"you wanna tell me something, cookie?" your husband finally asks.

your reply doesn't come immediately. and when it does, it is nothing more than a noncommittal noise. too spoiled. too stubborn. a bit too satisfied as well, the emotion further expressed when you nuzzle his back yet again.

gojo's smile grows bigger. his cheeks hurt a little.

he thinks he can live forever with this kind of pain, not even a sigh of complaint ever leaving him.

"aha—" he exclaims loudly, still soft enough to keep the quiet of this sweet bubble you've pulled you both into, "so it's just my irresistible charm that's making you so clingy tonight, hm?"

another beat passes.

and just when he thinks he might have to do with another one of your indistinct sounds for an answer, you speak. to be more precise, whine and grumble, everything so sweet in your adorable voice.

"it's not me being clingy, 'toru— it's the baby— the baby is making me so clingy. making me feel as if i can't live even for one second without squishing you like thisss!!!"

the first reaction your tightening grasp brings out is the wind getting knocked out of his lungs— the second reaction being all that oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide being replaced by a feeling so fierce and so tender— the strongest thinks his knees would have buckled under its weight had he not been lying down but standing—

not that he really minds that, though.

for you, he's always on his knees. whether you ask it of him or not. the only light in this world he is willing to bow his eyes before.

it takes him not too much effort but gojo makes a point of struggling whilst he shifts in your hold. and grins when he finally comes face-to-face with you, drinking in the way your brows are puckered and lips a little parted in an incredulous expression.

his grin simmers down however, when his six eyes notice the spark in your tummy. so tiny. so blinding. so priceless— to him and you both— he knows this, surer than he is of the scars on his palms.

thumbing the hem of your t-shirt, he hums, dragging his eyes back to be drowned in yours, "how many weeks along are you, wifey?"

"satoru," you start, voice turning sharper and just as skeptical as your face was, still is— only to be shushed by a finger to your lips. the man addressed feels his heart skip a beat at your confused big scowl— it's got to be a crime to be as cute as you— really!!!

he pinches your cheek lightly.

"it isn't like i don't remember that, cookie. i just wanted you to say it— c'mon, tell me quickly!" he presses, noting then utilising the moment your face begins to lose its cynical hue over his words.

the scowl lingers there however, twisting your delectably pretty lips—

"nine weeks," you say, hooking a leg over his waist to pull him closer. can he be any closer to you, though? your answer is always a yes, he knows you well enough to know this.

"thirty-one weeks more before we meet our baby."

it's not exactly thirty-one weeks; it's thirty weeks and five days before either of you can meet the baby, but gojo decides not to point out the error. you always hate it when he points out your tiny errors and make a point of snarking about it every time he opens his mouth to speak a word next— the man is wary not to upset his wife, yes, thank you very much.

he offers a sage "hm" in response, one he observes you accept slowly. the scowl lifts itself into a curve so fond— gojo thinks once before he vaults his next query your way. not wanting to see that smile vanish in front of him—

the ask won't cause anything so. but he can never be too sure. he has read too many books and articles to not grasp how fragile pregnancy hormones can make one be.

he tucks a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear.

fingers tarrying there when he sees you lean into his touch— not akin a moth to a bright flame, no. he can never hurt you. not even for once in his wildest dreams—

but how the north pole of a magnet hurries towards the south pole of another magnet. so different in their nature, a perfect pair of opposite crafted by the nature— maybe that's why nothing can ever stop them from rushing to each other once they're proximated, the lines of their mutual attraction existing even when thousands of miles apart.

just like you and him.

contrasting, complementing, completing each other every instant, in every facet of life.

he lets his fingers dance through the tangles in your hair, unravelling the knots in there. that pleased little hum of yours reaches him once again.

stowing the sound away, later to be placed on a pedestal in an ornate glass case as the most valuable praise ever given to him for his effort, he runs a gentle hand, nails scratching your scalp carefully.

"and at nine weeks old, just how big might our baby be?"

"i think there is a chart comparing our baby's size to fruits..." syllables unhurried and a pinch mumbled, you press your heel to draw him in a little more. "i did not really read that too attentively— oh. but. yeah!" a grin forms on your features, sleepy still twinkling in excitement.

"shoko sent me a link to this website earlier today— any ideas, 'toru, what it might be about?"

gojo does have an idea. he has a very, very good idea.

but he chooses not to say that aloud. you look so extremely adorable when you are being this excited. he would hate nothing more than to see your amped up self getting interrupted by him.

he shakes his head. your grin brightens. eyes crinkling with a glint, he can tell even without looking, is knowing.

the tips of your fingers caress his bare back, softer than a breath. "it's about when our baby forms which organs— our baby's eyes are being formed now!!! isn't that too cute, 'toru?"

"it is, cookie," he hums without any hesitation, six eyes activating one more time to zero in on that teeny-tiny spark. then deactivating when he looks back up to your sleepy eyes. a terribly tickled, equally wicked glimmer creeps into his grin. "so our baby is just like a tiny ball of cells with two big blue eyes, huh? they must look so scary, heh— ouch!"

your pinch did not really pain him, but gojo does his best to mimic an awfully wounded puppy, sogging wet from the rain and waiting at the doorstep with his moving blue eyes— it takes less than three seconds before you let go of your glare with a sigh.

you massaging the sore spot on his arm, your husband watches you give yet another sigh.

"first of all, there's no guarantee our baby will have your eye color and not mine, 'toru," you explain, pinning him under your drowsy stare, "it is very difficult to predict that for sure— and secondly: i'll punch you if you ever call our baby scary— sure, they don't really look like a human in this moment, but they'll slowly get there in forty weeks— as per the website, their face, hands and feet are forming in the ninth—"

"okay, alright!! i get your point, my insanely smart, insanely beautiful, insanely sexy wife," gojo cuts in, smiling while warning bells chime in his head at the faintest gloss in your eyes—

but maybe they weren't noisy enough. that is why he doesn't bite his tongue, rather continuing, "but you weren't actually blaming our poor human-ey baby for your clinginess, were you? it's not like they have a telepathic communication set up with you— hell, maybe they haven't even started forming their brain!"

"the baby's brain starts forming by the fifth week, satoru," your quiet reply reaches him exactly when he gets his last giggle out. the moist sheen in your eyes grows more prominent.

and his insides begin to twist—

one-third helpless. two-thirds contrite.

you don't stop talking, tone lower than he has heard you use in nearly forever, "and you better not comment on my bond with our baby— i'll punch you twice if you—"

"i wasn't doing that and i promise to never make you feel that way, my cutie-pie cookie," gojo interrupts, voice far gentler than earlier, just as low as yours, "but feel free to throw me out the house if i ever do that, even accidentally. okay?"

you're not okay.

you never are, when it comes to you being actually harsh to him, even when he's the one asking you to be— shakespeare once called love to be blind— your husband doesn't think you're blind, however. it is your well-contemplated decision to see his mistakes and see each of them as excusable, perfectly pardonable, no matter how silly or serious the world might regard them to be—

you make a noise. somewhat annoyed. unhappy too, yeah. before you push your face into the crook of his neck, nose nuzzling into the flesh there.

you would have bitten him by now. but he reckons you might be a bit too tired for all that. you couldn't even finish your dinner before facing the urge to throw up tonight, yet again.

feeling sorry, almost, gojo resumes his ministrations to your hair, half because you need to fall asleep now; the hands on the clock are close to striking midnight. the other half because he just loves playing with your hair— only to still when you suddenly pull your head back.

brows furrowed as you peer at him, eyes big and earnest.

"you don't really mind when i hug you like this, do you, 'toru?"

"no, cookie!! of course not!!" the man wastes not even a breath before he rushes to explain— because seriously, what!??

sure, he wasn't the first one to fall between you two. but ever since he did fall, he has never not expressed how every second away from you, every fraction of an instant away from you, causes him pain.

and yeah, he might have been a tad too dramatic whilst doing so, but you've always been so good at reading him— then why on earth can't you read him now? why don't you read, he loves it when you seek him out, he loves you more than anyone and anything else??

"good," your satisfied little chirp gives him a light shove away from his frantic thoughts. something tells him he should be put on alert by the way your lips curve into a smug smile next.

but gojo finds himself uncaring. just immensely relieved as he trails his fingers from the back of your head to your chin. thumb reaching out to brush the corner of your infectious smile. you continue.

"but even if you did mind, sorry not sorry— you were the one who put the ring on my finger, so you have to deal with everything i'm, mister!! no refunds nor complaints can be filed here, gojo-san~"

and neither refunds nor complaints he wishes to file, satoru muses to himself as he cups your cheek in one hand. bending down to steal the taste of your beam, your tease, your love for him on his tongue—

not when he has received the world in exchange for letting go of that poor splintered mess of a heart, he used to call his, but is now yours.

and will always stay yours—

"hey 'toru— what will you do if i chomp on your fingers right now, like really hard? will you yell? or will you be the freak that you're and enjoy it, huh?"

gojo pauses.

and wonders.

is there any binding vow one can make to secure oneself to another in every lifetime, for all eternity?

he hopes there is.

your husband really, seriously hopes there is—

'cause no way in heaven, earth or hell, does gojo satoru want to let go of you— and he will not let go of you.

this idea was ROTTING in my brain for ages, but wht gave me the spark– the boost to write this was the wonderful sukuna fic written by ari @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat ❤️❤️❤️ i seriously love u & ur writings sm, babes 🥹🥹 everyone pls go check their masterlist out. it's studded w diamonds and pearls 😌😌🥰

and this is also for my sweet & sour bestie mimi @avatarofstars 🤭🤭— u 🤝 me in being clingy af towards our fictional hubbies 😂😂🥰

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

[jam3sacaster]

“I’m gonna have ‘ta punish ya’.”

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by darling anon 🫶🏽 / You and Declan butt heads, and then some…

Set just after the pageant, messed with the timeline a lil i think but I managed to work the punch in another way <3

18+ FANFIC / SMUT GALORE, angsty & lots of swearing. Fairly long and very HEAVY smut, sorry x Declan you horny bastard, we love you. Reader character aged 21.

