#even pulling my face out of my scarf the first time just hurt! that first gasp of unfiltered air... phew

[writereleaserepeat]

Took a walk out in the -10F (around -30F with windchill) and got so many whumpy ideas... frostbite and hypothermia my beloved.

[just-wrting]

Feeling Fangs

Title: Feeling Fangs

Pairing: Charlotte Katakuri x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: You find out what your husband has been hiding from you after he loses against Straw Hat, but you find yourself fixating on how pretty he is without his scarf.

Master List Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

A/N: My bf won't let me read about this man because I'm not far enough in the anime so I'll just write about him instead. And read about him but my bf doesn't have to know that part yet. He's worried about spoilers but what spoilers am I gonna get from all that smut? Also I just like men with fangs.

You didn't particularly care who one this little war that broke out, as long as your husband is fine. There's no doubt in your mind that he'll survive, you just don't want to see him hurt. Sure, the two of you have never really been romantic or anything, your marriage was somewhat political, but you've grown fond of him. So when his little sister is kneeling on the street saying he lost, your heart drops.

"Brulee, get me in there," you hiss in her ear. "I need to make sure he's okay."

There's tears in her eyes as she looks at you quizzically. "How did you get here?"

"This isn't the time for that. Let me in the mirror dimension."

She nods quickly and lets you through. Her steps are hesitant as she follows behind you. You make note of the chefs slumped against a wall, curious as to who killed them. It doesn't matter to you as you stumble closer to your husband.

It's the first time you've seen him like this. Even when it's time to sleep, he's still awake, sitting up in bed doing who knows what as you drift off. Right now, he's asleep on his back with a hat on his face. You quickly locate his scarf next to a group of people, ignoring them.

You've never seen him without his scarf, but you figure out that everyone here has. The chefs must've seen him without it, so he's the one who killed them. Everyone else must've passed out from something in the battle, but they've all seen him too.

"Brulee, tie up everyone here. It doesn't matter who they are, I want them unable to leave," you say in a low voice. "If you fail to do this, I won't forgive you."

While she follows your orders, you crouch down to rewrap his scarf. You make sure to hide his face from view as you carefully lift the hat. Biting your lip in anticipation, you do your best to not wake him. As you unveil his full face, you feel yourself get flustered.

Poking out from his lips are four shiny fangs. You do your best to not reach out and touch them, wondering how sharp they are. You expected something frightening under the scarf, but Katakuri is actually just as pretty as you thought he was. You don't know how you lucked out to get him, but you'll think about that later.

You make quick work with his scarf, noticing he's missing his jacket. You'll have to look for it later, your focus needs to be on finding Pudding. It doesn't matter that she's rude to you, what matters is her ability. You had overheard it in passing, but her ability to manipulate memories is what makes her the key.

"Let's go, I need to find Pudding."

Thankfully, you can see her hiding on the other side of the mirror you came in. It might take a moment to run and get her, but you'll put yourself through whatever you need to. The most important thing to you is wiping everyone's memory of what Katakuri looks like.

You dash through the fight, weaving your way through both enemies and the Big Mom pirates. Ducking down next to Pudding, you catch your breath for just a moment while she stares starry eyed at someone.

"Sanji..." she mumbles before glaring at you. "What do you want?"

"I need you to alter some memories for me."

She gives you an evil smile. "Why would I do that? Just because you're my big brother's wife doesn't mean I'll help you."

You frown. "I won't tell anyone that you've fallen in love with Sanji and most likely helped him escape."

"What?! You have no proof!"

You pull her up and start dragging her behind you. "I may not have concrete proof, but I'm not stupid. Besides, your reaction is my proof."

She grumbles something about you being an ass, but she follows you.

"You also need to wipe some of Brulee's memory.  If you tell anyone what you saw in them, I'll tell everyone that you helped Sanji escape. Do you understand?"

She nods. "Alright, I understand. Why what did they see?"

You set your jaw. "At the very least, they saw Katakuri without his scarf. I'm not sure what else they saw."

You watch over her shoulder as she shoves her hand into people's memories. It's a little gross, but it'll get the job done. It's better to threaten one person over a dozen.

There's a moment where Luffy slips and falls, gaining a large wound in his stomach due to being numbed. After finding out why, you watch Katakuri stab himself and pull off his scarf. It's nice to see a pirate try to have a fair fight, giving you a bit more insight as to what your husband is actually like.

"I guess it's a bit weird that he didn't want help if he couldn't defeat Straw Hat, but it doesn't make him lame. Those idiots don't realize they're the lame ones," Pudding grumbles. "Do you think Sanji has the same idea?"

You shrug. "It seems like his captain does at least so probably. Do I look like Sanji?"

Pudding scowls. "Shut up. Let me do this."

You don't miss the days when you'd have mood swings about men. That's the one good thing about having an arranged marriage, you don't have to worry about your feelings for other people.

"Mirrors, are any of you in an intact room? One with a big bed and access to water."

One a little ways away responds, and you look back at your passed out husband. You don't know how you're getting him there. Maybe you should've thought about that ahead of time, but it doesn't matter now. You can figure it out, you always do.

—-

It's been at least one day since you dragged him into bed, and Katakuri has yet to wake up. You can feel yourself dozing off every time you sit down, so you do your best to stay occupied. You prepare food, make sure you have enough water to wipe him down and let him drink, and constantly rearranging things. On one hand you want him to wake up so you know he's not in a coma, on the other hand you want him to get as much rest as he needs.

What you want doesn't matter, as you hear him wake up suddenly with a gasp. In your shock, you drop the plate you were holding.

"There's no need to wake up so aggressively, Katakuri. You're safe," you reassure as you pick up the bigger pieces of the plate. "How are you feeling?"

"How did I end up here? What did you see?" His voice is low, almost threatening.

You dump the bigger pieces in the trash and start sweeping. "We can talk about that later. You should have some water and eat. Then you should go back to sleep. I patched you up as well as I can, but I'm not a doctor."

He starts to pull the covers off, giving you a harsh look. "What did you-"

You dump the dustpan's contents into the trash before setting the broom to the side. "Like I said, it can wait. No offense, but you don't particularly scare me when you're ripping open your wounds."

His face goes a bit red as you tell him off. You want him to feel better before you deal with any other matters. That includes the talk of whether he'll choose to kill you for seeing his face.

"I made you some food, so just sit up."

Thankfully, he obeys. Katakuri doesn't even protest as you feed him. You make sure to avert your eyes, just for his comfort. He seems to be extremely hungry, eating all the food you've made. By the time it's all gone, he looks tired again.

"Get some more sleep, I'll lock the door. I wanted to be awake when you woke up, but now that that has happened, I can sleep."

He watches as you turn the lock and slide the broom handle through the loops of the door handles. You do the same with the window, shoving a fire poker through the handle before closing the curtains once more. Giving each of them a tug, you feel satisfied when nothing clatters to the ground.

"When did you sleep?" Katakuri asks, watching you intently. "You look..."

"Terrible, I know. I don't think I've slept since before the tea party, though. I'd have to think about it."

You crawl into the other side of the bed. It's a bit small, but leaning against him makes it a bit more comfortable. Despite your efforts, you find yourself dozing off before making sure he sleeps. There's no way he's getting out of the bed though, you've managed to lay on his arm.

—-

By the time you wake up, Katakuri is fast asleep. For what must be the first time ever, he's got his arm around you, holding you close. You watch him for just a moment, admiring how pretty he is. You want to reach up and play with his hair, but you ignore that feeling and try to wiggle from his grasp.

Even with how battered he is, you find it difficult to free yourself. You knew he was strong, ridiculously so, but you didn't realize he's just this strong. After freeing yourself, you feel exhausted again.

Thankfully, Pudding has left another basket of food for you, complete with an angry note about how she's not your delivery girl and if she's going to bring you stuff you need to be there. You roll your eyes and throw away the note. If she had important things to say, she can say them to your face.

You help yourself to an apple, crunching away as you try to figure out what to make. It would be nice if you could access a bigger kitchen with more ingredients, but this will have to do. Hopefully it's enough food, you've seen the size of  the food he eats.

With a sigh, you give up. Exhaustion still flows through you, so you focus on things that don't require a lot of thought. So you eat and wash the dishes, making sure to be as quiet as possible. It's better for him to wake up naturally, not due to you being a jerk.

Once there's nothing more to do, you make your way to the bed. You check the wounds, letting the smaller and scabbed ones breathe. Almost all of his injuries have stopped bleeding, you just can't check the one you're most worried about. He needs to wake up for you to take a look.

As you reach towards his head, his hand shoots up and grabs your wrist tightly. You wince in pain, surprised at how tight his grip is.

"What are you doing?"

You tug on his fingers. "Checking the scrape on your forehead. I want to make sure it closed up."

He cautiously releases you. "Don't do anything else."

You click your tongue against your teeth. "Have some more faith in me, Katakuri. I'm your wife, I have no ill intentions."

"We need to talk."

You start unwrapping the dressing. "What do you want to know?"

Katakuri breaks eye contact with you. "What happened after I lost?"

"Well, we lost. I dragged you out of here with some help."

"What about the others in the mirror dimension? What happened to them?"

The blood that makes up the scab also goes into his hairline, so you make a note to bathe with him so it doesn't open. "Those chefs are dead. Your little sister and her stupid fan club on the other hand are alive."

"Where are they now?" he asks, furrowing his brow. "What about the cam-snails?"

"I have no idea where they went after they woke up. I collected the cam-snails though, they're in a bag here."

His hand makes its way to your thigh, holding you down. "What did you see? What did you do?"

"I put your scarf on, tied everyone up, and made Pudding alter their memories. Straw Hat knows, but based on how I found you, I don't think that matters."

"How did you-"

You give a small smirk. "Poor little Pudding was so against marriage, but she ended up falling in love with that Sanji boy. I told her that I would keep it a secret if she kept yours. I'm telling you in case you choose to... you know."

His other hand pulls down his scarf. "So you know. And you're still here?"

Satisfied with the head scrape, you pull back a bit. "Of course. You're injured, where else would I be?"

"Aren't you afraid?" He pulls his face into a scowl. "Don't you think-"

Your eyes flutter shut as you lean forward and kiss him. It's nothing romantic, just a quick press of your lips on his, but you pull away flustered.

"Why did you do that?" His eyes are wide.

You blink in surprise. "Why did I do that?"

"How would I know, I'm not-"

You lean forward and kiss him again. His lips are soft, and when you lick your own after pulling away, you find them sweet.

"What are you-" You cut him off again with a kiss.

"This plan isn't-" Even after a fourth kiss, you can't stop.

Before he says anymore, he grabs your face in both hands. "Stop whatever nonsense this is. What are you trying to do?"

You've never seen Katakuri look like this. His face is flushed and his eyes are wide.

"I just really wanted to do that."

It’s now his turn to blink in shock. “Why?”

“You’re just…” You look away, knowing that your face is burning up. “Katakuri, you’re so pretty.”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you intensely. You’re worried he’s upset, you did just keep interrupting him with kisses, but that thought is dashed within seconds as he pulls you into a kiss.

His tongue pushes past your bottom lip, pressing into your mouth. Even when you try to take control of the kiss, it takes him no effort to keep you in place. His tongue overpowering yours and exploring your mouth, filling your taste buds with sweetness.

Due to the size difference, his tongue fills your mouth, eagerly searching every part of your mouth. You can’t help the dirty thoughts that start to fill your mind, thinking of other ways he could use his tongue. All you can focus on is how sweet he tastes and how much you enjoy kissing him.

You’re completely breathless once he pulls away, panting as you try to breathe. Through half lidded eyes, you watch him recover. His face is somehow even more flushed and he’s looking at your lips. Without thinking, you blurt out the first thing to come to mind.

“Katakuri, can you bite me? Please?”

His thumb brushes softly against your cheek. “Are you sure you want that?”

You rub your cheek into his palm, letting out a soft hum. “Please?”

Titling your head to the side, you expose your neck. You have no idea why you want him to bite you so badly, you just do. If he tells you no, you won’t ask again, you just want to experience it this once.

The hand on your other cheek slides down to your shoulder. You feel his warm breath on your neck, and you bite your lip in anticipation. At first, he just presses a soft kiss to your neck, carefully holding you like you might break. Then, without warning, you feel his teeth sink into your neck.

You let out a gasp, and your hand grips his shoulder. It’s not a harsh bite, just the very tips of his fangs. The only pain you feel is the initial breaking of your skin, but once that passes, you feel flushed and warm. It’s really doing something for you, and you don’t want him to stop.

“Did that hurt?” Katakuri asks, pulling away at your gasp.

You draw a shaky breath as he licks the marks on your skin. “You drew blood. That’ll always hurt, but I’m fine.”

He hums softly as he makes sure you’re not bleeding anymore. His touch is gentle and light, and you let out a groan as he traces invisible patterns into your skin. You want more, and you lace your hand in his hair.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. You pull away from Katakuri, adjusting your shirt to cover the mark. You wait for him to pull his scarf back up straight under his nose. There’s still a dusting of pink across the tips of his ears, but he doesn’t look as flustered with his scarf up.

He nods, and you open the door. Pudding stands there with her arms crossed, pouting. She pushes past you, dumping a bunch of stuff on table.

“Here’s everything you asked for, don’t ask me for stuff again. You can start getting it yourself!” She puts her hands on her hips. “I’ve done what you wanted for the past three days. I’m done!”

Katakuri moves to get out of the bed, but you wave him down. Both of the siblings deserve their rest. That’s the only thing you should focus on.

“Thank you Pudding. Go get some rest, we’ll be okay.”

She looks surprised, before huffing. “Of course I’m going to get rest. I deserve it.”

She gives you another dirty look before storming out. It’s like a whirlwind came in, scolded you, and left. You don’t really care. She did her best to help you, so you can cut her some slack.

“She shouldn’t talk to you like that.”

You close the door and lock it once more. “It’s fine. Everyone is under stress right now, including you. You should get some more sleep if you can.”

Katakuri tugs his scarf off, letting it rest on the floor. You want to go fluster him again, but you just stay still. Seeing him like this, battered and bruised, makes your heart ache.

“Are you going to sleep as well?”

You give him a soft smile. “Do you want me to come and get more sleep?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes as he answers. “It’s your choice.”

You walk over and place your hand on his cheeks, making him look at you. “Do you need me next to you for you to sleep?”

Unfortunately, you seem to have pushed him just far enough to annoy him. He gives you a stern look as he wraps his arms around you. Even though he’s annoyed, he’s gentle as he pulls you on top of him.

You squirm slightly in a halfhearted attempt to get him to let you go. His grip is iron tight, and he has no intention of letting you go. This is the first time he’s ever insisted on having you sleep next to him, and it makes you feel warm inside.

Once you stop moving, his grip looses just enough for you to get a bit more comfortable. You lay your head on his chest, closing your eyes to listen to his heart beat. It’s relaxing, and you feel yourself get drowsy. You know it’s all over, when he starts to rub your back.

There’s the sound of his saying something, but you fail to catch it as you fall asleep. You don’t even notice the soft kiss he presses to your head while you drift off.

[b3ach-bunn7]

FORWARDS BECKON REBOUND

You find Dabi bleeding out on your front porch. Despite recognising his face from the five o'clock news, you take him in.

angst, villain dabi, quirkless reader, Dabi POV

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

He should’ve killed you the minute he’d woken up. 

Left your house burning blue with you inside of it, before you even had a chance to run. But it had been Dabi who’d passed out outside your house, and it had been you who lugged him inside, lanky bones and all, so he felt some obligation not to do it. He was barely conscious, just awake enough to hear you mumbling curses under your breath as you scrounged through your cupboards for a first aid kit. 

It wasn’t a nice way to go, bleeding out on a random street. It was embarrassing, the famed cremation villain dying to a knife wound that hit a little too deep. He’d killed the man who’d stabbed him, of course, but that fact that he would kill Dabi was what had him praying to a God he didn’t believe in that he’d live. Maybe it was a fitting death. A person like him, bleeding out with the dirt of a flower bed slipping down his shirt, only the sounds of the night echoing in his ears. 

And then you appeared.

Wearing scrubs that fit too loosely over your body, a puffer jacket and a scarf covering the lower half of your face. He had enough energy to wonder why someone like you, someone that looked down at him with so much worry etched on your face, was in a neighbourhood like this, one where people like him lurked. You dropped your bags, abandoned the scarf and the coat and dropped to your knees. He’d watched your scrubs soak with blood as your hands hesitated in front of him.

“God. Fuck. What do I- Fuck.”  You grabbed your scarf and wrapped it tightly around his chest and then you slipped your arms under his, groaning at his dead weight. 

“This is my good deed for the day.” You huffed, starting the slow drag towards your home.

And he’d passed out after that, he thinks. Everything is very jumbled up but he supposed that’s what happens when you’re bleeding to death.

And when he woke up he thought he might be in heaven. A heaven that was very cluttered and full of way too many pictures hung up on the walls. His head was killing him, and his chest fucking hurt.  He was sprawled on a couch too small for him and his legs were touching the floor. He tries to rise and he stops, immediately, cursing at the shot of pain that spreads through his body.

“Oh no, don’t get up! The stitches will pull.” 

He turned his head to the source of the voice and it's you.

On your knees, scrubbing at the blood stains on your floor. The sleeves of your hoodie were pulled up past your forearms and you were wearing shorts that rode up your thighs. He would’ve made an inappropriate comment about the sight of your legs but he has no idea who the fuck you are.

“I- I’m a nurse so don’t worry, the stitches are done right. That’s for you, too. You should drink it, you lost a lot of blood.” You laughed nervously, pointing at the coffee table.

There was a juice box waiting for him. He didn’t grab it though. Just kept staring at you, silent.

“Uh. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You hand twitched like you’re about to offer it to him, but you decided against it.

There’s no way you don’t know who he is. Dabi’s face has been plastered on the news more times than he can remember, and his face isn’t one you can forget. He watches you now, your eyes flitting from his face to his chest. You sit back on your knees, rubbing at your face with your clean hand.

“I- I can make you some food. If you think you can stomach it.” 

What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you know what he could do to you? How quickly he could kill you?

He moved to stand again and you got up that time, moving towards him. “Look, seriously, you can’t move. The stitches will open and I can’t deal with any more blood today.” You said.

Dabi cursed. You flinch at the deep gravel of his voice.

“I know you probably think I’m crazy. I just- You can stay, until you can move again. It’s fine. I just don’t want you dying in my house, please. Or on my driveway.” You breathed out, taking another step back.

Dabi looked at you again. You looked like he could take you out now, stitches and all. He’s sure if you were going to call the police, you’d have done it by now. And he can’t remember the last time somebody actually doted on him. So he made the incredibly stupid move of listening to you. 

He reached forward and snatched up the juice. He popped it open with his thumb, downing it in one go, squeezing the carton to get it all out. Dabi threw the empty carton on the floor when he was finished. He leant his head back on the couch, and drifted off quickly into sleep.

The first few days are spent in and out of consciousness. The times he is awake, he doesn’t speak to you, not unless he has to. When you ask him what size clothes he wears, when you ask if he has any allergies. It doesn’t stop you from talking though. It’s all you do, whether to a friend on the phone or just to yourself. 

The couch has become the place he spends most of the days. He doesn't move unless it’s for the toilet or to let you change his bandages. The one time he’d actually gotten up for longer than five minutes was so you could clean the couch, silently mourning the fact you’d have to get a new one once he was gone. His blood still stains your carpet though, faint but there, and he feels something he can’t describe at the fact a part of him will always exist between your walls.

The first time he does speak to you, he doesn’t even mean to.

“God, the lady at the pharmacy definitely thinks I’m a serial killer. I'm there for bandages and painkillers like, four times a week.” 

You sigh and drop the shopping bags on the floor. You’re in your scrubs again, blue this time, as opposed to the green ones he’d stained with his blood. You run to the kitchen to grab a wet cloth and the antiseptic, and Dabi sits up gingerly on the couch.

He isn’t exactly healed, but you’d assured him once he could be conscious for longer than an hour that the cut wasn’t as deep as it seemed. It still hurt like a bitch, though, and his stitches still stung as he pushed himself up. YYou kneel in front of him, carefully unwrapping the bandages around his chest. You keep your distance, just close enough so that you can reach him. The bandages stick to his skin and you make quick work of cleaning it, dabbing it with antiseptic. 

Dabi notices that you won’t ever look him in the eyes. Always darting around his face but never at him. You always linger on the scarred skin around his body, the staples hastily holding them together. You’re looking at them now, absentmindedly as you search through the bags for the bandages.

“My skin gross you out, lady?”

Your eyes do look up at him then, and Dabi feels like he should definitely talk to you more if you’re going to look at him like that. You laugh nervously and he tilts his head, blue eyes boring into yours.

“No, I just. Ha, no, I just haven't seen anything like it. The staples-” 

Your hand touches one gingerly and before you can move it away he grabs it with his own. He lets his hand heat up, not enough to hurt you but enough to let that lick of fear inch up your face, and he grins. Your hand is soft against the calloused, scarred skin of his, and he rubs his thumb up and down the back of it, watching the shiver you try and hide from him.

“Did I say you could touch?” He raises his eyebrows and you snatch your hand back. You turn away, inching just that little bit away from him.

“You didn’t complain about my touching when I dragged you from off my front porch.” You mumble under your breath.

His grin widens at that. “You got a mouth on you. But it’s okay, you can touch me anywhere you want, baby.”

Oh, that look. You were cute, he’d admit. He loved those shorts you were always wearing. Made your ass look amazing.

Your cheeks turn a delicious red. “I- Shut up. Let me finish.”

“Yeah, I’ll let you finish.”

“My god. Are you twelve?” You huff, placing the dressing over the stitches.

Dabi just watches you. He enjoys the way you squirm under his gaze. “You’re brave, sweetheart. You know who you’re talking to?”

You don't respond for a few seconds. “Of course. I’m not stupid.”

“Really? I’d say housing a villain in your house is pretty stupid.”

You say nothing, just gesture for him to sit up from the couch, where he was leaning against it. Like this, him sitting up and you still kneeling in front of the couch, he towers over you. It’s a compromising position, you fit in between his spread legs. Dabi can imagine you like this in another situation, maybe without the bandages and without that shirt you’ve got on.

You wrap the bandages around his chest silently. You finish, pinning it down so it doesn't come loose. You look back up at him. “It’s nearly been two weeks. If you wanted to kill me you would’ve.”

“Maybe I’m waiting until I’m all healed up. Really take my time with you.” He lets his voice drop, a low drawl.

You swallow. “I hope not. Would be a waste of my time if you did.”

Dabi scoffs. Your eyes trail back to his staples. He tugs at one and you wince. “Does- Does it not hurt?”

“Nah. Lost feeling a while ago. These staples are the least of my worries.” 

After that little encounter, Dabi takes to annoying you anytime he can. You’re avoiding him, he can tell, and it’s pissing him off. You spend every day holed up in your room while he has to sit on the couch like a fucking idiot and just wait. Maybe for you to call the cops on him, maybe for him to commit some heinous crime because he’s so fucking bored.

It’s why he starts trying to piss you off. Purposefully loosening his bandages, whining about the pain. You don’t complain, just dutifully bring him water, bring him whatever stupid request he asks of you. You’re being too kind, and he knows it’s fake. He wants to see how long it takes until you break, until that pretty polite smile you throw at him turns into that delicious anger from before. He wants your real emotions. Not this fake shit that makes him want to set the couch on fire.

Maybe it’s fake, or maybe Dabi can’t accept anything from anyone, not without them expecting something in return. And until he figures out what that is he doesn’t give a shit what you think of him.

It comes quicker than he thought. Only three days later, after he spent the entirety of your work phone call turning the TV higher and higher, until the show he was paying no mind was so loud you had to walk out the room. You’d come back out twenty minutes later and there it was, that frown he was missing.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You snap, snatching the remote off the coffee table to turn the TV off. Dabi just watches you, a small amused smile on his face.

You shake your head. “Don’t just fucking sit there. You’ve been trying to piss me off for the past few days and here, I’m giving it to you. Happy?” You yell.

You rub your eyes furiously. “I just- I don’t get it. I’m- I’m helping you, I kept you from dying. Why are you being suc-“

“Why?”  

His voice is enough to silence you completely and he likes what little control he has over you. 

“Why what?”

“Why the fuck are you helping me? I don’t understand you.” He says, watching you pace across the living room.

