#he's so cold... i can't just let him freeze...

[viktateapot]

PROBLEM IN THE MORNING (Batboys)

Dick Grayson:

The warm morning light gently seeps through the not-quite-closed blinds, spreading across the room and outlining the sleeping figures on the bed. You wake up first, feeling the weight of an arm lying across your waist. It's Dick.

He's holding you tightly in his sleep, pressing you close as if he's afraid you'll disappear the moment he lets go. His breathing is even and peaceful, and his dark hair is scattered across the pillow in a picturesque mess. You can't help but smile as you look at him.

You carefully try to slip out from under his arm, but he wakes up immediately and pulls you back to him. "Where do you think you're going?" he mumbles sleepily, his voice raspy and slightly hoarse.

"I need to get up, Dick. I have a lot to do today," you reply, gently stroking his cheek. He opens his eyes and looks at you, squinting. You can see surprise in his gaze, followed by a hint of disappointment.

"But pleeease, just five more minutes..." he begs, like a little kid, and you can't help but laugh. Dick has always been like that – energetic and cheerful, but sometimes he just needs a little warmth and affection.

You snuggle closer to him, inhaling his scent – a mixture of freshness and light cologne. "Okay, five more minutes. But then we're getting up, deal?" you say, and he nods happily in response.

You lie there for a while, just cuddling and enjoying the silence. Dick starts gently stroking your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. You feel his warmth spreading throughout your body, and you feel so good and peaceful.

Suddenly, Dick starts tickling you, and you flinch in surprise. "Hey! What was that for?" you ask indignantly, laughing. "Just checking to see if you'd fallen asleep," he replies with a mischievous smile.

You start tickling him in return, and soon the whole bed is shaking with your laughter and playful fighting. You tumble on top of each other, gasping for breath, and Dick hugs you tightly, preventing you from falling off the bed.

Suddenly, Dick freezes and looks at you, his eyes becoming serious and a little pensive. He leans in and kisses you softly on the lips, first lightly and timidly, and then – more passionately and confidently.

You return his kiss, surrendering to the power of your feelings. His arms hold you tightly, pressing you so close that you can feel his heart beating. Time seems to stand still, and in that moment it's just you and Dick.

But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. Breaking the kiss, Dick looks at you regretfully and sighs. "Alright, time to get up. Otherwise we'll just lie here all day," he says, and you nod in response, knowing that he's right. But in your heart of hearts, you hope that someday you can just stay in bed, forgetting about everything else in the world.

Jason Todd:

A cold morning light filters through the poorly drawn curtains, making you shiver under the thick woolen blanket. You wake up, feeling the weight of a strong body pressed against you from behind. Jason.

He always sleeps like the dead, as if trying to make up for all the sleepless nights he spends patrolling the streets of Gotham. His arm lies across your waist, holding you captive in his warmth and strength.

You carefully try to slip out of his grasp, knowing that he needs to get up and attend to his own affairs. But he only pulls you closer, muttering something unintelligible in his sleep.

You smile and snuggle closer to him, inhaling his scent – a mixture of tobacco, leather, and something subtly dangerous. Jason has always been like that – a mixture of opposites, and that's what you find so appealing about him.

You run your hand over his cheek, feeling the rough stubble, and he grimaces slightly but doesn't wake up. You admire his face, so peaceful and serene in his sleep.

Suddenly, Jason wakes up abruptly and grabs your hand. His eyes are wide, and you can read anxiety in them. You look at him, startled, not understanding what's happening.

"What's wrong?" you whisper, trying to calm him down. He's silent, trying to catch his breath and compose himself. You feel his body trembling with tension.

"I had a nightmare," he says quietly, as if afraid to say it out loud. You hug him and press him close, trying to transmit your warmth and support to him.

"It's okay. I'm here. I'm with you," you whisper in his ear, gently kissing his temple. He relaxes a little and presses himself closer to you, as if afraid you might disappear.

You lie there for a while, just cuddling and enjoying the silence. Finally, Jason lets go of you and looks you in the eyes. His gaze is no longer anxious, only grateful and tender.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "For what?" you ask. "For being you," he replies, and gently kisses you on the lips. You return his kiss, feeling his love and warmth warming your heart.

You get out of bed and start making breakfast. Jason is, as usual, grumpy and taciturn, but you know that he's happy you're there. And you're happy to be there with him, knowing that together you can overcome any difficulties.

Alright, here's the translation of that version of the Tim Drake (Red Robin) fic:

Tim Drake:

A cautious light, seeping through the cracks in the blinds, barely touches the room, drowning in twilight. You are warmed only by the soft blanket, and of course, by the warmth of the person who fell asleep next to you. You open your eyes and see Tim. He's asleep, pressed close to you as if seeking protection, his breath quiet and even. His brow is furrowed even in sleep.

You involuntarily smile as you look at him. He's so focused, so purposeful when fighting crime or solving complex puzzles, and so vulnerable and defenseless in his sleep. You know that it's not easy for him, that he has been through a lot, but he never complains and always tries to be strong.

You cautiously try to slip out from under his arm so as not to wake him, but you don't succeed. He reacts instantly, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards him.

"Where are you going?" he mumbles sleepily, his voice raspy and slightly hoarse after sleep. You smile gently at him and stroke his cheek. "I need to get up, my soul. I have things to do," you reply.

He opens his eyes, and you see confusion and pleading in them. He doesn't want to let you go, doesn't want to be left alone. You know that it's hard for him, especially after everything that's happened to him.

"Just lie with me for a little longer," he asks, and you can't refuse him. You snuggle closer to him, feeling his arms embrace you.

You listen to his breathing, so quiet and even, and you feel calm. You know that he is strong, that he can cope with everything that is in store for him, but sometimes he just needs you to be there and support him.

You lie there for a while, just cuddling and silently looking at the ceiling. The room is quiet, only occasionally you can hear cars passing by outside the window. You feel his body relax, as the tension leaves.

Finally, he lets go of you and sits up on the bed, rubbing his eyes. You sit up next to him and hug him, kissing his shoulder. "Everything will be okay, my Robin. I'm here," you whisper in his ear.

He smiles back at you and takes your hand in his. "I know. Thank you for always being there," he says. You feel his words warming your heart.

You get out of bed and start getting ready. Tim turns on some music, and the room becomes more cheerful. You dance, goof off, and laugh, forgetting about all the problems and difficulties.

You know that life with him will not be easy, that there will be difficulties and trials, but you are ready for it. You love Tim, and you will always be there for him to support him and help him overcome everything.

Damian Wayne:

In the vast bedroom, bathed in bright sunlight, you wake up feeling a strong arm wrapped around your waist. It’s Damian, asleep beside you. His face, usually haughty and focused, seems almost tender in sleep.

Carefully, trying not to wake him, you attempt to pull away. You know he has intense training scheduled with his father today, and then probably patrolling the city. But as soon as you move, his grip tightens.

"Don't leave," he mumbles, his voice raspy with sleep. He pulls you closer, so that you feel the warmth of his bare body. You smirk. Even in his sleep, he tries to control the situation.

"I need to get up, my golden one," you whisper in response. "I have things to do." He makes some unintelligible noise, but doesn't let go. You know he's not going to make this easy.

Damian opens his eyes, and you see a slight annoyance in them, mixed with something deeper that he usually hides. "What could be more important than lying with me?" he asks, his voice full of certainty.

You roll your eyes, although deep down you are flattered by his jealousy. "Well, for starters, I need to help Alfred with dinner for your big family," you answer, mentioning his favorite dog.

For a moment, his face softens, but he quickly reverts to his trademark inscrutable expression. "Alfred can wait," he cuts off. "I cannot."

You laugh, unable to suppress a smile. He’s so serious when he tries to command, although it almost always comes off as rather cute. You run your hand through his perfectly styled hair.

"I promise to be back as soon as I can," you say, and he seems to soften a little. He reluctantly lets you go, but still holds your hand.

"Will you miss me?" you ask playfully. He rolls his eyes, but you see the corners of his lips lift slightly. "Of course not," he says. "But I surmise that my day will be somewhat less… tolerable without your presence.”

You laugh and get out of bed. "I'll be back before you have a chance to miss me," you tease. Damian frowns. "Don't get any ideas, woman. I never get bored.”

You giggle and head towards the door. "See you later, Robin," you say, winking. With those words, you leave, leaving Damian alone in the room, wondering why you so easily slipped out of his control.

HERE'S A LITTLE SURPRISE FOR YOU, MY DEARS

Conner Kent:

A timid dawn peeks through the not-quite-closed curtains, painting the walls of your room in soft pastel hues. You wake up, feeling the warmth of a strong body pressed against your back. Conner.

His arm is around your waist, his fingers lightly fluttering on your skin. You feel his breath on your neck, and a light shiver runs down your spine. Conner is still asleep, but you feel his presence, his strength, his warmth.

You try to quietly slip out of his embrace, knowing that he needs to get up early and attend to his "superhero" duties. But he only holds you closer, as if afraid you might disappear.

"Don't leave," he whispers in a sleepy voice, and you feel his lips brush against your neck. You smile and close your eyes, savoring the moment. You feel so cozy and peaceful in his arms that you don't want to get up at all.

You snuggle closer to him, feeling his muscles tense beneath your hand. He strokes your stomach, and you feel goosebumps rise on your skin. His touch has always stirred a storm of emotions within you.

He begins to slowly kiss your neck, and you feel your breathing quicken. You know that if you don't stop him now, you'll both end up lazing in bed all day. And, honestly, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea.

You turn to face him and look into his sleepy, blue eyes. "We need to get up," you whisper, though your voice doesn't sound very convincing. Conner smiles and kisses you on the lips.

The kiss becomes more passionate and demanding, and you feel your knees weaken. You return the kiss with equal fervor, surrendering completely to his touch. His hands move to your back, and he pulls you even closer.

You kiss for so long that your head starts to spin. Finally, you break away from his lips, breathing heavily. "My sunshine," you say, a warning note in your voice.

He looks at you with adoration and guilt. "I'm sorry. I just can't get enough of you," he says. You laugh and kiss him on the cheek. "I know. Me too," you reply.