As always, request what you wanna see in the ask box 💋

“I can’t just stop working for Corinium, Declan. You cannot just waltz into my life and expect me to give everything up for you!” You shout, feeling rage seep through your veins. Declan and Rupert have been cooking up a ridiculous idea within an hour, desperate to overthrow Baddingham’s Machiavellian reign of television. “They have my balls in a fuckin’ vice, my love,”

“No, they HAVEN’T! You have thrown a ridiculous temper tantrum, on television, because you are so determined to get your own way because you’re a selfish, stubborn bastard.” You interject, slamming your reddened palms on the dinner table, face contorting in fury. “They want me to sell my fuckin’ soul, babe. To sit and judge these fuckin’ superficial pageants whilst that cunt Vereker gets MY spot on my fuckin’ show.” The Irishman bellows, leaning across the table and pointing his finger dangerously close to your face. Declan O’Hara is fucking scary when he’s angry, but my God is he sexy.

Rupert leans against the counter top, remaining silent in embarrassment. It was certainly better for everyone that way. Steaming with rage, you sit back in your seat, stray hairs sticking to the beading sweat on your forehead. “You can’t keep behaving like this, Declan. Like a fucking child.” You tut, avoiding eye contact with him. Declan frustratedly rakes a hand through his slicked hair before pouring himself an intoxicatingly large unit of whiskey. “I’m sure you can coax Tony into some amicable solution. It’s blatant he wants to fuck you. He would do anything for someone willing to open their legs for him.” Rupert pipes up and gestures towards you, cigarette smoke creating an ashy veil across his face. An excruciating silence ensued. Your eyes widened in absolute horror — Declan would certainly not take kindly to this joke. Rupert should’ve kept his mouth shut.

“You fucking what?” Declan asked him, walking towards him slowly, eyes frenzied with wrath. “Calm down, Declan, it was just a joke.” Rupert chuckled, offering his hands up in defeat. “What did ya’ fuckin’ say?” Declan asked again, containing to walk towards him until they were nose-to-nose. Another incredibly painful silence— even Rupert didn’t dare speak. After a few seconds, he opened his mouth to speak but Declan swung at him, landing a brutal punch with a wet smack. “DECLAN.” You bellow, grabbing his muscular arm and pulling him towards you. “Get out, Rupert. I’m so sorry, but just go home.” You shake your hands frantically as Rupert pulls himself from the floor and ushers himself out, clutching his face in agony.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” You scream, voice croaking under the pressure. You push Declan away from you as soon as you hear the front door click. “Ya’ t’ink I’m gonna let him talk about ‘ya like ‘dat? Talk about ‘ya spreadin’ ya’ legs for tha’ CUNT Tony?” Declan matches your enraged tone, pacing around the kitchen table but maintaining eye contact with you. You couldn’t reply to this. He was wildly protective of you — often infuriatingly so, but he could barely stand to see another man so much as look at you. Rupert’s joke was way too far.

“My job is turnin’ me into a fuckin’ laughin’ stock, you t’ink I’m a joke and you’re wavin’ your fuckin’ arse around in front of Tony.” He howled again, enraging himself with his own words. “Oh, fuck off Declan.” You spit, pushing yourself out of your chair and beginning to abandon the kitchen. “Don’t walk away from me.” He tuts, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards him. “Don’t fucking touch me.” You scream and the words can barely leave your mouth — a pathetic mixture of anger and despair. “I am fucking sick of you!” You immediately regret the words as Declan’s top lip curls in vexation. Oh fuck.

•

He hurtles towards you, pushing you towards the wall and almost taking you off of your feet. You close an eye, internally preparing yourself for the crescendo of noise he is about to create. Instead, he collides his lips onto yours, grunting in annoyance as his tongue pushes his way into your mouth. Feeling yourself melt under his touch, Declan’s hand rides under your blouse, ripping it off from the inside and exposing your bare chest — perky breasts wobbling with the force and nipples hard from arousal. The bristles of his moustache send a quiver down your spine as he kisses down your chest before taking your left nipple into his mouth: swirling around the pink bud and sucking it softly. A stifled whimper escapes your lift as you lift your hand to his trousers, rubbing across his hardening bulge.

“Bend over.” Declan demands, pulling away from you and pushing you gently towards the dining table. Hesitantly, you do as you’re told and bend over the table, skirt riding up your thighs. Not that it matters too much, as it was promptly yanked down, exposing your bare arse to the man that owned it. Running his rough hand across the right cheek, Declan smacked it firmly, the harsh noise of skin on skin reverberating across the room. “Ya’ do know I’m gonna have ta’ punish ya’.” He growled, readying his hand for another firm smack. “Mhm hmm.” You whisper, nodding your head, consenting softly. Another unyielding smack made you yelp with aching pressure — a reddened hand print beginning to take form. “Oh fuck.” He groaned, lowering himself to your level and biting firmly into your arse, pleasure taking control of his entire conscience. You keep your eyes firmly pressed shut, awaiting the next smack. Instead, you chomp down on your lip as you hear Declan’s zipper, and the subsequent sound of his trousers dropping to the ground.

“Do ya’ want it?” The Irishman questioned, teasing your slick entrance with the head of his painfully erect cock. You could feel yourself practically dripping as he placed a firm hand onto your waist. “Yes…” You breathlessly moan, pushing yourself towards him, aching to feel his girth inside you. “Yes, what?” He growled. “Yes… Daddy.” You whimper once more, desperation overtaking you.

“Good girl.” Declan praised, and pushed the full length of his cock into you, but thrusted slowly in and out. “Oh, fuck.” You wail, as the walls of your vagina grip him like a vice, already aching with the girth of his dick. “Ya’ like that? Do I feel good stretchin’ ya’ out?” He asks, grabbing a fistful of your hair and increasing his tempo with every wet smack of your arse against his pelvis. Eyes rolling back in ecstasy, teeth firmly planted into your bottom lip, mind fuzzy — you must definitely cannot muster a reply. “Tell me, girl. Tell me how good I feel inside ya’.” He asks again, hand reaching under to stroke your clit, coaxing you even closer to orgasm. Declan lolled his head back, pumping harder inside you as his fingers worked their rugged magic. “So fucking good, Daddy.” You manage to muster a reply.

“Ya’ so fuckin’ wet. Wrapped around my cock. Look at ya’ bouncin’ on my dick like a good fuckin’ whore.” Your lover groaned under your heat as he pounded into you, but the tension twisting inside your stomach was too much to bare. “Dec..Declan, I’m gonna…” You begin, but you feel him pull out in preparation.

The repetitive pounding of his enlarged cock on your g-spot left you in a dazed mess as you squirted onto the kitchen floor, legs trembling insanely throughout your orgasm. Declan watched the obscene mess he’d created with a terrible smirk on his face, full of adoration. “Good girl,” He affirmed again, “Look at the mess you’ve made for Daddy. Fuckin’ good girl.” He thrusted into you again, tempo increasing, hungry for his own release. “Are ya’ gonna let me cum inside ya?’ He asked, but he needn’t. You were already pleading with him to fill you with his seed. You needed to feel his hot, sweet cum inside of you.

“Please. I need it, Daddy. Please fill me up.” You begged, feeling Declan’s cock twitching inside you. The gratifying groans leaving his mouth prompted you to reach under your legs and stroke his cum-filled balls, luring him to ecstasy. “Fuck. Get ready, princess. I’m gonna fuckin’ cum.”

Bracing yourself to feel his warmth inside you, you kept your hands wrapped round his balls whilst pushing your arse into him, goading him to go faster. Spurts of hot cum covered the walls of your pussy, each rope accompanied with a pleasurable groan — absolute music to your ears. “Ahh, fuck.” Declan murmured, pulling his cock from your pussy and pausing for a moment to watch a droplet of his seed drip from your walls.

“Well done, my girl. You’ve fuckin’ milked me dry.” He chuckled to himself, slapping your arse once more playfully and huffing to himself.

[eskumii]

❝ TROPHY WIFE ❞ — yandere!uzui tengen/wives + you're his first wife

SYNOPSIS: suppose you're uzui tengen's very first wife, the one that slipped through the cracks of your unwanted arranged marriage with him. along with your disappearance went his heart, and now you must bear the consequences of a man who loves his wife far beyond her understanding—so much so that he would kill for her, die for her, and do anything to make her stay. — navi.

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

NOTES: mdni! (cw: non-con) this is an arranged/forced marriage au. it's meant to be one-sided. it took me quite literally forever to finish this lol ,,

PAIRING: yandere!uzui tengen x wife!reader

CHARACTERS: uzui tengen (19-23), reader (18-22), suma (19), makio (20), hinatsuru (21)

I. TO BE WED

imagine being uzui tengen's very first wife.

your hand in marriage was promised to him by your parents, who owned a tax-collecting business that was often the target of hostility from the impoverished people of your hometown. tengen routinely passed through your village on demon slayer business, so your parents could always rest assured knowing he would take care of the violent stragglers that sometimes loitered outside.

ironically being poor themselves, they had little to offer the hashira as payment for his noble duties; well, that "little" didn't exclude you of course, their only daughter who's failed to find a husband far past the age of when other girls were normally wed. you're still young, fertile, and moderately attractive, but your strong disinterest in potential suitors often drove any chances of a wealthy marriage away.

however, after being introduced to tengen, the man you'll be forced to marry out of obligation, you begin to regret being so stubborn after all.

admittedly, tengen found you to be pretty plain at first. you're poor so you can't exactly dress flashy, and you come from a no-name family with little legacy. your parents swore up and down on your domestic efficiency—hardworking, great cook, a tame disposition—and, well, at least you're kind of cute, too. tengen is intrigued by your potential the most.

your parents force you to do whatever you can to get close to him. the truth is, though, you don't really have to do anything with the way he seeks you out himself. he often shows up at your door asking for you, and your parents have no qualms about dragging you out of your room to make you go out with him.

he takes you to the nicer parts of town and pays for dinner or buys you flowers and little trinkets from the shop vendors that line the streets. it doesn't help that the elderly people running the stands egg you on, saying things like "what a lovely young couple" or "your children would be so beautiful!" tengen simply smiles with ease, accepting their praise as if it's second nature. you get rather embarrassed by his shameless indulgence.

there's small talk but you find it incredibly stifling. tengen does a majority of the dialoguing but most of the time your dates get interrupted by his kasugai crow, who squawks at him whenever a demon shows up nearby. he always looks annoyed and promises to make it up to you, leaning down to pat your head like you're his pet dog or something. you hate it and him too, probably.