“Some fucking nobody in the middle of a shitty town in an even shittier apartment housing me. Why? Makes no sense to me, and I don’t like things that don’t make sense.”  

You stop. You flalter slightly. He catches it, the way your hands twist in the hem of your shirt.

“What, you expected me to let you die?” 

“Yeah. I do it a lot.”

“Yeah, well not everyone is a sick sadistic psycho like you are.” You snarl.

You seem to regret the words the second they leave your mouth. Dabi grins and you cross your arms and look away.

“Aw, don’t get all shy on me. I love that bratty mouth of yours.” You grimace at his words.

“Shut up.” You in breathe once. Purposeful and unsteady.

“I don’t know- Well I do know what you’re like. I guess all of Japan does. But I wasn’t going to let you just die on me like that. I don’t give a fuck who you are. Nobody deserves that.” You speak purposefully, trying hard to hide your emotion.

“And what are you expecting back?”

You look at him, then. And he sees something shift in your expression and you scoff.

“I don’t want anything back. I just did a good thing. I know that might be a foreign concept to you, but to us normal people it isn’t.”  

So bratty. He’d shut you up if he could move without popping a stitch. 

“Just.” You rub your eyes again. “Just stop trying to piss me off all the time. It’s working and it’s so fucking annoying.”

“And what makes you think I’m going to listen to you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the fact you’ve been living in my house for two week?”

“I don’t fucking understand you.”

“I don’t understand you. I mean, how much time and money have I spent on you? It took me ages to get all the blood out my carpet and my toilet. And you still fucked up my couch, even though I covered it up. You think I can afford a new couch? One not covered in blood? I just-“

You pause. Take another deep breath.

“I don’t really know why I’m doing this either. I feel weirdly obligated to. As a nurse, and all. And- I don’t want the hassle, and the attention that would’ve been brought at my door if i had called the ambulance. And I’m sure you wouldn’t have either. So just do me a favour and stop making it so difficult.” 

He stares at you. The slump of your shoulders and he thinks the emotion he’s feeling is pity, or something similar. He doesn’t really know and he doesn’t really care.

But he still wants the healing, and he wants that really good ramen you made the other day. So he shrugs.

“Whatever.”

“Yeah. Whatever. Fucking hell.”  You mumble, stalking off into the kitchen.

Things change after that. You slowly start to spend more time with Dabi. Which might be an overstatement. You sit on the loveseat beside him. Usually reading or catching up with work or throwing too much commentary at a show he’s watching. You catch him staring at your book once and you hold up the cover to him. The title reads, ‘The truth behind the Commission’.

“Quite the problematic read.” He nods and you smile slightly.

“I guess. I like this author. He doesn’t bullshit.”

“You hate heroes, then?”

You shake your head quickly. “‘No. Well. I don’t hate them, I just. There’s a lot of things wrong with hero society. A lot. And I think a lot of heroes get away with shit they shouldn’t because of that title. I don’t know. It’s all fucked, and I’m not gonna sit here praising them just because they do good things. Doesn’t make them good people.” 

He doesn’t reply that quickly and you look sheepish. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

He makes a noise. “Nah, I loved your little anti-hero rant. The league could use a girl like you.”

Your face pales and he barks out a laugh. “Don’t say that!”

After that you start leaving books on the coffee table for him. He doesn’t thank you for it. 

The second time Dabi decides he’ll trust you happens quickly. There’s a box of pizza in front of the two of you, and you’re both not paying much attention to the TV. He’s more looking at you, the way you twirl a strand of hair around and around your finger, bite at your top lip when you’re thinking. Then your face frowns.

“Ew. Pass me the remote.” You hold your hand out to him.

He looks at the TV, and there’s daddy dearest. It’s a documentary, he thinks. Some stupid shit that praises the worst man in the world because he’s a ‘good hero’. He’s got his reason to hate him. But the look of disgust on your face is more delightful than it is confusing. 

“What? Not a fan of our number two hero?” The words leave a bitter taste in his mouth but the look on your face washes it away.

“Fuck no. There’s something about him I don’t trust. I don’t fucking like that guy.” You frown, quickly changing the channel. “I miss All Might.” 

He doesn’t reply to that. He doesn’t know what he’d say if he did.

And then Dabi realises he actually likes being around you. Especially when you’re always staring at him when you think he doesn’t notice.

“You know, I bought you shirts, too.” You speak the words quickly and without making direct eye contact.

Dabi had taken to not wearing any, despite the fact you had bought him some. He only wore  different sweats you’d bought him, slung low on his hips. He always ran hot anyway, and you never complained until now.

He grins. “Aw, this ain’t a pretty sight for you?”

“No, of course not!” 

You face flushes and Dabi leans a little further down on the couch, letting his sweats drift a little lower. Dabi knows he’s fit, and he knows the distinct shape of his V line is what’s making you avoid his form on the couch entirely. He’s not stupid, he’s caught you looking before.

“Right, I didn't mean that. I was just wondering. You know?” 

“Right, right. Don’t worry, baby, I wouldn’t wanna make you uncomfortable. Be a doll and pass me that shirt, yeah?”

You nod. So obedient, he thinks. He grabs the shirt from your hand, letting his fingers drift against yours. You hand twitches slightly and Dabi smiles, sickly sweet.

“Thanks.” 

“S’fine.” 

When you give Dabi the green light to get up and move, he waits for you to go to work so he can thoroughly snoop around your house. He walks his way around the living room that he's grown too accustomed to. He doesn’t care about the kitchen or the toilet he’s been to a million times. Where he really wants to explore is your bedroom.

You’re so stupid. Letting a villain like him in your house. His hand trails over your dresser, the souvenirs and trinkets from holidays and birthdays. There’s even more pictures in here and you’re so loved he can feel it through the paper. You’re always smiling, teeth shining and impossibly bright and for a split second he wonders what you’d look like smiling at him like that.

Your room is quite messy and it doesn’t surprise him. Clothes littered all over the floor, books and a makeup bag scattered over your desk. Your bed is hastily made and your sheets are a soft pink. And he can see you on it begging for him so prettily, so obedient like you always are for him. 

He opens your bedside tables drawers, searches through the junk for something. He doesn’t even know what. There’s old movie stubs and receipts held together with a bobby pin. A postcard from someone called ‘Becky’ in Italy. Some empty lip gloss tubes and a candle burned down to the bottom. Then he sees a small rock. Hidden beneath the postcard and a letter telling you to go to the opticians. Shiny and blue just like his eyes, his flames. He turns it in his hand for a second, the smooth surface cool on his skin, before pocketing it swiftly. 

You don’t notice when you get home. If you do, you don’t say anything. 

You only get bolder in your approach with him after that. You start sitting on the couch with him. You ask him stupid small talk questions. What’s his favourite colour, his favourite food. And if you see how incredibly weird the whole situation is you don’t comment on it, so neither does he. Dabi feels more like a roommate than a patient now. You both don’t bring up the fact he’s healed enough to leave. You tell him he needs a few more days and he lets you lie.

“It’s nice having someone else in the house.” You say one day.

The two of you were on the couch, just that bit closer than the time before. Dabi’s arm rests on the back of the couch, and if he moved just a little to the left he’d be touching you. 

“What?” 

You shrug. “I get lonely, you know? All my friends live miles away, and the same with my family. I don’t know anyone around here.” 

You turn to him then, and shoot him a small smile. 

“It’s nice having company. Makes my house feel lived in.”

“Even if it’s a big old villain?”

You roll your eyes. “Haven’t been very villainous though, have you?”

“It’s never too late, baby.”

It’s the beginning of the end when he starts to do stuff for you.

It’s nothing crazy at first. He sees dishes in the sink so he puts them in the dishwasher. There’s a load of washing in the washer so he puts it in the dryer. He's just bored. He hasn’t left this house in weeks now, and while he likes the stress-free environment, he’s starting to feel antsy. 

And then he saw your face once, looking at the empty washer like he’d given you a diamond ring. And it felt good that he put it there. And Dabi decided it couldn’t hurt to pull his weight a little more around the house. If you’d look at him like that again he’d do anything you asked for.

You come home at three in the morning one night. Stupidly, he thinks. The area you live in is not a safe one, but it’s hardly his problem if you get kidnapped on your way back. When you walk through the door, the lights are all low and you stumble, mumbling curses under your breath. You turn them on and Dabi thinks you look perfect. Cheeks red from the cold, the dress you’re wearing slowly slipping up your thighs. The top is cut enough to make your tits look great, and you brush a strand of your hair out your face as you bend down to take your shoes off. He shouldn’t look, but really it’s all your fault for inviting a villain into your house. What did you expect?

You look up and your face lights up when you see him.

“Dabi! Oh my gosh, hey! I did- I thought you’d be sleeping.” You say the last word in a whisper.

And if that wasn’t tell enough that you were drunk, the way you almost fall walking to the kitchen is. You grab a water from the fridge, and Dabi watches as you down the whole thing in one go, drops of it dripping down your chin and your neck. You breathe heavily, chest heaving up and down as slump against the counter.

“God, I'm so thirsty. The drinks, I mean we had drinks. Of course! Mimosas and like, they were all pink and glittery. Can you tell I’ve been drinking?”

“Oh, not at all.” 

You grin. “Okay! Good! And then, this guy kept buying me drinks. So many drinks. The pink ones again. And I drank them. They were good, though.” 

You walk over to the couch and plop yourself next to him. Your bare thigh presses into his and Dabi lets it. He’s more focused on this little friend of yours buying you so many drinks than anything else.

“What guy?”

“Dunno. Some freak. I think- He was hitting on me. That's what my friend said to me.”

Dabi nods. “Mhm. You didn’t like him?”

You grimace, shaking your head.  “Ew, no way. He’s- He was so blond. And like, preppy. It was gross. He was gross.”

Dabi snorts a laugh. You grin at the sight of it. “Blond and preppy not your type?”

“No. No. I like.” You turn to face him. You cross your legs on the couch, tugging your dress down as it hikes up. You look at him quizzically before nodding your head, like you’ve figured something out.

“Actually, you are my type.” 

Dabi thinks he needs to get you drunk more. He likes the way you’re looking at him.

“Really?”

“Oh for sure. I like- You know like, emos.”

Never fucking mind. 

“I’m not emo, what the fuck?”

You laugh, loud and boisterous. “You so are! The black hair and, and the staples are like piercings. I bet you listen to heavy metal. Do you?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

You giggle, leaning over to rest your head on the couch. Your eyes travel down to his torso, exposed in the vest he was wearing. You reach a hand up, tracing it down the lines of his muscles, over the scarred skin. 

“Love your arms. So big. Can’t even wrap my hand around them.” You mumble. You demonstrate, taking a deep breath when your finger can't meet at the other side. 

“And. I like your voice. So raspy. It’s hot as fuck. And your eyes. So blue. Like the ocean. Like hat billie eilish song.”

He huffs a laugh. You look up at him, eyes shining from the light of the TV. You smile softly, hand still burning a hole on his arm. 

“Thanks if- for not killing me. And going all villain on me.”

Dabi hums. Sees your eyes trail down to his lips and back up to his face. 

“Never say never.”

“Shut up. Don’t say that. You’d never kill me. I’m too loveable.” 

“Too fucking full of yourself.”

“Wish I was full of you.” 

Your hands cover your mouth the second you say the words and you sit up suddenly. Dabi barks a laugh, and you whine, covering your face with your hands.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m so drunk. Oh my god.” You groan.

“Don’t worry, baby. We can make your dreams come true.” He smirks.

“Stop. Now. Before I die of embarrassment.” 

Dabi pats your shoulder. “S’fine, baby.” 

You slump a little, yawning loudly. You glance down at his hand that still hasn’t left your shoulder. “You're so warm.”

“It’s almost as if I have a quirk that produces fire.”

You roll your eyes. You turn slightly and lean against Dabi. He stiffens slightly as you adjust yourself, pulling one of your throw blankets down over your body. 

“The fuck are you doing?”

“I’m cold. You’re warm.”

“Go sleep in your bed, you idiot.”

“No. Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“The fuck?” 

You don’t say anything. Dabi looks down and your eyes are shut. He can feel your bare skin on his body. It’s so cool in comparison to his. That’s why he lets you stay there. He’s warming you up and you’re cooling him down. And you just stay there, sleep soundly like he isn’t a murderer, like he isn’t worth the same as the dirt on your shoes.

The next morning you don’t speak of it. Just rush yourself to the bathroom because, like an idiot, you went out on a Wednesday night like you didn’t have work the next day. 

Dabi realises he needs to leave when you almost kiss him.

You’re not drunk this time. He wishes you were. Wishes he could blame it on the alcohol coursing through your veins and not something else. This time, you aren’t both sitting on the couch like you usually are. You both stand at the big window in your living room, Dabi smoking a cigarette and you looking at the stars. It’s late, but it’s a weekend, so you don’t have anywhere to be. You’ve been talking and he’s been listening. The occasional response. He’s more focused on you, on the way the moonlight streaks across your face, the way you’re wearing one of the shirts you bought him. It dips down past your waist and he feels like you're his.

“Oh my god! You’ll never guess who came into work yesterday.” You turn to him excitedly.

“Who?”

“Remember I was telling you about that guy who kept buying me drinks?”

Dabi nods. “The blond one who’s not your type?”

You nod frantically. “Yes. He came in because he had to get tested for an STD! Can you believe that?”

Dabi scoffs. “Yes. Any guy buying pretty girls drinks is a guy that sleeps around.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” You coo.

“Gorgeous.” It’s meant to be sarcastic, but it comes out much more real than he’d hoped.

“Well, it’s no matter. I wouldn’t have gotten with him, drinks or not. I'm safe from any STD’s.”

Dabi takes another drag of his cigarette. “So harsh. It’s what’s on the inside that counts, I thought.”

“Not when it comes to a hookup. And not when there’s literally some-“ You cut yourself off. 

“When there’s what?”

“Nothing. Shut up.” 

Dabi rolls his eyes. He turns so he’s facing out the window completely, resting his elbows on the windowsill. He presses the cigarette into the wall beneath it. 

“Well, desperate times, baby. You wouldn’t believe some of the girls I’ve hooked up with.”

“I find it hard to believe you struggle to hook up with people.” 

Dabi barks a laugh at that. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. “You're hot. Isn’t that all guys need to hookup?”

“The whole ‘wanted villain’ thing scares people off. Usually.” He gives you a pointed look. “That, and the scars.”

You look at him and gesture at him to face you. You’re looking at him so intensely he feels nervous. Dabi, a serial killer with more kills under his belt than you can imagine, is nervous because of a silly little civilian.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“What’s right with them? They’re ugly, and they’re being held onto my face with fucking staples. Freaks people out.” He shrugs.

You furrow your brows. You look at his face, his arms, his chest. Where yes, he isn’t wearing a shirt again. The scar across it from a knife wound that feels years away.

“Shut up. Do you actually think that?”

Dabi tilts his head. “You don’t?”

“Of fucking course I don’t. They- You’re hot as fuck! I don’t understand why your scars would change that?” You splutter. And you look angry for him and Dabi feels his chest tighten.

“It’s alright, baby. I don’t care. My dick still gets wet when I need it to.” 

You wince. “Ew, Dabi. That’s gross.” 

“You’re gross for having a crush on a villain.”

You blush. “Shut up. I don’t have a crush on you.”

“Sure, sure.” 

Dabi can hear the sound of cars a few streets down. The breeze is light, and he can feel it rustling with his hair. He wonders if you notice the white of his roots peeking through. If you look enough to notice. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he feels your hand on his arm. Trailing up and around the divide of skin and scars. Your fingers trace over the staples. You touch him so gently. So softly. He wants to rip your hands off and lean into them all at once.

“Did I say you could touch?” He speaks quietly. You smile slightly, looking up at him for a second.

“I don’t hear any complaints.” 

You brush against the panes of his chest. Dance across the scar that will only ever remind him of you. Dabi thinks he leans into you. He wonders if you notice. You move up the sharp lines of his collarbone, the curve of his Adam’s Apple. And then your hands rest on his face. And they’re softer than his will ever be, free of the marks of his childhood and his days burning to quieten the noise in his head. Your hand curves against his cheek and he wonders if you can feel his heart beating as heavily as it is. 

Your fingers brush under his eyes. The small patch of purple skin that rounds them, like ever present eye bags. 

“Your eyelashes are so pretty. So long. I’m jealous.” You murmur.

Dabi doesn’t reply. He doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. 

And then you look at his lips again. Then back up at his eyes. And you look at him with so much emotion that he wants to gouge his own eyes out so he never has to think about it again. Never has to see you looking at him so tenderly. And when you lean forward, just that bit more, hand still on his face, he takes a breath. 

And then your phone rings, and the moment is shattered. You curse under your breath, fumbling around for your phone. You smile sheepishly as you brandish it at him.

“I’m sorry. It’s my mum. Give me a second.”

The two of you don’t meet at the window again. Dabi falls asleep to the sound of your voice in the next room.

He wishes you were horrible. Wishes you were annoying, or ugly, or maybe Endeavour’s number one fan. Instead you’re not. You’re funny and you’re a good cook. You’re fucking stupid for letting him into your life. You’re so kind. You start bookmarking the parts you think he’d like in the books you leave him and he wants to turn the pages to kindling. You talk to him like you actually give a shit what he has to say. Like you give a shit about him.

Dabi wants to leave a mark on you like you’ve left one on him. Because he’s seen the pictures hung around your house and you’re loved. You have your people, you have a place. You don’t need him. But Dabi? He hadn’t been to the league in however many weeks, and he hadn’t heard a peep. Nobody cares about him. Nobody has his picture up in their room. Dabi could’ve bled out in your driveway all that time ago and nobody would give two shits. 

He wants someone to give two shits about him. He wants you to give two shits about him. And it’s a thought that keeps Dabi up every night. Legs still impossibly too long for the couch, as all he can think about is how you’ve ruined him. You’re too fucking good for him. And he knows you’ll soon realise that. 

That’s why he leaves.

Dabi doesn’t know what you expected. That he’d stay? That you’d live together like this forever? He’s fucking realistic. He knows this goes nowhere. There’s a blue collar prick working in some construction site you’ll end up with one day. A man who you can introduce to your parents, one who won’t stain your carpets with his blood, who you can hang up on your walls.

Dabi takes nothing except for the clothes on his back. He waits until he knows you're asleep on those ugly pink sheets and he slips out silently. And he doesn’t look back as he walks away, as the sounds of life hit him properly for the first time in forever. He doesn’t look down at the front porch where he’d almost died, not at the flowers he’d destroyed when he’d collapsed on top of them.

He leaves before he can destroy everything else. Before he destroys you. You and your soft hands and your piercing gaze. He hates you. He hates you so fucking much he feels flames licking at his clothes at just the thought of you.

When he makes his way back to the league, nobody says much of anything. He stalks his way back to his own room. There’s no pictures hung up on the walls. It’s unbearingly small and it feels so lifeless. He lays down on a bed that fits him perfectly. Digs in his pockets for your stupid fucking rock, the same colour as his eyes, that you had hidden in that drawer. 

Dabi throws it across the room. He watches it hit the wall, skid under his dresser. He leaves it there.

——————————————————————-

yo ah really thought u could fix him 🤣🤣 I’ve been too nice to u guys recently so I had to mix in some angst 🙏 this is much longer than usual so I hope u like!

btw recently every title of the fic is based on the song I listen to while I write it so I highly recommend listening to it while u read these :P

I have been posting an INSANE. Amount. Like I think I posted once a day all last week and it’s all been about Dabi 😭😭 I’m very busy this week, so I fear my streak might be lost

lemme know if u want a pt 2!

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

Tags: Angst, Found Family, Dark Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy Drama, Unreliable Narrators.

Warnings: Body Horror, Mentions of Emotional Neglect, Pregnancy Complications, Nightmare Imagery.

A/N: The mystery Hunk is finally here! We’re diving headfirst into the start of an alternate ending I had previously intended for this fic mid first scene, so buckle up. I promised this chapter wouldn’t have funny bits, but apparently, Mystery Hunk had other plans. Also, the husbands will be getting an earful of their own shit. If you’re here for cursed energy-infused pregnancy drama and Mystery Hunk stealing hearts with his black cat husband energy while side-eyeing Karens, you’re in the right place, and yes, he’s stealing the spotlight unapologetically. Let me know in the comments: Is he the best worst fake husband ever?

Previous Chapter 4 - The Gravity of Running (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 5 - Something Soft, Something Sharp

You didn’t even have time to react before his hand snaked around your leg. The two of them dragged you out of your hiding spot, your thrashing limbs no match for their combined strength.

They had found you.

“Running away doesn’t suit you,” Gojo said, his tone mocking, dangerous.

You glared at him, removing the scarf from your mouth, your movements jerky, your hands trembling as you shoved both their hands off you. “Don’t touch me.” You tried to stand.

The effort was futile—your legs buckled, and you sank back down. Pain radiated from your swollen belly, grotesque.

Their gazes dropped to your stomach, the sheer size of it impossible to ignore, finally noticing what you’d been trying to hide.

Even at just five and a half months, your uterus had already distended to a grotesque parody of its former shape. The two tornadoes brewing inside you made you look eight months pregnant, their relentless growth stretching your abdominal wall to its limits. Your stomach bulged outward, a taut and swollen orb that seemed to strain against the confines of your skin, as if the very fabric of your body was being slowly, inexorably torn apart from the inside out.

Nanami’s eyes widened. “You’re…”

Gojo’s expression cracked, his six eyes glowing faintly as they locked onto your swollen stomach. “You’re pregnant.”

The twins squirmed beneath their stares, sending sharp jolts of pain through your abdomen. You bit your lip, refusing to show weakness, to clutch your belly, even as your body betrayed you.

You didn’t dignify their obvious revelation with a response, focusing instead on pulling yourself upright. Every attempt to rise felt monumental, the strain making your head swim, but you managed to straighten up, your breathing ragged. Their awkward, hesitant hands reached toward you, only for you to glare them down.

They stood there, helpless, as you hobbled past them toward the living room. Each step felt like dragging yourself uphill in a storm, the strain making your vision blur. By the time you reached the couch, you were shaking so badly that you had to clutch the back of a chair for balance. Lowering yourself onto the cushions was its own Herculean task, the pain so intense you had to bite back a scream. Your hand moved instinctively to your belly, rubbing slow, trembling circles over the taut, aching skin.

You spoke low but firm, “Leave.”

“We’re not leaving,” Nanami replied, his voice firm but strained, his face a storm of conflict. “You’re pregnant, my love. You didn’t even tell us.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and humorless. “What’s there to tell? It’s just a medical condition, right?”

“At least lie better,” Gojo said, his tone mocking as his eyes lingered on your stomach, then continued, “Although I thought you had had a hysterectomy?”

Nanami’s hand twitched; his jaw tightened at Gojo’s casual demeanor. “Don’t.”

Your anger flared, the months of humiliation and abandonment clawing their way to the surface. “Don’t what? Diminish it? You mean like you two diminished me?”

You had deduced earlier that Gojo’s RCT might have detected your lack of a uterus and classified it as an error, then corrected the said error. Or perhaps it was Nanami’s RCT’s doing, considering he could now heal himself and was immune to attacks like fire since becoming a special grade. Although as far as you knew they couldn’t heal people but it might have changed when they would have been inside you. You didn’t care to find out any more, and you certainly wouldn’t let them in on it.

The words hit like a slap, the air between you crackling with tension.

“It’s none of your business,” you spat, your voice shaking with rage.

“None of our business?” Nanami’s voice was low, his usual calm cracking. “We’re your—”

“You’re nothing to me anymore,” you interrupted, your tone icy. “You made sure of that.”

“That’s not true,” Gojo flinched as if struck, his voice breaking in a way like it was about him, making you hate him more. “We—”

“You abandoned me!” The words tore from your chest before you could stop them. “You left me alone for months! You laughed, you fucked each other, then posted all your OMG-I’m-so-in-love photos online for my employees to stare at and give me looks of sympathy. While... while I sat there and died inside!”

“You left without telling us!” Gojo’s voice rose, desperation creeping into his tone.

“And you didn’t notice for six weeks!” You yelled, your voice breaking. “You were too busy fucking each other to even see me! I could have been tortured, raped, killed and buried long ago with evidence wiped, but you both were too busy fucking each other to see me!”

Gojo’s expression twisted, the pain in his eyes cutting deeper than any accusation. “We didn’t know how to reach you. We thought you needed space.”