You both get out of bed and start getting ready. You feel Conner's gaze on you as you change, and the goosebumps return to your skin. You turn to him and give him a playful look. "What?" you ask.

Conner smiles and approaches you. "Nothing. Just admiring you," he says. He embraces you and kisses you on the lips. "I love you," he whispers. "And I love you," you reply, knowing that with him, you are ready for anything.

[mrsshabana]

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐬𝐬 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓

ꔫ‧₊ Summary The business trip is coming to an end, and Gyutaro has to face the reality of the situation and the consequences of his actions. When the two of you return to the office, he tries to pretend that things are normal. But the facade doesn't last, and he can't keep up the act. ꔫ‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, Modern au, Boss & secretary relationship, Gyutaro is married, age gap, angst, smut, vaginal sex, creampie, cheating. ꔫ‧₊ Note 1.9k words.

✧:･ﾟ→ Chapter 1 ✧:･ﾟ→ Chapter 2 ✧:･ﾟ→ Chapter 3 ✧:･ﾟ→ Chapter 4 ✧:･ﾟ→ AO3

It felt like a dream when Gyutaro woke up.

Not only did he have the most peaceful and fulfilling sleep of his life, but he woke up with a warm feeling in his chest. For the first time in years, he didn’t feel an ounce of stress. Like everything is right in the world. 

But when he registers that the warmth at his side is actually your nude body tucked under his arm, the panic begins to set in.

“What have I done…” he whispers to himself as the reality of the situation dawns on him. Not only did he cheat on his wife, but he also slept with his secretary. 

He quietly sits up, looking down at you with soft eyes. Watching as your chest slowly rises and falls. 

He should’ve walked away. But he didn’t. And honestly, he didn’t want to. He knows what he did was wrong, but no matter how much he tries, he feels no regret. Last night was the most magical night of his life. Not only did he receive the love that he’s craved for years, but he also spent the night with someone who genuinely likes him for who he is. Not for the money or power. Just for Gyutaro. 

As the memories of the previous night begin to fill his mind, a blush spreads across his cheeks. He really didn’t hold back last night. It’s been so long since he’s had sex, the tension within himself was immense. All of it pouring out in hard thrusts and deep moans. 

“I hope I didn’t hurt her… dammit I should have controlled myself better,” he thinks to himself. 

“Good morning…” you mutter, turning to look at him as you pull the blanket over your chest. 

He freezes. His eyes meet yours in a nervous, self-deprecating stare. 

“I-I’m sorry,” his voice low and hoarse, “I shouldn’t have… I let myself get carried away.”

“Hey, it’s ok,” you say as you place your hand on his shoulder, “I don’t regret it. Unless you didn’t mean any of it…”

“It’s not that!” he says quickly, “I meant all of it, I really did. But I’m still a married man. Even if it’s hollow and broken. And you’re still my employee…”

“Gyutaro, I really like you. Like really, really like you. And I know you didn’t come to me for something meaningless. I know how it seems on paper, but I know you care. And I know you’re hurting.”

“It’s just that… you make me feel like I matter,” his voice cracks as he speaks, “Do you know how rare that is?”

You can’t help but smile, “Well, you do matter to me. A lot.”

He blushes as you lean over and kiss him softly, “We should probably get ready,” you whisper. Not wanting the moment to end, but you both have a lot of events to attend today as the conference is nearing its end. 

Once Gyutaro puts his suit and tie back on, it’s like he’s putting on a mask. He changes from the man you were intimate with last night and transforms into the cold and calculating business professional that you’re used to seeing at work. 

But even with that mask on, you see glimpses of Gyutaro’s true self throughout the day. He just can’t help it when you’re around. Occasionally laughing under his breath if you say something funny. Or catching you when you almost trip and fall. Even when other men stare at you for a moment too long, you can see Gyutaro clench his jaw. 

The rest of the trip goes by quickly, but it isn’t unpleasant. During the day, things are business as usual. But behind closed doors, Gyutaro is sweet and attentive. Almost like a boy trying to impress a girl he has a crush on. If people could see through the walls, they’d think that the two of you were a couple in the early stages of a relationship. 

Even on the plane ride back, he holds your hand like he means it. Squeezing it tighter when there’s turbulence because it makes him nervous. A woman sitting across the aisle even comments on what a cute couple the two of you are. Causing both of you to blush and go silent. 

The two of you don’t want the trip or your time alone together to end. But it’s inevitable that you’ll have to return to work and pretend like you and Gyutaro don’t have feelings for each other.

~

The first day back in the office is filled with nerves and repressed emotions. 

Gyutaro walks into his office as usual, briefcase in hand. Sitting at his desk and going over the meticulously crafted schedule that you put together for him. 

“Good morning, Mr. Shabana,” you say, putting on your best corporate smile as you hand him his coffee. 

For some reason, hearing you call him Mr. Shabana again feels so unnatural in his ears. So different from the way you would reverently whisper his name during your nights alone together on the trip. 

“G-Good morning,” he stutters, not sure how to behave around you now that things have changed. 

“You have a meeting this morning with Douma. He wanted to go over some numbers with you and catch you up on everything you missed. And this afternoon, you have another meeting with a potential client.”

“Alright, thank you.”

You turn to leave the room, but before you walk away, he calls out to you. 

“And Miss L/N,” he says, “Would you mind coming to my office before you go home for the evening?”

You can’t help but blush, “Y-Yes, sir.”

As the work day goes on, you feel like your mind is elsewhere. You’re barely able to focus on any of your tasks as all you can think about is Gyutaro and what he could possibly want you to come to his office for. 

The worst possible scenario is the first thing that comes to mind. Maybe he’s going to break things off with you and choose his wife. It’s a silly thought, you think. You shouldn’t be mad at him for choosing her; she is married to him after all. And you know it’s wrong to want him to choose you, but you can’t help it. The feelings that the two of you share are complicated, even more so because of the situation that you’re in. Or maybe he’s going to fire you. You don’t know which one is worse, honestly. 

When the end of the day comes, and all of the other employees clock out and leave the building, you knock sheepishly on Gyutaro’s door. 

“Come in,” his voice calls from inside.

“You wanted to see me, sir,” you say with a shaky voice as you approach his desk. 

“Yes,” he sighs and stands from his seat. Walking to stand in front of you, the height difference and him being so close makes you even more nervous. 

But to your surprise, his face softens. And instead of your boss, he looks like the man you flirted with on the beach, the man who kissed you like you were the only woman to ever love him. 

He hugs you tightly, the tension in his muscles finally relaxing for the first time all day. And he just holds you. 

“I don’t know if I can keep pretending…” he mutters.

“You don’t have to, Gyutaro,” you whisper as you hold him in your arms. You know he’s hurting and that this isn’t easy for him. 

It’s like your words change something for him. Something deep and unspoken. 

He looks into your eyes and catches your lips in a tender kiss. Full of soft emotions and honest truths. And you gladly accept his affection. Gently touching the side of his face as he holds you close. 

But the kiss turns from slow and sweet to deep and hungry. 

It’s only natural for a man who's been starved of affection for so long to want more. To crave it. 

His body moves on its own as he leads you over to his desk, picking you up and placing you to sit atop the edge of his desk. His hands caressing your thighs as he hikes up your skirt and nestles his hips between your legs. 

He groans as you pull him closer, snaking your hands across his chest to unbutton his shirt. And he does the same to you, unbuttoning your blouse and immediately palming your breasts. 

Everything moves quickly, filled with passion and unrestrained lust. It’s not long before Gyutaro is hastily unbuckling his belt and pulling out his hard cock. 

He moves your panties to the side, gathering your slick on his fingers and slowly rubbing them between your folds. Leaning forward, he whispers, “Are you ready, baby?”

“Mh-hm,” you whimper, “I-I’m ready.”

He kisses you one last time before pushing his hips forward and sliding into you. His breath hitches as he bottoms out, stopping to let you adjust to him while he enjoys the way your velvety walls squeeze him tightly. 

His movements are slower than the first time you slept with him. More controlled and maybe more meaningful too. Less of a heat-of-the-moment type of thing, and more of an “I love and care about you” type of thing.

He buries his face into the crook of your neck as he picks up the pace. Kissing and nibbling your neck as he revels in your soft moans and whimpers. 

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers as he reaches down between your legs to rub tight circles into your clit, “You’re taking me so well. Doing so good for me.” 

“ Ngh! Gyu, m’gonna…” you gasp and clutch onto him tighter. 

“Shh, it’s ok. Go ahead, baby. I’ll cum with you.”

He speeds up when he feels your walls fluttering around his thick shaft. It only takes a few seconds for you to unravel beneath him. You moan his name and tighten your legs around his hips as your entire body shudders as you’re hit by waves of pleasure. 

Gyutaro quickly follows, his grip tightening on your thighs as his hips stutter. “ Fuck, ngh… Y/N ,” he wimpers as he fills you with his hot sticky cum. Rope after rope shooting out of him, you can feel his warmth spreading inside of you. 

He holds you in a tight embrace as the two of you catch your breath. 

“Am I an idiot for falling in love with you…?” you whisper, a hint of sadness in your voice. You don’t know where it came from, but suddenly you feel like maybe you’re nothing more than a mistress. You hate that that word describes the type of relationship that you have with Gyutaro, but it’s the truth. If you could change things, you’d want to be his girlfriend. Maybe some day even more. But right now, you really don’t know what the future holds. 

“Of course not,” Gyutaro says, his voice filled with genuine concern as he looks into your eyes. “When I get home, I’m going to schedule a meeting with my lawyer, ok? I’m taking our relationship seriously, Y/N. I promise.”

“Ok…” you bury your face into his chest and choose to believe that he’s serious about divorcing his wife for you. 

“Because I’m falling for you too…” he admits, “And I don’t want what we have to go to waste.”

[dabisoka]

Synopsis: During the commanders' meetings in the Soul Society or the Espada gatherings in Las Noches, they begin to tease you.