"i'll be back before you know it, darling," his smile is charming but not to you. "you'll stay right here for me, won't you?"

regardless of your somewhat obvious hesitance to accept his advances, tengen gets attached to you like it was meant to be. the idea of having a pretty little housewife for him to come home to after his draining missions becomes increasingly attractive, and the more time he spends with you, the more he sees the appeal of your being. it must be a miracle that no man has taken you as his wife yet; surely you were saving yourself for a man like him.

unfortunately, though, you don't want to marry tengen.

an arranged marriage? it's simply not the kind of life you envision for yourself. you aren't willing to bet the rest of your days on a man whom you have a slim chance of falling in love with, all for the sake of financial security. but what else can you do? your parents already made it very clear they would disown you if you refuse, and tengen is pressuring you to your death with his sweet words and annoyingly thoughtful presents. you're stuck.

eventually, the incessant nagging from your parents and weeks of endless courting from tengen sway you so sooner. you fold like a cheap hand fan and succumb to your fate, to a future you knew from the very beginning that you would come to despise.

he's the only suitor you have at this point. it's not like you have a choice. and the one choice you do have just so happens to be him, a man who is the nearest thing to a perfect match as you're ever gonna get. you should be happy. thankful. he'll give you the world if you just give him a chance.

at least, that's what he told you.

II. THE SOUND HASHIRA

your parents are so happy to send you off.

they're completely honored that their letdown of an only daughter is finally getting married—to a well-known and wealthy shinobi at that. it's the only time they've shown any pride in you, yet it really only leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

after your brief introduction to the head of tengen's clan, everything moves so quickly. just a couple weeks later, you're already signing a marriage contract in which you and tengen become official newlyweds. and before you know it, you're packing what little belongings you have to your name and moving in with him, begrudgingly and regretfully so.

the day you arrive, he shows you around his overwhelmingly gigantic residence; the courtyard full of cherry blossoms and koi ponds, the huge kitchen, and the bedroom where he'll eventually fully claim you. there's lots of other rooms too, but they're either empty or reserved for his weapons and training gear. he tries to hide it but he's obviously so over the moon that you're his wife now. he doesn't even notice your misery through his elated delusion of love.

in hindsight, you didn't realize how difficult it can be to share a space with someone you hardly know. you find everything awkward but tengen doesn't, like always. to him, you're so obedient and polite— such a good girl. you take whatever he gives you; kisses, hugs, subtle gropes here and there, and all of his sweet compliments and gifts. you don't argue with him or raise your voice, you fret over his injuries and make his favorite foods. you're observant, collected, and mature.

he didn't have a type before he met you—you're all he can ask for in a woman, really.

tengen is unexpectedly romantic. he constantly boasts about his strength and fighting skills in order to impress you, and he never stops mouthing off about how he'll prioritize you over himself. he puts consistent effort in getting to know you: what you like, don't like, your favorite color, and any other inkling of your personality that he can manage to wrestle out of you. he seems to have gotten the impression that you're shy or something.

flowers are a constant and you're spoiled with fancy, expensive kimonos and jewelry. had you married tengen under literally any other circumstance, you'd find his advances on you endearing but, unfortunately, he just comes off as clingy and unbearable. any woman would die to be in your place yet you can't even find it in you to want to be in your own place.

what do you think of him, though? well, he's handsome, you'll give him that. you don't deny the appeal of his good looks and flashy, fitted clothing. he's strong, established, and knows what he wants. despite your obvious distaste towards his gifts and grandiose personality, it's not to say you're ungrateful that the man you're stuck with is exceedingly well-off and capable of protecting you. you can't say he's a bad guy.

however, he's a moron.

he fell for you fast. a couple months have already passed since coming to live in his residence. tengen requests to have picnics whenever you go with him to visit his siblings' graves on his off days. of course you have no reason to refuse; as much as you dislike him, you're not heartless. they're important days, so you swallow your pride and pack a bento spread you know he'll like.

tengen will confide in you about the memories of his late siblings, his parents, and his life before becoming a hashira. it's a depressing and heavy weight to shoulder, but you still play your role of the loving, supportive wife with your lingering touches and comforting words. you use these outings as opportunities to gain his trust by being vulnerable.

except, this time, the effect you seem to have on tengen is magnified to the point of no return.

he pulls you into his lap and you're suddenly flush against his rock hard chest, trapped in a suffocating hug. you don't know what prompted his sudden affection; perhaps it was the warm atmosphere you crafted or the intimacy of the moment, but the way tengen holds you so close is telling. he's about to say something you've been dreading since the day you met him.

"i love you." tengen confesses, nuzzling his face into your neck and sighing as if he'd just released the weight of the world off of his shoulders.

you knew it. it's the first time he's ever said it to you and you'll never forget the wave of nausea that hit you as you glanced up to see him staring back at you expectantly. your heart is pumping out of your chest and your face is flustered—not because you're flattered but because you're ashamed. you feel his hands squeeze your shoulders, almost like a warning, and his grip begins to feel claustrophobic after your prolonged silence.

you have no choice but to reciprocate.

"...I love you too." your voice is quiet, hesitant, and tengen gently teases you about being shy when you refuse to look at him anymore. he's not right but it's true that lying invokes shame.

he almost seems overwhelmed by your response, as if he hadn't just nonverbally threatened it out of you. you don't dare to sneak even a glance at him. he tightens his embrace around you and goes back to burying his face abashedly into your neck, mumbling sweet words against your skin. his body wraps around you like a vice, trapping you in the prison that is his dreadful existence.

you decide, in that very moment, that there was nothing in the world you wanted to do more than run away.

III. A DIRE MISTAKE

one fateful day, you catch wind of the news that tengen is being assigned on a mission quite far away, somewhere down in the southwest. 

you're so lucked out that you thought it was a trap at first—a ploy to catch you in your undying desire to leave your husband for good. but when the day of departure arrives and tengen peppers your face with last minute kisses, you know for sure that there's no chance he's caught on to your resentment towards him, nor the plan of escape you've been devising all along.

your eyes are teary when tengen releases you from the last of his spine-crushing hugs and he cooes at your cute crying face. honestly, you're tearing up out of joy because your one and only chance to escape has literally fallen into your lap in a pleated handbasket, but you'll let him believe otherwise. you at least owe him the courtesy. 

you already know you don't stand a chance against tengen, at least physically. he can overpower you like nothing and he's so tall that he towers over you, constantly caging you between those muscled arms of his. there's almost nothing you could do against a man like him—well, unless you count poisoning, but you were above murder when it came to getting what you wanted. 

as soon as tengen passes through the looming gates of the residence and disappears down the winding road, you scramble to gather a few belongings before making your way out through the back. there's a twinge of fear that grips your gut but you press on, determined to put as much space between you and that wretched place you were expected to call home. 

the moment you escaped, you flipped your identity. chopped your hair off, powdered your face in white make-up, and wore headscarves wherever you went. you fled as far as your feet would take you, only stopping to rest in a small village when your aching body could take you no further. you hardly spoke to anyone and left nothing behind that could possibly be traced back to you or be used to pursue you. 

it's obvious you can't go back to your parents; they hated you when you lived with them, and they'd hate you more if you returned. they'd sell you out to tengen in two seconds flat, then ruthlessly shame you for running away from a marriage you wanted no part in. the only option left for you is to create a new life for yourself somewhere far, far away. 

and that's exactly what you do. you find a little town on the outskirts of the red light district, where business is booming and it's easy to disguise yourself beneath the constant foot traffic. you go undercover as a seamstress, working in a homely tailor shop under the supervision of the owners, who are a kind older couple that are quick to regard of you as one of their own. 

time marches on and the jarring memories of tengen do as well. you makes friends with the regulars that come by the store often. you've learned the valuable trade of mending clothing and sewing traditional patterns. you've even developed a crush on one of the men that come by often to repair his work uniform.

your life is finally the way you've always wanted it to be. 

meanwhile, tengen copes—barely. days pass. weeks. months. you're still yet to be found, even with the help of all the hashira and the shinobi of his clan. it's as if you disappeared off the face of the planet. he's completely devastated. did you run away because he was gone for so long? were you feeling neglected? did you just want his attention? surely you wouldn't just up and leave when he'd been so loving; he truly couldn't think of anything that would prompt such an extreme reaction. 

as expected, he doesn't come up with a justification for your disappearance. how could he? you could be dead by now with the amount of demon uprisings that have been happening lately. or you could even be halfway across the world right now, laughing at how easily you had fooled him. eventually, his sadness melts into anger. you may be gone now, but it won't be for long. 

wherever you are, he'll find you. 

IV. 'TIL DEATH DO HIM PART

in the following years, tengen's next three wives are chosen specifically by the head of his clan.

and, in the head of the clan's words: "the sound hashira's decision-making must be incredibly poor if he chose a wife who would dare flee from him." the statement only fans the flames of his growing wrath for you. 

however, his new wives—suma, makio, and hinatsuru—are all beautiful and talented kunoichi who admire him to their very cores. as ungrateful as it sounds, there isn't a day where tengen wishes one of them were you. they've worked so hard to try and fill the gaping hole in his existence that was left by you, but it hasn't really been working. he needs you.

they're kind, caring, nurturing and most of all, strong. they've trained all their lives to be kunoichi. he knows he shouldn't complain but they just don't cook like you, look like you... aren't you. of course he loves them, but he could never forget the way his heart shattered the day he returned home to find you nowhere in sight. your disappearance left him in utter shambles. did you ever think about that when you left? you're so unbelievably selfish—is that the kind of woman you turned out to be? 

his wives constantly question his lovesick behavior. tengen never hides anything from them; in fact, he'll sometimes go on long, borderline maniacal rambles about "the wife who got away." to suma, makio, and hinatsuru, you're an enigma that's broken the heart of their husband, and they're not sure what it was about you that makes him act this way. jealousy sparks—if there's a way to get you back to make tengen happy, they would do it, but maybe you're better off gone after all. 

and it's not like tengen didn't search for you. oh no, he looked everywhere within reason. his duties as a hashira kept him chained to his missions near the demon slayers' headquarters, but that never stopped him from interrogating people when he got the chance. any woman that looked even remotely similar to you was sure to be stopped in the middle of the street for further investigation. 

master kagaya is exceedingly understanding of the situation, and he bears obvious concern for his beloved sound hashira. while he's sympathetic of the loss of his wife—it's no matter to be taken lightly, of course—tengen must first be loyal to his occupation as a hashira, and that means going on missions in spite of his mourning. 

and his newest missions leads him to the red light district. 

so tengen goes. he knows his place when it comes to master kagaya, so he has no reason or authority to deny orders. regardless, it's a harrowing and tedious task. drunk concubines practically throw themselves into tengen's arms as he strolls past the many underground sex clubs that line the filthy streets. he has zero interest in any of the debauchery that goes on here, and he especially feels nothing when shoving them away from him with excessive force. 