“Space?” You laughed again, the sound hollow. “You gave me space to suffocate. 

Nanami visibly recoiled, guilt carving deep lines into his face. “We made a mistake—”

“Mistake?” You cut him off, your voice cracking under the weight of your fury. “Mistakes don’t last for months. Mistakes don’t make someone feel so invisible they disappear. Mistakes don’t force someone to flee halfway across the world just to fucking breathe! You think I’ll forgive you just because you decided to find me now?” You huffed and continued, “Well, guess what? I learned to live without you two a long time before I left, so why don’t you both go fuck each other some more and leave me alone!”

Gojo spoke softly, inching to touch you. “We’re here. We care about you.”

“Care?” You laughed bitterly, tears spilling down your cheeks. “You humiliated me. Your stunt at my office nearly destroyed everything I’ve built. Do you think anyone respects a CEO whose husbands storm her building and beat up her employees?”

Nanami’s gaze dropped to the floor, his fists clenching at his sides. Gojo opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak.

“And let’s not forget the internet is a circus, and you’re the clowns.,” you hissed, your voice shaking, ears burning with humiliation. “I’m being dragged into the spotlight for something I never wanted public. All because of you. They’re calling me a sexual deviant and undermining everything I have ever done while simultaneously thirsting over you two, because, of course, men don’t get the same treatment. #TwoHolesForAReason is still trending. What the actual fuck, Nanami? You too?”

Your voice trembled with a mix of anger and despair, and your breathing grew heavier, each word feeling like a weight pressing down on your chest. The injustice of it all clawed at you, the betrayal stinging sharper than any physical wound. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly powerless as the world turned your life into a spectacle, and the very people you loved were at the center of it.

Nanami’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with a mix of anger and sorrow. “We were wrong. We should have been there for you. We should have…” He trailed off, unable to find the words.”

You could see the guilt etched on their faces, the way they shifted uncomfortably, as if your words were a physical weight pressing down on them.

“Tell me,” you said, your voice low and trembling, “did you even think about me when you were together? Did I ever cross your minds?”

Gojo opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, he looked at Nanami, a silent plea for understanding passing between them, but Nanami kept staring at your stomach. The moment stretched, and you could feel the desperation radiating from them, but it only fueled your anger.

“Don’t look at him,” you snapped, your voice sharp. “You both made this choice together. You both decided I was expendable.” The image of Gojo grabbing Nanami’s pecks mid-fight at your company came to your mind, and you resisted the urge to bash his head in.

Nanami’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining from him. “We were selfish,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. 

Gojocut him off, his hands trembling like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. “We love you.”

“You love each other,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, breaking. “And I was just... there. An afterthought. An inconvenience.”

Silence.

Nanami stepped closer, his hand reaching out instinctively, but you shrank further. “Please,” he said softly. “Let us help.”

Gojo stepped forward, his hands outstretched, but you recoiled, the instinct to protect yourself overwhelming. “Don’t,” you warned, your voice trembling. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

The hurt in his eyes was almost unbearable, but you couldn’t allow yourself to feel sympathy. Not now. Not when the wounds were still fresh, still bleeding.

“Just go,” you said, your voice breaking. “Just leave me alone.”

Nanami’s face fell, the weight of your words crashing down on him. “We can’t just walk away,” he said, desperation creeping into his tone. “We love you. We want to be here for you. And the babies.”

You wrapped your arms protectively around your belly, your body trembling from the effort of holding yourself upright, the weight of their presence suffocating. “I don’t need you. We don’t need you.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, betraying the pain you’d tried so hard to hide.

The finality of your words made them both freeze, their faces pale and stricken.

You turned your face away, unwilling to look at them any longer. The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of your ragged breathing.

(alt ending 1.1)

“You heard her.”

The voice from the doorway made you freeze.

Sukuna leaned against the frame, arms crossed, his tattoos stark against his pale skin. His grin was sharp, dangerous, and entirely out of place in your tiny apartment.

“And who the hell are you?” Gojo snapped, his six eyes narrowing as he turned to face the intruder.

Sukuna’s smirk widened. “None of your concern. But unlike you two, I don’t barge into her life uninvited.”

Nanami stepped forward, his gaze calculating. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“It does when you’re upsetting her,” Sukuna said, his tone light but edged with menace. His crimson eyes flicked to you, softening slightly. “You good, princess?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m fine. Just… please get them out of here, Ryo.”

The way you said his name weakly made Sukuna straighten, his grin turning feral as he rolled his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight. “You heard her. Time to go.”

Gojo stepped toward Sukuna, his grin tight, his energy shifting. “You think you can just waltz in here and—”

Sukuna cut him off by closing the gap in a single step, towering over him. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Try me, pretty boy.”

Nanami's shoulders squared, his gaze calculating. “Leave. This doesn’t concern you.”

Sukuna’s eyes flicked between them, his lips quirking into a smirk. “I’m here because she wants you out. Seems like it’s very much my concern.”

Gojo rolled his shoulders, the first hints of tension seeping into his movements. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, pal. She’s our wife. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Both your wife. Eww, Sukuna grimaced.

Before Sukuna could continue berating them, Nanami moved. His fist lashed out, aimed for Sukuna’s jaw.

Sukuna caught it with an open palm, the force reverberating through the room.

“Oh, we’re doing this,” Sukuna said, voice maniacal, before pushing Nanami’s fist just enough to force him to step back.

Gojo lunged, his speed almost imperceptible, but Sukuna sidestepped him lazily, his movements fluid. “Do you two always resort to fists first?”

“Do you always waltz into someone else’s business uninvited?” Nanami countered, already throwing another strike.

You tried to rise, your voice strained. “Stop—”

Your attempt was cut off by a sharp, tearing pain in your abdomen. A cry escaped your lips as your hands instinctively cradled your belly.

Nanami faltered mid-punch, his head snapping toward you. “She’s in pain. Gojo, stop!”

Gojo hesitated, his fists lowering as he glanced back at you. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

You couldn’t answer, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Sukuna moved before either of them could, crossing the room in a few steps. He knelt in front of you, his large hand resting gently on your knee.

“May I?” He asked, his voice calm.

You nodded weakly, unable to muster the energy to speak.

Sukuna’s hand moved to your belly, his palm warm against the strained skin. A faint glow surrounded his fingers as his RCT began to work. The relief was almost immediate, the tightness easing as the twins’ restless movements stilled.

Nanami stepped towards you, his fists clenched. “Get your hands off her.”

Sukuna didn’t look up, his focus entirely on you. “She needs this. Or would you rather let her suffer while you two throw tantrums?”

Gojo bristled, his hands twitching at his sides. “I don’t trust you.”

“Good,” Sukuna replied smoothly, his tone almost mocking. “I wouldn’t trust me either. But I’m not the one who left her to deal with this alone.”

That struck a nerve.

You let out a shaky breath, your body finally relaxing as Sukuna pulled his hand away. “Better?” he asked, his gaze meeting yours.

You nodded, tears stinging your eyes.

Sukuna stood, his movements unhurried as he turned to face the two men. “She’s carrying enough weight without you two adding to it. If you really care about her, prove it by doing something useful. Like fucking off.”

The tension in the room was palpable as Gojo and Nanami glared at him, their fists tightening at their sides.

Before Gojo could move, Nanami placed a hand on Gojo’s shoulder, pulling him back. “Enough. This isn’t good for her.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t resist.

“We’ll be back,” Nanami said, his gaze steady as it locked onto yours. His voice was low, carrying both regret and resolve.

Sukuna snorted. “Not if I can help it.”

Without another word, they turned and left.

Once the door clicked shut, the silence rushed in, oppressive and heavy.

Sukuna turned back to you, his expression softening. “You need to rest.”

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Stay?”

He smiled faintly, taking a seat next to you on the couch with respectable space between you two.

Your head swam, a sudden wave of dizziness taking hold. They were coming more frequently now, spells that left you breathless and trembling.

But before you could fall off the couch on your head, Sukuna was there, one of his large, calloused hands wrapping securely around your upper arm. The heat of his touch grounded you as he guided you carefully to the other side of the couch.

“Easy,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble. The sharp edge was still there, but muted, like a blade sheathed. “You don’t need to waste energy on those idiots.”

A weak laugh slipped past your lips as you wiped your eyes, though it sounded more like a gasp. “They’re not idiots. They’re just… pain in my ass.”

His eyebrow arched, he chuckled, the sound warm. “Could’ve fooled me. Barging in here like they own the damn place. If it were me—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, shaking your head even as your hand trembled against the couch cushion. “I don’t need more madness, Sukuna.”

His grin softened, though it didn’t lose its devil-may-care quality. “Fair enough. But you’ve gotta be smarter about this. They’re not going to stop just because you want them to.”

“I know,” you whispered, barely audible, as your hands cradled your belly. The motion was protective, almost subconscious, as you rubbed soothing circles on it.

His sharp crimson eyes followed the movement, narrowing as they settled on the curve of your stomach. “You gonna tell me the truth now?”

Your throat tightened, the walls closing in as panic tried to claw its way to the surface. “I—”

“Relax.” His voice dropped lower, almost a purr, as he leaned back against the couch. “I’m not here to judge. Just saying, if you need someone to run interference, I’m your guy.”

You blinked at him, your heart hammering as you searched his expression. “Why are you helping me?” You asked, the words trembling in the air.

His grin returned, sly and self-assured as always. “Because it pisses them off. And because I like you, princess. Not in a ‘love thy neighbor’ way, but in a ‘let me take you on a date’ way. You’ve got guts.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, shaky and wet with leftover tears but real nonetheless. “Thanks, Sukuna.”

“Anytime.” He shifted, his arm draping casually over the back of the couch, though the movement seemed deliberate, protective. “Now, what’s the plan? Because those two aren’t going to stop sniffing around just because I scared them off.”

You let your head fall back, exhaustion pulling at your limbs, heavier than ever. “I don’t know. I just need... time.”

“Then time’s what we’ll give you,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Let me handle the sorcerer boy band.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt a small flicker of hope.

-

Sukuna didn’t waste time. The same night, after Gojo and Nanami showed up, he had you telling him what you wanted packed. His demeanor calm, though his crimson eyes burned with quiet determination.

“We’ll leave at midnight,” he said, tossing your suitcase onto the bed. “New place, new names.”

You hesitated. “Sukuna, this is… too much.”

He glanced over his shoulder, his grin not unkind. “It’s not. They’re sorcerers, princess. And the strongest too, but not stronger than me.” His tone was laced with a smug confidence. “If you want to stay hidden, you don’t half-ass it.”

By dawn, you were in another country; your new apartment was upscale and screamed money, but it was cozy too. The marble floors, high ceilings, and soft leather couches were a far cry from your tiny space.

Sukuna waved off your questions about how he’d managed it all so quickly, his smirk the only answer you’d get. He had taken care of everything—paperwork, flights, even a fake backstory in case anyone asked too many questions.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” he said, tossing you the keys. “Welcome to your new life, and just enjoy the upgrade.” He lounged on your new couch, his relaxed posture a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you.

He refused to leave your side, and you didn’t argue. It was a relief to have him there, especially since you were certain they would show up eventually. Also, you needed someone around, not just for protection but also because you weren’t exactly the icon of flexpertise right now. The morning sickness and dizzy spells had become a regular part of your day, making even simple tasks feel daunting. Plus, he could help pick things up from the floor and assist you when you needed it. His RCT would also come in handy if you got sick.

The following days blurred into one another, Sukuna taking charge in ways that left you both grateful and unsettled. He was relentless, managing everything from your meals to your prenatal vitamins.

One day he dragged you somewhere the sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the bustling streets as Sukuna pulled you along, his grip firm yet gentle around your arm. You could feel the heat radiating from the pavement, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers and street food. It was a stark contrast to the anxiety swirling in your chest.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, glancing around nervously. The last thing you wanted was to run into someone who recognized you from the controversy that had followed you like a shadow. The thought of being exposed made your stomach churn, the twins inside you shifting restlessly in response to your unease.

Sukuna paused, turning to face you, his crimson eyes piercing yet reassuring. “Trust me. No one will recognize you here.” He flashed a grin, the kind that made your heart race despite the worry gnawing at you. “Besides, I’ll be your husband today. No one will question us.”

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. “Husband? What if someone asks questions?”

“Then I’ll just tell them I’m the luckiest man alive,” he replied smoothly, his tone playful. “And you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And if anyone gets too nosy, they’ll be disposed off.”

You thought he was just joking at the last bit, but little did you know he was serious.

You couldn’t help but smile at his bravado, even as a flutter of anxiety twisted in your stomach. “You really think this is a good idea?”

“Absolutely,” he said, resuming his pace, his hand still firmly guiding you by the arm. “You need to get out, meet other birthgivers, and enjoy this experience. It’s good for you and the brats.”

As you approached the community center, the sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air, mingling with the soft strumming of a guitar. The vibrant colors of the decorations and the cheerful atmosphere were infectious, but your nerves still danced beneath the surface.

Sukuna opened the door for you, his demeanor shifting to one of quiet authority as he ushered you inside. The room was filled with expectant mothers, some cradling their bellies, others bouncing babies in their arms, some even with their partners. You felt a pang of envy at their ease, their confidence radiating like the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“See? Just regular people,” Sukuna said, his voice low and steady as he scanned the room. “You’ll fit right in.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “What if someone recognizes me?”

“Your mask won’t let them. And if someone does recognize you, I’ll tell them you just look like the CEO, but you have been my wife and have never been to Japan,” he replied, his tone light but firm. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll make sure they forget they ever saw you.”

His confidence was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly as he led you to a circle. He settled beside you, his presence a comforting weight. As the instructor began to speak, you felt Sukuna’s hand rest on your knee, a grounding touch that eased the tension in your body.

After a brief round of introductions, the instructor clapped her hands, her voice that chipper mix of optimism and oblivion. “Alright, everyone, before we start our poses, let’s share a bit about our experiences as parents! Who’d like to go first?”

Sukuna leaned back, arms draped lazily over his knees, his smirk sharp enough to slice through the tension. “I’ll go,” he said, his tone dripping with casual confidence. “So there we were—me and my lovely wife—on a little trip to the beach. You know, just a casual day in the sun.”

The other mothers leaned in, their eyes sparkling with interest, while their husbands shot daggers at Sukuna, their expressions a mix of envy and irritation. He was tall, muscular, and exuded an effortless charm that made him the center of attention. You could practically feel the heat radiating from the glares directed at him, but Sukuna seemed unfazed, basking in the admiration like a cat in a sunbeam.

“Of course, I had to carry her to the water,” he continued, gesturing dramatically. “She was so heavy with those twins, I thought I might need a forklift!” Laughter erupted from the mothers, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

Turning back to you, his expression triumphant. “So, I heroically carried her through the waves, and she screamed like a banshee when the water hit her feet.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation washing over you. “I did not scream like a banshee!” you protested, but the laughter bubbling up made it hard to keep a straight face.

“Sure you did,” he teased, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And I was the brave knight saving you from the evil ocean.”

“Look at him,” one mother whispered to her friend, her eyes sparkling. “He’s like a model or something!”

“Right? And he’s so sweet with her,” her friend replied, glancing at you with a mix of admiration and envy.

Soft giggles bubbled through the room, accompanied by fluttering lashes and whispers. Sukuna exuded a kind of dangerous magnetism.

One mom whispered too loudly, “He’s like... a walking romance novel,” her husband coughing pointedly beside her.

Sukuna caught the comment and scowled. “Eyes up front, lady,” he muttered under his breath, annoyed but not surprised. When another woman blatantly winked, he leaned closer to you, slipping an arm around your waist with exaggerated intimacy. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” he cooed, voice low enough for only you to hear. “These vultures are giving me a headache.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved him off.

The instructor spoke. “Okay! Let’s get into couples’ poses. First, the trust fall!”

Sukuna stood, cracking his neck like he was prepping for a fight. You shot him a warning glance. “Don’t drop me.”

He smirked. “No promises.”

As you leaned back, trusting his arms to catch you, another mom muttered something about his “strong, capable hands.” Sukuna sighed, catching you effortlessly before twirling you upright with unnecessary flair. “Keep staring, and I might start charging admission,” he called out, his voice a mix of annoyance and smugness.

“I got one more.” He didn’t wait for approval, because, of course, he didn’t. “So there we were, me and my beloved wife”—his crimson eyes flicked to you with a smirk that screamed chaos—“on a romantic hike in the wilderness. Out of nowhere, she decides to wrestle a goat because it wouldn’t let her pet it.”

The room froze. A couple of moms paused mid-stretch, their jaws dropping like they’d just heard the start of a soap opera. The dads exchanged side-eyes that translated roughly to, Who the hell is this guy?

“And, naturally,” Sukuna continued, his voice syrupy with faux affection, “I couldn’t let her handle it alone. She’s fearless, sure, but not exactly built for a one-on-one with livestock.”

“Oh my god,” you hissed under your breath, digging your nails into your mat. “Stop lying.”

Sukuna ignored you, gesturing dramatically like he was recounting a battle for survival. “So I stepped in, took down the goat, and carried her—my delicate, fragile wife—back to safety.” His grin widened, exposing sharp canines. “All in a day’s work.”

A collective sigh swept through the room, a mix of disbelief and blatant swooning. One mom muttered, “That’s so... romantic.” Another just stared, eyes tracing the veins in his forearms like she was drafting fan fiction in real time.

The dads? All glaring, but none of them dared to say a word. Sukuna, at 6’6” with biceps that looked capable of cracking skulls, radiated the kind of energy that said, Try me. I dare you.

“Alright, Romeo,” you muttered, elbowing him. “Enough.”

Before he could retort, a woman in leopard print, Karen—yes, she had the haircut and everything—stood up, arms crossed and nose wrinkled like she smelled bullshit.

“Excuse me,” she said, voice whiney, “but that story sounds ridiculous. And frankly, this is a yoga class, not open mic night.”

Sukuna turned his head slowly, like a predator catching the scent of fresh prey. “Oh? Didn’t realize we had a fact-checker in the room.”

Karen puffed up, undeterred. “I just think it’s important to set a good example for our kids. You’re just trying to make yourself look good in front of all these women. What kind of husband are you, anyway? And lying—”

“Lying?” Sukuna interrupted, his tone dangerously sweet. “I don’t lie, sweetheart. Some of us just have a sense of humor. You want proof? I’ll take you hiking. Maybe you’ll end up wrestling a goat too.”

Karen crossed her arms with a smug smile on her face and leaned in with a condescending tone. “So, what exactly makes you think you’re qualified to be a husband? I mean, can you even handle a simple pregnancy without making a joke out of it?”

Sukuna’s voice dripped with mock sincerity. “You’re absolutely right. I’m a terrible husband. I should’ve let her handle the goat alone, huh? Really prove her mettle.” His smile dropped as he deadpanned, “Maybe next time, I’ll wrestle your husband instead.”

The room went silent, save for a muffled snort from someone in the back. Karen’s husband, who had been trying to become one with the floor, suddenly found the need to tie his shoelaces.

“Well, no real husband would let his wife wrestle a goat. And clearly, this yoga class is for serious parents, not... posers. Some of us treat the miracle of life with the respect it deserves. I mean, she probably got pregnant out of wedlock, and you’re probably the chump who got stuck with it,” she spat, her eyes narrowing as she regarded you with open disdain.

You opened your mouth to retort, but Sukuna stood up, towering over her with an intimidating presence. The air crackled with tension as he leaned in slightly, his voice low and menacing.

“For the final time, I. AM. HER. HUSBAND. The kind who’s here to support his wife, unlike some people,” he said, his tone dripping with a dangerous edge. The room fell silent, the other husbands shifting uncomfortably, their glares intensifying as they sensed the storm brewing.

“Back off, lady,” one of the husbands muttered, clearly not wanting to get involved but unable to resist the urge to defend his pregnant wife.

Karen’s husband made a strangled noise, somewhere between a cough and a plea for help. Sukuna glanced at him, sizing him up like he was calculating the time it’d take to fold him into a yoga block. “You good over there, champ?”

The instructor, visibly sweating, clapped her hands again. “Okay, time for the next pose, the Partner Downward Dog! Let’s channel all that energy into our health!”

Sukuna groaned, muttering under his breath, “This woman and her yoga cult...” He shot a glance at you, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. “You good to do this, or do I have to carry you like the delicate little penguin you are?”

“I’m fine,” you shot back, already struggling to maneuver your cumbersome body into position. Your stomach felt stretched beyond reason, and every movement brought a new kind of discomfort.

Sukuna was behind you in an instant, his large hands steadying your hips. His touch was firm but not rough, a quiet kind of reassurance he’d never acknowledge. “Alright, lean forward. I’ve got you.”

You could feel his gaze linger—not on the curve of your belly but lower. “Are you ogling my ass?”

“Shut up and focus on not falling,” he grumbled, though his smirk gave him away.

The instructor clapped again, her forced cheerfulness grating. “Great job, everyone! Now, onto the partner wheelbarrow pose.” 

You groaned, already dreading it. Sukuna, however, was unfazed. He easily lifted your legs, holding you steady as you awkwardly braced your arms on the mat.

Karen, the reigning queen of unsolicited advice, determined to assert dominance. “You’re supposed to engage your core more,” she said, her voice cutting through the room like nails on a chalkboard.

Sukuna didn’t even glance at her. “You’re supposed to shut up, Karen.”

She gasped. “My name is not…How dare you—”

“Don’t care.” Sukuna set you down and stood, cracking his knuckles. “Focus on your own yoga or let’s take this outside, or are you gonna send your husband?”

Karen sputtered, her face turning red as her husband tugged nervously at her sleeve. Now actively sweating. “Uh, babe, maybe let it go.”

Karen turned on him. “Are you scared of him?!”

“...Yes.”

“Don’t you start!” She snapped on him.

“...Okay.” He shrank back, clearly regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment.

Meanwhile, the instructor was frantically flipping through her clipboard. “Uh, next pose! Let’s try... uh, partner flying boat!”

Sukuna raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “Flying what now?”

“Just lift me,” you muttered, too tired to argue.

With an exaggerated sigh, he grabbed your hands and hoisted you into the air. The ease with which he balanced you on his feet was almost insulting. He looked up at you, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “See? I’m a natural.”

“You’re a show-off,” you grumbled, though the slight flutter in your chest betrayed you.

Behind you, Karen tripped over her mat again because her husband was clumsy, landing face-first with a muffled shriek.

Sukuna grinned, all teeth. “Careful, Karen. Wouldn’t want your husband to have to wrestle me over that.”

Her husband? Already halfway out the door.

He didn’t stop there. With unnecessary flair, he spun you around, earning gasps from the other moms. “He’s so strong,” one whispered, her voice tinged with awe.

“I can hear you,” Sukuna said sharply, his glare cutting through the room like a knife. “Eyes off.”

The mom in question flushed, looking away quickly. Even Karen seemed momentarily stunned into silence.

When Sukuna finally set you down, his hands lingered on your arms, steadying you. “Alright, you’re done for today,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“You don’t get to decide that,” you protested weakly, already too exhausted to stand.

“I just did,” he shot back, his voice softer than usual as he guided you to sit. His attention was back on you, the rest of the room forgotten. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, leaning against him. Despite his gruffness, you couldn’t deny the safety his presence brought.

Throughout the class, Sukuna was incredibly attentive, fetching water for you whenever you needed it and ensuring you stayed focused. You found yourself laughing openly after months, his unhinged stories and sassy comments bringing a lightness to the atmosphere. He reminded you of Megumi’s dad from years ago, the way he openly showed affection to Megumi’s mom. You couldn’t help but wonder how they were doing after his father passed away long before you reconnected with Megumi in college. The last you heard, his father had left a substantial sum to his mom to start their security solutions business, which Megumi had been managing while also pursuing his psychology degree.

He was quite a few years younger than you, and despite the years of no contact, he had come through for you when you needed him. But you couldn’t reach him now; he had a knack for tracking people down like his father. You remembered Megumi’s frustration when you had to leave your home country to marry the two men. He had been openly against your decision ever since he met them—he could warm up to Nanami, but Gojo? Marrying two men? That was a different story entirely. A wave of nostalgia washed over you as you realized how much you missed your college friends.

As you watched Sukuna’s antics, a swell of gratitude filled your heart. His unwavering support was a comforting presence, even as the reality of your situation loomed in the background.