Includes: Gin Ichimaru, Aizen Sosuke, Kenpachi Zaraki, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, Byakuya Kuchiki, Nnoitra Gilga, Shunsui Kyoraku, Ulquiorra Cifer

Warning: +18 content (NSFW, teasing and mature content. This stuff's kinda spicy with teasing and all that. If you're underage, best not to stick around and just keep scrolling.)

You don't even notice until his cold fingers gently brush your thigh. You flinch briefly and glance at him, almost stunned.

Gin Ichimaru

What's he doing?

Your expression says it all but he just gives you that familiar, narrow-eyed smile. He can't be serious.

He's playful- probably more than even he realizes but this is pushing it. There's no deeper thought behnd it, he just likes to tease.

He leans in close and whispers: "Keep concentrating, darling. Let's see how long you can take it."

With a mischievous grin, he grows more demanding under the table and you can barely stay still. Ulquiorra's eyes are already locked on you. He misses nothing. Noting. Not even this.

It's unnerving and your cheeks flush hot.

Sosuke Aizen

During a serious meeting, his foot slowly slips between your legs.

"Stay calm. You are mine, no matter where we are," he whispers to you before turning back to the group of Espada at the long table.

You're completely thrown off, but no one seems to notice- or if they do, no one dares to say a word.

At first, it's just his boot nudging your legs apart, brushing along your ankles. Then it's his hand, moving up with maddening slowness, kneading your skin almost sensually. you shift in your seat, nervous and tense. You don't want to fall out of his favor - and he knows that.

He demands your obedience, even now.

You know exactly what would happen if you stood up and walked away. He'd bend you over his throne that night and take you mercilessly, your screams echoing through the endless halls of Las Noches.

Without hesitation, he pushes your panties anside, completely composed as he explains some strategies - as if his fingers aren''t buried inside you at that very moment.

This man has no conscience.

Kenpachi Zaraki

His rough hand runs up your leg under the table. He leans in and growls in your ear: "Let's see if you can hold still while I finish you off.''

You can barely hold it together whenever he touches you and he knows it. His large, calloused hand moves higher, and you freeze.

He's relentless - he won't stop teasing you. He'll shove his fingers inside you right here, under the table - no shame at all. (He didn't even flinch when he dragged you, a young female shinigami into his bed for the first time.)

Your groan quietly under your breath while Yamamoto asks you something. You can't answer.

Kenpachi just grins, saying: "Heh. Guess she's busy.''

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez

Grimmjow is wild. Especially in the early days of your relationship, he can barely keep his eyes and hands off you. But even you didn't think he'd be bold enough to try something like this.

He bumps your legs with his boot and lets out a defiant laugh. Then his hand clamps down on your thigh.

"You wet yet?"

He doesn't let go - not until you're squirming in your seat, barely able to sit still. When you try to push his hand away, he grabs you harder, squeezing like he owns you.

The entire time, he's grinning like a smug b!stard. H keeps touching you through your clothes until you can't help but react - and then he laughs: "You're so easy.''

When he sees your desperate face and feels your squirming under his fingers, he loses all patience. He slams his fist on the table and stands abruptly. "This is taking too damn long. I've got better things to do," he growls.

Without waitung, he grabs you by the forearm and yanks you along behind him.

Byakuya Kuchiki

It starts with the gentlest touch - his fingers brushing lightly against your underarm. Then slowly...deliberately...his hand rests on your knee under the table.

You glance at him. No expression. He stares straight ahead but his fingers creep higher.

When you shift, he grabs you firmly. A silent warning. He leans in just once, close enough to murmur, emotionless: "Beautiful. Even in shame."

After the meeting, he leads you to a secluded garden and presses you against the trunk of a cherry blossom tree. "I couldn't control myself this time,'' he mumbles against the back of your neck and you close your eyes.

Every touch from him is calm, light and burns on your skin.

Nnoitra Gilga

You sit beside him at the long table, catching a glimpse of his eyes from the side. Something in his gaze makes you swallow hard - though you don't yet realize what's coming.

No one could ever truly read him. And that grin, stretching ear to ear, only meant trouble.

He turns slightly towards you, not even trying to be discreet.

Then his hand slides up your thigh, confidently, until it cups your sensitive center. You gasp - and he chuckles under his breath: "What's wrong? I haven't even started yet.''

His palm moves in slow, mocking circles over your clothed heat, watching your struggle to stay composed. You tremble beneath the weight of his touch. He leans in and whispers, low and threathening: "Don't cum yet. If you do, I'll make you crawl out of here.''

And still, he doesn't stop. He wants you to lose control. He wants them all to see it. He loves humiliating you.

Shunsui Kyoraku

He's been flirting from the start, but the way his hand moves under the table is downright dangerous. You feel his soft fingertips glifing up your leg, followed by his thumb rubbing slow, deliberate circles ist above your knee.

He leans lazily into your space, his voice low: "You wore that just to tempt me, didn't you? You're pretty cheeky."

He doesn't say another word and just keeps stroking that same spot calmy.

He smiles at you while everyone else continues talking around you. He knows you're soaked.

Then, just before the meeting ends, he slides you a folded note: '10 minutes. My quarters. No panties.'

Ulquiorra Cifer

With him, it would all begin with one look. He wouldn't touch. He would simply watch you. His gaze would glide over yor bare, crossed legs, linger on the dip of your cleavage.

And when you finally noticed, you'd blush and lower your eyes, suddenly fixated on your hands.

He leans in, his lips just brushing the space near your thrat - your pulse punding beneath your skin. His green eyes never waver.

"Could you spread your legs?"

He doesn't go furthe than that, not here. Ulquiorra is careful, precise. He only allows himself the barest glance at your underwear - nothing more. But his mind is already be turning, calculating what he'll do to you once the meeting is over. He leans back in his chair, prefectly composed.

Then you touch him. Your hand on his thigh.

His voice is low, unreadable: "Don't start something you can't finish, Y/N.''

He never uses pet names. That's not who he is. He always calls you by your name because he love how it sounds on his lips.

[autistic-shaiapouf]

I’m living vicariously through you currently!!! It seems like so much fun !

You're so sweet!! I am having a BLAST out here, meeting other cosplayers has been so so fun, having that connection for a second feels incredible, and so does looking at all the merch, looking at all the vocaloid stuff and suddenly feeling very in place (as opposed to out of place lmao) with all my interests. I'm still here for a 3rd day tomorrow too 💖

Obligatory post of some of the things I've gotten so far:

The miku album still has me REELING, 14 year old me would be losing his mind having a physical copy of a miku album, also went wild finding those pics on the bottom right, I have no idea what purpose they serve but I saw chimera ants and started grabbing 💖

I met another cosplayer dressed as the same character as me!! They gave me butterfly stickers and I put them on my con badge, I put one on my hand and that's gonna be the first sticker I put on my laptop! I still have some prepwork for my outfit tomorrow but I'm excited to go as my own character and rep bug furries bc no one talks about us 😭 the days have all been pretty long but they're all enjoyable and I'm so glad I braved driving 3 1/2 hours to get to this, I'm having so much fun and I'm glad that's so evident in how I've been talking about this 💖💖💖

[silusvesuius]

the most morally corrupt disney princess of all time

[g-k444]

I come into the car wash for my job interview. I just need this job so that I can get enough money to pay my bills as a Uni student - and when the interviewer takes me behind the car wash and provides me with a sponge, bucket, brush and spray hose and tells me to wash his care to prove my aptitudes, I comply.

Washing, scrubbing, wiping - I do it all and pay no attention to how I let thick white soapy suds over my shirt nor how my interviewer now looks to how my tits swing beneath my neckline as I wipe the bumper, or how my ass stretches my trousers as I bend over to dunk the sponge again.

I'm only thrown off guard when you use the spray hose - a jet of cold water splashing my neck before the cold fluid envelopes my body, shocking me into freezing under the wash of coldness

then i look down. to my soaked shirt, plastered to my body and outlining my skin and dark bra, clearly showing my chest heave up and down with heavy breaths as I ask-"What the hell?!"

"How badly do you want the job?" "Oh yeah, you really want it?" "What, you're willing to beg for this job? Oh, that won't be necessary-" "Prove how much you want it. Get on the bumper and fuck yourself with the brush."

It's got to be a joke. It can't be serious.

I freeze - shocked - and I'm horrified as the interviewer reaches out to grab me, pushing my body against the bumper and bending me over like a convict - grunting into my ear as he says fine, not willing to cooperate, I'll show you how to do what you're told-

His hands rip my trousers down and I let out a cry of protest, though it falls on empty ears, as he clapped his hand against my ass firmly, leaving it stinging before I feel something hard and plastic breach my hole - something shoved up my pussy and making me cry and thrash under his grip, tears clouding my eyes as I fight to get out of this position.

"Won't fuck yourself with the brush, fine, I'll do it for you, you inconsiderate bitch - how's that feel - does it hurt? fucking good - d'you want to be a good little bitch and do it yourself now?"

I nod and babble as I feel you keep hammering the object into my hole, feeling your hands both grip my ass to lift me and place me on the bumper.

"Go on then. fuck yourself with it."

With cries and sniffs I grip the brush that projects from my pussy and pull the handle out of my, before letting out a cry at how pathetic I am to comply with these violent orders, as I plunge myself back down onto the brush - "pleasuring" myself for the interviewer who has sat himself in the front seat of the car to look at me through the windshield.

I lower my head in shame as I bring myself up and down on the brush, humiliated and horrified at what the fuck i'm doing, before looking back through to the interviewer through the windscreen and seeing that he's holding his phone up - recording me sheathing the callous object into my pussy and how I cry whilst I do it.

I try to cover my face - my red, crying, humiliated face - and that only makes the man get out of the car and pull me off of the bumper by my hair, holding it firmly at his hips so that I'm forced onto my knees, before he unbuckles his trousers and shoves his cock into my mouth - using the moisture from my cries to lubricate his cock as I'm forced to blowjob him, crying around his cock whilst he uses my hair to pull my mouth up and down his cock like a fleshlight for his pleasure.

but he doesn't cum down my throat, just before he cums he pulls me off of his cock and pushes me to the side so that he can point his cock and fire his cum over the windshield instead. And then turn to me.