he scours the area for anyplace that looks decent enough to step foot in, as well as a place where he won't get immediately harassed by ran through harlots. turning down a quieter side street where some storefronts have been shuttered, he happens upon a small seamstress shop sandwiched between two restaurants that look as if they've closed early for the evening. 

shrugging, tengen wearily thinks it's as good of a place as any to begin his intel gathering on the upper moons' whereabouts. he saunters towards the front entrance and a young woman dressed in traditional geisha wear passes him on the sparsely populated road, her wooden sandals clacking against the ground. he can't help but think her hair looked similar to yours and his heart twists painfully in his chest. 

tengen seems to be constantly haunted by the thought of you, forming an obsession in his mind that won't go away until he has you back. until he knows your safe, with him, just like you were meant to be. until he sees you. 

no, literally, tengen sees you, right in front of him. 

through the window of the upscale seamstress shop, he sees you conversing with a man at the front counter, laughing heartily at a joke he must have made. tengen quickly crouches beneath the display window to spy on you, his heart pounding out of his chest at the events that are currently unfolding. he must be mistaken. 

he peeks above the lip of the window to catch a glance and, sure enough, it is you. you're alive and well, almost glowing beneath the low, intimate lighting inside the shop. 

he finally found you! he can't believe it. the grin that's stretching across his face is so broad. he'd recognize your face anywhere, even if it's caked in geisha makeup and your hair elaborately styled. you’re beautiful and he’s captivated by your beauty just as he was the day that he met you. 

he's so unbelievably ecstatic with the way his hands are clamming up, his feet shuffling in the dirt and... 

what?

creeping over the ledge of the display window once again, tengen's eyes immediately grow dark. there's a man there. talking to you. his wife. 

in the midst of your conversation, your eyes absently float over to the window. it's there that your gaze clashes with his, and a blood-curdling look of terror overtakes your features. is that… tengen? 

there's a shift in the air. what happens next, tengen doesn't recall, but when he comes to there's blood on his hands and your hair is bundled up in his fist as he drags you past the threshold the of the shop’s entrance. he looks over his shoulder and on the floor, spread eagle, lies the man without his head. the scene is gruesome.

he killed him. 

tengen looks down at you with a solemn gaze. for some reason, he doesn't even care. the emotions running through him are almost too much to bear. do you know how much your disappearance has destroyed him? do you know how much he's suffered because of you? do you even care? 

he doesn't understand why you're crying. it seems like you were happy enough to whore around with other men in his absence. the thought drives him to the brink of insanity. how much longer do you plan on humiliating him? 

there's too much to be said. tengen's mouth is agape and he's so upset at you that he can't find the right words to express himself. instead, he collapses to the floor beside you and embraces you in his longing arms. he smells your hair and feels how your body shrinks against his—it's all exactly how it used to be. it's exactly as he remembered, as he dreamed of. 

and now, as tengen scoops you up into his arms to take you back home, another dream of his will be fulfilled tonight. he knows exactly what kind of punishment is befit for you. 

V. A JUST PUNISHMENT — (NSFW: NON-CON)

"tengen-sama! you're ba-" 

a woman with colored bangs and a ponytail attempts to greet tengen as he enters, but she's cut off by not only the expression on his face but also the strange, disheveled woman he's hauling behind him. 

he drags you across the cold, laminated wood floors into the bedroom by your hair and peels the delicate, silken layers of your yukata back, exposing soft flesh and ample curves. tengen is so starved of your touch—of your voice, your scent, you. he'll make you pay for what you put him through. he'll make you stay this time. 

you can't even fight back. you're so afraid of what's going to happen that your body refuses to move, to speak. and even if you could, there was no way you would win against a hashira, of all people. 

tengen starts by pushing you to your knees. when his hands begin the hasty work of undoing the belt of his kimono, you already know where this is going and it makes your stomach churn in volatile sickness. he eagerly slides his under pants down and from the top of its elastic band springs his semi-hard cock, which nearly hits you in the face. you gasp at the sheer size of it; that is not gonna fit inside of you.

"don't look at me like that, [name]. clearly i was too lenient with you back then. i should've disciplined you..." he trails off as he stares into your pleading eyes. he smiles but, in it, is no mercy.

"c'mon, baby. you'll be a good girl and open your mouth for me, won't you?" 

you refuse. no, you wouldn't even dream of it. you've never done anything sexual with a man before and you certainly aren't going to wi—

tengen suddenly reaches down and grabs ahold of your now tangled hair with one of his large hands. it takes barely any pressure before your mouth is pried open by the force of his fingers alone, and his now engorged cock head is being stuffed into your warm, unyielding mouth. 

you can only let out a choked cry at the vile intrusion. 

"that's it, baby, good girl.." he praises, stroking your head with his thumb as he slowly inches his pulsing cock down your throat. 

your screams are completely muffled. tengen begins to pick up the pace, letting your drool be the lubricant that allows his giant dick to slide in and out of your tight throat. it hurts so bad that you try to bite down and free yourself from this act of vulgarity, but tengen doesn't allow it. he instead tugs your head back by the grip he has on your hair, forces his cock all the way in, and holds you there until you decide to behave yourself. 

you can hardly breath. lewd, wet noises fill the room as tengen gags you almost to the point of unconsciousness. the vibrations from your screaming must have been making him feel good, though, because it takes just a few minutes before he's shuddering in orgasm as he bottoms out and cums, which you have no choice but to swallow. 

he pulls out of your mouth and you're mortified, but even more so when you see how he's still hard. his cock is covered in a thick layer of your saliva and his cum drips onto your exposed chest in globs that make you cringe in disgust. you think you're going to throw up. 

and you almost do, if it weren't for tengen picking you up from under your arms and tossing you onto the plush bedding. your legs are forced open and tengen slides his twitching cock against your pussy, slowly and teasingly. you begin to fight against him but he easily pins you down long enough to push his fat cock head into your tight pussy. 

tengen pounds you into the plush cushion of the futon all night long. you've given up struggling and crying, only mewling in pain as the brutish man stretches your virgin pussy wide. he ruthlessly kneads your breasts with his calloused palms and overstimulates your clit with his fingers until you cream and squirt repeatedly all over his dick. you can do nothing but lay there as he roughly moves your body into various positions and fills your womb with his seed—there's no way you won't be pregnant after this. 

all the pent up rage that tengen was forced to weather after your disappearance is released in that very room. he sounds like a crazy man with the way he lapses in and out of fits of rage where he's cursing at you with his hands around your throat, then slipping into pleasure induced "i love you's" as he dumps yet another load of cum deep inside of you. 

"h-how does it feel, my love?" he groans, reaching over to caress your flushed face. "mm, you sound so cute making those noises. lemme hear you scream, darling."

and oh, you sure do scream. for him to stop, to get off of you. that you've had enough. that you hate him. over and over again you scream, you cry, and you struggle, but it does you no good. he only seems to thrust faster the more you beg. is he getting off to your desperation? he must be by the way his cock pulses at any form of physical resistance from you. 

you thought it would never end. he's almost insatiable. your tears have long dried up—for the most part, anyway—but the skin on your face feels raw from tengen "lovingly" wiping all your tears and snot away while simultaneously pounding a you-shaped hole into the futon. you feel disgusting. you don't even have the strength to make a sound when he spanks you for the hundredth time, moaning heatedly about how you've been such a bad, bad girl. 

when it seems like he's finally spent, he doesn't pull out. instead, he collapses on top of you with his cock still twitching inside your sloppy, ruined cunt while drawing you in for an unreciprocated kiss. he whispers praises in your ear and gently strokes your face, cooing at how much you're trembling against his much larger form. 

"i should've done this a long time ago. maybe you wouldn't have left if i dumped my kids into you sooner." 

eventually, his softened cock slips out of you and a gush of warmth runs down your legs; you can already feel a soreness settling in your pelvis. tengen sighs contentedly at the sopping squelch that sounds when you snap your legs shut in order to roll as far away from him as possible. he roughly wraps a muscled arm around your waist and pulls you back towards him as soon as he sees your attempt to create distance. 

"i missed you so much, darling," tengen mumbles against your skin breathily, offering a soft smile. "did you enjoy your welcome back?" 

he's making fun of you. you refuse to even look at him. it's to be expected, really, he can't imagine how bad it must feel to think you actually got away from him as you lay in his arms once again, right where you belong. you need to learn your place; no wife of his will disrespect him like you did ever again. if you have to be an example of that, then so be it—youput this on yourself, after all. 

leaving you with a final kiss, he gets up, wraps a towel around his waist, and goes to let his other wives into the room to help clean you up (they've been waiting patiently ever since you showed up, curious about the woman who supposedly "stole tengen's heart," as he put it). you're still naked and exposed with tengen's cum leaking down your thighs but you don't even have the mental capacity to care anymore. all three of the girls look shocked at the state you're in, but they don't comment and rush to get you in the bath. 

they're all very pretty, of course. when you emerge from your haze of disorientation, you're left reeling at the fact that tengen had amassed three whole wives in light of your absence. well, not that you have any right to be surprised considering your short lived emotional affair. you're still in mourning over what had happened to him. 

regardless of your fragile state, the three women swarm you with questions that prod at your past: who you are, where you're from, and how you met tengen. you don't even have half the mind to reply. you can only stare at your tear-stricken reflection in the soapy water, ready to burst into tears yet again at the horrible predicament you've found yourself in. 

what can you do now? sit around and get bred by tengen? rot away in this dreadful house for the rest of your life? the other wives seem to catch onto your unresponsiveness after a couple dozen of their questions go ignored, so they sit quietly and gently wash you clean. they look genuinely worried for you—not that their pity will undo the damage that's already been done. 

makio will scrub your back and grumble about how jealous she is while suma and hinatsuru fret over the small bruises that are now beginning to form around your hips from tengen's manhandling. suma washes your hair next, commenting on how beautiful it is, while the other two move onto rinsing the soap from your body. they wrap you up in a fluffy towel when it's over, and a shiver wracks your spine when their hands guide you to another room, down the hall, with a clean bed ready for you to rest in. 

you don't really know who they are but since they're dressed like kunoichi, it's obvious that they don't share the same mindset you do, or were forced to be wed to tengen like you were. you can't ask them to help you escape from this hell, not a chance. 

even as you lay in the criminally comfortable futon with new silken pajamas, a cup of cold water at your side, and a warm blanket, sleep doesn't find you. 

and with tengen around, you're certain it never will. 