After the class, as you stepped outside into the warm sunlight, Sukuna turned to you, a satisfied grin on his face. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You shook your head, a smile breaking through your earlier anxiety. “No, it was actually… nice.”

“Good. We’ll keep doing this,” he said, his tone resolute. “You need to enjoy this time, and I’ll make sure you do.”

As you walked back, the warmth of the sun on your skin and Sukuna’s presence beside you, you felt better. Maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to navigate this new life, one day at a time.

A couple of days later, the hum of your laptop was the only sound in the room, save for the occasional clack of your nails on the keyboard. Deadlines loomed, projects needed greenlighting, and your inbox was a battlefield of investors, board members, and department heads vying for your attention. You weren’t just the CEO of your company—you were the company. And even now, with your back aching and your feet swollen beyond recognition, you were determined to stay on top of it all.

Then, of course, Sukuna had to barge in.

“Are you seriously still working?” he drawled, leaning an arm against the door frame with that maddeningly smug look on his face.

You didn’t bother looking up. “I’m busy.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“And?”

“And you’re about to take a damn break,” he said, stalking into the room like a cat ready to knock something valuable off the table.

You scoffed, glancing at him over the rim of your blue lens glasses. “I can’t just stop working. This company doesn’t run itself.”

“Funny, I thought you hired executives for that,” he shot back, his crimson eyes narrowing.

“They still need me.”

Sukuna crossed the room in two strides, towering over you like a thundercloud. Before you could react, he reached down and unplugged your laptop with a decisive click.

“Hey!” you protested, scrambling to grab the cord, but he was faster. With infuriating ease, he tossed the power adapter onto a high shelf you had no hope of reaching in your current penguin state.

“What the hell, Sukuna?”

“Watch me,” he said, smirking. “Your job is to grow those little gremlins, not work yourself into the ground.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat. The exhaustion hit like a freight train, your body sagging into the chair as if it finally realized it had permission to rest. Your glare softened, replaced by a quiet sigh of defeat. “I can’t just... stop,” you muttered, weaker now.

“You can,” he countered, crouching to meet your eye level. His voice was softer this time, the sharp edges smoothed out. “The company will survive without you for a few months. You? Not so much if you keep this up.”

He had a point, damn him.

“I still need to make arrangements,” you mumbled, leaning back and pressing a hand to your belly. The twins kicked in response, as if to echo his sentiment.

“Then make them,” Sukuna said, standing up and pulling your ergonomic gaming chair—he had gotten you one in your fav color—away from the desk with a gentle tug. “But from the couch. And only after you’ve eaten something.”

You wanted to argue, but the idea of sinking into the cushions and delegating for once was too tempting. “Fine,” you relented, glaring half-heartedly as you stood. “But only because you’re being annoying.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, penguin.” His smirk widened as he helped you waddle toward the couch, ignoring your threats of retaliation.

And maybe, just maybe, you felt a little lighter knowing he was right there to catch you when you needed to let go.

The pregnancy itself felt alien. Your body, once familiar, now seemed foreign, stretched to the limits of what it could endure. Veins stood out like rivers on a map, and your skin itched with a ferocity that no cream could soothe. At night, under dim lights, you swore you saw the twins moving just beneath the surface, shapes pressing against your belly as if testing the boundaries of their world.

But when you spoke to them, the chaos stilled. Your voice, soft and uncertain, seemed to reach them in a way nothing else could. “You’re being good today,” you murmured one evening, your hand rubbing olive oil on the tight curve of your stomach. The twins stirred beneath your touch, a gentle nudge pressing against your palm as though answering your unspoken thoughts. Tears welled in your eyes as a fragile smile tugged at your lips. You blinked them away.

From the doorway, Sukuna watched, arms crossed and face unreadable. His presence was always imposing, even when he wasn’t trying to be, but tonight there was something almost tentative about the way he lingered.

“They listen to you,” he said finally, his tone an odd mix of observation and something softer, almost vulnerable.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. The moment felt too delicate to break with words.

Sukuna pushed off the doorframe, his steps heavy but measured as he crossed the room. He reached for the blanket draped over the back of the chair, shaking it out with a flick of his wrist before tucking it carefully over you. His hands moved with an ease that belied his usual brashness, adjusting the pregnancy pillows he’d insisted on buying—three of them, because one wasn’t enough, apparently.

You watched him as he worked, the sharp lines of his face softened by the dim light. He paused when he caught you staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said, the corner of your mouth quirking up.

He snorted, clearly not buying it, but didn’t press. Instead, he stepped back, as if retreating to a safe distance.

“Sukuna,” you said suddenly, your voice breaking the quiet.

He stopped, half-turned toward the door.

“Do you want to feel them?” You gestured to your belly, your voice laced with genuine curiosity.

His reaction was instant and comically transparent. His shoulders stiffened, and his crimson eyes darted to your stomach like it might explode. “What? No. Why would I want to do that?”

You tilted your head, your smile turning sly. “Because they’re your kids, oh faux husband?”

“They’re your kids,” he shot back, his voice gruff, but the tips of his ears betrayed him, turning a faint shade of pink.

You laughed, low and amused. “You’re scared.”

“Am not,” he snapped, but the defensive edge in his tone only confirmed it.

You pressed, grinning now. “Big bad Sukuna, terrified of a couple of unborn gremlins?”

He glared, sulking. “I’m not scared. I just... don’t see the point.”

“Right.” You patted the space next to you on the bed. “Come on. They won’t bite.”

He hesitated, looking like you’d asked him to stick his hand into a nest of vipers. But after a moment, he moved closer, his movements awkward and deliberate, like he was approaching a wild animal.

“Here,” you said, taking his hand and placing it gently on your ginormous stomach. His palm was warm and rough against your skin, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

Soon, a tiny kick met his hand, tentative but unmistakable.

Sukuna froze. His eyes widened just a fraction, the briefest flicker of something raw and unguarded crossing his face.

“They’re saying hi,” you teased, your voice soft.

He pulled his hand back like he’d been burned, stuffing it into his pocket and muttering, “Yeah, well, tell them to keep it down.”

You laughed again, a sound that filled the room and made his scowl deepen. But there was no mistaking the way his gaze lingered on you, softer now, as if the weight of the moment had settled somewhere he desperately wanted to acknowledge.

After ensuring you were comfortable, he retreated to his usual spot in the next room. You heard the creak of his bed as he settled in, close enough to hear you if you called out. The bed wasn’t weak; he was just a giant sequoia tree.

Later that night, when the nightmares came—vivid and merciless—you woke trembling; the images of Gojo’s cold eyes and Nanami’s unforgiving hands lingered, still fresh in your mind, as though they were still in the room. Sukuna was there before you could fully sit up, his hands steady on your shoulders.

“Breathe,” he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind.

When your breaths came shallow and quick, he didn’t leave. Instead, he sat with you, his presence solid and grounding as the panic ebbed.

“You’re fine,” he said, his tone gruff but edged with a care he’d never admit. “I’ve got you.”

And he did. Even when his hands trembled just the faintest bit from exhaustion, you knew he wouldn’t let go. You noticed his long nails were filed down now.

His care was relentless, though not without its abrasive edges. He harassed you to eat, to drink water, to rest. When you tried to push back, his response was always the same: “Argue all you want, princess, but I’m not going anywhere.”

And he didn’t. You felt a sense of comfort in that. Your actual husbands, the fathers of your babies, had abandoned you months ago, while this man—who had no obligations to you—loved you as easily as breathing. You could see it in the way he ensured everything was always within reach for you, even when he wasn’t around. If you asked him for water fifteen times in a night, he’d fetch it for you every single time, despite his fatigue. He’d grumble and yell, but he’d still bring it to you without fail.

He hadn’t even mentioned the date he wanted since that day; he gave you the space you needed until you were ready. He did all of this for you without asking for anything in return. Even when you felt like a human submarine, he found ways to compliment you in his own unique manner, while your husbands had long ignored your existence, even before your pregnancy. You felt desirable, but right now, you simply didn’t have the energy to reciprocate anything.

One day the air in the apartment was stifling, even with the ocean breeze teasing the edges of the balcony curtains. You leaned against the railing, letting the salt-tinged wind kiss your skin. Sukuna was out, and for a few minutes, you allowed yourself a moment to enjoy the ocean breeze, to imagine a life where your past couldn’t find you.

Then you saw them.

Gojo’s stark white hair caught the light first, gleaming like a ghost under the streetlamp’s glow. His figure was impossible to miss, a beacon of anarchy, while Nanami’s shoulders were squared, his sharp gaze cutting through the night like a blade, locking onto you with unrelenting sharpness. His arm rose, a silent gesture to Gojo, and together they moved, their silhouettes bleeding from the street into your sanctuary like shadows with intent.

You immediately grabbed your phone.

Ryo: Please come home fast.

The knock was more a warning than a courtesy. Gojo didn’t wait for permission; the door swung open with an ease that felt invasive, wrong. They stepped inside, their presence heavy, oppressive, as if the air itself recoiled from their arrival.

“You’ve been busy,” Gojo said, his voice unnervingly calm. The cocky lilt you knew so well was gone, replaced by something jagged, something that cut.

Nanami’s eyes drifted downward, catching the curve of your stomach. His brows furrowed, confusion twisting into something darker as a ripple moved beneath your skin. It wasn’t subtle—an inhuman and ugly stretch, limbs pressing outward like trapped spirits testing the walls of their cage. You cursed yourself for wearing a crop top, but nothing else fit you these days, and it was too warm here in Schelles. His gaze snapped back to your face, but the damage was done. You saw it: the revulsion, the disbelief.

The air between the three of you crackled, silent but electric. Gojo’s eyes were locked onto yours, an ocean of emotions churning beneath the surface—rage, fear, something almost resembling grief.

“What’s going on?” Nanami finally asked, his voice tight, controlled, but teetering on the edge.

Your throat burned as you swallowed, the words threatening to choke you. Still, you forced yourself to stand straighter, your nails digging crescents into your palms. “Fine. You want the truth?” Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it. “They’re Sukuna’s. I’m pregnant with his twins, and since he’s half a curse, so are they.”

The room plunged into a suffocating silence.

Gojo’s grin faltered, the carefully constructed mask he wore slipping. His hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles white. Nanami’s face was a study in restraint, but the tightness of his jaw betrayed him.

“You’re lying,” Gojo said, his voice low and icy.

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Why would I lie? You ignored me. You left me in a country where I didn’t even understand the language. Sukuna didn’t. He took care of me when you didn’t even notice I was breaking.”

“Disgusting,” Gojo spat, his words venomous.

Your vision blurred, but you refused to break. Not in front of them. Your hands trembled as you gripped the edge of the counter, the only thing keeping you upright. “Then leave. And don’t come back.”

Nanami flinched—a small, almost imperceptible movement, but enough to make your chest tighten with anger. “You expect us to believe that you… cheated?”

“I expect you to believe whatever lets you sleep at night,” you snapped, your voice trembling but resolute. “Because the truth doesn’t matter to either of you. It never did.”

Gojo’s hands shook now, the façade of control crumbling. “You think this is about us? Do you know what I’ve been through? What we’ve been through? I had to kill my best friend. Suguru—” His voice cracked.

“I don’t even know who that is,” you hissed, your anger flaring. “You’ve never mentioned him before. I don’t understand why you’d react like this over killing some long-lost friend I’ve never even heard of. You’ve spent years with Nanami—more time than you ever did with whoever that is, so for all intents and purposes, he should be your best friend. And even if you were so sad over your so-called best friend, why am I the one left to bear the brunt of your grief? What did I do to deserve this?”

You aggressively wiped the single tear that rolled down your cheek and continued, “I begged you—both of you—for any semblance of affection. I told you I was drowning, and you just... left me. You fucked each other for months while I cried myself to sleep in a corner of your penthouse, wondering why I was even there.”

Nanami stepped forward, his voice steady but strained. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it?” Your voice was a blade, sharp and unforgiving. “When I came back to confront you, you were sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms. Like I didn’t exist. Like I wasn’t your wife.”

The words landed like physical blows. Neither of them moved.

“I’m sorry,” Gojo whispered, the words fragile, brittle.

You shook your head, tears burning tracks down your cheeks. “Sorry doesn’t fix this. Sorry doesn’t erase what you did. You don’t deserve forgiveness. And even if I could forgive you, I will never forget the night I became an intruder in my own marriage.”

Nanami reached out, his hand hovering near your arm, but you recoiled, crossing your arms protectively over your stomach. “Don’t. You don’t get to touch me!”

Gojo’s voice dropped, desperation leaking through the cracks. “We didn’t know you were pregnant.”

“Of course you didn’t,” you said, your voice shaking with fury. “You didn’t care enough to notice. Even with your six eyes and your oh-so-great curse signature reading abilities you always bragged about, you didn’t.”

When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet but unyielding. “Leave. Sukuna will send over the divorce papers. Sign them and don’t come back.”

They hesitated, their expressions unreadable, but when you pointed toward the door, they obeyed. The sound of it slamming shut echoed through the apartment, leaving you trembling in its wake.

It had to be this way if you were to keep your babies safe, away from the dangers of the sorcery world. You needed to ensure that no one could take them from you.

A few minutes later, Sukuna returned. Finding the front lock broken, he rushed inside, his presence filling the space with a warmth you hadn’t realized you needed until now. He took one look at your tear-streaked face and the shattered pieces of your resolve and said nothing. Instead, he crossed the room, his arms enveloping you in a hug, firm and grounding.

“They were here,” he stated, not asked.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “I told them the twins are yours; I’m sorry nothing came to mind.”

He tilted his head, his crimson eyes studying you. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of them when they come back.”

“They won’t,” you said, your voice hardening. “They don’t deserve to know them. Or me.”

Sukuna smirked, but it wasn’t mocking. “Good.”

And when he sighed, content, for the first time in a long time, you truly felt that you were safe.

You peered up at him.

Sukuna smirked, his arms still holding you close. “Told you I’d take care of you, princess.”

But even as you closed your eyes, the weight of your choices pressed down on you, heavier than ever.

-

The hum of the plane’s engines was a constant, hollow noise, drowning out the world outside. The cabin was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a reading light over Nanami’s seat. He stared blankly at the leather-bound hardcover of The Myth of Sisyphus in his lap, its pages untouched. Beside him, Gojo leaned against the window, his long legs stretched out in the aisle, his eyes obscured by the darkened lenses of his sunglasses.

Neither of them had spoken since takeoff. The silence between them was heavy, a chasm filled with unspoken truths and raw, festering wounds.

“She’s lying,” Gojo said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, like speaking it aloud would make it more real. “The twins… they’re ours.”

Nanami didn’t respond immediately. He flipped the book closed and placed it on the tray table in front of him, his movements deliberate, mechanical. “I know.”

Gojo let out a hollow laugh, pressing his knuckles against his lips. “She doesn’t understand these things because she can’t see them. Those… those legs under her skin.” His voice cracked, and he turned his head toward the window, the faint reflection of his face pale and gaunt. “That’s not Sukuna’s cursed energy. One of them is mine, and one is yours.”

Nanami’s hands gripped the armrests until his knuckles turned white. “It doesn’t matter.”

Gojo turned to look at him, his sunglasses sliding down his nose enough to reveal his bloodshot eyes. “How can you say that? They’re our kids, Kento. She—she’s going to raise them with him.”

Nanami closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, as if releasing the air from his lungs could somehow ease the ache in his chest. The weight of his thoughts pressed down on him, a suffocating reminder of the choices they had made and the consequences that followed. “And what would we offer them, Satoru? A life filled with curses? A life of blood and death?” His voice trembled slightly, betraying the turmoil within. “She’s better off with him, away from us.”

He opened his eyes, staring blankly at the seat in front of him, as if the fabric could somehow absorb his pain. “I’ve looked into him—he abandoned sorcery long ago and holds no loyalty to its hierarchy. He’s free from the chains that bind us, free from the expectations and the endless cycle of violence that defines our lives. He will prioritize her, unlike us, always off on missions with no guarantee of return.” The bitterness in his tone deepened, each word laced with regret. “He will be there for her, keeping her and the kids safe.”

Nanami’s mind raced with images of what could have been—a life untainted by the darkness of their world, where laughter replaced the echoes of sorrow and love flourished without the shadow of fear. He could almost see you smile, the warmth of your presence, and the innocence of their children, untouched by the burdens they carried. But that vision felt like a distant dream, slipping further away with each passing moment.

“Do you think we could have given them that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the thought aloud would make it more real. “A chance at a normal life, free from the horrors we’ve faced? We’ve only ever known how to fight, how to survive. What kind of future is that for them?”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of unspoken truths and the haunting realization that they had failed not just you, but the very lives they had hoped to protect. Nanami’s heart ached with the knowledge that their choices had led them to this moment, a crossroads where love and duty collided, leaving only fragments of what could have been.

Gojo slammed a fist against the armrest, the sound startling in the quiet cabin. “We didn’t even fight for her. Not once. We just… let her slip away. What the hell is wrong with us?”

 The weight of Nanami's eyes settling heavily on Gojo. “We broke her, Satoru. Piece by piece, until there was nothing left of the woman we claimed to love.” His voice was steady, but his words were sharp enough to cut. “And now she’s gone.”

Gojo’s head dropped into his hands, his shoulders trembling. “I thought… I thought I was doing what I had to. After Suguru, after everything, I just—” He choked on his words, his breath hitching. “I couldn’t lose you too. And I did. I lost both of you.”

Nanami’s gaze dropped to the floor, his voice quieter now. “She begged us to see her. To hear her. And we didn’t.”

Gojo dragged a hand down his face, the stubble on his jaw rasping against his palm. “She looked at me like I was a stranger, Kento. Like I wasn’t even human. Like she was scared of me.”

“She had every right to,” Nanami said, his voice carrying a weight of finality. “We left her alone. We left her angry, grieving, and drowning; we made her feel like she didn’t belong in her own home. Then we chased her relentlessly from one country to another. Any woman, pregnant or not, would be scared.”

Gojo’s laugh was bitter, devoid of humor.

The silence returned, heavier now, punctuated only by the muffled sound of Gojo’s uneven breathing. Nanami sat motionless, his hands resting limply on his lap; he looked utterly shattered.

“Do you think she’ll forgive us?” Gojo asked, his voice barely audible.

Nanami didn’t answer immediately. He stared out at the endless expanse of clouds outside the window, his expression unreadable. “I don’t think it matters.”

Gojo’s breath hitched again, and he leaned back in his seat, tilting his head to the ceiling as if he could somehow escape the crushing weight of his own guilt. He murmured. “We could’ve—”

“Could’ve doesn’t change anything,” Nanami interrupted, his voice harsh. “She’s gone, Satoru. And she’s not coming back.”

The finality of those words settled between them, cold and unrelenting. Gojo turned his head toward the window, the light from the wing of the plane catching on the tears that slipped from beneath his sunglasses. Nanami sat motionless beside him, his gaze fixed on the book in front of him.

Neither of them spoke again for the rest of the flight. The weight of what they had lost, what they had destroyed, was louder than any words could ever be.

-

The days after their visit felt heavier than anything you’d endured. The lie sat like a stone in your chest, each passing moment adding to its weight. You told yourself it was necessary, that it was for your children. But it didn’t stop the nightmares that came in fragments, jagged and disjointed, like shards of a shattered mirror slicing into your subconscious.

You stood in a darkened room, the walls pulsing faintly as if alive. A sickly red light seeped through the cracks, casting terrifying shadows that writhed and twisted. Your breath fogged in the cold air, the chill sinking into your bones.

Gojo was there first, his white hair glowing unnaturally in the dim light. His face was obscured, his features blurred as if smudged by unseen hands. But his voice was clear, cutting through the oppressive silence like a knife.

“You’re disgusting.”

The words echoed, multiplying, each iteration louder than the last until it became a deafening chant. His silhouette loomed larger, his hands outstretched, fingers impossibly long and claw-like. They reached for you, dragging through the air, each swipe leaving behind trails of darkness that spread like ink.

You tried to move, but your feet were rooted to the ground. When you looked down, black tendrils coiled around your ankles, slithering up your legs. They were cold and wet, like the touch of something ancient and decayed.

Behind him, Nanami appeared, his back to you. His suit was untouched by the darkness that surrounded you both. You called his name, your voice trembling and weak, but he didn’t turn.

“Ken!” you screamed, desperation clawing at your throat.

When he finally moved, it was slow, deliberate. His head tilted slightly, just enough for you to catch the edge of his profile. His lips parted, but no sound came. Instead, his skin cracked, fine lines spreading across his face like a porcelain doll dropped from a great height. From the fissures seeped black ichor, thick and oozing, dripping down to pool at his feet.

He turned fully then, and you wished he hadn’t. His eyes were empty voids, twin abysses that seemed to pull you in. His expression was blank, his mouth set in a line of quiet condemnation.

“Why did you lie?” His voice was soft but burrowed into your mind like a parasite.

“I had to,” you whispered, though your words felt small, swallowed by the growing shadows.

“Did you?” he pressed, his figure growing distant even as he stood still.

The tendrils tightened, pulling you downward. You clawed at them, your nails splitting as you tried to free yourself. But they only tightened, dragging you into the floor that had become a gaping maw, teeth lining the edges of the pit.

As you sank, Gojo and Nanami stood above you, unmoving. Their faces blurred together, features melding and twisting until they became something monstrous. Gojo’s laughter echoed, sharp and cruel, as Nanami’s voice droned in an endless loop:

“You should’ve told the truth.”

The last thing you saw before the darkness swallowed you whole was the faint ripple of movement beneath your skin, something inside you fighting against the pull. But even that wasn’t going to be enough.

You woke gasping, your hand clutching your stomach as though to protect the life within. The room was quiet, the shadows still. But their voices lingered, whispering accusations in the corners of your mind.

Sukuna was always there in an instant, holding you as you fought through the panic attack. He rubbed circles on your back and forced you to count and breathe.

A/N: So, mystery hunk (™) is officially in the chat, and yes, he’s soft for our girl in his own chaotic way. Also, the part about Nanami reading Camus? That wasn’t just for flavor text—yes, I went there. If you’ve ever wanted to cry about The Myth of Sisyphus and think about how life is just a series of rolling boulders uphill, congratulations—this chapter’s for you! What do you think Sukuna’s Ryo-side would say to Nanami’s Sisyphus-side? Also, people who are grumbling about Sukuna being our guy, I have my reasons; hear me out: Gojo and Nanami are both special grades in this fic, so you need someone stronk who can proteck and attack you/for you. I will write more fics in the future where you'll have your fav guys as your saviors, so in the meantime, if you have ideas or just want to yell at me, send them on my asks. I’m curious: do you think Gojo’s breakdown was justified, or was he being selfish again? Let’s talk about it! Oh, and if you had to wrestle a goat, which JJK character would you pick to help you? (Sukuna’s banned. Too OP.)

Also this is your manz -

And this is what you married -

Even the stable one is weird -

Chapter 8 (alt ending 1.2) - Veiled Realities (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

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Disclaimer - I found these memes randomly on Pinterest, so lmk the creators if you know so that I can tag them.

[targaryenluvs]

HIS POWER / TIM BRADFORD

PAIRINGS: Dark!Tim Bradford x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: After providing a statement to an officer about a robbery, he seems to be everywhere. Even after you start avoiding him.

WARNINGS: Obsession, stalking, abuse of power, breaking and entering, suggestive content

WORDCOUNT: 3.3K Words

A/N: Just started watching the rookie and I’m in love!!🥰

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

It’d been a normal day at first.

You wanted to run errands through your Monday since you’d been working pretty hard through the last week. But being higher up in the company meant you were able to take days off to work from home when wanted.

You’d been in the confectionary isle since you were throwing a watch party of Harry Potter with all of your friends. As silly as it seemed, you were in the mood for a night of childhood friends and fun.

You had finished up shopping, and as you were making your way up to the register when you heard it.

“Get on the ground, now!”

It was as if time has frozen as you noticed everyone drop to the floor. Luckily your body followed suit and dropped down as well. But you were a minute too late as one of the men noticed you. “Didn’t I say to get down bitch?”

The word sounded foreign in your ears, to the point where you didn’t even realise he was talking to you, until he came over to you.

He pulled you up by your hair as he waved the gun around, “You ain’t talking now huh?” His grip on your hair tightened as you clenched your eyes shut. When you opened them you noticed someone reaching for their phone. You may as well try to buy her time.