"You're nearly hired. Last step of the interview is to take your shirt off, get some suds on your tits, and use them to wipe my cum from the windshield. Maybe then if you get me hard enough, I'll cum somewhere that won't leave as much of a mess."

[madamechrissy]

Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

Warnings - Will be explicit and smutty (it's me!?) Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- his chap, mentions of sex/getting turned on, Gojo being an ass tbh, welcome back Jock Sukuna and say hi to bitchy model Samantha lol, some angst and mutual pining, lots of feelings

Based HEAVILY on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazinggg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙

<<<Part One - Playlist - Masterlist - Part Three>>>

Part Two

Your POV

It was odd, being back in your hometown after years of living on your own, but when your family needed help with their bar, and with student loans piling up -  teaching did not pay very well - you couldn’t help but come back home for a bit. The shifts at the hometown bar helped, and staying with your parents for just a few months was definitely a life saver.

It’s not exactly where you saw yourself, teaching lay offs all over, now you have a preschool class here and you love it, but it’s definitely not enough to cover everything. You feel so… just upset, that you’re back here at your first job, grabbing beers for familiar faces, people who never left their hometown, and some that have, but came back like you did.

Despite it being Spring, it was freezing where you lived, some cold spurt that brought on snow in March, so many of the town were curling up by the roaring fire, bundled up laughing and drinking to stay warm. The bar had quite a cozy atmosphere, it reminded you of home, truly, you grew up here, from bussing tables and cleaning to serving drinks.

“Hey love, you look amazing.” You see Suguru and Shoko then, Shoko has a cigarette between her fingers, a familiar smile that makes you beam, as you come out from behind the bar, hugging them both.

“I missed you two oh goodness!” You receive a kiss on each cheek from them, as you hug them together.

“We heard you were back in town, how have you been?” Suguru asks softly, you sigh a bit, peering up at the tall man.

“I can’t believe I’m back here. Layoffs.” They frown then. “I heard you all run a whole dentist office!?”

“Sugu is a hot dentist.” Shoko teases, and he smirks a bit.

“Shoko runs the clinic attached to it. She outranks me.”

“Always.” You laugh with the two of them, hands on their shoulders now.

“I’m so proud of you two, what? Doctors, I can't believe that.”

“Hey now, teaching is important.” Shoko brushes your hair back softly, earning your flushed cheeks at her praise.

“They definitely don’t make enough.” Suguru says, earning your sigh.

“You’re telling me. Let me get you all drinks!” You eagerly bounce back, mixing them up drinks, Shoko loves a lemon drop from what you remember, and Suguru always enjoyed a rum and coke.

“You remember!” Shoko winks as you hand her the pretty drink, garnishing it with a little lemon swirl and grinning. The noise of the bar fills your ears, as you lean across the polished bar table, glinting under the soft lights overhead.

“Of course I remember. Gosh, it’s been four years since I’ve seen you all I think.” You all start catching up, but of course it starts to get busier, and you begin to take care of all the customers as Suguru and Shoko start tossing darts at the black and red circled board.

You smile at them, they’d always been the perfect couple, making that longing fill you too much. You fully expected to be married with kids by now, sure it was quite a homey little dream, that white picket fence, maybe two kids and some cute golden retriever, but that’s what you always dreamed of. Unfortunately, your bad taste and men did not end in high school.

“Speak of the devil…” You murmur nervously, when you see him, Ryomen Sukuna looking just as good if not better than high school, he still wears his damn letterman’s jacket from college, where he’d become an all star player, you hear now he’s even going pro.

What’s he doing back home?

He grins over now, red eyes sharp as ever, and you fully anticipate him bothering you, saying something pervy, as he walks across the crowded bar, stopping to talk to almost everyone, he was quite a name here. The only person more famous from your little town - there is a population of fourteen thousand and perhaps four stop lights- was Satoru Gojo.

You’d seen him on the damn cat walk, recently he was on the cover of Vogue, him and some other really famous model, this little smirk on his face that just doesn’t fit the boy you knew. If you thought he was cut before, his body was damn near godly, so perfect it was intimidating, and he’d only gotten prettier, not that Satoru wasn’t always so pretty.

He just didn’t know it then.

You think of him sometimes, hurt initially back when summer break hit after high school, and he refused all your calls, he refused to see or talk to anyone when you all lived so fucking close. You tried everything you could, feeling awful because it was your party and you didn’t know, could you have done more? Could you have shoved everyone out?

You were fully planning to if he’d just given you a moment. Your yearbook to this day is something you cherish, and reading his sweet words over and over, he’d taken over an entire page, with words of love you’ve never felt before. But to say it was all ‘a joke’ and leaving, never accepting a friend request, shit he didn’t even talk to Suguru or Shoko, his other best friends.

Satoru never spoke of his hometown in interviews, and when you saw his mom recently, you learned he’s never come home. You know things were hard on him, brutal even, but you wish he knew just how much you loved him, cared for him, sure it was more of a beautiful friendship, but you also were attracted to him, though you were scared to ruin that friendship.

If he just gave you a damn moment.

A friendship you built your entire life demolished, and you miss him even now, you miss the quiet mornings you two would study at the library, you miss the cup of coffee he’d have for you every morning. You missed the little sleepovers, playing pokemon games together, battling it out on the Wii, the amount of things the two of you shared, gone in a moment.

Sukuna leans across the bar, shaking you out of your reverie, his familiar, arrogant smirk just a little softer as his ruby eyes drape down your body, you’re just in some jeans and a polo, nothing too sexy for the family bar here. But he seems to take pleasure in every slow inch, murmuring your name.

“Look at you, even hotter than high school, shit.” You heat up a bit under his gaze, tilting your head and running your hand across your neck.

“Thank you, Sukuna. You look good too.” You earn his wide grin, as he swipes a hand through his pink hair, snowflakes melting just a bit as he leans his hip against the bar now.

“I’ve wondered how you were doing, aren’t you a teacher?”

“I am, but… layoffs.” Sukuna frowns a bit. “I’m teaching preschool here for now, but it’s…”

“They don’t pay shit.” On this, everyone agrees,

“Mmhmm, but it’s my passion. So here I am, working the student loans off.” You wink at him, and he softens then, resting his elbow on the bar, a hand in his chin.

“So pretty you shouldn’t be working.”

“Oh… no. Not at all.” You clear your throat, something is so different about him, he’s not the asshole you remember, or so it seems. “But just temporary, I’m finishing up a couple classes to teach higher education.”

“You always were smart, you’ll do well.”

“Oh… thank you, Sukuna.”

“Used to call me Kuna you know.” You giggle now, easing a bit, even under his gaze, which keeps darting down your body. “God you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Say that to the freshman fifteen that never left.” Sukuna chuckles then, when you turn and bend over, grabbing a beer.

“Went to your nice ass-”

“Sukuna!” You glare behind yourself, and he’s chuckling. “Here I was thinking you were all sweet.”

“I am sweet, thank you. Shit I’d love to catch up sometime?” You hand him his beer, sighing then.

“I don’t know…”

“Lunch or something?”

Satoru’s POV

Satoru’s stepping into the bustling bar with the most annoying model ever, cock hungry too, who’s clinging to his arm, looking at the little bar in disgust, while he eyes the familiar surroundings. He scoffs as he sees Sukuna’s letterman jacket, so pretentious really, and eyes everyone around, surely… your parents still run this place, he wonders, do you ever come visit?

“It’s so… quaint.” Comes Samantha’s voice next to him, running her fingers along the dusty bar, grimacing, she’s as tall as Satoru in her heels, perhaps one of the few women who he doesn’t tower over. All models were pretty tall, but typically he still had a couple inches, but Samantha was the best in her field, and maybe longer legs than Satoru Gojo himself.

“Yeah, I guess compared to LA.” He murmurs, the surroundings oddly comforting, despite how much he thought he’d hate it here. Something about shivering in the cold and then coming to this warm, bustling bar was…

Homey.

It gnaws at him, as people recognize him, and they begin to all come up, many who used to pick on him. He clings to that pretty model of his tighter, putting on a bright grin and lowering his black Gucci shades, the two of them are decked out in Saint Laurent and looking like a million bucks. Even in public, you had to make sure you were dressed to kill.

“Holy shit…” Satoru sees Suguru and Shoko then, their mouths drop as they come up to him. He's spoken to them a little here and there, but overwhelmingly has not said much since college was over. “Look at you two!”

“Look at you, all preening like a peacock.” Shoko rolls her dark eyes, sipping on a drink as she assesses him and his ‘girl’ who is clinging to him, laughing far too fake to ever be taken for as genuine, grating on his nerves.

“How cute, townies!” Samantha says, tossing blonde hair back, and Satoru scowls over at her.

“Who’s the snob?” Suguru asks boldly, making her gasp as Satoru’s muffling his laughter.

“Be nice.” Satoru warns, hands in the pockets of his red dress pants, a ruby so bright and bold it’s ridiculous for a place where people wear jeans and flannels.

“They’re not nice, Gojo. I don’t like it here!” She’s stomping her feet, and Satoru sighs, shaking his head.

“Go get a drink, hmm?” He turns her and smacks her ass, she cringes then.

“Myself!?”

“Become immersed in the small town, it’ll be good publicity, sweets.” He winks as she pouts and saunters off, ignoring the men and at one point hissing at one.

“She’s on drugs or…” Suguru trails off, and Satoru snorts.

“She’s definitely on a good Adderall / Xani combo. Shit… I missed you guys.” He ruffles Shoko’s hair, and shoves at Suguru good naturedly, Suguru smiles a bit, dark hair even longer than Satoru remembers.

“Sure you did. Come back to visit?”

“Uh… no.” He peers at his phone, sighing now. “Our suite for whatever reason isn’t available, I was stopping here and going to call Mom, since I have no reception whatsoever.”

“Why would you bring her to your mom’s, doesn’t she suffer enough with you as her kid?” Shoko earns Satoru sticking his tongue out, picking up the phone and dialing.

“Toru, sweetie!” Satoru sighs, he loves his mom, but to this day she really treats him like a child, even now.