VI. A HAPPY EVER AFTER (EXTRA)

a few months later, your pregnancy symptoms are in full swing.

tengen is as protective as ever and the other wives have already grown attached to you despite your bitter and unforgiving attitude towards them. you learn quickly that they're all very... obsessive, constantly hovering over you and going to overbearing extremes to make sure you don't do anything that would physically strain yourself in any way.

hinatsuru and makio follow at your heels like guard dogs while suma takes charge of most of the cooking and cleaning. she keeps the peace most of the time and holds makio back when she's attempting to murder hinatsuru over something childish. you're never in the mood to talk to them, however, and they often try to bribe you with your favorite sweets (which is intel that they've gathered from tengen) in order to get you to participate in their activities.

unluckily for you, tengen had decided to completely retire from being a hashira following a particularily harrowing encounter with an upper moon demon (even after you tried to subtly guilt trip him into not doing so). he insisted that you and the baby were "more important." you know that it'd be difficult to escape with the other wives around but to add tengen on top of that makes it surely impossible. 

every morning, the dreadful man himself meets the four of you in the kitchen and will beam proudly at the sight of his adorable little harem. he goes down the line and gives affection to each of his wives individually, in the way they prefer, and saves you for last as you're his "greatest prize," or whatever he said. you're just completely exhausted and you resent them all from the deepest depths of your heart. the least you can do is make it obvious. 

tengen finds your rebellion adorable. everything about you is and even moreso now than when you left him all those years ago. he'll grab you by the jaw and force you into a quick one-sided kiss, pulling away with that fond smile of his. his fingers ghost over your swelling tummy but his very touch makes you feel so awfully sick. you'll roughly push him away and he's so out of his mind that he attributes your justified anger and moodiness to your "pregnancy hormones." regardless, he's happy. it's you who's going to bear his child. it's you who first said you loved him too. as long as you live, you're bound to him as his wife. nothing can come between a man and the woman he loves; uzui tengen certainly made sure of that, didn't he?

[s4nniebe4r]

the roommate

part three: cold front

pairing: roommate! san x fem! reader

synopsis: a terrible storm comes, leaving you to fall incredibly ill

wc: 2.9k

tags: slow burn, roommates, enemies to lovers, angst, forced proximity, eventual romance, sicker reader, caregiver san (eventually)

etc: yes, i’m aware this is a little longer than the previous chapters, but this is where the story starts to go somewhere… i couldn’t help myself, these kinds of works are my kryptonite. the perspective changes a little to san, but still keeps that same style... i guess? as always, this isn’t proofread! 

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It’s been a few months since you moved in with San, long enough that autumn had come and gone, and was replaced with the bitter grasp of winter. The warm hues of falling leaves feel like a blurred memory compared to the storm raging on outside. You hadn’t even noticed the season slipping away, too caught up in the mundane rhythm of life. Now, winter has made itself known with full force. 

The heater breaks in the middle of the night. You don’t notice right away, curled up under layers of blankets, but by the time your alarm blares in the morning, your nose is undoubtedly a bright shade of pink, and freezing. The kind of freezing that makes it hard to muscle yourself out of bed, let alone start the day. You burrow deeper into your comforter, squeezing your eyes shut, willing yourself to go back to sleep. But the air in your room is sharp and biting, making it near impossible to get comfortable.

So, with a groan, you sit up, shivering as your blankets pool around your waist. You grab your phone and immediately see the message from your landlord. Heat’s out. No repairs until the storm clears. Stay warm. This must be why the price was so affordable, you thought. 

A second notification then catches your eye—one from your university’s message board. Due to severe weather conditions, all classes have been canceled until further notice. Please reach out to your professors for individual questions. Stay safe. 

At least there’s a silver lining. 

“Great. Fantastic.” Your voice is hoarse from the night, and the second you speak, you feel the dryness in your throat. It’s easy to ignore, for now. 

Dragging yourself out of bed, you pull on the thickest pair of socks you own, adding another hoodie over your long sleeve, and wrap a throw blanket around your shoulders before stepping out of your room. 

The rest of the apartment is just as cold as your room—maybe colder, considering how the hardwood floors only amplify the chill. You tighten the throw blanket around you as you shuffle into the kitchen. Tea first. Then maybe you’ll figure out how to survive the rest of the day and the unbearable cold. 

San is already there, of course, leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone. Unlike you, he looks so completely unfazed by the temperature drop, like he’s dressed just as any other day. No extra layers, no sign of discomfort—just a hoodie and sweatpants, like the cold doesn’t even register for him. 

You frown as you start the kettle. “How are you not freezing?”

He barely glances up. “How are you this dramatic?”

You shoot him a small glare as you wait for the kettle to heat. “I’m literally dying.”

“You’re literally not.”

You only huff, crossing your arms over your chest. The silence between you is thick, heavy with the weight of mutual stubbornness. It’s not like you and San talk much anyway, but something about the heater breaking makes the space between you feel more present. More noticeable, something else you actually share in common, although it’s something so frustrating. 

As soon as the tea is done, you pour yourself a cup and immediately press it to your hands, savoring the fleeting warmth. The first sip burns your tongue, but you don’t really mind, you welcome it in all honesty, sighing as it spreads through you. Letting a smile form, even though it’s small, it’s there. 

San watches, unimpressed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re heartless.” You sniff, retreating to the couch. You cocoon yourself in a blanket, pressing the tea to your lips like it’s your lifeline. “I hope you freeze in your sleep.”

San scoffs, setting his phone down. “I won’t. Because I’m normal.”

You glare at him over the rim of your mug. “You’re a freak of nature.”

“And you’re dramatic.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you turn on the TV, searching for something mindless to distract you from the fact that you can feel the cold seeping into your bones, freezing you inside and out. The storm outside only gets worse as the day drags on, wind rattling against the windows, snow piling up on the ledges, practically taunting you. Every so often, you glance at the thermostat, hoping—so stupidly—that maybe it’ll magically fix itself. It never does. 

San lounges on the other end of the couch, completely at ease, while you curl into yourself trying to conserve warmth. The worst part? It’s only the first day, and the forecast calls for at least a few more days of this. 

And you already feel miserable.

You wake up to a room even colder than before. If the first day was miserable, today is unbearable. Your throat feels scratchy, your body is heavy from exhaustion, but you push the thoughts aside. It’s probably just from the dry air, nothing to worry about. Still, you hesitate before leaving your bed, knowing that the moment you step into the apartment, the chill will settle back into your bones all over again.

San of course, is fine. You find him in the same position as yesterday, sprawled out on the couch, a controller in his hands. He’s playing a video game, but barely—his movements are lazy, half-hearted, like he’s not even paying much attention. His hair is slightly messier, but he looks… comfortable. Perfectly content. The sight makes you irrationally upset.

“How,” you start, rubbing at your chilled over arms, “are you not cold?”

He barely looks up. “Mind over matter.”

You groan, stomping into the kitchen to make another cup of tea. At this rate, it might be your only source of warmth. And maybe, it would add some sort of soothing to your chapped lips, which already felt like they were cracking and so dry, it pained you.

San watches as you wrap yourself in yet another blanket, shaking his head. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

“And you’re insufferable.” You drop onto the two-seater couch with a dramatic sigh, pressing your warm mug to your face, rubbing it against your cheek. “I hate this.”

He smirks. “You hate everything.”

You grumble something incoherent, pulling your blanket tighter around you as the snow continues to pike outside. The storm hasn’t let up, and of course, the heater is still broken.

And you have no idea how you’re going to get through these next few days.

The third day arrives, but you barely register it. 

The exhaustion at this point is crushing. It weighs on your body like a weighted blanket, pressing you deeper into the mattress, keeping you tethered to your bed. The cold that had once been a biting inconvenience now feels so overwhelming. Your head is heavy, your throat raw, your body aching in places you didn’t even know could hurt. Even under the layers of blankets and clothing, warmth is nowhere to be felt. 

So, you try to sleep through it. Maybe if you sleep long enough, you’ll wake up and feel normal again. But the fever doesn’t let you rest. Each time you drift off, you wake up sweating, shivering, tangled in your blankets like they’re trying to strangle you—at this point you wouldn’t mind it too much, if it meant not feeling like this. The pounding in your head never fades. Your stomach churns unpleasantly, but you don’t have the energy to get up and find something to eat. It’s easier to just stay curled up, hoping that if you keep your eyes shut long enough, time will fast-forward through the worst of it. 

At first, San doesn’t notice your absence.

It’s not unusual for you to keep to yourself. Most days, you both exist in the apartment without really acknowledging each other—passing by in the kitchen, sharing the couch in silence, or exchanging dry remarks about how much the winter has been draining this year. So when a full day passes without seeing you, he doesn’t think much of it. You’re probably just holed up in your room, avoiding the cold like usual.

But then, another day slips by. And it starts to feel… off.

He doesn’t realize what’s wrong until he’s sitting on the couch, half-heartedly playing a video game again, and his stomach growls. Automatically, his mind drifts to the last time he saw you. The first two days of the lock in, you’d make your way into the kitchen, bundled up in layers, grumbling silently to yourself about the cold while clutching a steaming cup of tea. But the apartment has been eerily quiet. Not complaints, no passive-aggressive shivering, no muffled TV sounds coming from your room. His fingers pause on the controller.

How long has it been since he’s actually seen you?

Something nags at the back of his mind, a small itch of concern he doesn’t want to even acknowledge. He tells himself he’s just curious, that it’s weird for you to go this long without irritating him with your presence. But the longer he sits there, the stronger the feeling gets. Finally, with a sigh, he sets the controller down and pushes himself off the couch.

The hallway is dim, and your door is shut as usual. He hesitates for a second before knocking lightly.

There’s no response.

Frowning, he knocks again, a little louder. “Hey.”

Still nothing.

There’s a strange, uneasy feeling that settles in the pit of his stomach. He debates leaving it alone—maybe you’re just sleeping—so he puts weight on the heel of his foot to turn away. But then he hears it: the faintest rustling, the sound of movement from inside, almost sluggish and strained.

Without thinking, he tries at the door. It’s unlocked.

The second he steps inside, the change of temperature from your room hits him like a wall. Despite the rest of the apartment being freezing, your room is a furnace, stuffy with the trapped warmth of your body heat and heavy blankets. It’s suffocating, the air is thick with that distinct feverish scent, the kind that clings to sickness. And then, he sees you.

You’re curled up in a pathetic heap, tangled in a mess of blankets, your face flushed and damp with sweat. Your hair is a disaster, sticking to your forehead from the beads of sweat, your lips are chapped and cracked. Dark circles stain the skin under your eyes, practically swallowing you whole, and even in the dim lighting, he can see you’re pale—too pale.