You looked over at her as she mouthed, “911.” You acknowledged her by closing your eyes before talking, “What do you want me to say?” You could hear him chuckle, “Now you’re chatty.”

You shuffled until you were able to turn around to face him, taking his attention away from the woman calling the police. “Please, just take the money and go.” One of the other men came back from behind, seeming to have a mass of purses, most likely from the employees.

“I just want to talk to you baby.” Whether it was the nickname or his demeanour, you sure as hell didn’t want to talk to him anymore. So you took a risk.

Kicking him in the crotch.

You could hear him groan before falling to the floor, his gun slipping out of his hands as you grabbed it. You quickly slid it to the woman on the phone with the police before kicking him in the stomach. “You b—,” before he could continue you kicked him in the face.

You remembered there were only two others that had entered the store. One in the back and the other across the store. So you took the time to tie the man up using someone’s scarf, then stuffing his mouth with plastic bags. You had two other shoppers guard him as you took the gun back.

There were four men in your view, you quickly waved them over before making a plan.

“She’s having her baby! Someone help!”

Footsteps echoed through the place as the other man ran to the woman shouting, Sierra, “Who is it?” This man was seemingly calmer than the other you’d dealt with, “Here!” And as he turned you bashed his face with the end of your gun, and as he fell one of the shoppers took his gun. “Good job Jack, two down and one to go.”

“Bad idea, not taking me out first.” The last robber left standing had his firearm to Sierras head, with an arm around her neck. You and Jack immediately raised your guns in his directions, “Go ahead, shoot. Wonder what this pretty girls head’ll look like across the floor. Got nothing left to loose.”

Your saving grace came not only in the sirens outside.

“Put your guns down, slowly.” You and Jack hesitated, which proved to be a mistake as he aimed towards one of the other hostages, aiming and shooting at her leg. As she screamed out you folded, “Okay! Just don’t hurt anyone else.” Jack followed your lead as you put your guns down. The second you did he pushed her to the side, coming for you.

“You ruined my plan. For what? To be a hero?” His breath was heavy against your cheek, spite filled and hot. You shook your head immediately. “Well because of that, you can help me get out of here.”

He had you pick up the guns and stuff them into his duffel bag before leading you to the back at gun point. “Might just have some fun with you while we’re here.” He laughed as he opened the door.

“Hope you’re ready for some fun in prison.” As the two of you exited the store you were met with four cops, the one speaking standing in front of you. As he was momentarily distracted by being caught you turned to push him to the floor before running into the cops arms.

His partner rushed forwards to cuff him whilst reciting his rights. You clung onto the man as he held you, “You’re okay, I’ve got you.” You buried your face into his chest, taking a second to breathe before stepping back.

You read his badge, Bradford.

“Thank you, Officer Bradford.” Your smile was small, but more than enough for him. “Call me Tim.” His partner, which you learned was Lucy, eyed him up. It wasn’t everyday the grumpiest guy she knew allowed his first name to be used by a stranger.

“Let’s get you down to the station huh?” You nodded as he directed you to the back of his car. Lucy rose an eyebrow, “Couldn’t we have taken her statement here?” Tim aimed a pointed look her way, which screamed ‘shut up’. “She was actively involved, taken hostage and helped to disable every robber. Her account is more serious than the others and she might need to get checked up on. It’ll be a long statement so we’ll interview her at the station. Anything else boot?”

Lucy shook her head, “Good, now get in.”

You’d been waiting for someone to enter the room, luckily it was Tim. “I’m going to be taking your statement okay? I need you to detail everything that happened since the start of your day. Don’t leaving anything out.” You nodded along as he sat down, offering you a smile.

“Let’s begin.” You didn’t leave anything out as he asked you not to. Tim was nodding along, jotting down key bits of information as you spoke. It felt like time had passed by quickly talking to him, even if you were doing most of the talking. It’d been over an hour already.

“Alright, hang tight in here. You’ll be home in no time, probably best to take some time to yourself to recuperate. No friends.” He stood up, tucking his notepad and pen away before offering you a nice smile as you returned it. “Thank you, for not being rude and actually listening.” Tim stopped in the doorway, turning back around to you. He raised his eyebrow, waiting for more. “Why would I be rude?”

“Just, lately I’ve been seeing about a million horror story cop interactions. And I was scared to be interviewed. But you were really nice, so thanks. If there’s anything I can do, or tell you then let me know.” Before he could respond someone walked past and asked if he’d gotten your information.

“She’s free to go if you have.” You felt a weight lift off of your chest, as much as you liked being across from the gorgeous cop Tim was, you wanted nothing more than to sleep. He nodded as she left, turning his attention back to you. “Well, you’ve done more than enough regarding information. As for something you can do,” You straightened up in your chair.

“You could buy me a drink tomorrow.”

The bar was packed, but apparently Tim was a regular to the point where he had a seat waiting for him. Being the kind person he was, he let you sit on the seat. But the place was crowded so he ended practically between your legs. “So what’re you having Officer?” Tim scoffed at the title, “I’ll have what ever you’re having.” You giggled, “You want a martini?” He cringed at the words.

“Maybe I won’t have what you’re having.” You waved down the bartender, before ordering for the both of you. Whilst ordering you could feel his eyes on you, staring intently, “Is there something on my face?” He shook his head, “You’re just so gorgeous.”

You could feel the heat rush to your cheeks, “Don’t.” He swiped away the hair that fell in front of your face, “Why not, you are. I always tell the truth.” Your drinks were slid over as you both grabbed your respective drinks. Taking a sip, he stared at you as he drank his beer.

The night progressed quickly, the two of you getting lost in easily flowing conversation. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom.” You held your thumbs up to him as he walked away, weaving through the sea of people.

Taking a sip of your fourth drink, you noticed that he’d left behind his phone on the counter. You didn’t mean to pry, but your hand had a mind of its own as it swooped his phone up. You wish you hadn’t. His wallpaper was somehow a photo of you and you’d only known him for two days.

If there was one thing you didn’t think you were, it was stupid.

You swiftly swung your purse over your shoulder before making your way out of the bar and outside. It was then that you realised the fact that Tim had picked you up. “There you are.” His voice was quieter than before, now outside and not interrupted by others.

“It was getting stuffy in there, needed to breathe. I’m feeling pretty tired, you mind if we call it a night?” He shook his head, “Not at all, I’ll drop you off.” You smiled before making your way to his car.

“Doesn’t someone need to pay?” You were praying he’d take the bait and leave you to flag down a cab or call an uber. “I’ve got good credit here, we’ll be fine.”

You just needed to get home. That was all. Once you were home you could avoid him and not see him ever again. Just get home Y/n.

The ride home was filled mostly with Tim talking at you and your short replies. You didn’t want to seem suspicious but you were too scared to have a proper conversation with him. All you could see was the wallpaper burned into your mind.

As he pulled up to your apartment you felt a tiny spark of relief, you’d made it home. “You okay?” His hand rested on your thigh, “Yeah I’m alright, just tired.” You pressed your lips into a tight line, you hadn’t looked at him yet.

You wished you hadn’t, he looked pissed.

His hand tightened, “You’re lying. Did you meet someone else at the bar?” Your face scrunched up in confusion, “What? No! You were gone for minutes. How the hell am I striking up a conversation with someone and liking them in that time? I need to go.” You were met with a locked door.

You turned back to him with an awkward smile, you wrapped your hand around his in an attempt to calm him down. “Tim, I promise. Nothing happened. Please let me go inside, you can walk me to the door. I want you to.” Your lie seemed to take, as he retracted his hand to open the door. You grounded yourself by clutching onto your purse, leaving crescent indents in the leather.

His hand came around your waist, holding on tightly as you made your way into the apartment building. You quickly pressed for the third floor, not your own. “Goodnight Tim, I had a good time.” You turned to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before running into the elevator. As the doors closed you could see him, momentarily stunned at the kiss.

You exhaled the second the doors closed. If you were lucky, you wouldn’t be seeing him after this. You’d survived the night, as well as him.

The next few days had been normal, thankfully. You’d been paranoid to a fault, and rightfully so.

Tim Bradford is a cop.

Which meant he had access to so much more than any regular person. He not only knew where you lived from the information he’d collected, but he could search you up. He could find out so much about your life with just a few clicks of a button.

And he did. He utilised his resources to find out as much about you as he could over the week or so since your date. When you’d gone to the bathroom, he’d accessed your phone and was now successfully tracking you. Never leave your stuff with an obsessed cop, am I right?

After the robbery, he couldn’t risk your safety.

But the biggest mystery of all in Tim’s eyes was why you hadn’t called him yet. You’d been working a lot recently, early days and late nights. You needed a break from work. The only places you went which weren’t your workplace or home was your gym.

You were done for the day.

The sweat that you were covered in made you shine in the fluorescent lights of the gym. You couldn’t wait to take a shower, but the gym was currently repairing their facilities so you’d have to wait until home.

If you’d been paying attention to your surroundings rather than yourself you would’ve noticed Tim hovering in the background. You grabbed your waterbottle and made your way to the locker rooms. Patting yourself down with your towel before changing your sweaty clothes into normal clothes. The more laundry the better?

You walked out to your car, blissfully unaware of the shadow following you. As you fiddled with your Airpod case you accidentally let your keys slip through your hands. Sighing in annoyance before bending down to grab them from underneath your car. Not expecting to be met with him once you got up.

“You scared me Tim.” Your hand clutched onto your shirt, over your heart as you rested against your car.

“Sorry. just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I am, thank you for asking. I just… I feel like I’m seeing you everywhere. Like I’ve gone crazy.”

“Maybe it’s a sign.”

“For what?”

“To go out with me? Tonight?” You awkwardly laughed, holding onto the back of your neck. “As much as I’d love to, I’m not really in the market for a partner. I’m sorry. And I’m already going out with friends tonight.” His smile was wide, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No need to apologise, just figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask. We had such a nice night last time. You looked amazing.”

You felt bad for turning him down, but again, you couldn’t help but think. He never showed up before, but you see him once and now hes everywhere? It didn’t seem right to you. You chuckled dryly, “Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself. And yeah, I meant it as a friendly outing.” As you opened your door, it slammed in front of you.

Tim stood closer than before, and his nice smile and sweet voice seemed so far away. His hand rested on your door, having shut it. “You sure as hell didn’t dress like it was a friendly outing. Go out with me Y/n/n.” Your eyes squinted at his use of your nickname, which you hadn’t told him to use.

“I’m sorry, I just— Oh god.” Your eyes widened behind Tim as his head whipped behind, “What is it?” The door quickly slammed shut as you sat in the drivers seat. Tim turned back, you tricked him. He tried to open the door but you quickly pressed the lock.

“Open the door.”

His voice was low, it was a threat.

You pressed the button to start your car up, not daring to look his way. God knows what you’d be met with. You quickly pulled out of the gyms parking lot, mustering up the courage to look into your rear view mirror.

He wasn’t there.

You couldn’t tell if him not being there was more frightening than comforting. But you did need to put as many miles between you and Tim as possible. A night out with friends would help take your mind off it.

As you came home, you couldn’t help but sigh. The night had been totally exhausting as well as exhilarating. It’d been a while since you’d seen your friends, since your marathon had been cancelled after the attempted robbery. And you had also subconsciously taken Tims advice to not have any friends over.

As much as you hate to admit it, he was right. It was nice to take some time to recuperate and understand what happened before seeing friends. The millions of questions they threw at you tonight were even worse than when they were over the phone.

‘Are you okay?’

‘We don’t have to go out tonight!’

‘We can stay in, order some food?’

‘If you need to talk, I’m here.’

You were definitely grateful to have so many friends that cared about you after something pretty traumatic, but all you wanted was to drink, dance and forget. Which was partially successful. But he wouldn’t leave your mind.

Tim had basically infiltrated your life since you first met him that afternoon. And you had no clue what about you screamed to him, enticed him.

You wracked your brain trying to think about any time you would’ve given him any sort of signal to needing him. To inviting him into your life. And you couldn’t come up with a single sign. Maybe he was just insane?

How could you even get rid of him?

He was a literal cop. When at the station, you couldn’t help but notice how often people talked about him. Whether it was how amazing he was, or how reckless. The overall consensus was that he was a good guy, just a bit odd or impulsive. You couldn’t help but feel bad as well. He’d literally saved you from being hurt, or worse. And when you’d talked to him, he seemed so sweet.

Tim Bradford was respected, and you were just a civilian.

But to Tim? You were so much more. Having you in his arms, fully reliant on him to help save you. He knew you needed him, you just didn’t realise it yet. But he’d help you realise, there was no need to worry. He’d keep you safe, you’d never be in such a situation ever again. He wouldn’t fail you like he failed his ex.

“Had a nice night?”

Your blood ran cold and your bubble of bliss from the night out had effectively been popped. He was in your home. How did he know where you— he’s a cop. He probably knew more about you than you knew. “I did.” Tim stood from your couch, making his way to you.

“Meet anyone?” You shook your head adamantly, “No one Tim.” You needed to play your cards right if you were going to get away from this psycho alive. God knows what he wanted to do or what he was after.

By the time he was in front of you he had you pinned to the wall, right by the hallway. His hands came around your hips, fingers digging in. He smelled your neck, savouring the sweet perfume. “You smell amazing, and you look…” He was practically undressing you with his eyes. “Bet you danced a lot tonight, should take a shower.” Of course you’d love that. Which is what you wanted to say, but with his eyes burning into you?

You couldn’t respond. Not when his hands began to roam, and tug on the strings of your dress. Not when he led you into your bathroom, and let the bath fill up or when he undressed you and himself.

You were practically frozen as he bathed you.

He acted as if it was where he belonged, as if this was a daily occurrence for you and him. You knew you couldn’t get away now,

You were too late and scared of his power.

[male-readerwriter]

Johnny Storm x Male Reader

Title: BURNING LOVE!!

WARNING'S: Language, FLUFF, brief sexual thoughts, headcanons for Johnny Storm falling in love with male reader in the void, Romance

M/N= Male Reader Name/ Male Name.

First and third person POV

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

You were sent to the void after being caught stealing a rare diamond from a museum worth 35 million dollars, it wasn't the first time you've gotten in trouble for stealing- this was more like the 100th or 200th.

You were an international thief, you alone were able to pull off some of the most infamous and greatest robbery's ever. You were constantly in and out of prison but after this well- turns out they were sick of you breaking into places and stealing things so they ended up sending you to the void leaving you to rot with everything else they deemed trash.

You had heard of this place while in prison so you kinda knew it was only sooner or later until you were sent here but you never expected it to be this bad , things were constantly after you as if it wasn't bad enough that there was basically no food in this shit hole you had to deal with monsters, people, and animals chasing you trying to either kill or kidnap you to take you to some women named Cassandra Nova - who the fuck was that?

After a rough day of being chased by people and monsters alike you were getting exhausted and STARVING and you were suddenly getting very dizzy and you could have sworn you saw a man covered in flames flying through the sky fighting off the things chasing you, next thing you know you passed out.

You woke up to the smell of food and when you looked around and it was suddenly night time and you were in a place you didn't recognize, it looked like some type of hideout but nobody was their at least you thought. After rushing over to the food scarfing it down almost immediately a man's voice from behind you laughed saying "look's like someone's hungry".

Who the hell could that be? And what did he want, did he want to hurt me? Dropping the food out of my hand I turned around to see a muscular man in a blue shirt with a 4 on it, my heart skipped a beat. I was still terrified thinking of what he could do to me but damn was he sexy. He took a few steps towards me with his hand outstretched and a warm smile on his face- he seems friendly.

"Hey, I'm johnny. Nice to meet you" I allow him to take my hand, shaking it in a greeting manner "I'm M/N, sorry I was hungry" I respond. Something about this guy intimidated him in a good way.

"No, help yourself we got plenty" he giggles as he lets go of my hand, the smile this guy has is so warming it's lighting up my heart. My heart is beating out of my chest "how did I get here?" I ask taking a bite out of a big turkey leg.

He tells me how he found me and fought off the things after me then took me to his hideout, he says he stays here with a few friends he met who I soon meet named Elektra, Blade, X-23, and Gambit who was my personal favorite other than Johnny. After introducing themselves they all went off doing their own thing not wanting to overwhelm me, I continue eating more food still starving but Johnny stays by my side the entire time still chatting away. There's something about this guy that I immediately wanna cling to and he's not bad looking he can definitely manhandle me any time he pleases the- sorry got off track there, he's just that good looking.

We end up talking for 3 hours straight and I realize my dumb ass has already fallen in love with this man (even though I just met him) there was something about him and he was hot literally. I found out he was able to set his entire body in flames and he could fly all he had to do was say two little words "flame on".

He ended up showing me at a later time, he and his friends explained pretty much everything I need to know about the void then they told me I could stay with them but there was one little problem...

I had to share a bed with Mr. Johnny Storm.

I had no problem with that in any way shape or form neither did Johnny it seemed, though he had kept blushing the first couple of nights I shared a bed with him, after that he started acting a little awkward he'd start smiling everytime I came around, and he started playfully flirting I assumed. After a little while I started flirting back and every time I did he'd start blushing like crazy, which was really confusing considering the way he usually acted before he started flirting with me.

His behavior screamed fuckboy yet he wasn't a bad guy, he never acted like a pig he - seemed like a typical straight guy fuck boy. But he was the most perfect guy you'd ever met and it only made you fall for him more and more.

You assumed he was straight at least but one day when you were walking back into the hideout you heard everyone talking about you so you decided to stay hidden and listen. Somehow they figured out you had feelings for Johnny and before you could even be shocked by that Elektra commented how she knew Johnny had feelings for you as well.

You were flabbergasted, he felt the same way you did and yet he never knew the things you did, everytime he asked how you got sent to the void you changed the subject.

That's when you decided to tell him the truth, you were expecting judgment but surprisingly he was completely fine with it and he didn't care what you did saying you were still a good person at heart. After telling him that you found that it was much easier to open up to him and in no time you both confessed you have feelings for one another.

You were outside going for a walk with him playfully flirting with each other as usually when suddenly Johnny became quite. "Hey, what's on your mind?" You asked and before he could come up with some lame excuse he found himself saying "I have something important to tell you". That's when he told you he had feelings for you, he didn't just have feelings for you, he loved you.

"I'm in love with you M/N, I've been in love with you since the moment I first saw you're fine ass" he said giving your ass a nice smack, and that was the fuckboy part of him coming out but you still couldn't have been happier.

He asked you to be his boyfriend and you said yes, jumping at the opportunity to be in a relationship with Johnny. You were never this kind of guy to rush into some relationship all willy nilly but Johnny was different from any guy you'd ever met before, it was hard to explain -

He was just special, he was Johnny.

The others pretty much ended up finding out we were in a relationship immediately, even though we discussed not telling them at first but it was apparently way to hard for Johnny to keep his hands off me and keep his dirty jokes to himself. So everyone found out awkwardly standing around because Johnny was bad at keep secrets.

It happened I the morning-

He was the last to wake up and the first thing he did was wrap his arms around my waist and shove his head in the crook of my neck mumbling "Mornin babe" just loud enough for everyone to hear it and look over at us shocked we actually got together.

But after about a minute they got over the shock and congratulated us saying things like "about time" or Gambit trying to be sexual and make dirty jokes about the relationship but Johnny is always able to match his freak and make the same type of jokes back. Their banter is always fun to watch.

We all stuck together when we went out incase we had a run in with Cassandra Nova and her gang (I learned she was someone not to be messed with- she's professor X's brother and she's incredibly powerful so I'm the void that basically made her the HBIC and everyone feared her) Johnny liked to act like he wasn't scared of her and he had no problem voicing his hatred for her but I know him- if he had a one on one run in with her he'd most likely end up pissing himself.

There was never much to do in the void but he still tried to do special things for you, like date nights or a walking hand in hand at night when not many people were around to bother you both.

He seems like some typical fuck boy but you knew he was so much more, he was romantic and loved the attention you gave him literally any type of attention you gave him put a big smile on his face and a pink tint to his cheeks, he's such a dork.

He loves cuddles and so do you, it's both of your favorite thing to do to pass the time, well that and sex! you both are pretty wild in the bedroom, and luckily Johnny has a lot of stamina.

Whenever your together it's like time just stops and the only thing either of you care about is each other (you're so wrapped up in each other's little bubble, it's like you were made for each other) he never judged you for who you were even tho you were pretty much polar opposites and he's a hero and you used to be a villain -kinda- but that all changed after going to the void.

In this place you never know how much time you have like you can literally all die at any second, but it doesn't matter as long as you have him by your side you'd happily live in the moment and don't even think about what tomorrow could possibly bring.

He is my world, my human torch....

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Oop.

Literally had no idea how to end this so that's why the ending is so abrupt sorry- also sorry for any spelling errors I didn't proof read.

Hope it was at least a little enjoyable, I'll be better in the future I haven't written in a bit sorry- 🤣 FEM READERS, AND MINORS DNI! go away-

[pixiesfz]

invaded l.wm

plot: y/n moved from man city to Arsenal and one specific man is not happy about it.

warnings: violence, talks of a stalker, more of a arsenal x reader than a lotte x reader, blood etc

He was one of the main reasons you left Manchester city, his eyes that lingered on you when in the crowd.

When you first met him he seemed like a normal fan. He asked for a photo and challenged you to a rock paper scissors to secure your top, you noticed his anger when he lost but you gave him your jersey anyways to soften the blow.

He came to every game and yearned for your attention everytime, whenever you didn’t he would then wait outside in the parking lot.

At first you thought it was cute, you had never had such a big fan well that was until he started showing up outside of the field.

You were having a coffee with your mum when you heard the clicks of a camera, turning around you saw him, with his Man City scarf on taking photos of you and your mum.

You politely waved at him and he smiled. When he next showed up it was in the off season as you went to see your girlfriend Lotte.

“You alright love?” Lotte asked as you spotted him behind a tree, how did he know you were here “Lotte we need to go” you ordered as your heart sped up, he scared you “y/n-“ “now” you cut Lotte off as you grabbed her hand and ran to your car trying to ignore his pleas as he followed you.

He stopped for a month after that but maybe it was because you stopped going out as much, he was still at every man city game and still waited for you in the parking lot where you politely smiled and waved at the crowd but he took it as you were only waving at him.

Lotte had told you to try and get a restraining order but their had never been enough evidence to even try.

One day before you announced your transfer to Arsenal you saw him again but at your front door. You slammed the door before he could try and get in but it didn’t stop him.

He bashed his fists on the door “You’re leaving me!” He yelled “your betraying me like this?” He asked.

You pushed your weight on the door, tears falling down your eyes as you pulled out your phone to call Lotte.

“Hey y/n” she answered sweetly as you sniffed “he’s here” you whispered out “he’s where y/n?” Lotte asked and you could tell her by her voice that her heart had dropped.

“My house Lotte. He’s found my house!”

“I’m calling the police, can I hang up darling just for a little bit I will call right back” she told you and you closed your eyes “I love you” you whispered in fear

“Don’t talk like that y/n” he is not going to hurt you” she said and you shook your head “I’m scared” you admitted as his fists became louder

“You bitch! I saw you at the Arsenal training grounds, you’re leaving!” He shouted and Lotte’s face turned white from the loudness of his voice “y/n I’m going to call I’ll be back”

The beep of the phone call ending made you sob again, without Lotte’s voice calming you down you were in a forensic mess.

His voice was drowned out by your thoughts and you heard sirens wailing from nearby, he did too as his fists stopped.

“You’ll regret this” he finally stated before you heard him ruffling away.

You never felt safe fully after that whilst you played your last weeks at Man City, you scanned the crowds in fear and always walked to your car quickly after a match, sometimes having Lotte pick you up.

When your news about transferring came out rumours started to spiral, until an anonymous writer came out.

Y/n y/l/n moving to Arsenal because of stalker?!

You pressed on it right away as you laid on Lotte’s chest, photos of you on walks and at cafes, one of you in your home which you moved out of as quickly as you could.

He had took these photos and now he was sending them in to make profit, your privacy for his benefit.

‘We hope y/n is well before her move to Arsenal’ it ended with and you felt yourself snuggling to Lotte even more.

You had been with Arsenal for almost a month now and it was time you versed your old team. It was bittersweet.

You loved the girls on the team and they were now your on field enemies. Lotte was the captain of the game and you were proud of her.

But nothing could stop the weird feeling in your stomach, it made you nervous and your mind was racing.