“Hey mom, cool if I stay a few nights? I have a modeling-”

“You’re coming home!?” Satoru winces, pulling back the phone as Suguru and Shoko laugh.

“Yeah, if it’s-”

“I’ll make your favorite, baby, triple stack pancakes with sundae-”

“No, no, too many carbs.” He hears his mom’s sigh of disappointment, and clenches his jaw just a bit, looking over to see Samantha taking pictures of herself on her fancy phone, throwing up a pose now. “I guess yeah, I’ll eat pancakes.”

“My baby, oh I can’t wait, let me get started now!” His mom hangs up, and he can’t help but feel that fondness, the emptiness he’s had for so long just the tiniest bit filled by her voice.

“She’s excited.” He muses, sighing then. “I need a drink.”

Suguru and Shoko eye each other, and Satoru’s blue eyes narrow, studying their odd expressions. “Yes, you should, bartender she’s amazing.” Shoko’s smiling, and Satoru’s lips purse a bit.

“Hmm, guess I’ll see. I’ll be back.” He pats their shoulders again, heading over and passing more and more familiar faces, gosh none of them left, huh?

He leans against the bar, poking around on his phone as he hears Sukuna, asking then - 

“Lunch sometime?”

He snorts, eyeing the tall, big man who used to torment him, now eye to eye with him, and damn near his size. Sukuna blinks in surprise a bit when Satoru eyes him with humor.

“Lunch is friendzone territory, ouch.” Sukuna glares now, fists clenching on the bar, and that’s when…

You see him.

Satoru Gojo.

“Maybe I like lunch.” Your voice shocks him then, he eyes you, wide blue eyes going to the face of the girl he loved.

Your face.

You’re so pretty it makes his heart thud out of his fucking chest, you’re just like you were, maybe a bit more mature looking now, but god it was like a blast from his past, the ultimate memory of you couldn’t compare. You’re so beautiful, this fucking glow around you still, that comfort he has been craving hitting him in one instant, as he just stands there.

Satoru Gojo, who got whatever girl he wanted, was just standing there, staring at you, with his lips parted, you are heating up under his scrutiny, unsure of just what he was thinking, biting that lower lip a bit and shifting. He notices now, that you’re not fawning over him, drooling, like women did, if anything you’re glaring just a bit, your jaw set.

“I… you… here…” He can’t compute a fucking word - stupid, stupid - why did you reduce him to pathetic again, after all these years!?

“Yes, I work here again. I know, it’s not what I imagined either.” Your soft, devastated words attack him, making him feel like you punched him right in the gut, as Sukuna raises a brow at Satoru.

“Friend zone, did you just say that?” Satoru’s sputtering now, before clearing his throat, shutting his eyes and taking a breath.

He’s not some ‘nerd’ anymore.

He’s Satoru Fucking Gojo.

He smirks and leans against the bar, eyeing you slowly, pulling off pretentious shades that make you miss his tortoiseshell glasses. But when those piercing, swirling blue eyes hit you, trailing like Sukuna’s had, you feel so shy suddenly, so nervous around him, after so long. Surely he was looking down at you, surely he was so high and mighty that your life seemed sad to him.

You stand a little straighter now, while the two men, who have changed so much, both eye you, a blast from fucking high school if you ever saw one. “Look at you…” He murmurs your name softly, like a caress- shit his voice is deeper, it’s so sure, so cocky and conceited, not the sweet boy you miss. “You look great.”

“Thanks, so do you.” You manage softly, he’s in some suit worth as much as your year of work you’re sure, open with a vest showing of chest muscles, fuck he has red silk gloves, it’s so ridiculous you almost laugh.

He’s gorgeous but…

Who is he really?

“Working here again, huh?” He means it to be casual, but the way it comes off makes you straighten your shoulders, as Sukuna winces.

“All that money, all those women and you never learned.” Satoru scowls at Sukuna now, while you turn away, giving him a view of a body he’s dreamed of, fuck you’re even sexier now, those jeans sitting just right, is none of you not perfect, not beautiful?

“What can I get you, Gojo?” You ask after grabbing another beer for Sukuna, who takes it with a smile, and he tenses at that.

Gojo.

When did you ever call him anything but ‘Toru’?

But, you all are literally strangers now.

“Martini.” He says, earning Sukuna’s snort, Satoru’s scowl heads his direction once again as you start to get the ingredients together, shaking it up in the gold shaker like a pro.

“Little bitch drink.”

“Beer is disgusting, fuck that.”

Sukuna glares as he sips the drink, and you pour Satoru his martini, garnishing it and giving a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “One martini.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You falter, at his soft voice, at the way he says everything as if it were some caress.

“You’re welcome.” He hands you far too much money then, making you blink. “It’s only ten bucks.”

“Keep the rest, love.” He winks now, and you feel your face heating up, did he think you needed it so badly? Does he pity you?

Does he care?

“Thanks… um, sure on lunch, Sukuna.” Satoru’s teeth clench, like watching history repeat itself. “Even if it’s ‘friend zone’ I’m fine with meeting up.”

“Perfect, here’s my number…” He writes it right on one of the pretty white napkins, and you take it carefully. “I’ll be in town all week.”

“Alright, sounds good.” Sukuna tips you, not the exorbitant fifty dollars Satoru just handed you, but a twenty, with a little nod of his head, as he passes Satoru now, and Samantha comes right up to him.

“Oh look at you, all star for the-” She’s flirting but Sukuna ignores her, winking at you and making you want to giggle, but you barely hold it in. “So rude! Gojo, can we please leave this shitty little bar?”

You scowl right up at the tall, beautiful model who pouts over at Satoru, clinging to his arm, he stiffens, but you see it, clearly they’re… together. “The ‘shitty little bar’ is owned by my family. And you are more than welcome to leave.”

“Oooh, you’re feisty.” She’s giggling psychotically, using her hand to make a clawing motion. “Rawr!”

“The fuck…” You shake your head, sighing as you set back to work, Samantha’s hands running down Satoru’s chest, irritating him to no end.

All he can see is you, and you’re just turning away, the girl he…

He left.

He left you.

No word, no goodbye, and he thought maybe it wouldn’t feel like this, maybe after eight years and endless women in his bed, he could stop feeling like this, stop the love he had. He tried to chalk it up to puppy love, you were the nicest person to him, of course he developed feelings, right?

Wrong.

He watches as you head out from behind the bar as Samantha’s going on and on about some Instagram post, downing the rest of his martini. “We’ll leave in a minute, go wait in the car.”

“I can’t believe we don’t even have a driver, ugh!” Satoru blinks at her, turning her now, watching as you stop and talk to Suguru and Shoko, smiling so sweet, lighting up the whole fucking room.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Oh fine but…” She drags him down by his tie, whispering in his ear then- “I can suck you while you drive.”

What would once excite him doesn’t compute, he just nods and pushes the crazy woman to the entrance of the bar. “Sure whatever.”

“No pictures, please.” She throws on her sunglasses, as curious people wonder just what this woman is talking about, and Satoru feels your eyes on him then, his catch yours across the room. He watches you tense, as he steps closer, and Shoko and Suguru depart, giving you both one moment.

“Hi.” He manages to say, and for once, the pretentious rich model reminds you of him, the boy you grew up with, the one you miss so badly it feels like he’s a dream.

“Hi.” Your soft voice ends him, you’re shifting side to side, Satoru towers over you, making you feel so small then, as he presses a hand against the wall over your head, tilting your chin up with his other hand. Your eyes go wide then, breath catching, heart hammering.

“I’d love to catch up, I am here for a few days, I’ll be at mom’s.” You blink a bit then, looking down, gently taking his hand off your chin by his wrist, the contact making you both pause. For a moment he pictures it, kissing you, making every move he failed at in high school, taking your lips over.

He pictures so much, up to and including you under him, shit maybe now he’d have a chance with a girl like you, maybe he could taste your sweetness, could inhale that vanilla body spray you somehow wear eight years later. Could show you pleasure he bets you never got before, cock aching just being in your presence, he has to will it to go down.

“Your mom, I just saw her.” You ease his hand down, back resting against the wall just a bit, hair falling across your shoulders, you gasp when he brushes it back, another move he had tried and failed at back then.

That night should have been his first kiss.

You should have been his first everything, fuck.

“Could we do dinner or drinks?” His tone reminds you of what he said earlier, so you smile, a little mean glint in your eye.

“Maybe lunch.”

“Lunch!?” He’s glaring, thin white brows lowered, and you giggle.

“Coffee?”

Shit.

“Or is that too ‘friend zone’ for you, Gojo.” Satoru blinks a bit, hand falling, barely brushing your shoulder when it falls, you try to ignore how good it feels, he tries to act nonchalant, not like the fucking world is faded, aside from you. That the entire bar is just an echo, it’s just you.

And you’re furious, he can feel it. “No, no I mean it’s fine. If you want… coffee we can do coffee.” He can’t believe he’s saying this, he brushes his white locks back, winking down then. “We can do whatever you want.”

“Uh huh. Well, coffee then, if you want to catch up I’m surprised, considering it all though.” Satoru’s jaw clenches just a bit.

“I’d like to catch up.” You soften at his first vulnerable statement, the first thing that feels real. “How about in the morning, are you staying nearby?”

“I’m living with my parents for a couple months.” He frowns at that, you suddenly feel so insecure, a rich model right in front of you, just as he said that day- that he’d make it, and you all…

Would just burn out.

Maybe you did.

“Oh, you are, is something wrong?”

“Helping them a bit, big teacher layoffs nationwide.”

“You teach?” His smile is finally genuine, as you nod, so shyly, his shoulders relax, as his hands slip in his pockets once more. “You always wanted to.” Your eyes shoot up to his now, swirling beautiful blue, a hint of the sweet boy you adored.

“You remember?”

“How couldn’t I…”

“I figured you forgot us all.” Satoru gulps down the guilt, as you manage to pull yourself together, sighing. “Come by my parents in the morning, if you remember where they are.”

“How can I forget, it’s across the street.”