San’s stomach twists. You don’t just look sick. You look fragile. Completely drained, like the fever has sapped every ounce of strength from you. Wrapped in layers of blankets, you seem impossibly small, as if they’re the only thing keeping you from fading away entirely.

“Jesus,” he mutters, stepping closer. “You look like you’re on your deathbed.”

You barely stir at the sound of his voice. That’s what worries him the most. You’re always quick with a comeback, always rolling your eyes at him, always finding something to be annoyed about. But now? You don’t even have the energy to react. Your eyes flutter open for maybe a second, hazy and unfocused, not even registering the figure in front of you, before slipping shut again.

San exhales sharply. “Okay. This isn’t great.” He shifts into autopilot, moving before he even realizes what he’s doing.

First, he grabs the half-empty water bottle on your nightstand, frowning at how light it is. Probably days old. He disappears into the kitchen and returns with a fresh bottle, kneeling beside your bed, your head facing him. “You need to drink this.”

You groan softly, barely comprehending his words.

San clicks his tongue in annoyance, but there’s something else in his expression—something bordering on the line of concern. He props you up slightly, your back flush against the headboard, pressing the bottle to your lips. He tries to be gentle, one hand cradling the back of your head as he angles the bottle just right, making sure you don’t accidentally choke or spill. His fingers brush against the damp strands of your hair, feeling the feverish heat radiating from your skin. “Come on. Just a little, that’s all.”

You manage a few sips before turning your head away with a weak grumble. Even that small effort seems to drain you, leaving you slumped against him. Your weight is warm but unsettling, too light, like you might just slip away if he lets go.

San shifts slightly, adjusting his grip on you. His arm tightens around your shoulder, supporting you so you don’t slide back down into a heap. He can feel the quick and unsteady rise and fall of your breathing, the occasional tremor that runs through you. He keeps his hold steady, firm but careful, as if he’s trying to anchor you in place. The thought unsettles him.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re hopeless.”

So, he stands up, letting you down ever so carefully against the pillows he propped up near the headboard before disappearing again for a while. This time, he doesn’t just grab the soup and medicine—he also snatches the thermostat off the bathroom counter, his gut telling him it’s even worse than it looks.

When he returns, you haven’t moved an inch. He can feel the heat radiating off your skin—too much heat. He presses the thermostat to your forehead, brows furrowing as he waits for the reader. You barely react, only a small shiver running through you as your fever-ridden body instinctively tries to curl in on itself. It takes what feels like forever, but when it beeps, he glances down, and something uneasy curls in his stomach. San frowns, rubbing a hand down his face before muttering a curse under his breath. Your fever is alarmingly high. Not quite emergency-room bad, but enough that it’s making him start to second-guess himself, enough that he debates calling Seonghwa. But you look so out of, that he knows you wouldn’t even handle a phone conversation.

“Great,” he mutters under his breath. He watches the way your fingers tremble when you try to adjust the blanket. The way your breathing hitches like even the slight move takes effort. And it pisses him off—not at you, but at the situation, at the fact that you’ve let yourself get this bad. He continues to let himself move on autopilot, pouring out the right amount of medicine, making sure you take it, then setting the soup on the nightstand. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, why he’s taking the extra time to sit beside you, to tuck the blanket more securely around your shoulders, to make sure you’re warm but not overheating, his hand lingering there.

He shifts his grip on you, adjusting his hold so you’re not slumped at an uncomfortable angle. One arm supports your back, the other steadying your shoulder as he slowly eases you down against the pillows. His touch is careful and firm, like he’s worried you’d break under too much pressure. His fingers stay put for a moment longer than necessary before he pulls away, scowling at himself.

For a moment, he debates leaving. But then his gaze flickers to the soup, still untouched on the nightstand. If you couldn’t even drink your water… With a sigh, he picks it up, scooting closer to your bedside. He dips the spoon into the broth, blowing on it slightly before bringing it to your lips. “You need to eat,” He pauses, before continuing. “If Seonghwa found out I let you starve, he’d kill me,” San mutters, mostly to himself. At first, he tells himself that’s the only reason he’s doing this—because Seonghwa would want him to, he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he left you like this. But as he watches you struggle to keep your eyes open, something settles into his chest.

You make a weak sound of protest, barely turning your head away, but San isn’t having your nonsense. He nudges the spoon against your lips, watching as you hesitantly part them. You only take a tiny sip before exhaling heavily, like even that was too much effort. But he keeps at it, patient, spooning small amounts until you’ve had at least something.

You’re already drifting off again, half-asleep, fever-drunk and unaware of the way San’s gaze lingers. Your voice is soft, barely above a murmur, but it still makes him freeze.

“You’re not as bad as I thought,” you mumble, voice slurred. Then, even softer, “I don’t hate you, you know.”

San doesn’t move, barely even breathes as your fingers weakly reach out for his sleeve, gripping onto it with the last bit of your strength. You don’t let go.

He should pry your hand off, it wouldn’t be that difficult anyways. He should pull away, let you sleep, leave you be.

But he doesn’t he just stays, watching you, listening to the quiet feverish murmurs that make something in his chest shift, something he doesn’t want to answer to.

He finds himself once again tucking the blanket closer around you, making sure you have water within reach, lingering a little too long as he watches your breathing even out just a little.

And then he catches himself staring, when he realizes the weird, uncomfortable pull in his chest, he scowls once more. This isn’t his problem. You aren’t his problem.

“This is stupid,” he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. But he doesn’t leave.

Not yet. He can’t.

[paigesbasketball]

Hello, me again. Can we maybe get some headcannons for shadow with a sick or injured reader?

Shadow Headcannons: when your sick and injured

Shadow x reader Warnings: none!

Protective and Stoic Guardian

As Shadow’s girlfriend, you’ll quickly realize that, despite his tough exterior, he’s incredibly protective of you when you’re sick or hurt. He doesn’t show it openly, but his actions speak volumes.

If you’re injured or unwell, Shadow will make sure you're comfortable, always taking the lead in ensuring you’re in a safe place. He’s more than willing to cancel his own plans just to stay by your side and make sure you have everything you need.

He’s not great at outwardly showing affection, but his unwavering presence is enough to let you know how much he cares.

Silent, Yet Caring

Shadow might not be the most expressive when it comes to emotions, but when it’s just the two of you, you’ll catch glimpses of his softer side. When you’re feeling down, sick, or injured, he’ll make sure you're comfortable, quietly adjusting your blankets or bringing you medicine without making a fuss.

He’s the kind of boyfriend who shows affection through his actions rather than words, often staying by your side during naps, adjusting the room temperature, or making sure you’re not exerting yourself too much.

Gentle but Firm

If you try to push yourself when you're not fully recovered, Shadow will be the first to scold you, though it’s clear he’s concerned underneath the sharp tone. “You need rest. Don’t be so stubborn,” he’ll say, his eyes softened with worry even though his words sound harsh.

If you protest, he might grab your hand gently and pull you back to bed or the couch. He won’t let you ignore your health, even if you try to act tough. His firm demeanor is rooted in the fact that he cares deeply for you and wants you to heal fully.

Little Acts of Care

Shadow may not be one for grand gestures, but he has his own way of making you feel special. If you’re sick, he might bring you your favorite comfort food or a cup of tea without saying a word.

He might also buy you a small gift, like a soft blanket or a cute plushie, as a subtle way to show he’s thinking of you. It’s not the type of gift that screams romance, but it’s clear that it’s chosen with care.

Fierce Protector

When you’re sick or injured, Shadow becomes even more protective than usual. If anyone dares to question how you're doing or suggests that you should “just tough it out,” he’ll step in, defending you with his usual cool but serious tone.

His protectiveness extends to ensuring you’re safe and undisturbed. He won’t let any interruptions come your way, whether it's from teammates or anyone else. He’d rather stay close to you and keep watch than be anywhere else.

Careful with Affection

Shadow isn’t the most openly affectionate, but when it’s just the two of you alone, he’s surprisingly gentle. If you're feeling weak or sick, he might rub your back softly to help you relax, or give you a brief but meaningful hug when you need comfort.

He’s more likely to express his affection through small, intimate moments. For example, he might hold your hand or brush your hair back when you're resting, showing tenderness in his own quiet way.

Soft in His Own Way

If you're particularly upset or emotional about your condition, Shadow will listen carefully. He won’t interrupt or offer empty words, but he’ll be there with a steady, calming presence.

If you’re in pain, he’ll try his best to help, offering advice or remedies even if it means learning about them himself. It’s his way of showing you that he’ll always be there, no matter what.

Helping You Heal

When you're sick, Shadow will make sure you’re sticking to a proper routine to get better, like keeping your medicine schedule and making sure you rest. He’ll remind you not to push yourself too hard and might even schedule everything for you to ensure you’re getting the rest you need.

If you're injured, he’ll make sure the wound is treated and bandaged properly, and he’ll help you move around if you need it, even if it’s just getting you to the couch or your bed.

Secret Soft Spot

Though he might not say it out loud, Shadow has a soft spot for you. If you’re hurting or need help, he’ll drop everything and be there for you. He might not verbally say “I love you,” but his actions are loud enough. The little touches, the extra care, the silent worry when you're in pain—they’re all signs of how deeply he feels.

At times, if you’re not looking, you might catch him staring at you with a soft, caring gaze, though he’d quickly turn away if you noticed.

Once You're Better

When you’re finally feeling better, Shadow might not make a big show of it, but you'll notice the sense of relief in him. He might give you a small, approving nod or tell you, “Good, you’re back to normal.” It’s his way of acknowledging that you’re strong, and he’s glad to see you recover.

He’ll still keep an eye on you to ensure you’re not pushing yourself too hard. And while he won’t necessarily shower you with affection in public, behind closed doors, there’s no doubt that he’s relieved and content to have you healthy again.

[loveemagicpeace]

🌞Sun Signs🌞

When the Sun is in Aries, it produces a personality that has a lot of mental energy, restlessness, and resourcefulness. This is the sign of a natural leader. Individuals who want to be leaders are much better leaders than followers. Aries do not run away from responsibility. They have a strong will and are courageous in their actions. When they do something, they put all their energy into it, giving it their best. They are usually strong-willed. However, they are quick-tempered and must guard against unrest.

March 21st marks the beginning of spring. The sign of Aries therefore symbolizes spring and expresses itself with the force of spring's uncertainty. These individuals have incredible drive and a desire to fight.