You thought it would go away as you play but the feeling was still there.

You had subbed on for Beth for a fresh pair of legs on the field on the 64th minute and it wasn’t long before you started making an impact, high giving your girlfriend as you scored a goal agains Man City.

You hadn’t even checked for the man in the crowd as you now sported the red, you should’ve maybe you would’ve seen him and the state he was in.

His eyes were baggy and it was clear to anyone around him that he would be drinking but security weren’t the best for the women’s games so they gave no mind.

It was about the 75th minute he jumped the barrier, a beer bottle in his hand, he wore your old jersey you had given to him as he stormed over to you.

You had your back to him so you couldn’t see him but some of your team mates did and the audience as they boo’d at him in the crowds, thinking he was a trouble maker wanting his 5 seconds of fame.

You looked behind you out of curiousity before you locked eyes with the man, your heart dropped before he raised his arm which the glass bottle was held in and smashed it on your head.

You dropped instantly as he yelled “traitor!” And kicked you at the head.

You had been near the sidelines so the low number of security members latched onto him as he yelled out to you but you were unconscious, on the floor with blood pouring down your face.

Almost the whole field and Audience went quiet and the TV channels who were broadcasting were lost for words.

Medics were on you quick as Lotte tan over with tears in her eyes. She looked at you and towards the man who was tackled to the floor “that’s him!” She yelled and told the security to take him to the jail.

The blood on your face wasn’t going away as more blood from your forehead and your eye fell down.

“Lotte” you choked out and sue dropped to her knees and grabbed your hand “I’m here, I’m here” she told you and kissed your knuckles “I’m scared” you cried as the medics came back with the stretcher “he’s gone now” Lotte told you, tears running down her eyes at the sight of you.

The medics pulled you up and the whole stadium was silent, the Arsenal and City girls watching you with tears in their eyes.

The game stopped.

Lotte followed you to an ambulance and most girls quickly got into their cars to follow you, not bothering to change.

You only needed a few stitches but Lotte demanded for a plastic surgery, saying you would never forgive her if she let you have a big scar from your eye to your temple.

So she waited with her head in her arms, her bright yellow captains arm band tightening around her bicep as she was joined by both the arsenal and Man city team in the waiting room.

“She’s going to be fine” Leah told her England team mate and she nodded “I know it’s just she- she was so scared” Lotte sobbed as she leaned into her team mates embrace and cried.

Both of the teams waited for you to come out of surgery, on their phones as some read articles or watches the film clip multiple times in shock of what had happened.

Lotte saw it every time she closed her eyes, the way you had no idea of the danger running towards you, the way he moved so quick nobody could stop him before the action was done.

The TV was on in the corner as the news talked about what had happened to you. Lotte watched as the reporter talked about the lack of security and how they interviews some of the games watchers, some crying.

Two hours later a doctor came into the room, shocked to see so many players waiting to see your results.

“Y/n y/l/n?” She questioned and everyone’s head shot up “yes?” Lotte stood up and the nurse nodded “she’s awake now but I think it’s best if we send people in groups” she said and Lotte let out a sigh of relief.

“You go first” Alanna said from her seat in the corner to Lotte and she nodded and walked behind the Nurse who took her to your room.

Your stitches looked oily from the numbing cream that they had lathered on top of the stitches. You don’t say anything, your eyes stuck to the ceiling.

“Why me?” You breathed out and Lotte grabbed your hand

“I don’t know baby” she replied and you looked at her, your eyes were blood shot “did they get him?” You asked and she nodded “he is behind bars and the court is allowing us to ask for a restraining order, he’s already not allowed to attend a soccer game ever again” she said and you nodded.

“Do I look as bad as I feel?” You asked and Lotte let out a little laugh “Do you really think I care about what you look like?”

“No but I care what I look like” you smiled and Lotte kissed your hand “you look beautiful, just like you always do”

You smiled “is it just you here?” You asked and Lotte scoffed “uhm actually” she started and went to the window and opened the blind which revealed the waiting room.

“Oh wow” you breathed out seeing both of your teams sitting down in the uncomfortable chairs.

“Maybe send in my national team mates, they’re most likely to tell me if I look ugly or not” you joked and your girlfriend rolled her eyes playfully at your comment.

“Actually almost all your national team mates are here” she breathed out before walking out to collect them.

When half of the Matilda’s team walked in Caitlin scoffed

“You just had to one up me from the World Cup didnt ya”

The whole room laughed at her before she laid on the bed and cuddled into your side.

“Well this will be a fun story to tell in a couple of years” you joked and your team mates laughed.

You smiled as you looked around, Lotte chating to your team mates with a smile as you cuddled into some of your younger players “I was so worried” Kyra told you and you shook your head.

“Takes a lot to take me down chicken”

[valkyrayn]

Ride Your King // Marius x Fem!Reader

Tags: light bondage, filthy talking, pussy eating, squirting, blowjob, cock riding, fingering, marking, scratching, praise kink, loud sex, rough fucking, huge cock, breeding kink, multiple rounds, fucking on the: floor, table, wall, bathtub, morning sex, fluff at the end--filthy self-indulgent porn

posted on ao3 if you wanna leave comments there

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“…how long are you going to keep me tied up?” He raises an eyebrow at you, a seductive smirk playing on his lips—oh, he’s absolutely loving this. You watch your fiance with a matching smirk, he’s sat on the floor with his legs spread in front of him, wrists bound behind his back by a silk scarf, his white shirt unbuttoned, damp with his sweat. He looks sinful, like a devil brought solely into your presence to seduce and pleasure you. 

And for that reason alone, he needs to be restrained. You want to be in control this time.

“Until you make me cum,” you reply, sporting a confidence that you never knew you had but that’s what being with Marius does to you. 

You hear him chuckle, his eyes dark with lust as he takes a full view of your body from top to bottom—clad in see-through lingerie, courtesy of him, with its lacy hem resting high above your knees. It’s so revealing you might as well not be wearing anything. He takes a deep breath, satisfied with your choice of clothing and looks up at you with a grin on his face. 

“With my cock or with my mouth…which one do you want first?” He asks so casually. He tilts his head slightly to the side to get a better view of you. “Your choice, my Queen.”

A small whimper escapes you, feeling your cunt throb at his words, immediately providing images in your head on how this is going to end later—with you writhing under him and begging for more… 

Marius’ eyes widen when you suddenly get on all fours on the floor, crawling towards him with a playful smirk on your lips. For someone so confident just a few seconds ago, he’s immediately flustered. “Jiejie…”

You can see his cock twitch behind his pants without you even touching him yet. The sight of him looking so desperate and needy for you makes you wet; feeling yourself begin to soak through the material of the lingerie that he’s bought for you. 

Mustering all the confidence you have, you lean down and start unzipping his pants with your teeth, all while keeping your eyes locked with his. 

He hisses through his teeth, lifting his hips off the floor, desperately trying to get closer to you only for you to push him back down by putting your weight on him. 

“Don’t be rude, Marius…good boys must be patient. Are you a good boy?”

He inhaled deeply. “Only if you want me to be…”

You click your tongue as you slowly slip your hand down his pants, earning another hiss from him the second your fingers make contact with his cock. “Babe…shit…” He curses under his breath when you finally pull his cock out, hot and heavy in your hand—the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen. Your small fingers can’t even wrap fully around him, swearing it has gotten bigger since the last time you saw it. 

You look at it with fascination, tracing the vein on the underside with your thumb, up to the tip, pink and leaking with precum. You latch onto the head with your lips before it could drip, licking it off with your tongue, relishing in the sweet salty taste of him while he’s struggling to keep himself composed. 

You release him with a pop but keep your hand around him as you stroke him gently. 

“Be a good boy and don’t cum until I say so…” His hips jerk upwards when you once again wrap your lips around him, taking him in inch by inch until your jaw hurts. His girth is simply too much for your small mouth—no amount of practice could get you to take him in whole, not without his help. So you settle for sealing your lips tightly around him, as deep as you can and swirl your tongue around him to stimulate him even further. You know how desperately he wants to grab you by the hair right now, to push you down even deeper, to fuck your throat until you gag—and heaven knows how much you want it too but you can’t give in just yet. 

You lift your head slightly to look at him and gods above, the sight of him alone can make you cum. His whole shirt is now unbuttoned–you can see the blush blooming on his cheeks up to his ears and despite the blasting air conditioner, he is sweating, covering his beautifully sculpted body with a thin sheen of perspiration. Your eyes follow that one droplet of sweat trailing down his neck, disappearing between his heaving chest—the expensive material of his white shirt is now sticking to his skin.

“Nngh…jiejie please…” You hear him say in between grunts.

Locking eyes with him, you give an inward lick before pulling your mouth off only to immediately go back in, sealing your lips around the head of his cock and licking between the slit to swallow more of his leaking precum. “Fuck, baby–!”

Fuck is right. His cock feels so fucking good in your mouth, you can’t help but moan as you swallow more of him, feeling it twitch when it finally touches the back of your throat. You only manage to keep him in there for a few seconds before yanking your head off to breathe, leaving a trail of saliva hanging between you and his tip. 

Marius’ eyes are rolled to the back of his skull, teeth biting his lower lip and nails sinking into his palms, willing himself not to cum even when he so desperately wants to. Knowing him, he’s already planning a hundred ways to get back at you after this and honestly, you’re excited for what’s to come. 

Releasing your grip around his dick, you smile at him innocently before standing up, leaving him flustered and breathless. Marius struggles with his restraints, trying to free himself, the regret finally sinking in for letting you tie him up in the first place because all he wants is to fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked. To bury his cock so deep inside all your holes and have you begging for more like you always do.

“Babe…what did I say about being patient?”

You seductively lift the hem of your lingerie dress, showing your soaking cunt, putting on a small show for him by rubbing your clit with one hand. The erotic display is making his cock even harder and you watch as it twitches, begging to be sat on. You pull away your fingers, showing him how wet you are before leaning down to smear it against his pecs. “Behave or I’m not letting you fuck me…” 

Like an obedient pet, Marius immediately stops struggling, looking up at you with dark eyes slightly covered by his hair. You can sense his frustration but you know he’s just as turned on as you.

You step closer to him, bending down to whisper next to his ear. “Will you make me cum with your mouth, Marius?” 

He smirks. “You ask as if I don’t already do that for you every morning, babe.”

Smart mouth; time to put it to good use. You roll your eyes and stand up, positioning your cunt in front of him, slowly pushing yourself against his mouth as you thread your fingers through his hair below you. He doesn’t waste any time, immediately latching onto your pussy before you can even prepare yourself, causing you to fall forward then grabbing onto the door of the wardrobe to keep yourself upright. 

“Oh my fucking god, Marius—” Your fingers tighten around him to keep yourself steady as you push your hips closer to him. 

He pulls back to spit on your cunt before diving back in—pushing his tongue in and out of your hole, feeling your walls clench around him, filling your ears with wet schlicking sound of him eating out your pussy sloppily. He licks a stripe in between your folds, relishing at the taste of your creamy cunt. And then he wraps his lips around your little nub, suckling on it gently and swirling his tongue around it—sending waves of intense pleasure throughout your body. 

Marius knows all your sweet spots. The spot behind your ear he likes to caress that makes you sigh his name breathlessly. The spot inside your pussy that he likes to ram into with his cock because every time without fail, it makes your knees buckle as you come undone with a scream. 

The little nub of your cunt that he loves to tease with his tongue because it gives you such an intense pleasure you end up squirting all over him like a fountain. 

“God…Marius I’m cumming—”

He shoves his tongue back inside even deeper—the sudden intrusion pushes you instantly to the edge, making you gush uncontrollably into his mouth. 

His tongue is caught in between your quivering walls, so he proceeds to swirl it around inside you, savouring your taste and prolonging your orgasm until he’s all but drenched in your release. 

When you’re done, you step back with your barely stable legs and look down at him. His shirt is completely drenched now, your juices dripping from his chin and down his neck travelling all the way down his abs, flexing as he begins to move again to adjust his hands behind him.

The realisation finally sunk in that he had made you cum with his mouth alone, without the help of his fingers. Almost as if he could read your mind, “What’s wrong, babe? Missing my fingers already?” he laughs as he flips his hair back to keep it out of his face. 

“No…”

“Let me go and I’ll show you how good my fingers feel inside you? Remember you need to prep before you can take me…”

A small noise came out of you at the thought. He’s right, it takes a lot of prep and foreplay for you to be able to fully take him in, and he always makes sure that you are ready before he even sheathes it inside you. 

But no, you’ve decided that today, you will finally get used to his size. You want to feel the stretch of your pussy as it accommodates him. 

“Mmmm…you’ve done enough. Just sit tight and enjoy…”

Marius’ eyes widened at that, but immediately followed by a proud smile. His cock stands stiff between his legs, his balls heavy with cum waiting to unload inside you. He relaxes his shoulders and leans back against the wardrobe behind him, cocking his eyebrow at you as an invitation to sit on him.

“Well then. Why don’t you come here and ride your King.”

His deep voice reignites the fire deep within your womb, making your cunt throb with the desperate need to be filled by him.

And so you position yourself above him, lifting the hem of your skirt just slightly so you can press the tip of his cock against your dripping entrance. He watches you intently, fighting the voice inside his head telling him to just push his hips up so he can finally be inside you. 

Set in a squatting position above him, you finally, slowly push yourself down on him. “Oh fuck—” you curse under your breath at the feeling of his cock stretching your tight cunt, feeling every ridge and vein against your walls. You’re grateful for the foreplay because at least you’re lubricated enough to help him slide his way through and finally, finally—with a long satisfied moan, his cock is now fully inside you.

You lean forward and grab both sides of his face with your hands before kissing him, licking and biting as you slowly move your hips. He moans against your mouth, his impatience kicking in and then he’s suddenly pushing his hips up to meet you halfway—making you scream.

“Marius!” 

“Fuck baby—I need you to move…please…”

Grabbing onto his shoulders, you pull yourself up slowly, leaving only his tip inside you just so you can hear him groan in frustration. Leaning down, you gently kiss him on the lips. “So impatient…” 

And then you slam your hips back down, taking him in fully, mind reeling at how big he feels inside you. “Oh my god…” You start moving your hips faster, bouncing yourself on his cock, filling the room with the sound of your ass smacking against his thighs. String of curses leave his lips when you start grinding even harder, taking him in deeper. 

“Touch yourself…let me see you play with that pussy while you ride me.” 

As if entranced, you lift the hem of your skirt with one hand and start rubbing your clit with the other—making you gasp upon contact, the sensation sending electric throughout your body. But it doesn’t feel the same as having his fingers inside you. His long slender fingers, the way they would skillfully play with your clit and slide into you…you need his hands. 

Just as you’re about to reach out behind him to untie his bounds, you suddenly feel his large hands on your hips, making you snap your head up to look at him with eyes wide in surprise that he’s escaped from the restraints. With a shit-eating grin, he slides his body down to lie flat on his back and with his hands still tightly gripping onto your hips he then starts fucking up into you with no mercy. 

“Shit—Marius! Ah—too deep!” You scream, planting your palms against his chest as you fall forward from his rough thrusting. One of his hands move from your hips to rip the top of your lingerie off to fully expose your breasts to him so he can watch them bounce as he begins to fuck you even faster. “Marius what the fuck—”

He latches onto one of your nipples and starts suckling while his right hand starts kneading the other, so plump and soft in his grasp. Loud moans leave you with abandon, the perks of finally moving in together, isolated from the rest of the world, away from the ears of people. There isn’t a need for soundproof walls because you two are the only residents in this entire floor.

A high-pitched scream is ripped out of you when his cock presses against that sweet spot inside your pussy, sending you gushing around him as if a dam has been broken.

“That’s it…baby. Cum for me…drench me just like that…” 

“Fuck oh my god—Mar…” Your whole body twitches and trembles on top of him as you ride the wave of your orgasm, leaving your whole body sensitive even to the slightest brush of wind against your skin. 

His abs and thighs are drenched with your release so he wipes them with his shirt before they could drip onto the floor. While he waits for you to fully regain your strength, he makes a move to remove his entire pants before carrying you off the floor—with his cock still plugged inside you. 

You wrap your arms around him and bury your face against the crook of his neck as you let yourself be carried onto the corner of the room, before he slowly places you down onto the desk, right on top of the floor plan layout that he had drawn just this morning. 

Marius presses his hands against the underside of your thighs to keep your legs apart as he tantalisingly slides his stiff cock in and out of you. Meanwhile, you’re still drunk and incoherent, yet to fully recover from your release. 

“You’re creaming so much around my cock, jiejie…so fucking wet for me…” 

He watches with fascination at the way your cream is smeared on his dick every time he pulls out. He runs his fingers through your hair before yanking your head back, rough enough to make you gasp—and then he’s leaving open mouth kisses up your neck towards the back of your ear. “Mmmngghh…babe…” you sigh when he licks the spot behind your ear, his breath hot against your skin. 

“Am I allowed to cum now? I’ve been a very good boy…”

Suddenly he’s pushing his fingers inside your mouth and you wrap your tongue around them instinctively, sighing as he slowly pulls them out and drags them down your body—leaving wet trails of your saliva down between the valley of your breasts and towards your waiting pussy. He pulls his cock out of you, leaving you empty and lets it stand erect between you. And before you can whine in frustration, your body jerks when his fingers suddenly make contact with your clit, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. 

Marius flicks your nub with his thumb as he sinks two of his long slender fingers inside you—the sensation of having your hole stretched makes your eyes roll back. 

“Will you let me fill you up, baby? Hmm?” He pushes in deeper, spreading them apart inside you. “Can you feel that? Your pretty little pussy is begging for my cum—it’s clenching around my fingers…” He hooks his fingers upwards making your body jerk against him, scrunching the paper beneath you. No words come out of you, just moans and pathetic whimpers, willing your body at his mercy. 

“Yes please…want—”

“Mmm you want to be fucked so bad don’t you…To fill you up…” He starts pumping his fingers, in—and out. “...with load after load…” A third finger goes in, stretching your walls even wider. “...until you’re leaking…and dripping…all over the floor with my cum…”

“Marius…please…”

Without warning, he suddenly pulls out his fingers from you and immediately sheathes his stiff cock inside you—ripping out a scream from your lungs. Marius pushes your thighs apart even wider, holding tight onto your ankles as he starts fucking your wet heat with abandon. You grab onto the sides of the table, nails sinking into the wood to hold yourself steady as you take his rough fucking like a champ. 

“My god…your pussy feels so fucking good…so fucking good…” He growls, somehow going even harder and faster, making your tits bounce wildly at every slam of his hips against your ass. He’s watching you through the curtains of his unkempt hair, damp with sweat and your release—eyes dark and blown with lust, promising a night full of hard, nasty and obscene fucking until your body is begging for respite.

Goosebumps rise all over your arms, nearing your edge as you begin to clench around his cock even tighter. The table moves and screeches against the tiles beneath you, knocking everything else off the table at the same time—pencils and papers rolling onto the floor. The sound of your squelching pussy and the wet smack of skin against skin fills your ear, stimulating you even further towards insanity. 

Whimpers turn into moans and moans turn into screams. Marius grabs you by the hair again and pulls your body up before crashing his lips against yours, kissing you roughly, sucking and biting your lips—only releasing you when you start gasping for air. Occasionally his necklace would brush against your skin, pulling you back into a state of awareness every time your vision starts turning white.

Your arms are wrapped around him, fingers sinking into his back, leaving scratches deep enough to mark him. Meanwhile, he’s sucking into the skin above your collarbones, branding you with several angry red marks.

His cock begins to twitch erratically within your walls, signalling that he’s close to release. 

“Watch me fuck my load inside you—” He folds your body forward so you can look at where your body is connected, his huge cock pumping in and out in quick rough thrusts, jamming himself so deep until he finally explodes inside you, spraying your walls with his scalding hot spend. Immediately after, you start gushing around him. 

Your body convulses against him, the wave of orgasm comes crashing on you like a ton of bricks, so intense to a point of blacking out. Marius is not doing any better but he manages to hold onto your weight with one arm, pumping his cock with his other hand ensuring every single drop of his cum ends up inside you. Your gushing release is not helping in the matter, causing everything to overflow out of you, dripping between the crack of your ass and onto the paper beneath you. 

The floor plan drawing is now ruined with splotches of wet marks, a combination of both of your fluids, seeped into the paper. 

“Marius…the floor plan—“

He pulls you off the table and pushes your body against the wall beside you, tits and cheek pressed against the cold surface. Marius’ huge body pins you from behind, cock heavy and resting against your ass, twitching and ready for more. He slides his hand towards your pussy so he can splay your folds with his fingers, teasing your clit as he slowly eases his cock back inside you from behind, dragging out the most salacious moan out of you. 

With your forearms on either side of your head against the wall, you stick your ass out instinctively to meet his thrusts, hips steadied by his large hands as he begins to jam himself even deeper. Your combined fluids fall freely down your thighs, both your ass and his hips completely soaked with slick. 

The sight of your cunt creaming around him pushes him to the brink almost instantly and with stuttering hips and one particularly hard slam of his hips against your ass, he explodes again deep within you. You whimper breathlessly in pleasure, drooling on yourself as you relish at the feeling of his hot semen filling your womb. 

“Nnnghh babe…we’re making such a mess.” You hear him say, keeping your hips in place as he pulls out of you suddenly to watch his spend leak out of you. There’s so much of it, and you feel so full of him—feeling it exit your body profusely, dripping messily onto the, thankfully, marbled floor. 

Still, he’s nowhere near done with you. 

“Time to clean up!” He chuckles lightly and then he’s throwing you over his shoulder, making you yelp in surprise but make no effort to resist. You’re just grateful that it’s finally time to clean up and rest. 

Unfortunately for you, you thought wrong. 

After stripping you both completely naked, Marius bends you over the bathtub and starts fucking you once again, sliding in so easily with the help of his previous loads inside you. The sound of the water running filling up the tub is drowned out by the obscene wet sound of his balls slapping against your pussy. Your tits bounce heavily from the force of his hard fucking, nipples grazing against the cold porcelain, making them even more erect and swollen, overstimulating you to the point of crying in extreme pleasure. 

“Marius…oh my god…so good…please…want…” You look so debauched, with tears streaming down your face as you breathe with your mouth open almost as if the oxygen isn’t getting to your lungs fast enough. 

Your delirious ramblings made him chuckle. He’s completely fucked you dumb that words fail you and yet all you want is more of him inside you. You’ll never have enough of him and him of you. He’s practically sex on legs, his mere presence and voice can make you come untouched. Most days when he makes love to you, it’s gentle and romantic, pampering and spoiling you with pleasure like a Queen. On some particularly unhinged days like today, he’ll fuck you like a whore, unforgiving and rough, until the sun is up and until you’re filled to the absolute brim with his cum and then maybe, he’ll stop. 

The man’s stamina is something that needs to be studied, because what the fuck. 

Marius pulls your body upright, lifting up your right leg and then starts fucking you where you stand, penetrating you even deeper with his cock in that position. He circles his hand around your neck, pulling your body taut against him so he can nibble on your earlobe. “Can you take more, jiejie…hmm?”

His hand moves from your neck to massage your breast, pinching and pulling on your nipple and then doing the same to the other one. You mewl under his touch, every movement pushing you closer to the edge. 

“...please, yes. I can…want…more…”

“Fuck…” He growls against your ear, his movements quickly becoming more aggressive, determined to fuck you until your cunt remembers his shape. He lifts your leg up even higher, thankful for your flexibility because at this angle he gets to penetrate you even deeper, until the tip of his dick touches the opening of your womb. His large hand presses onto the spot just below your stomach, squeezing it slightly, mind going feral at the prospect of filling you up again for the nth time that night. Maybe you’re going insane but you swear your belly feels slightly distended every time he thrusts inside you. 

Feeling the pressure growing in the pit of your stomach, you turn your head slightly and watch him through half lidded eyes; his brows furrowed, eyes focused on his cock going in and out of you, his hair damp with sweat, cheeks red and sweat dripping down his chin from the heat—he looks so fucking sexy, especially when he’s reduced to that because of you. 

He notices you looking at him, and winks at you—but immediately throws his head back when your walls start to clamp tighter around him. His jaw clenches, pecs tightening as he will himself not to come undone just yet but you’re not making it easier for him as you deliberately begin to push your ass towards him, sliding him even deeper inside your tight walls. 