“All right then… I look forward to it.” He awkwardly leans down, as you wrap a friendly arm around his waist, inhaling his cologne, much different than the boy who wore axe body spray and always sucked on lifesavers. His hard body against your much softer one feels a little too good, when he rests his chin on your head.

Nothing has ever felt better than holding you in his arms.

Memories swirl for the both of you, but it’s different, Satoru seems like some bold and pretentious stranger, but for a moment you remember. You remember crying in his arms, over this breakup or that, you remember his sweet hugs during study sessions, you remember laughing and watching the dumbest movies. You exhale just a bit, as a big hand presses the small of your back.

Satoru missed you.

He doesn’t say it, he can’t say anything, pulling back and looking at you then, hand coming to cup your face, opening his mouth to speak when Samantha starts shouting “I’m bored Gojo! I’m so bored!”

The entire bar turns her direction, you fall back a bit, as Gojo internally curses, seeing the brat that is his partner crossing her arms in that fur coat. “I’m coming okay, shit!”

“Your girlfriend is bored.” You’re giggling then, you can’t help it, covering your face as Samantha glares.

“Not my girlfriend, jesus. Um… okay, the morning.” You nod, walking off now, past Samantha, who hisses at you like the psychotic bitch she is, making Satoru grimace with Suguru and Shoko walk up to Satoru.

“You fucked that intro up.” Suguru says, snorting as he puts his arm around Shoko’s waist, and she’s laughing.

“Fucked it up bad.”

“Oh like you’re any help.” They just shake their head, eyeing Satoru’s screaming model bestie.

“See you in eight more years.” Suguru’s words sting, as Satoru feels it then, the guilt eating away at him, but Samantha won’t shut up long enough for him to process, he drags her out into the cold, chilled air, seeing you climbing up into what appears to be your SUV, your eyes flicker to him for just a moment, before you shut the door.

“You like townies hmm? Can’t stop eye fucking girl next door.” Satoru’s eyes make even Samantha falter then.

“Who I like is none of your fucking concern. In.” He plops down in the rental, an audi of course, god forbid Satoru Gojo or Samantha would be seen in anything less, on that they are the same.

“You’re so cranky, she’s hot, just… gives those girl next door vibes.”

“Yeah well, she was the girl next door for me. Almost.” He feels her hand now, trailing over his thigh, she leans over and laughs in his ear, making him cringe. “How’d I get stuck with-”

“Let me make you feel so good, should I suck little Gojo?”

“Little Gojo!? It’s not little, Samantha.” He shoves her off, and she pouts again, crossing her arms.

“How’d I get stuck with you is the question, no fun. Now we have to go stay in poorville.”

“It’s the fucking suberbs.”

“Poor. Poor. Poor. Boring, boring.” Satoru almost pushes her out of the goddamn car, no blow job would be worth it, even if it would shut her up for a moment, even if his cock twitches thinking of you.

He pulls up to his home, his mother already has it opened when he walks up, hugging him tightly, kissing his face all over and making him wince. “Mom…”

“My baby, I never thought you’d come home.” She’s got tears in her pretty blue eyes, she visits LA once a year or more, but now the way tears fall from eyes that match his wracks him with guilt.

He could have come back at least once, right?

No, no he couldn’t.

“And this is…”

“Samantha.” She shakes his mom’s hand, tossing back long blonde locks and smiling. “You have such a quaint little home.”

Satoru’s mom blinks rapidly, brows together, this wasn’t a small home, it was four stories and lovely, left to them from Satoru’s dad, but he supposes to a rich, spoiled brat like Samantha, it’s ‘quaint’. “Um, thank you, and you’re staying too?”

“Unfortunately.” Satoru’s mom raises her brows, as Samantha clings to Satoru once again, grinning.

“I get to meet the mom, huh? I’m so special-”

“Let’s eat.”

Satoru finally leaves a snoring, annoying model brat Samantha alone in the guest room, when he walks inside his childhood room, frozen. Time has been frozen, his mother hasn’t changed a single fucking thing, up to and including pictures of you and him all over the walls. He gulps down his emotions, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click, undressing carefully.

He sees his old nerdy ass sweater, one you’d gotten him, still folded on his desk, like he never left. His fingers brush the fabric, as he stares at his reflection, feeling like he’s a ghost in his own room. The connections start to build, the mirror he kissed that night, the endless photos and mementos he kept. He eyes that box now, opening a letter carefully, crumbled and faded ink.

My Toru, I hope you have the best day, I can’t wait for the movies!

Toru, can you believe how the year has flown by!?

Do you want to go bowling Y or N

Your new glasses are so cute I love them!

Bad day today, sorry I’m quiet.

Tears fall down his cheeks, he only notices when the blotches form on the ink, all the times you’d write to him every day, passing little notes in class with hearts all over them, brightening his day. He’d kept every single fucking one, and there were so, so many in this tin box, stuffed inside like all of his fucking feelings.

He wipes his eyes quickly, shaking it off, pulling out his luggage with his own clothes and getting dressed in sweats for the night, curiously pushing on the cd left in the player, sighing then. Your favorite song, it’s that mixed CD he was making you, the one he never gave you. Satoru quickly turns it off, the button a resounding click, walking to the corkboard littered with you.

Knock knock knock.

“Come in, mom.” She does just that, peeking her pretty face, still so young looking, so sweet as she smiles at him. “You didn’t change any of it.”

“No, I always hoped you’d come back, at least for a day.” She walks up to Satoru now, seeing the photos he’s staring at now, Satoru and you sipping a milkshake together with two straws, in the middle of a diner. “You two were so sweet, she’s back in town you know.”

“I know… I’m seeing her in the morning.” His mom’s eyes light up, and he laughs a bit. “Don’t get excited, my life isn’t here mom.”

“Part of it will always be.” She cups his face, smiling up at him. “I hope you have fun with her, she has kept in touch all these years you know.”

“She has?”

“Yes, she… misses you. She asks about you when she visits town.” Satoru blinks back emotion, turning away now, clearing his throat.

You asked about him after all this? After he'd gone out of your life for good? What if he just heard you out, what if he…

“I’m tired, mom.” Mrs. Gojo nods, a hand on his back for a moment.

“Good night, Toru.”

“Night.” He lays in his bed, phone blowing up, his agent with details, a coordinator for the show, friends from LA teasing him on having to come back home, but he quickly turns it off, holding a photo of you, the only one he brought.

He gently touches it, sighing, wondering…

Will you like him now, could he be good enough?

While you lay in bed, tossing, turning, fuming damn near at Satoru Gojo’s audacity, sitting up finally, putting on Satoru’s favorite song, on that mixed CD you had been making him, before he disappeared. Your childhood room is the same as it always was, littered with photos of you and Satoru, your best friend that just disappeared, and came back a different person.

You touch a photo, one where he’s grinning so big with his cute little braces, holding up a science award, and you’re so overcome with emotion you have to hold back your tears, touching the polaroid gently. Was that boy in there somewhere, the boy you knew, the one who deserved the world - he seemingly got it of course.

Would he find you so boring? He hung out with celebrities, he walked runways, he’s clearly got a beautiful - batshit insane but- girl on his arm. Was it some pity, did he feel bad you were in a little bar? Your mind can’t handle it all, as you plop down in your childhood bed, mind racing.

Who was Satoru Gojo now?

Ah why'd I tear up when Satoru goes home? Next part we see just how coffee goes lol

taglist #1- @pinkyvomit @saitamaswifey @kachowness @vraiao @artbligh @psychoartiste @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @bsenpai @simp-for-wanderer @rjreins @emonaculate @myahfig4 @casua11ycrying @psycren @blushedcheri @ureuphoriasworld @frozenmallows @kanaojacksonofc @rcveriees @xlilycoco @yukimaniac @sypnasis @tokina @sharkubi @tztuoo @hyori2 @yesdere @gradmacoco @gamerhere @seikamuzu @xinsonyax @vvaoo @angie420 @ria54sworld @blue-musingss @mysticmyth @asimpinamillion @arabellasolstice @ilovebeansyay @notme000 @emochosoluvr @iv-vee @heh123321 @fushikamo @danilovesboba @spookyy-gracee @satorusleftnut @clqxuds @femaholicc

[rosemaryhoney27]

sleepy boy

Danny is tired but happy he told his parents about him being Phantom and they took it surprisingly well. Sure they were sad but accepted what happened. It was all to good to be true so Danny remained on his guard around his parents.

But as time passed nothing happend and his parents became even more supportive of him. After finding out about Danny and how he became a halfa it was easy for the to figure out Vlad after an epic beat down of one Vladimer Masters The Fenton parents forced vlad to use his influence to get rid of the GIW

After all of that Danny finally felt himself relax all the tension left his body and he fell asleep. just a little nap.

At this time, the still unknown king of the infinite realms gained a new power. This is also when Danny begins his sleepwalking adventures.

The first time it happend the Fenton family had no idea what to do Danny had just created a portal in the middle of town and sleep walked right into it and reappeared out of a another portal on top of the school.

The next time it happened, Danny had fallen asleep in Mr. Lancers' class when he suddenly stood up, created a portal, and walked through it while also transforming into his Phantom form. Needless to say, Danny's identity as Phantom was no longer a secret in Amity Park after that.

Danny, of course, has no idea this is even happening. No one has the heart to tell him when he has finally started to relax. The people of Amity Park quickly got used to Danny randomly popping up in places via a portal, so much so that there was a segment called Sleeping Phantom Watch on the news. This was the new normal until one day Danny Portals away, and no one has any idea where he is.

The bat fam had just sat down for dinner when a lazerus green portal appeared in the dining room. Everyone freezes, watching the portal, when a white-haired teen walks out.

Everyone is immediately on their feet, ready for battle,e yelling at the white-haired boy as the portal closes behind him

"what are you doing here" Bruse growls using his Batman voice the boy doesn't respond just stands in place

Damian rushes towards the boy and presses his sword to the intruder's neck. "he asked you a question." still no response

Soon, the boy was surrounded, and they got ready to attack when the white-haired teen let out a loud snore. "Wait, is he..." Tim gets closer to look at the boy and waves a hand in front of the boy's face, who snorts. "He's sleep"

"What, no way " Dick leans forward to see for himself just as the white-haired boy starts walking again and walks straight through Dicks body as if he wasn't even there Panic erupts as Dick pats his body down, shivering "S..so cold"

The boy keeps walking, and they can't grasp him. Then another portal shows up in front of the boy, who walks through it, and it closes instantly after him.