Characteristics of a woman: proud, impulsive, fiery, aggressive and extremely jealous. Characteristics of a man: tends to be jealous, stubborn, full of energy, violent, progressive, moody, selfish.

The Sun in Taurus tends to make the individual determined, self-reliant, stable, persistent, prepared and cautious. People are able and willing to wait long periods for the realization of their plans. They are usually very gentle, but if provoked, they are rebellious, stubborn and independent. Tauruses tend to be slow, firm and old-fashioned in their methods and views.

Taurus are introverted and reserved. They are loving, but remember, they have horns. Taurus is usually awkward in expressing themselves. They usually say what they think. They have drawers in their heads and therefore have difficulty connecting thoughts and numbers. They love tradition and they love to be educated.

Characteristics of a woman: they are known for their loyalty, stability, sense of home and thrift.

Characteristics of a man: they are stubborn, stubborn, sensitive to people. They have persistent energy, are inclined to security, business and have excellent skills. Do not play with their money.

The Sun in Gemini makes the person loving, kind-hearted and also receptive to kindness. The individual is sensitive and likes to explore, because he is endowed with a great imagination, which can get him into trouble. The mind of Gemini tends to be active and responds quickly to different things. The individual is able to do several things at once.

The sign of Gemini is two-bodied or dual. Geminis do not hold hands, they are separate souls, the movement is from left to right. The sign of Gemini is problematic because of their dual image. The person often changes a lot. They move back and forth, as if two people were fighting. This is a multifaceted, changeable personality.

Characteristics of a woman: These women have ego ambitions: they compete equally with men in the business world.

Characteristics of a man: men are talkative and restless. They are harmlessly seductive.

The Sun in Cancer produces individuals who are moody, emotional, and sensitive. Everything revolves around their hypersensitivity; some would say they are shy or reserved, something that Cancer himself is not aware of. Like all water signs, they are extremely perceptive. They weigh everything carefully and rarely reject it outright. Because they are so sensitive, they have a hard time communicating with different people. Despite all this, many Cancers become successful writers, advertisers, and marketers, who are more behind the scenes with the written word than the spoken word. They have a good memory .They have the quality of tenacity. Cancer's symbol is a crab with pincers. They are the most tenacious of all the water signs and do not give up easily. They are very concerned with their own circumstances and feelings.

Characteristics of the woman: The Cancer woman is maternal and deeply worried that her husband does not really love her. She is overly sensitive to her family's comments that she is old-fashioned.

Characteristics of the man: These men are restless, often overly cautious and sometimes stingy. They agree on the outside, but in reality they do not. This creates hidden resentment.

The Sun in Leo brings a personality that has an active mind. These individuals are generous by nature and usually have many friends. However, they do not have good judgment when it comes to their friends. They are usually determined, persistent, independent and natural leaders. They are often not only philosophers but philanthropists. Most Leos are extremely conscientious.

Leo is ruled by the Sun, which is the center of the universe. Leo is regal, he is king; Animals, he roars, he is proud, generous and glamorous. Individuals are usually very hardworking and also like to have fun. They like to dominate, they are conceited and they are violent.

Characteristics of a man: An outstanding characteristic of a man born in Leo is a turbulent egoism, can sometimes give too many attributes to yourself , likes attention, likes to be in good company. Characteristics of a woman: An outstanding characteristic of a woman born in Leo is pride and sometimes selfishness. It has high value and always stands upright.

Virgo is a mutable sign. The Sun in Virgo produces individuals who are hardworking, thoughtful, modest, some say even naive. This is a mind that demands knowledge and information. The person has a philosophical nature, learns quickly and easily.

People in Virgo do not show their age. They do not show their hesitation either. They usually have a deep love and appreciation for art, beauty and literature. They are also interested in healthy and wholesome nutrition.

Characteristics of a woman: a tendency to pickpocket.

Characteristics of a man: covert possessiveness.

When the Sun is in Libra, it gives a warm, peaceful and sociable personality. The person is pleasant, agreeable and usually affable. This position of the Sun gives the person a love of justice and a great aversion to unpleasantness. The people tend to be smiling, bubbly, balanced, sensitive and compassionate. They are also modest, orderly, love fine entertainment and pleasures. They are intuitive and have the ability to direct their intuition into foresight. They usually marry young and more than once.

Many painters and musicians are born under this sign because it gives them musical talent and a love of beauty and color. Even if the person does not pursue an artistic career, they will have a sense of art. Libra people need a lot of rest and peace. They need the right partner, as Libra is the sign of the seventh house of the zodiac: the house of relationships and partnerships. These are very important to them and their happiness. Therefore, they crave love and friendship.

Characteristics of a woman: A woman born in Libra is resourceful and seeks perfection, can be too picky with partners, very loyal in relationships, has an innate sense of elegance, loves to eat and drink well and loves to dance, has a sharp tongue.

Characteristics of a man: The man is honorable, outwardly balanced and loving, but not passionate, is witty, can be superficial in relationships, quick-tempered, forgetful, loves praise.

The Sun in Scorpio tends to give the individual the power of keen judgment, as well as shrewdness. Scorpios tend to be suspicious, critical, skeptical, and secretive. Their speech is often sarcastic and bold. They are capable of working on tasks that require a lot of stamina. They are capable of quiet aggression.

The ruler is Pluto, the co-ruler is Mars. Water signs have strong intuition - water means feelings and emotionality. Scorpios often have strong eyes, dark and piercing. Scorpio is called the sexual sign of the zodiac - because it is the most passionate. Whatever they do, they do with a lot of feeling.

Scorpio feels that he must fight for ideals in his own quiet way. He is a complex entity, deep and penetrating, going to the lower levels of life than most others. Scorpio has an incredibly powerful stamina and wants to show it. He likes to stand up to his opponent, not necessarily as a warrior but as a challenger. He is a very loyal person and after all, he is ambitious.

Characteristics of a Woman: A woman born in Scorpio is passionate and fiery with a fashionable feeling of hatred that weighs within. She is devoted to the man or men in her life. She is somewhat independent.

Characteristics of a Man: The man is usually mysterious and highly disciplined. He is secretly ambitious.

The Sun in Sagittarius produces a cheerful, generous, optimistic personality who is active, independent, enterprising, and ambitious. These individuals tend to be forthright, talkative, honest, and not easily distracted. They are well known for enjoying outdoor recreation and freedom. They have a lot of energy and inspiration.There is a deep philosophical flow in the life of Sagittarius. They plan their future with good insight and prophetic judgment. They have the ability to utter prophetic statements (which are more unconscious than conscious).

Sagittarius' duality produces psychological indecisiveness (meaning that one minute they'll do it and the next minute they won't; one minute they're in favor and the next minute they're against it; one minute they're all for it and the next they're not).

It is symbolized by a Sagittarius (actually a centaur - the body of a horse and the head of a human) holding a bow and arrow. This sign is two-bodied. Sagittarians are usually very enthusiastic and fiery people. The duality of Sagittarius produces psychological indecisiveness (meaning that they will do this one minute and the next they will not; one minute they are for the star and the next minute they are against it; one minute they are all for it and the next they are not).

Characteristics of a woman: Women are loyal and have expensive taste. They like big animals, horses, and sports. They often praise a lot. They have what we call a social conscience.

Characteristics of a man: A man is philosophically oriented. He is usually easygoing with a burning emotionality.

Sun in Capricorns have the mental qualities of reliability and stability. They are often very thoughtful and develop a philosophy that some would call pessimistic (because it leads to predeterminism, fatalism, etc.). The Capricorn personality often tries ten times harder and gives ten times as much as a successful person and gets 1/10 of what an average person gets. Perhaps this is why they believe in fate. However, there are many exceptions.

In reality, Capricorns have an incredible power to achieve their goals. They know very well what they want and how to achieve it. They have a deep and penetrating logic. They may be slow, but they deliver the goods. Sometimes they are very serious and somewhat melancholic (earth element) and heavy in an emotional sense. They feel that they have to prove their sincerity with seriousness.

Characteristics of a woman: Women are the same as men: excellence in everything they do, which brings self-respect through hard work, loyalty and achieving goals. Much depends on her Moon sign.

Characteristics of a man: Capricorn is introverted, thoughtful, steady and reliable. He is quite ambitious. He is often very interested in government.

Sun in Aquarius -His symbol is the water carrier, which exudes Vitality, not water. This is an intellectual sign, detached and scientific. He is interested in scientific research, as well as progress in the direction of the unexplored. With Aquarius, expect the unexpected. He is unpredictable. They fight hard in the mental field, but when the discussion is over, they want to be friends. Friendship is of key importance to them. 'My friends' is one of their key expressions. Aquarius is a sign that has a hard time finding love. They are prone to long engagements. They dress in a flashy and unusual way. They generally don't trust people. They like to join conservative organizations.

Characteristics of a woman: A woman is liberated in her views and free-spirited.

Characteristics of a man: A man is sensitive, thoughtful, eccentric. He is often extremist, revolutionary both externally and internally.

Sun in Pisces -These people are very sensitive and insecure. They are extremely idealistic and unrealistic. There is a duality in their appearance. The world seems beautiful to them, but full of pain. They are able to see the subtle beauty and dangers of the world. Sometimes they waver left and right. They are indecisive about idealism and realism. This is the most complex sign. Love for them means tender care. This is a way of showing love and they do not get upset over it.

Individuals are extremely wise people. They are also adaptable. Many go through hell and flood, but they adapt. They often take on the patterns of the people they were with last. They are the greatest charmers in the world. The Sun in Pisces gives the individual an artistic and poetic nature and a rich imagination. They often have difficulty expressing themselves.

Characteristics of a woman: A woman is idealistic, secretly possessive. She is loyal, noble, completely devoted.

Male characteristics: sensitive, spoiled, idealistic, secretly critical.

Rebekah 🥭🥥⭐️

[leth-writes]

Bruce Wayne

• Bruce is incredibly awkward. Anyone who is able to effortlessly understand his looks and quiet grumbles will get along great with him.

• He tends to prefer quiet personalities, especially with so many loud members of the family and constant chaos

• his favorite thing to do with you is to read quietly together in the living room, or to work in his office with you on the couch quietly doing your own thing.

• Yet, Bruce can be really stubborn; don't be afraid to call him out on any decisions you don't agree with, and remember to stand up for yourself. He sometimes forgets to listen to other people. If all else fails, call Dick; he's great at arguing with Burce, and he's always willing to stick up for a friend.