“Shit…you little minx…”

“The bathtub is filling up…” 

“Mmmm…you know what else is filling up?” He grins, rotating his hips to adjust himself in an angle before spearing straight into that sweet spot inside you, reaching a depth that makes your heart stop for a split second. You both moan loudly, coming undone together in explosive orgasms—your voice pitching to a hoarse scream as your cunt squeezes around him, coaxing every drop of cum from his balls. 

You’re so sickeningly full of him that every plunge pushes more and more of his cum out, past your joined flesh until it drips onto the floor. Some of it leaks down the inside of your thigh so he pulls out, scoops it up with the tip of his cock and pushes it back inside you, not letting any more go to waste. “Mmm…let’s keep it all inside yeah? Good girl…” He slumps against you, grinning against your neck. 

It’s difficult to think straight when you’re still in the midst of your orgasm so you nod lightly and rest your head against him, your body weak and trembling. 

Still plugged inside you, he wraps his arms around you from the back and kisses the top of your head before leaning over to turn off the tap, just in time before the water overflows. 

When he finally pulls out of you, you turn around and slide down his body, trailing your nails down his abs as you sink to your knees in front of him before wrapping your fingers around his cock. His eyes roll to the back of his skull and you hear him hiss the moment your tongue wraps around his cock. You begin to suck him off sloppily, his hips stuttering as he cums again at record speed, spurting semen inside the hot caverns of your mouth to which you swallow obediently. You moan happily around him, sending vibrations throughout his body, making him moan your name to the ceiling in pleasure. 

You pull him out of your mouth and continue stroking him with your small hand, watching his cock twitch as it shoots more cum onto your face and bare tits, drenching you with his scent. The smell of sex hangs heavily in the air, absolutely not helping at calming down your libido.

When he’s done, and you’ve drained every single drop of cum out of him, or so you thought, you lightly tap his cock against your breasts, smearing the fluids all over your skin just to get a reaction out of him. 

“You know babe…it’s almost as if you don’t want me to stop fucking you—” He laughs before scooping you off the floor and then gently places you inside the tub. Your body is welcomed by the warm temperature of the water, rewarding a brief respite that your body desperately needs after the sex marathon it went through. 

Marius slides in behind you, adjusting you to sit in between his legs so you can lean back against him. He runs his fingers through your hair and starts gently massaging your head before moving down to the same to your shoulders. You hum contentedly as you relax under his touch, soft and gentle, a huge contrast from all the manhandling previously. 

He lifts your arm and entwines his fingers with yours, his hand so big compared to yours. He brings your hand towards his lips and kisses your ring before dipping in to kiss the side of your head. “My wife…”

You chuckle softly. “Nuh-uh, not yet…”

He laughs and pokes your cheek playfully. “I just did things to you that are exclusively husband and wife things…”

You turn around and give him a look. “But you’ve been doing those ‘things’ to me even before you put this ring on my finger so—” 

“Okay fine, you don’t have to call me out like that…” He whines and buries his face against the crook of your neck, nuzzling like a cat. “I guess I’ve always considered you my wife…mine and mine only…” His voice is muffled but you hear him clearly. He’s so sweet it makes your heart clench. 

You pull away from him and crane your neck to plant a soft kiss on his pouty lips. Big baby. 

“I’m yours, Marius. And you’re mine. My big giant baby…” You kiss him on the cheek. “Always so needy…’ And then the tip of his nose. “Who just so happens to be very handsome…” Between his brows. “...and extremely sexy...” 

“Just like you.”

“Shhh…this is about you.”

“Mmmm yes please, praise me more.”

You clear your throat. “With an extremely big…giant…”

“...cock.” 

“...heart.”

Your eyes widen with surprise, feeling his stiff cock pressing against your back. His hands start kneading your breasts, causing your body to burn with desire once more almost instantly. 

“Marius…”

“I love you…need you…again…” He breathes against your skin, his touches making you melt against him willingly, ready for pleasure. He lifts your hips up, positions his cock against your hole and then gently sinks you down on him—stretching your cunt so deliciously. 

The warm water sloshes around you, threatening to flow over the bathtub as he begins to bounce you on his cock. You grip onto the sides of the tub to hold yourself steady as he pistons into you from below, the position allowing him to reach deeper inside you and it feels so fucking good.

It’s only an hour later and when your fingers have turned into prunes did you finally finish bathing, for real. 

In the comfort of your bed, you snuggle against the heat of his body, cheek pressed on his chest as you listen to his steady heartbeat. Soon after, with the exhaustion finally creeping in, you are both lulled into a deep slumber, safe and comfy in each other's arms.

When the gentle ray of sunshine hits your eye in the morning, you are stirred awake by Marius’ large hand squeezing onto the fat of your thigh. His eyes are still closed so he’s either still asleep or at least pretending to be. You reach up slowly to flick his eyelashes, too long for his own good as if he even needs them—and then poke his nose playfully. 

“Good morning…” You whisper softly, in a sing-songy tone and then watch as his mouth curls into a smirk. 

“Morning babe…” He responds, his morning voice husky and deep. He wraps his strong arm around you and pulls you close, pressing his morning erection against your clothed pussy. You mewl involuntarily, noticing how he’s already pulled his cock out of his briefs because you feel how hot and heavy he is against you. 

This is mornings with Marius. You’re either stirred awake by him eating your pussy or with his erection pressed against you, twitching and begging for attention. You have no complaints though, since you’re as needy as he is—your libidos are never fully satiated. So mornings like these help you to at least get it out of your system so you can go to work without thinking about wanting to get railed in the middle of typing a report. 

Marius moves closer to you and pulls your panties aside then starts rubbing his tip in between your folds, smearing them with precum. You wrap your arms around his neck and push yourself against him, so he can sink his cock inside you, joining your flesh once again. 

The morning sex is always gentle, as he will rock his hips against you, fucking you slowly while he wraps you in a tight embrace. It does however turn into something hot and heavy a few minutes later, with you gripping onto the sheet as you are washed over with back arching, toe curling orgasms, yes plural, because Marius is just too fucking good at using his cock to let you leave the bed with just one. 

It finally ends with him unloading inside you, filling your womb with a copious amount of cum until you leak messily onto the sheets, staining it white. Luckily for you, he’s learned how to do laundry and he promises to be the one to wash it whenever this happens.

On a hilarious note, you can imagine Payton jumping with joy at the thought of not having to wash whatever suspicious stains on Marius’ sheets ever again ever since you both decide to move out of the mansion. Bless the old man. 

——

a/n: are yall breathing cus i most certainly am not lmao dm me with your thoughts and share me more brainrot 💜

[venny-the-chubbyblack-writer]

Title: A Demon’s Christmas Glow

My honest reaction:

—————————————

Snowflakes drifted softly outside, painting the barren land in a blanket of white. The air was crisp, and the night sky shimmered with stars, twinkling like tiny crystals. Inside the modest cabin you and Gyutaro had claimed as your temporary hideout, warmth radiated from a small hearth, and the faint scent of spiced tea lingered in the air.

For most, Christmas was a time of joy, family, and celebration. For you and Gyutaro, it was something entirely different—a rare moment to embrace humanity amid the shadows. Tonight wasn’t about grand gifts or lavish decorations but about the comfort of being together.

Gyutaro sat by the window, his gangly frame hunched over as he traced patterns in the frosted glass with a clawed finger. His green eyes, marbled with hues of sorrow and longing, reflected the flickering firelight. He wore a threadbare sweater you had insisted he try, though he protested that it looked ridiculous on him. It was oversized and lopsided, the bright red contrasting starkly with his pale, sickly complexion. Yet, to you, he looked endearingly out of place, like a forgotten piece of a broken puzzle finally finding its fit.

“You’re staring again,” he muttered, his raspy voice cutting through the silence. His tone was gruff, but there was no venom in it—just the hint of embarrassment he couldn’t hide.

You smiled, leaning back against the cushions on the floor. “Can you blame me? You look… festive.”

“Festive?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I look stupid.” But the faint flush creeping up his neck betrayed his true feelings.

Rising to your feet, you crossed the room and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “You look perfect,” you said softly, letting your fingers linger. His shoulders stiffened at first, but he didn’t pull away.

“What’s the point of this anyway?” he grumbled, motioning vaguely at the room. You had strung together makeshift decorations—paper snowflakes, a small tree you’d scavenged and adorned with candles, and a single garland draped across the mantle. It wasn’t much, but it transformed the space into something magical.

“The point,” you began, leaning against the window beside him, “is to make memories. Good ones. Ones that remind us we’re more than just what the world sees.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the snowy landscape outside. Then, almost hesitantly, he asked, “And you really think I deserve that?”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. Gyutaro was so much more than the cruel, bitter demon he often portrayed. Beneath the rough exterior was someone who had been hurt, abandoned, and scorned by a world that refused to understand him. And yet, here he was, allowing you into his broken heart piece by piece.

“Of course you do,” you replied firmly. “You’ve been through so much, Gyutaro. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve happiness.”

He turned to face you, his mismatched eyes searching yours for any hint of deception. When he found none, he sighed, his lips curving into a crooked smile. “You’re too good to me, y’know that?”

“Someone has to be,” you teased, earning a soft chuckle from him. It was a rare sound, one that warmed you more than any fire ever could.

As the night wore on, you coaxed him into helping you with the final touches of the evening. Together, you prepared a simple meal—more for the tradition than necessity—and sat by the fire, sharing stories from your past. Gyutaro, who rarely opened up, surprised you with snippets of his childhood. His voice was tinged with bitterness, but there was also a fragile yearning for the innocence he’d lost.

At some point, you produced a small gift you’d hidden under the tree—a scarf you had painstakingly knit over the past few weeks. It wasn’t perfect, with uneven stitches and frayed edges, but it was made with love.

“For me?” he asked, staring at it as if it were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

“Who else?” you joked, wrapping it around his neck. The deep green fabric matched his eyes, and though he looked awkward wearing it, you couldn’t help but beam. “Now you’ll stay warm, even on the coldest nights.”

He didn’t respond immediately, instead pulling the scarf closer to his face. His clawed hands trembled slightly, and when he finally looked at you, his eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “Merry Christmas, Gyutaro.”

For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe in something good. Sitting by the fire with you, the world outside forgotten, he thought maybe—just maybe—he could have a place in this world, too.

And as snow continued to fall, blanketing the earth in quiet serenity, the two of you shared a moment of peace that neither would ever forget.

—————————————

A gyutaro comfort fanfic coming right up for @mrsshabana

[vampyrris]

<3

levi waited as he patiently watched you bargain with a vendor for a silk scarf you fancied.

“but it’s such a small scarf!”

“it’s made from the finest silk, ma’am, imported from overseas.”

a small smile made its way to levi’s lips as he watched your face turn into a red tomato from frustration. you humphed loudly as you handed the bag of coins to the vendor and snatched the scarf from the stall.

he watched you with an amused expression as you wrapped the evidently small scarf around your neck and began to knot it. he could see your lips muttering words to yourself as you proudly walked back to him.

“that was real mature.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “don’t you patronize me, levi ackerman.”

levi huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. “at least you entertained everyone around you including myself with your excellent bargaining skills.”

you humphed loudly again as you walked alongside him, your hand casually finding its place on the back of his chair as you moved forward. before you even got the chance to step ahead, headed to your next destination, levi maneuvered himself in front of you.

he levelled you with a calm stare.

“sit.”

you regarded him with a puzzled glance. “huh?”

levi moved himself closer to you, and patted his lap. “sit.”

you assessed him carefully. “i don’t want to hurt you”

he rolled his eyes. “you won’t hurt me. you’ve walked long enough, let me take us wherever it is we are going next.”

your eyes softened at his words, so you let out a small sigh before doing as he asked. you carefully put most of your weight on his good leg as you splayed your legs over the other.

levi’s hand came up to adjust your skirt that had ridden up a little, before going back to the joystick on the armrest. you looked at his solemn expression as he shuffled on the seat, making sure both of you were comfortable.

something twisted in your chest.

unable to help yourself, you leaned in, your lips brushing against the scars on his cheek as you planted a soft kiss.

“thank you. and just so you know, i never want you to feel like you somehow owe me something in exchange of me loving you.” you then kissed his lips. “i love you and i care about you so, so much.”

levi looked at you with an expression that made you want to embrace him tightly and never let him go, and never let harm come his way ever again.

he silently took your hand and brought it to his lips, his eyes falling shut as he kissed your knuckles gently.

wrapping your other arm around his shoulders, you leaned in to kiss him once more. “let’s go get those baked cinnamon thingies you love so much, and then take a stroll in the park.”

levi smiled and nodded, but not before correcting you that the baked cinnamon thingies were called cinnamon rolls.

the sky had turned into hues of lilacs, pinks and oranges by the time you and levi reached the park. in one hand you held your cinnamon roll, and with the other you fed levi his.

“mm, this is actually so good. why did i hate it again when i first tried it?” you moaned in delight through a mouthful of sweet goodness.

“because it wasn’t drowning in diabetes. you’re gonna get sick.” levi remarked, eyeing the bun in your hand as he navigated you both through the wide expanse of the green and flowery park.

your cinnamon roll was oozing with an unhealthy amount of the creamy icing, but you couldn’t care less.

levi opened his mouth for another bite. you lifted the bun to his mouth, but just as he was about to bite into it, you pulled it out of reach with a giggle.

a burst of laugh escaped you when levi shot you an annoyed look, daring you to test him again.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. here you go,” you lifted it to his mouth—only to pull it away again, breaking into another fit of laughter.

“i’m gonna throw you off my lap.” levi muttered.

you let out a dramatic gasp as you held the roll to his mouth again. “don’t make fun of me because i like sugar, you turd.”

“you mean diabe—mmf!”

you shoved the bun into his mouth. his eyes widened in shock while you grinned foolishly at his look of despair.

he began chewing angrily, as he whipped out his white kerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped at the corners of his lips.

“i can’t believe you manage to look this adorable even when you’re mad. oh my god,” you kissed his cheek, puffed and stuffed from the big bite thanks to your assault of the cinnamon roll.

you went to kiss him again, but he dodged it, your puckered lips meeting nothing but the air.

you huffed in frustration half-heartedly. “i’m sorry, i won’t do it again. promise.”

he grumbled under his breath. only then did you notice a remaining crumb of the bun still lingering on his chin. using your finger, you caught it and put it in your mouth.

levi’s cheeks turned pink at that.

you smiled as you leaned your head against his and began finishing the rest of your rolls.

fortunately enough, you were strolling closely near the flower bushes. you seized the opportunity and plucked a handful of hydrangeas.

“relax,” levi muttered.

you pouted as you dropped the flowers on your lap. “why do you sound so mad at me.”

you picked one and placed it behind levi’s ear. “i’m sorry for making you choke on a cinnamon roll. i love you.” you pouted again, looking at him with puppy dog eyes.

levi shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips, before absentmindedly placing something in your hair.

you scrunched your brows, immediately plucking it out.

it was a red rose. a loud gasp escaped your lips. “where did you get this?”

levi only rolled his eyes. “while you were too busy bullying me, we passed rose bushes.”

you sputtered dramatically. “excuse you, i was loving you!”

his lips quirked to one side at that. he placed another red rose in your hair.

“that one has a lot of thorns.” he warned, as he reached up and tucked a loose strand of your hair.

you brought the rose to your nose and inhaled the familiar scent. “i’m sorry for bullying you.” you said, your head falling against his chest.

his arm snaked around your waist and squeezed your side.

“you can make it up to me, when we get home.” he whispered, his warm breath fanning your temple.

you looked up at him, your hand going around his torso. “i shall, mr. ackerman.”

he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a while.

“i love you, mrs. ackerman, bullying and all.”

you bit your lip to contain your huge smile as you looked at him.

“take us home, please. i’ve got a little surprise for my dear husband.”

[sexydoffyman]

Hi! I saw that u also write for Katakuri (which is one of my favs) and I have a request for him!

Katakuri first meeting his wife (a forced marriage) who looks small and ‘weak’ but has a bounty over 1 billion and he sees her fight for the first time (his s/o wins)

STRONG WIFE

genre: fluff

word count: 722

A/N: Katakuri is my fav so I had to throw some fluff in there.🦑

He is feared by his enemies and admired by his siblings. Everyone else both fears him and admires him. When you saw the man for the first time, his expression really scared you. The way he stood, the way he talked, the way he looked at you. Those things made you fear him. On the other side, the way he held your hands to help you up the stairs, the way others looked at him, the way he never put his guard down. These things made you admire him.

You were awkwardly sitting next to him on a bench waiting for the wedding ceremony to take place. You looked at his face and quickly looked back to the ground when he looked your way. You felt scared as if he judged you the whole time, as if he looked down on you. You were worried that he hates you in some sort. Maybe because of the marriage maybe because he saw you as unworthy or annoying.

You were intimidated by the vibes he gave off. You shook and hoped that this whole thing will be over. A guard came into the room to take you to the room the tea party took place. When you and Katakuri stood up you felt the fear come once again. His tall figure casting a deep shadow. You now took a better look at him and you just had to wonder...

"Why the scarf?"

You walked together to the tea party as everyone around you cheered the soon-to-be husband and wife. You both stood on one of the wedding cake's floors. You couldn't help but feel that something was off. You took a quick glance at Katakuri and you saw that his expression changed and you were worried that something bad was coming. It looked like he didn't know what was coming but he knew something was.

I now pronounce you as husband and wife. "CRASH!!!"

You looked when you saw a bomb go off from one of the mirrors. Katakuri clenched his eyebrows and you kept looking in the direction of the mirror. You saw Brulee running out of the mirror. The tea party was under attack. When you looked next to you, you saw your husband was no longer there. You glanced back to the mirror and saw a faint hint of pink and purple colour moving into the mirror and Brulee with her hand in the mirror.

You quickly realized what happened, and before she could pull her arm out so Katakuri could turn the mirror to pieces, you ran straight through the mirror. Just when you popped into the mirror world Katakuri broke the mirror. He instantly looked at you surprised and annoyed because you just gave him more work to protect you.

You weren't going to disappoint him tho. Without even looking at him you kicked the person in the face. Katakuri followed you really surprised that you can keep up with him and even hurt the person.

After a while of you both fighting the person, you were both quite tired. The person then attacked with fire at Katakuri in a way that he couldn't dodge. His scarf was burnt to the ground. The person started laughing at your husband and at the scar on his face. Not just on the scar but on his whole mouth. He called him a monster.

That was your breaking point... you saw red. You looked Katakuri's way, and he looked back at you. You took an interest in his mouth but brushed it off and ripped the person's chest in two pieces even tho they had armament haki covering it.

When you looked Katakuri's way again he was ready for you to call him a disgusting monster. All of his worries only for you to giggle and call him beautiful. He immediately blushed finally showing a different expression. You paid no mind to it and asked him how will you get back to the tea party.

At the moment Katakuri kneeling down hugged you from behind. He grabbed you and carried you to the nearest mirror back to the tea party. Brulee was watching both of you lovebirds and chuckled.

"Katakuri I don't need you to carry me"

"Strong women need rest"

He said that trying to make an excuse to hold you.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

A destiny encounter where unmasked Vessel (still sour and hurt by his past relationship) meet a nice person (younger but mature) at a music shop. Slowly they get close with each other and develop romantic feelings. When its time for them to confess their feelings, Vessel decided to tell his secret about who he is. Turns out his lover is a big fan of Sleep Token e Vessel have this big grin on his face while his significant other babble about how amazing his music is.

Bye~ and sorry 🫠🫢

Healing hearts

Vessel had decided that was it. No more. No more relationships. No more commitment. He wasn’t gonna ever open himself up. He was too damaged. Too hurt. Too scared of ever giving any piece of himself to anyone else again. But life worked in funny ways. When he first met you he thought nothing of it. He had just come back from a tour. Tired and drained all he had wanted was to come back to his usual routines. One of them was visiting random music shops, shit that has opened while they had been away.

Vessel rarely paid others peace of mind. He didn’t want to be approached so equally he didn’t want others to think he was all up in their space. But his eyes instantly found you. As if by a pull from the moment he stepped into a store. He wasn’t sure what drew him in. From a first glance, you looked like every other girl. Big fluffy scarf. Hair pulled up in a messy bun. Concentrated on digging through the vinyl records.

“Wouldn’t buy them here if I was you”, for a moment Vessel was almost confused himself that he had said anything at all. Until your head turned to him. “Sorry?”, you quickly reached for your airpods pulling them out. And it’s when your eyes hit him that Vessel realized how truly mesmerizing you were. His mouth closed and fell open a couple of times before he reached out for the shelf. “The records are overpriced here”, he repeated, clearing his throat. “Oh, I… thank you?! I was just…”, you stuttered, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “I’m new to the area”. Vessel nodded quickly, “There’s a spot just down the corner. Same stuff half the price”. A slight smile softened your face even more, “Thank you, I’ve been missing music in my apartment”.

“A musician?”, Vessel asked making you quickly shake your head, “Just an enthusiast”, you chuckled, “Y/n by the way”. And here it is the moment that usually has him running for the hills. Because from this point you would no longer be strangers. “Vess”, he extended his much bigger palm to you. “Tea?”, you asked, “For saving my wallet for unnecessary purchases”, you chuckled and Vessel couldn’t help but smile himself, “Wouldn’t this be an unnecessary purchase?”, “Nope, feels like an investment”, you shrugged. A feeling Vessel hasn’t felt in a while sparks deep within as he let himself watch you for a minute. Something deep urging him to try this one more time, “Sure”, he mused, “Lead the way”.

[wishful-thinking-is-dumb]

Apocalyptic Winter - Platonic Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

It's been months since the outbreak happened. You had been separated from your family and friends, forced to wander alone. You don’t know if they are dead or alive, and you may never find out. People were a rare sight, and you liked it that way. You were more scared of desperate people than slow, dumb zombies.

It got harder to move forward as winter drew closer, food became harder to come by. Warmth, harder to hold onto. You avoided areas where people would be, towns, cities. You’ve heard rumours from the people you do manage to stumble upon that the military has been going around looking for survivors. A last ditch effort to preserve some sort of society.

You drag yourself through the snowstorm, the sun starting to set. You had gone to get water from a nearby stream that had not yet frozen over, needing fresh water for the night. You approach the little camp you had set up, a tent and a campfire in an old concrete building. You slow your steps as you notice.. Tire marks…? You feel your stomach drop. These are fresh marks.

Someone is nearby. You reach for your knife, snow crunching under your boots as you enter the building as you see a snowmobile parked outside of the window to your right. You see the familiar crest of the National Guard and another you don’t recognise. Your heart is beating out of your chest, you snap your head to your set up, someone has gone through the tent…

The sound of a gun reloading over the sound of the snow storm makes you turn around fast. You find yourself looking down the barrel of a gun, a shotgun, held by a man in tactical gear and a skull balaclava.

The man seems much better prepared for the winter weather than you, at least judging by his white camouflage heavy duty cold weather gear- compared to your scavenged coats and boots. His voice is low and emotionless as he clicks the gun’s safety off and speaks in a low, dangerous voice.

“Drop the knife.” He says, his voice eerily calm. In a panicked state, you drop the gun and make a run for it. You hear a gunshot ring out, and you fall to the ground. He shot you in the leg. You are horrified by the pain and how much blood seems to seep from the wound.

He is at your side in less than a second, his gun lowered as he kneels down beside you, checking your leg.

"Stay still. I’ve hit your knee. I don't know how bad it is."

There's something in his eyes- it might look like pity, but it's a bit too cold and hard to really call it that. Even so, he reaches out to help you sit up. You immediately try to scramble away from him, blood painting the cold concrete below you red.

"Hold still. You aren't going anywhere."

He grabs your waist and forces you to sit still, keeping his grip firm. He seems pretty intent on forcing you to stay put, and he's strong- you'll struggle against his grip as much as you want, but it's not going to do any good.

"Now don't try to crawl anywhere. You'll just bleed out even faster. You're going to sit there and listen to me now, no matter how much it hurts, alright? You don't have any other choice."

He uses your scarf to wrap the wound, making sure that you won’t bleed out and die. Your tears freeze to your face as you dry heave at the sight of blood. He then drags you over to the snowmobile outside the old building, and you see that he's packed up your things in the sled attached to the back of the snowmobile.

You whimper and sob the pain is blinding. And he lifts you up to get you to sit on the back seat of the snowmobile. He makes you sit back there, and when he's pulled the strap of the seat tight over your chest, he stops and pauses, looking at you- really looking, almost for the first time. He can really see the exhaustion on your face from fending for yourself.