After that, the Bat fam kept seeing the sleep-waking portaling teen all over Gotham.

During one of his sessions, he interrupted the joker who had kidnapped Jason and Damian, but this time, he wasn't alone. Behind him was a tiny green puppy who was pulling on his pant leg, trying to drag the boy back through the portal when it closed, leaving the boy and dog.

The dog seems to cover his snout in frustration, and honestly, Jason and Damian could understand. But of course, Joker had to ruin the mood.

"Well, well, what have we here?" He grins, getting into the boys's faces. "An uninvited guest, how I hate party crashers. How about I introduce you to my friend Pain. Tell me what hurts more. I never get a straight answer." Joker cackles and swings a crowbar at the boy's head

Jason and Damian yell, hoping to wake the boy up as the weapon comes down. A loud growl makes the joker pause before he could land a hit and he looks down to see the puppy growling fiercly at him standing in front of the boy. "Out of the way, mutt!!" Joker yells, kicking at the dog

A move he would quickly regret as the dog grew and grew and grew until it was the size of a large Bear with teeth bigger and longer than jokers arms which was proven as the dog proceeded to tear said arm and crowbar off jokers body

The clown screams in horror as the once tiny harmless looking puppy procedes to tear his limbs off. Soon the Joker was nothing but a head with a body. The dog was about to finish off the joker and bite his head off when the boy starts walking towards another portal.

The dog shrinks and chases after the boy before the portal closes.

Jason and Damian looked down at the crying limbless joker, and Jason burst out laughing, "That was the best thing I had ever seen in my life."

From then on, every time the mysterious sleepwalking boy appeared in Gotham, Jason was there with Damian, offering the dog treats and pets and helping the poor pup take care of his sleeping boy.

As for the rest of Gotham, they, like the Amity parkers, had become accustomed to the boy and his dog magically appearing in random places. No one bothered them, and after what happened to the Joker, none of the other Gotham rouges would even dare touch him if he showed up near them with the dog.

And if the dog wasn't there, well, the giant werewolf and the yeti were enough of a deterrent.

[midnite-c6]

knife play with nam-gyu during hide and seek..nghgfn..

no bcuz ure so real. why was he so hot in that. he was singing. talking abt one night stands. he was so horny. he was so yummy. this one no proofread:(.

warnings: 18+, sex, knifeplay (knife would scratch u just a lil’ bit), blood kink, cunnilingus during hide & seek, dubcon, object fucking :3, nam-gyu x fem!reader

人｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ oh no! you were red, and he was blue! you frowned as you looked at him from the other side, the only "ally" you had. once the rules were announced, he'd immediately come to you, with his hands pressed together: "c'mon, can you even kill with that? i know you can't." he says, on his knees, drugged-out of his mind. "please, please, let's switch teams, just let me have it, hm?" his hands were already holding the handle of the sword, like he knows you'd give in immediately. the sharp blade would accidentally scrape his finger and he winces, "fff...m'bleeding." "sorry." you immediately mumbled. seeing the blood drip down to the palm of his already bloodied-up hands from the previous games. "make it feel better—" he catches you off-guard by shoving the bleeding finger past your lips, you choke. "give me the sword, c'mon! don't be difficult, jeez." he stares right into you, into how you were getting used to the metallic taste of his blood.

of course you give in.

"fuck yes! thank you, thank youuuu..." you stare at the big wide grin plastered on his lips, "we're gonna team up, yeah?" a big hand tugging lightly on the key necklace wrapped around your neck, "g'nna find you, and thank you... you for bein' such a good teammate—" when he was overdosing with drugs, he was more vocal. he talked more, but you can't help but shake the fact he's sounding just like thanos right about now. "...thought you were a stupid cunt, in the midst of it all, but you're so smart!"

wow. fuck him.

⊂•✧～⁠｡⁠☆ 🔪

the hide and seek game finally starts, and you're quivering in your boots! where were you gonna hide? you hear "player 124, pass" just a few minutes ago, so you try your best to stay alive, hiding in a small room your key had opened. were you so sure that he'd be finding you? he was overdosed! of course he'd forget you the second you leave his sight.

these thoughts however, leave your mind when you hear his silly voice, humming a famous song about love and whatnot. you also hear echoes of your name being called out, guess he didn't forget about you.

⁠‿⁠•⁠⊂⁠ *⁠.⁠✧

atleast now you know you're safe. well... at the very least, the safest place you could be is right underneath him, legs spread with him in-between, and the sword you offered to give him as he glides the smooth blade against your clothes. "nam-gyu... i... anyone could kill us, kill me...!" he just laughs. "you're not thinkin' right, ah... no-one's gonna kill you, m'right here." he says as to assure you, "and i won't kill you, because i've already passed right? and this is just a small lil’ thank you gesture." you nod, just staring at him with all the utmost trust you could give. afterall, he's the one holding the knife.

his shakings hands (not from fear but from the pills) that's holding the sword, slowly rips the hem of your shirt. "nam-gyu! they're not gonna give me new clothes—!" he quickly points the knife to your face, and you freeze. "shhhh. don't worry, all you do is worry!" the cold blade would press slightly against your lips. "this isn't about you, can't you understand that? we're gonna do what i want." he brings the sword back to your shirt, slowly ripping the fabric in half to see your bra underneath, "i-i don't want other people to see me naked," you frowned, "fuck, you keep complaining, i'm just getting to the good part." he groans in annoyance, his clouded eyes glaring at you with disgust, while you stare back like you were begging for mercy.

he'd rip your bra too. his mouth would immediately latch onto one of your nipples, whilst the other sensitive bud feeling the cold, metal knife. "fuck. i miss this... you're so cute ’n weak." he'd bite at the hardened bud, eyes staring at you. "you know you want this too? even how everyone's dyin', you want to get fucked. by me. of all people." he'd lick a long stripe against your cleavage. "m'so glad that jerk thanos is dead, for sure he'd fuck you too. and you'd gladly take it."

"guess that's just how sluts think. ’ts okay, thanos told me alot ’bout girls like you." "m'not a slut..." he'd snicker to himself, the way you were trying to defend yourself despite the situation was quite ironic. "you act like one," the sword would move on to rip the fabric in-between your thighs. his eyes would light up, seeing the pool of pure wetness and arousal at the center of your underwear... so delicious. so easy to eat it all up. "you're wet like how a slut would be in this situation, y'know that?" he'd grin wide. knowing full well he's right.

the knife would drag to rip your panties, he wasn't gentle with it, "careful!" he was careful enough not to accidentally cut off your clit or something, but he couldn't care less either way. "awww. but it's just missin' something." the blade would slice through the supple flesh of your inner thighs. just a small slice. just enough for blood to drip down. it didn't hurt much, but you'd still wince. "oopsies." he smiled, "what- what for! s-stop! you hurt me!" he'd point the knife again to your neck, just to stop you from always complaining. "can't you take it like a slut too?" his head would dive in-between your legs, his tongue darting down at the slice he'd give, further smearing it on your thighs. your hands would instinctively tug on his hair. "nam-gyu! we can't do this!"

"don't tell me what to do, we do what i want. i'm the one holdin' the knifeeee..." he speaks like he's drunk. his tongue would move to your folds, then to your clit, but not too long, he doesn't want you to be too pleased by him. just enough to hear you squirm. "nam-gyu!" he'd play with you. smearing your own juices and own blood together, tasting absolute perfection for a pyschopath like him. and it feels good for you, him making you feel better because he hurt you. that's what you like to think. that he's still thinking of your pleasure. "y'wanna be fucked? tell me," you nod your head, the knife pointed at you would touch your neck, "yea-yea! wanna be fuck... fucked." "wow. didn't even put up a fight, you're sososo silly.."

he'd move the knife to the apex of your thighs. turning the handle to kiss your clit. "wanna fuck this?" you don't answer. "wanna fuck this little thing that's killed someone? you're so filthy." you whimper, but you couldn't reject him eitherway ! "take it. i know you follow orders, s'good.." he'd push the handle past your clenching hole, and you'd whine. the handle stretched you just right, but the plastic was an unfamiliar feeling. "nn.. nam-gyu.." he ducks to give some attention to your clit, maybe he's got some pity left in him. he'd make out with the glistening bundle of muscles, throbbing at his disposal. twitching at how he was making it so sensitive.

you think, over and over, when will this hide and seek game end? you shouldn't be into this. yet you are. "y'better cum or you won't win the gameee. everyone's playing hide and seek. you were playing a different and more fucked-up game.

yayyy i posted :3 not my blog popping off again once squid games 3 released

[ducksido]

Idk if you accept requests but I just read your "accidentally proposing" fic with Octavinelle, Savanaclaw and Diasomnia and had an idea!! (I have Savanaclaw in mind specifically but it might work with others?)

So what if to beast/mer/etc men, biting/marking your lover is basically like a wedding ring. A symbol to others that you're claimed (and that both parties felt safe enough to be marked that way). So imagine if the boys are already kinda crushing on Yuu/reader only for them to take their jacket off or something and reveal like a big ole bite mark on their shoulder (or wherever) and they get all mopey thinking their already claimed but in reality they just got bit by something back from their world and the scar stuck

(Inspired partially by my dad, who has a big bite mark on his arm that everyone thinks is a tattoo. it's not. Just an old dog bite)

(damn your dad sounds cool)

Savanaclaw

Setting: The Savanaclaw boys have been pining for you, and today, you're just casually stripping your jacket off after PE class, revealing a decent-sized bite scar on your shoulder.

They freeze.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona’s eyes lock onto the mark and he goes deathly quiet. His tail flicks. His ears flatten just a bit. Internally?

"Of course. Figures. I finally meet someone who doesn’t annoy me and they’re already spoken for."