Dick Grayson

• Dick may seem boisterous and confident, but he's secretly always stressed about his loved ones. He'd connect best with someone who can match his energy and ease his worries.

• He also clicks really well with someone who isn't afraid to take charge, and enjoys being able to relax and let someone else be in control.

• As a gymnastics teacher, he'd love to show you some moves! Don't worry about your level of flexibility, he just wants to spend time with you (and he thinks you look cute when you're focused)

• Dick loves stretching and doing yoga together, but he also loves watching trashy reality television together and shouting at the screen

• visits his parents' graves and tells them about you. He's sure they would've loved you. He struggles knowing you'll never meet them, so showing any interest in his past is a surefire way to get him emotional

Jason Todd

• Jason is a firey personality and, like Bruce, would connect really strongly with someone who can appeal to that quieter side of him

• Jason's a secret bookworm at heart. Show interest in Jane Austen and you'll never know peace again.

• Loves watching Pride and Prejudice together and crying.

• He's got a sensitive heart and secretly enjoys taking care of people, so please let him feed you plenty of sweets

• Tell him your favorite foods and he'll make them for you all the time

• If there's a recipe you enjoyed from your childhood or any ingredients that're hard to find, leave it to him and Alfred; they'll surprise you on your birthday with a dish so good you'll tear up.

• Jason loves baking together, even if you're just sitting on the counter and quietly joking as he does all the work

Tim Drake

• Tim is a workaholic, and loves it when you both sit in the same room and do your own things.

• Please express interest in his photos. Please.

• The best way to distract him from his work is to get him hooked on a new true crime documentary or an episode of a show like Criminal Minds; he's obsessed with figuring out who the killer is and won't be able to focus on wearing himself out.

• If he's struggling to get to sleep, cuddling together is the best way to get him knocked out in minutes. He sleeps like the dead, so don't be worried if you can't wake him up.

• If you see him sleeping somewhere weird, like in the hallway or halfway down the stairs, call Jason to come get him and put him to bed. He'll grumble, but he'll do it/

Cassandra Cain

• Cass loves someone who can just get her, even without words. As someone who communicates mostly through sign language, but mainly through body language, she'll love someone who's more talkative. She hates the quiet, because it reminds her of her time before she found the Waynes.

• She loves dancing together, even if you're clumsy; she'd love to slow dance to some romantic classical music.

She also loves listening to you rant about what you're passionate about, and will always express interest and ask you to keep talking.

[v6quewrlds]

how i would love to know what goes down when and after shes doing her lingerie try on for joe

One thing the two of them had in common was their stubbornness. It was a trait that had provided them both with flourishing careers but had also led to more than a few heated disagreements. Despite Joe's wealth, she was a woman who prided herself on her financial autonomy. Growing up, independence was a value that had been drilled into her by her mother, and it was something she wasn't willing to give up, not even for love.

Admittedly, Joe found her fierce independence incredibly attractive, but he couldn't help feeling a little frustrated sometimes. He knew she got herself through college and medical school, and he respected that, but he couldn't help but want to take care of her. It was a contentious issue that had been brewing since they first started dating. She insisted on maintaining her own bank account, paying off her student loans herself, and even had her own savings for retirement.

It was all very impressive, Joe had to admit. But his stubbornness was a mirror to hers, and he had his own pride to maintain. Keeping the peace in their relationship came in the form of two compromises. The first saw she move into Joe's home. Joe's fully-paid, multimillion-dollar home in the Cincinnati suburbs, surrounded by lush greenery and the occasional glimpse of the city skyline. The second was the AMEX card. Rarely used, black, and hard plastic found a permanent, welcomed place in her wallet. The compromise was simple: she would use it for one thing, and one thing only – lingerie.

The card was chosen for a reason. It was linked to Joe's personal account, and he had it set up so that every time she used it, a notification popped up on his phone. The notifications came here and there every few months, usually around special occasions. But the frequency had picked up since she moved in, much to Joe's delight and occasional frustration. It was as if she was playing a game, teasing him with the promise of seeing her in something new, something that would make his heart race and his blood rush.

Today, the notification was from a luxury lingerie boutique they had both stumbled upon during a trip downtown. She had fallen in love with the quality, and Joe had fallen in love with the way she looked in their sets. His meetings seemed to drag on forever as he anticipated the moment he would walk through the door and finally see her adorned in silk and lace, just for him.

The moment Joe walked in, he knew she had something up her sleeve. She lay languidly across their oversized bed, the plush duvet just barely covering her, the TV playing something that didn't seem to hold her attention. The sight of her made his mouth go dry and his heart hammer in his chest. He threw his keys and wallet on the side table and approached her, trying to play it cool. "So, you've been busy," he said, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned wide, her brown eyes sparkling. "I've been home all day," she replied, her voice as smooth as honey. "What makes you say that?"

Joe couldn't resist the urge to lean down and kiss her, tasting the sweetness on her lips. "Just got a notification," he murmured against her mouth, his eyes drawn to the shopping bag she had placed on the floor near the entrance to their shared closet.

She pushed him away gently, her own eyes dancing with excitement. "Oh, that," she said, glancing towards the bag. "I picked up a few things, must have swiped your card by mistake."

Joe's smile grew wider. "Mistake, huh?" He couldn't hide his anticipation. "Well, I guess I'll have to inspect the damage."

She rolled her eyes, playing along. "If you must," she said, feigned exasperation lacing her voice. She slid out of bed, the duvet slipping away to reveal her brown skin. She walked over to the bag, her hips swaying with each step.

He couldn't wait to get his hands on her.

-

"So," she said, her voice a whisper, "last one. What do you think?"

Words seemed to fail Joe as he took in the vision before him, his memory filling in the blanks of what the white lace would reveal. He stepped closer, reaching out to touch the softness of the fabric. His fingers brushed against her skin, sending a jolt of electricity through both of them. "Geez," he murmured, his features marked with hunger. "Baby..." He couldn't find the right words.

His chest pressed to her back, Joe's hands trembled as his fingertips brushed against the delicate bow of the bra, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered, "You're so beautiful." She leaned back into him. She felt his length thicken against her, and a thrill of desire shot through her.

A satisfied smile adorned her face as she took in Joe's reaction to the white lace. She knew that she had picked well, the third set was definitely his favorite. She turned to face him. Joe's eyes were glued to her, his pupils dilated with desire, trying his best to be gentle with the fabric as he felt her curves beneath his palms.

"This might give that black set a run for its money," Joe declared, his words slow and swirled with honey. His thumbs traced the edge of the lace, his eyes darkening as they took in the way her body filled out the garment. She stepped closer, her arms settling over his shoulders. His hands moved to her sides, drifting towards her lower back before finding her ass, giving it a full-handed squeeze.

She hummed softly at the sensation of his rough palms against her smooth skin, feeling the tension in his body as he struggled to hold back. She reached up, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, tilting his gaze up to hers. "Am I forgiven?" she asked, calling back to the earlier banter about curious notifications and mistaken cards.

Joe's eyes searched hers for a moment, the fire of desire dancing in their depths. Then, with a smoldering smile, he leaned in and kissed her, deep and slow. "Always," he responded against her lips.

Her hands slipped under his shirt, finding the rigid lines of his torso, and Joe groaned into her mouth, his arms tightening around her waist. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as the energy in the room shifted from playful teasing to something more desperate. She felt the heat between her thighs, and she knew Joe could feel it too. He broke the kiss to pull his shirt over his head, discarding the cotton material before grasping her thighs and lifting her. Her legs wrapped around his waist naturally, the lace of the g-string brushing against his skin as he carried her to the bed.

[insidekatmind]

Protective~Jobe Bellingham

Request: yes!

It’s one of those nights when the air is pleasantly warm and the sky still has some orange hues, even though the sun has already sunk below the horizon. You went out with a group of friends to go to a party downtown, one of those events organized in a crowded club where the music is always too loud to talk normally.

Jobe wasn’t exactly thrilled when you told him. His dark eyes immediately narrowed in disapproval.

“I don’t like that environment,” he told you, crossing his arms over his chest in an overly protective gesture. “There are too many people, too much confusion. And besides, are you sure it’s safe?”

You laughed, finding his way of worrying sweet. “Everything will be okay, Jobe. It’s not the first time I’ve been to a party.”

He continued to stare at you with that stubborn look, his chin slightly raised as if he were still trying to find a way to convince you to stay home. But he finally gave in, albeit reluctantly.

“At least text me every now and then,” he muttered. “And don’t be late.”

So here you are, with the music thumping in your ears and the psychedelic lights dancing all around you. You texted Jobe as soon as you arrived, like you promised. He texted you back right away, a short message: “Is everything okay?”

You smiled and texted him a simple: “I’m okay! I’m fine. Have fun and relax too!” And yet, your phone doesn’t stop lighting up with his texts, every fifteen minutes or so. It’s sweet, if a little over the top.

But as you chat with a friend at the bar, you feel a chill up your spine. Someone is getting too close, their voice heavy and the smell of alcohol making your nose wrinkle.

“Hey, beautiful. Want a drink?” a boy asks with an overconfident smile.

“No, thank you.” You reply politely, trying to ignore him. But he persists, his hand coming too close to your shoulder.

Before you can react, someone steps between you and the boy. A familiar shadow, tall and protective.

“She said no.” Jobe’s voice is a low, dangerous growl, completely different from the gentle tone he uses with you.

The boy stares at him for a moment, weighing whether it’s worth arguing about. Finally, with an annoyed shrug, he walks away.

You turn to Jobe, still surprised to see him there. “What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice barely audible over the chaos of the music.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t relax. I kept thinking about you here alone. I know you can take care of yourself, but… I can’t help but worry.”

You don’t know whether to be more surprised or touched. In the end, you choose the latter. “Jobe, you don’t always have to protect me.”

“I know.” He admits, though his gaze is still alert, scanning the crowd around you. “But I can’t help it. Not when it comes to you.”

His gaze softens as he watches you. “Should we get out of here?” he asks with a tentative smile. “We can go get something to eat, maybe take a walk. Whatever, as long as you’re okay.”

In the end, you agree. And as you walk through the brightly lit streets of the city, you realize that Jobe’s concern isn’t just protective. It’s something deeper, more sincere. And while it can be excessive at times, there’s something incredibly reassuring about the way he’s willing to go out of his way for you.

“Thanks for coming,” you say, your hand intertwining with his.

"Always," he replies, squeezing your fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And for a moment, as you walk away from the crowd, it feels like the world is yours alone.