He gives you a pat on the leg, and then gets into the driver's seat, starting up the snowmobile.

"You're just going to have to ride with me. And then we're going back to my cabin." He grabs a spare helmet from the side compartment beside him and he puts it over your head, making sure it fits correctly.

He holds the helmet in place and buckles it on your head, starting the motor of the snowmobile as he does so. Once you're all buckled in, he starts driving through the thick, white snow.

"Hold on. The ride might be rough."

He doesn't wait for you to respond, starting the engine before the words have fully left his mouth. Every bump and turn makes the pain in your knee shoot up your leg, it hurts so much.

One hour, then two. The snow is thick and the snowmobile struggles over the rough terrain. Simon glances back at you every now and then as he drives, checking your expression.

At last, after what feels like an eternity of bumps and jolts, the snowmobile finally starts to level out, and he spots a small cabin nestled in some trees up ahead.

He pulls the snowmobile into a shed that looks old and weathered. The roof is almost collapsing, and the walls are made out of plywood.

He unbuckles you from the back of the snowmobile and helps get you to your feet. He is still silent, but he seems calmer somehow.

"We're here. Come on."

He starts walking towards a door on the side of the cabin. You limp, almost falling over. You clench your teeth, the pain feels like it's burning.

He keeps a grip on your arm, helping you limp with him as he leads you into the cabin. The cabin is small, but tidy, with a stove in the middle and a few shelves along the wall- he closes the door behind the both of you, and locks it.

He helps you out of your winter gear, hanging each piece of your clothing up to dry- the jackets, boots, and pants. He watches you closely as he helps you take the layers off, noticing the tears still running down your face- he's not used to someone crying in front of him.

He guides you over to the couch, sitting you down gingerly on the sofa. Every movement is agony, and you haven't stopped crying.

He goes to a shelf, grabbing a first aid kit. He comes back to you, sitting down next to you on the couch. He starts to open the first aid kit, a grim expression on his face.

"This is going to hurt, so try and lie as still as you can, alright?"

He works quickly but carefully, his movements practiced. He's been doing this kind of thing for years in the military. He pulls out the bullet with a pair of surgical tweezers, and after some delicate stitching, he finishes up the wound. You feel like your gonna pass out from the pain.

"There. All done."

As he speaks, you notice how his voice is almost softer than usual. You are breathing heavily, not managing the pain very well. He gives your wound one more once-over, wiping away the excess blood with a cloth. Then, he pulls out a pair of fuzzy socks and puts them on your feet, slowly starting to warm your feet with your boots and snow pants set to dry.

"There. They should warm up soon."

He glances up at you as he sits back, noticing your tears and how you're crying. He frowns almost imperceptibly, as if the sight of you crying is making his stomach twist a bit.

He quickly grabs some clean cloth from a shelf in the next room, bringing them in and sitting back down on the couch next to you. He starts to wrap the cloth around your knee, securing the makeshift brace around it. He ties the ends together, holding the cloth in place over the injury.

"There, now you won't be able to move that leg, let alone bend it. That should help keep that knee from getting worse for now.."

He's quiet for a long moment, just sitting next to you on the couch as you cry. He's watching you carefully, an almost unreadable look on his face. His eyes take in every detail of your expression, almost like he's committing it to memory.

After a while, he speaks, breaking the silence between you.

"You should probably try and rest, okay?"

[starhvney]

Hi hello!! I absolutely adore your writing and I hope you're having a good day!

I was wondering if maybe I could request a (mystreet) Zane x Reader with a reader who loves spoiling + pampering him all while he's still wrapping his mind around the fact anyone could even like him romantically lol. If not no worries!!

𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mystreet zane x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: when you don't expect love to find you, it's hard to comprehend when it does. for zane, it's a mystery.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, slight hurt/comfort? zane cries just a lil bit, otherwise super cute

𝐂𝐖: none?

𝐀/𝐍: i made this a bit more emotional than anon probably intended with the request. but i’m weak for men who are vulnerable so i had to do it to em. i have a soft spot for zane i want to be besties with him my lil emo pookie wookie. also guys i finished this after drinking half a bottle of wine so if there's any typos i'm sorry lolll

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

zane had gone quiet ten minutes ago, his eyes spacing away as he blankly nodded along to whatever you said. you ignored it at first, trying to figure out if it was just you overthinking things or if something about him was really off.

you had excitedly asked him over to hang out. it wasn’t the first time, but this time you decided to be extra affectionate and doting on him. fresh baked heart shaped cookies were laid out on the coffee table as you ushered him to rest on the couch with you. you turned on whatever show he wanted while you had him rest his head on your lap.

sliding his scarf down his face, you lean over him as you rub his cheeks with your thumbs. it was a shame he covered and hid his face so often. while he acted different from his brothers, he still most definitely looked like them, and the ro’meave boys never had any bad complaints about their looks. 

porcelain skin somehow was perfectly clear, save for the freckles that painted along his straight nose and high cheekbones. thick dark hair starkly contrasted against his face, the same color beautifully framing his bright icy-blue eyes. 

“you’re so pretty.” you whisper. 

the apple of his cheeks glow red and his lips warble, his fingers trailing across the fabric of his mask as if he was tempted to pull it back up to hide away.

“you’re prettier.” he refutes, the genuineness and uncertain shyness in his tone enough to keep you from teasing him.

you merely tap his nose, before your fingers trail up to his thick black hair. gingerly, you pull it back, fully exposing his other eye and the light scar that nicked his eyelid and brow. with a satisfied hum, you lean back to grab the bag you had prepared before.

“what’s that?”

“skin care.”

“for…?”

“you! will you let me?”

“...if you want.”

you quietly cheer in victory, a smile on your face. his lips twitch up and his eyes glisten as up at you while you begin your routine. as soon as you start massaging products into his face, he sleepily drifts his attention to the tv. after a moment his muscles go limp against you, a deep exhale leaving through his nose. 

you poke his nose and lean down to kiss his freckles, giggling as his ears grow red. one kiss follows another, and another, and another, as your lips touch and trace each mark along his pale skin. he made a whimpering noise of protest, pale hands reaching up to hold your face in place as your lips had threatened another kiss on his soft cheeks. 

“hm?” you question. dark lashes hide his eyes as they dart away from your face and towards the screen.

“it’s nothing.” he mumbles, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as his hands drop back down to his side.

your eyebrows pinch at his sudden mood change, but you don’t question him further, reaching over to feed him a cookie instead.

“okay…” you simply return, patting his cheek as he chews the sweet snack. “are the cookies good?”

“mhm.” he nods, voice warbling as he hums.

a moment passes, the background noise of the show the only other noise in the room as you stare down at him. his lashes still hide his eyes from you as they brush along his cheekbones.

“what’s wrong?” you finally question.

the question is met with silence as you feel his shoulders tense against your legs. your fingers reach out to gently brush against his cheeks.

“zane, look at me.”

finally his eyes drift back up to yours, icy blue glazed over with emotion.

“why are you so quiet?”

“i’m just… confused, i guess.” he mutters.

instead of asking him, you patiently wait for him to continue, tilting your head as you lightly trace small shapes across his face.

“well, confused isn’t the right word… or maybe it is?” he groans, pale hands reaching up to rub against his face. “you’re just… so sweet. i can barely imagine any girl giving me the time of day, let alone you. i guess i still just don’t understand why you’d want to spend your time and energy on me. it’s not like i was your last choice, either. you’re beautiful and unbearably kind. You could have anyone you wanted. And i’m just… me.”

for a moment you don’t know how to respond, completely taken by his words. your fingers pause against his jawline, and he freezes at your following silence. his eyes widen in regret, and for a moment you swear he looks on the verge of tears before he shoots up from his spot on your lap.

“it’s nothing, forget it.” he mumbles quickly, facing away from you.

“no! no, it’s not nothing, i was just surprised!” you leap forward to hug him from behind, voice scrambling to comfort him. “i didn’t think you felt that way.”

your hands connect over his chest, feeling his heart thud in his chest. his rib cage stutters as he takes in a shaky breath, one hand reaching up to grip onto yours.

“zane, i chose you because i love you. i treat you like this because i truly want to.”

slowly, he twists his body to look back at you. you’re barely able to see the shine of the tear running down his cheek before he buries his head in the crook of your neck, practically tackling you back down into the couch. his hands tightly wrap around you, holding you close as he lays on top of you. your heart swells at his vulnerability, a side he had rarely shown to you. 

“i love you.” his voice whispers back to you, the words barely loud enough to be heard if you weren’t paying attention.

“when you’re not pretending to be a grumpy, unhappy little grouch, you’re one of the sweetest men i’ve ever met.” you continue, rubbing one hand along his back while the other runs through his hair.

the neckline of your shirt feels damp, and you feel another shaky exhale against your collarbone.

“thank you.”

“i adore you, zane. you don’t need to thank me for something that isn’t a chore to me.”

his head shifts, turning towards the screen as he quietly stares at the show playing on the screen. you pull the blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over the two of you, hugging him to your chest and continuing to rub his back.

“want to stay here for a while?” you ask softly.

“...yeah.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[ivorydragoness44]

Van Helsing x Reader: Up To The Task

Word Count: tba

Warnings/Notes: mentions of an injury (not graphic), snarky banter. Gender neutral reader.

Summary: The Reader finds an injured Van Helsing. But does he want help?

The night was cold, more so when a eerily gentle breeze brushed across your exposed skin. You adjusted the scarf around your neck. The temperature usually did not bother you, but there was just something particularly odd that night.

As you walked along the cobbled streets, you scarcely passed by anyone. It was late. Why would anyone be wandering around at such an hour? But you were.

Heavy labored breathing caught your attention. Whoever it was sounded tired as you approached a gap between two buildings. You slowed your pace to one of caution.

There on the ground sat a man, leaning against the sturdy wall. His head was reclined, as if looking up to the sky in a time of need. But when he heard your shoe make contact with a particularly loud spot on the ground, he noticed you.

Looking over his shoulder, you could just make out the face under the rim of his hat. The most wanted man in all of Europe. What were the odds? Though, as the situation may be, hopefully the odds were in your favor.

His eyes shifted over, catching yours. "You never saw me." Giving you a stern once over as you stepped between the buildings, he huffed to himself.

Initially, you were not going to engage, but something told you otherwise. "You're hard to miss, Mister Van Helsing." Not moving for a moment, you watched him. Analyzing. However, he made no move toward you. It went against everything you had ever heard about the man. But then again, what was the word of other people? People who had only witnessed him at a distance or not at all.

Stepping around him, you looked for the source of his visible discomfort. You followed up the length of his arm. At his shoulder, you noticed the wound. Cut through his coat and sweater, it was a nasty little gash by the redness soaked into the ripped fabric. His gloved hand pressed against it. "You're hurt."

He gave a dry laugh. "I've had worse." Smile faltering with a quiet snarl of pain.

"I'm sure you have."

Inching closer to him, you knelt down to his level. You reached out, but he made no move to stop you. Not even a glance, until he was within their reach. You moved aside his dark hair. The wavy locks distracting you momentarily. "For a terrible wanted man, you have such kitten soft hair."

Thick brows knitting together, he frowned at you. "And what do you think you're doing?"

"Helping an injured person," you said. You stilled your hand to try to get a better look at his injury. "Who...or...what caused this?"

A weak smile pulled up the corner of his mouth. "Heh...I think it's best if you didn't know."

You nodded. "Fair enough. But for now, I'm going to at least tend to those wounds. Let someone help you for a change, Mister Van Helsing."

"That would be a change... Wouldn't it?"

With his strange excuse for consent, you continued. Pushing his coat off, you tried your best to be gentle. At least he helped with meagerly shaking his arm out of the sleeve. You needed better access to reach and look at his shoulder.

Slowly, you pinched at the soft fabric. Managing to lift it out of the way, you finally got a better view of his injury. With scarce moonlight and street lamps to aid you, you peeked underneath at his skin. "It doesn't look to bad."

"It sure feels like it." He grumbled, trying to get a look at it for himself.

"I thought you said you'd had worse?." You eyed him with playful skepticism.

"That was before you touched it."

"My apologies." You said, releasing the material from the grasp.

He sucked in a breath and gave a smile. "I don't think anyone's ever apologied to me. Not that they had any reason to."

Your brows furrowed at his words. "Never?"

"No," he replied quietly.

"Hmm, well, there's always a first time for everything." Straightening up, you uncoiled your scarf from around your neck.

"I guess that's true." He eyed you then with soft confusion. "What are you--?"

Grabbing ahold of his arm, you pulled it away from his body. "Small injury or not, we can't have you with an open wound in this night air." Gingerly, you wrapped your scarf around his shoulder. Only a small muffled groan or two was kept restrained from him as you did so.

"There," you said, tucking the fabric into itself. "Now, being that it was your shoulder, I can safely assume that you can stand. Unless there's another wound that you have failed to mention."

Though he pursed his lips together, his brown eyes held no harshness. Without a word, grounded his boots and pushed himself up from the wall, taking his coat with him.

As you stood as well, you took into account his confident stature. It must have been like second nature to him. But what could have ever happened to make him as such a man?

"Satisfied?" He asked, his features becoming strikingly more playful despite his ordeal.

You gave a small smile. Fearing him did not seem possible, but there was one thing you did not think to be worried about before. The fear of being captivated by him.

"Come, Mister Van Helsing," you beckoned as you stepped around him. "Your wound needs to be cleaned and dressed."

"You're going to trust a stranger into your home?"

"You trusted a stranger to check your injury," you countered.

"Touché."

[bloodhoundsandplagues]

⭐︎◦_✦ first snow

ellie williams x reader

Summary: it's the first proper snow of the year, and no, Ellie won't let you sleep in.

No use of Y/N, fem/gn reader (BECAUSE ELLIE LIKES WOMEN AND IM NOT INVALIDATING HER IDENTITY, SO NO MALE READER SORRY)

Warnings: profanity, not proofread as always, no spoilers for either games or the show. definitely a little ooc but i havent played the games for a few months. again kinda short :(

A/N: here it is !! i was gonna write this the other day, but my brain did a thing so i wrote some ass sam drake headcanons instead just to get SOMETHING out. sorry if this is badly written i just wanted to write something for ellie lol

also heads up i MIGHTMIGHTMIGHT do a similar thing for abby anderson idk yet but keep ur eyes peeled

“Wake up.” Those are the words that rouse you from your warm, comfortable sleep, at fuck-off o’clock in the morning on your day off. You groan and roll over, covering your eyes with your arms. You mumble something along the lines of what the fuck incoherently as you go, pulling the blanket up to your chin. 

“Wake the fuck up.” 

At this, you remove your arm and open your eyes. Your girlfriend is always the gentlest when it comes to waking you; gently caressing your face, kissing your forehead, whispering pet names. Never has she employed the word fuck when getting you out of bed. 

“Ellie,” is all you manage to say, your voice hoarse and scratchy. 

“It’s snowing.” 

You turn slowly, and realise that she’s right- thick snowflakes are falling outside, turning the garden white and shiny. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and yawning. 

“I see that,” you finally mumble when you’re done yawning. Ellie is looking at you expectantly, and you realise that she’s dressed in her jeans and green sweatshirt. You peek over the edge of the bed, and find that she’s even wearing her boots. Her coat has clearly been thrown onto the back of a chair, and is currently dripping onto the floor. 

“Do you…” 

“Yes,” she says, not even allowing you to finish your sentence. “Yes, I would like to go outside.” She’s grinning like a small child, and God knows you can’t reject a face like that. 

“Okay,” you say. “Okay, yeah. Gimme a sec.” You wriggle out from under the covers, shivering as the cold hits you. Ellie is smiling so widely you worry that it must hurt; she watches as you get out of bed and open your drawers, pulling out some warm clothes. You hear her snort as you give the pits of the top you’re wearing a quick sniff and decide that it’s still wearable; you turn back to her and make a face. 

As soon as you’re done putting on your boots, she’s grabbed your hand and she’s tugging you to the door. She’s somehow managed to put her coat on, and even helps you wind your scarf around your neck as she opens the door. 

“Slow down,” you mutter, but you’re smiling at her. There’s something infectious about her excitement that makes you forget everything for a moment. 

You see that there is already a lap of footprints around the garden. You’re pretty sure the culprit is the girl holding your hand, looking up excitedly at the sunrise. She takes you to the stables, and then insists that you both take the same horse. Eventually, you agree, clambering onto Shimmer behind her and winding your arms around her waist. She talks all the way to the gates, and you listen, chin resting on her shoulder. She tells you about the most recent book she’s read; an old pre-outbreak novel about a man stranded on Mars. She eventually goes quiet, though, admiring the falling snow as Shimmer steadily trots towards your destination. You shut your eyes for a moment, and she leans into you slightly. She’s humming softly, and you join in. It’s an old Christmas tune Maria likes to sing, which you two have picked up from the last time she cooked for you. You can’t remember the name, but you like it. You’re pretty sure Ellie does too. 

“So,” you say finally when you’re both done humming. Your eyes are still closed, and you’re pretty close to dozing off. 

“Yeah?” Ellie murmurs. 

“Where we goin’?” You ask lightly, toying with a strand of her hair.

“Surprise,” she answers, her smile evident in her voice. “You’ll know when we get there.” 

“Oh no,” you laugh, tightening your arms around her waist. “I hate surprises.” 

“You’ll like this one,” she assures you. 

“Is it…” you hesitate, suddenly slightly concerned. You’ve only brought your handgun with you; you don’t even know if Ellie has anything on her that isn’t her knife. 

“Yeah,” she says, catching on to what you’re saying in a heartbeat. “We scouted it yesterday; it’s totally safe. Don’t worry.” 

You two go on in silence for a while longer, listening to the soft whistling of the wind and the crunch of Shimmer’s hoofs in the snow. It’s so peaceful; a kind of peace that’s hard to find in this world, with raiders and infected around every corner. But right now, it’s just you and your girlfriend, and good luck to anything that tries to disturb this moment. 

You don’t realise you’ve fallen asleep until Ellie wakes you with a gentle squeeze of your wrist. You stretch, and she helps you off Shimmer, gloved hand gripping yours. You realise she’s nervous; she’s gnawing on her bottom lip in that endearing way of hers, and she seems to be bouncing on the heels of her shoes. “C’mon,” she says as soon as you’re on your feet again. You smile at her and follow, boots crunching in the fresh snow. She’s stopped Shimmer behind a tall wall, the only remnant of a now lost building. You wonder briefly what it used to look like, but that thought is quickly erased from your mind when she takes you to the other side of the wall. You clasp a hand over your mouth and gasp. You are standing a few feet away from the edge of a cliff, overlooking the whole of Jackson. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen; the lights are twinkling soft and orange, the whole sky a bright pinkish red as the sun rises. The snow makes everything ten times brighter; it almost hurts your eyes to look. But the brightest thing of all is your girlfriend’s smile. She isn’t looking at the view; her gaze is locked on you, your reaction to what she is showing you. You turn to her, and without really thinking, grab the front of her jacket and kiss her. She kisses back immediately, her gloved hands coming up to cup your face and gently pulling you closer to her. The cold is forgotten to you; the only thing worth feeling is her mouth against yours. You’re both red when you pull away, gasping for air and giggling. She tilts her head, putting her arms around your waist and pulling you closer. 

“It’s beautiful,” you say softly, reaching up and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Thank you, Ellie.” 

She grins at you, leaning forwards and nudging your forehead with her nose. “Told you you’d like it,” she says cheekily, her mouth brushing your skin as she gloats. “Ass,” is your eloquent response. You laugh and turn back to the view, arms still around your girlfriend. “I can’t believe I’ve never been up here before.” 

“We only found a path up to it on patrol last night,” she says. “It was Jesse’s idea to bring you up here.” You smile. Oh, Jesse, ever the romantic type. 

“So,” you say, turning back to her. “What do you wanna do?” 

“I don’t know. This is as far as my masterplan went,” she admits. 

“Oh, you had a masterplan?” 

“Oh, yeah. It was very well crafted.” 

You laugh. “Oh, I’m sure it was.” 

“It was!” 

She’s laughing too now, swaying back and forth with you. You tilt your head to match her, and she kisses you again, pulling you close with a hand on the small of your back. You reciprocate more than happily, fingers tangling in her hair. 

She kisses so softly- you remember the first time you ever kissed, you had expected it to be kind of rough, almost painful (although you wouldn’t have complained). But instead, she was so gentle, not doing anything that you might not have wanted, always pulling away at the slightest hesitation from you. To you, she really is perfect. 

“Okay,” you say when she breaks from you, “wanna build a snowman?” She laughs, kisses you again. You laugh too. 

“Yeah, let’s build a snowman,” she says after a moment of laughing and kissing. “Let’s build two snowmen. One each. Actually-“ her eyes twinkle mischievously- “best snowman wins.” “I wasn’t aware this was a competition,” you say, mock-offended. “Well, alright then. But be warned, I’m gonna kick your ass.” “Oh yeah?” She pulls away and almost sprints to a spot in the snow, already shovelling it into a little ball. “We’ll see about that.” You mimic her, crouching down and making a ball with the snow. You haven’t brought carrots or anything else of the sort to decorate the snowman, but neither of you care. 

Very quickly, your snowman-making competition dissolves into giggling and half-hearted snowball throwing. You can’t even gather enough snow to make the second part of your snowman’s body; Ellie sits for what feels like twenty minutes laughing herself to tears at your attempt. Hers is not much better; it’s one crumbling ball with a big rock she found carefully balanced on top. At least you have the decency not to mock her, though. 

“Asshole!” You shout- you don’t think she hears you through her fits of laughter. “I’m sorry!” She manages to say between gasps of breath. “It’s just- it’s just really not good!” 

“Oh, fuck you!” You launch a snowball in her direction, your aim sloppy due to how hard you’re laughing. You miss her head, but the snowball hits her snowman’s ‘head’, causing it to drop off. Ellie gasps, clamping a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” you whisper in mock terror, raising your hands above your head. “I-“ 

She launches a snowball at you, and it hits you smack in the face. You gasp, almost falling backwards (luckily the two of you have moved away from the edge of the cliff, otherwise this would have a messy end). As you’re wiping the snow out of your eyes, she approaches, chortling to herself. “I think I won,” she declares when you stand, dusting off your clothes. 

“Debatable,” you respond, crossing your arms. She’s grinning, her nose and ears red from the cold- you suspect you must be in a somewhat similar state. 

She raises an eyebrow at your sorry attempt at a snowman. “No, I definitely won.” “Sure.” You laugh, mock-haughty. “Keep telling yourself that.” 

“Oh, I will.” Her grin widens (if that’s even possible) and she tugs you closer by your scarf, her hand coming up to cup your face. You hardly feel the freezing cold of her wet glove as she kisses you again, and again, and again. 

It’s almost noon when you two go back to Jackson. Your clothes are soaked through from all the snowball fights, your face red from all the kissing. You fall asleep again on the way back, your chin comfortable on Ellie’s shoulder, your heartbeat against her back. She talks, although she knows you’re dozing; tells you about her time alone with Joel, about her first few months in Jackson after the Firefly hospital. She tells you quietly about her immunity, which you already knew about; she even told you about her life before Joel, before she left FEDRA. You listen to it all, eyes closed, drifting between the horse you’re riding on and the girl you’re clinging on to and a dream world. 

When you get home, the two of you shower and change back into warm, dry clothes. Ellie suggests going out again, but you are quick to refuse, already wrapped in blankets in bed. She laughs, then joins you, wrapping her arms around you and pressing her forehead to yours. “Love you,” you mumble. She gently traces the lines of your face with her finger, as if trying to memorise them (even though she knows she could never forget you). “Love you too,” comes her answer after a moment. She tugs you closer, planting a kiss on your forehead. “And for the record, I won the snowman competition.” You snort, your eyes shooting open again. “As if,” you quip. “Mine had a head. That’s one more than yours.” She nudges your cheek with her nose. “Therefore, I win.” 

“Fuck you.” You laugh and kiss her nose. “Fine, you win.” 

You hear a whispered yessss as you shut your eyes again, a wave of sleep washing over you. You’re yawning, almost asleep; you feel her snuggle closer to you, press another kiss to your forehead. Whisper another gentle I love you, potentially propose a rematch- the memories are getting foggy at this point. All you know as you drift off is that she is holding you, and she loves you, and by God do you love her too.