He sulks hard. You notice him going distant, brushing you off when you try to chat later. It’s not until days later—when he mutters, "Your mate let you walk around unguarded like that?"—that you blink and go,

"Mate? Oh, no, a dog bit me when I was ten. Real jerk. Still got the scar."

Leona’s head snaps up. His ears twitch.

"Wait… that’s not a claiming mark?"

Cue one (1) very smug Leona by the next morning, mysteriously returning to sitting too close again.

Jack Howl

Jack actually drops the water bottle he was holding when he sees the scar. His eyes widen and then avert—immediately. He turns pink at the tips of his ears.

"Oh. I—I didn’t know you were already marked. Sorry."

He becomes very formal, very stiff. Starts calling you “prefect” again instead of your name. You finally confront him, a bit heartbroken at the sudden coldness.

"You’ve been weird since PE, what gives?"

"...I just didn’t want to overstep. That kind of scar usually means you belong to someone."

When you tell him it’s an old wound from a totally mundane dog bite, he short circuits. Like, tail-wagging-involuntarily level of flustered.

"I—I see! That makes sense! You—you should be more careful, it looked real... um, real meaningful."

Now he can't stop glancing at your shoulder and getting flustered.

Ruggie Bucchi

“Tch. Lucky bastard, whoever bagged ya.”

He’s a mix of bitter and resigned—still flirty, but with a new sad little edge. Keeps joking like,

“Too bad you’re taken. Coulda had fun.”

When you finally ask what the hell he means, he gestures at the scar like, duh.

“That’s a mark. You don’t just give or get one of those unless you’re real serious.”

You: “That was a chihuahua. It bit me because I stole its hotdog.”

He stares.

“...A chihuahua did that?” “Yeah.” “And here I was mourning a relationship that never even existed. You owe me emotional compensation, y’know!”

Back to flirting. With vengeance.

OCTAVIANS:

Setting: You’re helping out in the Lounge. The uniform jacket’s getting hot, so you slip it off behind the bar… and your shirt collar slips just enough for a very visible, very real-looking bite scar to be seen by two (2) nosy eels and one (1) devastated octomer.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul freezes mid-shaker pour. You don’t notice—it’s just a quick glimpse—but Azul does. And his brain short circuits.

"A mark that deep... that shape... it’s deliberate. Ritualistic. They’re already bound?"

He’s devastated—but covers it up with grace. Or tries to. He gets very formal, colder. You catch him staring at your shoulder more than once with that complicated emotion you can’t name.

He’s too polite to ask directly—until the heartbreak gets to him.

“You’re in a binding, aren’t you?”

You: “Huh?”

“The bite mark on your shoulder. Among merfolk, that symbolizes an eternal commitment.”

You: “Oh! Nah. That’s just from a dog that chomped me when I was a kid. I kicked him in the face.”

Azul.exe has stopped working.

“...You what—?”

Goes beet red and storms into his office to scream into a pillow. You later find your drink on the house, labeled ‘thanks for the heart attack’.

Jade Leech

Jade smiles when he sees the scar. But his eyes go half-lidded, calculating. He suddenly speaks softer. Steps farther back. Less teasing, more… respectful distance.

“My, I wasn’t aware you were already bound. Forgive me if my prior behavior overstepped.”

You: “Bound to what now??”

He gestures subtly to your shoulder, like it’s obvious.

“A bite mark like that, well… among certain species, it’s not given lightly. It would be considered rude to compete for the affection of one already ‘marked.’”

Cue your laugh.

“Oh that? I was eleven. Some mutt thought my lunch was his.”

Jade pauses… then grins, slow and sharp.

“Is that so? How very fortunate. In that case… I wonder how your skin scars. Hypothetically, of course.”

You're not sure if that’s a flirt or a threat. Probably both.

Floyd Leech

“...Huh?”

He just blinks at the mark when he sees it. Then squints real hard. Then stops talking to you.

Like, full Floyd shutdown mode. No nicknames. No glomps. Just grumpy silence. You ask him what’s wrong, and he shrugs you off like:

“Nothin’. Don’t talk to taken people. It’s boring.”

You practically have to wrestle the truth out of him. When he finally gestures at the mark, you laugh so hard you snort.

“That? Nah, that’s from a dog bite. We were playing tug-of-war and he missed the toy and got my shoulder instead. It’s just a scar.”

“Whaaat?? That’s it??”

Floyd immediately perks up. Grabs your shoulders and spins you around like:

“So you’re not somebody’s shrimp? Heh. Good. I hate leftovers.”

Later bites you (playfully) and says he wants to "make it official."

DIASOMNIA

Malleus Draconia

Malleus was just enjoying your presence—he always is. You pull off your hoodie to reveal a bite mark on your upper arm and— He stares.

The air around him tightens. He doesn’t speak at first. Just… quietly steps back. His green eyes dim.

“...You are claimed.”

He says it like a funeral eulogy.

You blink. “Claimed?? What are you talking about?”

“That mark. You accepted a fae bond.”

You laugh. “Wait, this?” You twist your arm to show him properly. “That’s from a feral raccoon. He got me through a screen door.”

...

Malleus goes silent. Then he laughs—one of those rare, rich, real ones.

“You truly are fascinating, Child of Man. A sacred mark... from a trash beast.”

And now he won’t stop teasing you about it.

“Shall I give you a proper one, to replace the raccoon’s?”

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia recognizes the bite mark instantly—and what it would mean if it were real. His smile drops for a moment. A beat of quiet heartbreak.

“Oh… you’ve already given yourself to another?”

He masks it fast—reverts to his cheerful, mischievous self. But the sharpness in his tone dulls.

“You should’ve told us! We’d have sent you a proper gift, you know. A token for the bound.”

You: “Lilia, I got this bite scar from a goose. I was five. It hated my jacket.”

“...A goose?” “An evil goose.”

A beat. Then he laughs so hard he nearly levitates.

“You poor thing! Bitten by a beast of chaos!” “You mean the goose?” “No. The jacket.”

He’s overjoyed, suddenly affectionate again, now plotting how to actually mark you with fae tradition. You may have unleashed something.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek screams internally the moment he sees it. He immediately turns away, face twisted.

“I see. You have already pledged loyalty elsewhere.”

Goes full formal mode. Loud. Respectful. Heartbroken.

“I WAS A FOOL TO BELIEVE—TO HOPE—THAT YOU WERE UNBOUND!”

You’re like: “Dude. What?”

He dramatically points at the scar.

“That! You wear it openly!”

You: “Oh, you mean my shoulder scar? A horse bit me.”

Sebek.exe blue screens.

“A… horse?” “He didn’t like carrots. I was five.”

...

He gets so red. Immediately bows in apology. Starts yelling at the horse retroactively. Gives you his coat. Declares he’ll train to bite harder than any equine.

Silver

Silver notices the scar. He gets very quiet. Thoughtful.

Later that day, he gently asks:

“Did it hurt when you were claimed?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“The mark. It’s permanent. You must’ve trusted them deeply.”

You laugh. “No, no—Silver, I got that from a neighbor’s dog. He panicked during fireworks.”

Silver: “Oh.”

...Then he stares at the sky like it personally betrayed him.

“I thought I missed the moment you gave your heart away...”

You pat his shoulder, and he very gently, very subtly leans into it—maybe hoping he could be the one to earn that mark someday.

[wispitty]

(short reacts) | "he confronts you after a spicy dream" + one piece men

summary: you left on a mission for a few days. but you haunted his dreams each and every night. moaning his name, begging for him. now you're back. and he can't take it anymore.

characters: crocodile, mihawk, marco, ace, shanks, law, corazon

CROCODILE

The office is dark when you step in.

The only light? The glow of a cigar. And a man in a chair, surrounded by smoke and silence—eyes locked on you.

“You’re late.”

You blink.

“What? I came as soon as I got ba—”

“Not tonight.”

His voice is low. Rough.

“Two nights ago.”

He stands.

You barely get out a breath before he’s in front of you.

Back hits the door. His real hand catches your chin. Tilts your face up.

You inhale.

His scent is overwhelming—smoke, spice, and something darker.

“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me?” he murmurs.

You shiver.

“I—”

“You think I didn’t feel you in those dreams you left me?”

His lips brush your jaw. Not a kiss. A threat.

“You said my name like it was the only word you knew.”

His hook rests cold at your hip, grounding you as his hand slides down your side.

“Begged me to touch you. Open you.”

“I—I don’t remember—”

“Then let me remind you.”

He kisses you.

Not soft. Not tentative.

Devouring.

You gasp. He groans—like he’s been starving and just tasted salvation.

“You haunted me.”

“Crocodile—”

“Say it like that again and I’ll bend you over this desk until there’s nothing left.”

You whimper.

“That’s the sound.”

He nips your collarbone. Hard enough to mark.

His hand drags down. Under your shirt. Fingers grazing your skin, slow and possessive.

“You sure you don’t remember the dreams?” he whispers, lips brushing yours.

You shake your head. Barely.

“Then maybe I should show you everything you begged me for.”

And this time?

He doesn’t stop.

MIHAWK

You return late, without a word. Just how you left.

Boots click softly through the marble halls of the castle-like manor. The candles are dim. The place is quiet.

You round a corner.

He’s there.

Leaning against the wall. Cloak heavy around his shoulders. Eyes gleaming under low light. Watching you like he knew the exact moment you stepped foot on the property.

You blink.

“...Mihawk?”

He says nothing.

Pushes off the wall.

Walks toward you—purposeful. Silent.

Something in your chest tightens.

You take a step back—

He’s faster.

His hand slams the wall beside your head. You flinch—your spine hits stone.

He leans in. So close your noses nearly brush.

“You’ve been gone. Too long.”

His voice is low. Rougher than usual.

“I—I had something I needed to—”

“And every night since...”

His hand trails down your side. Grips your hip.

“You came to me in my sleep. Whispering my name. Writhing beneath me.”

You freeze. Lips parting.

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

His other hand catches your jaw, fingers tilting your face up.

“You think I believe that?”

His eyes lock to your lips. And for a moment—he hesitates.

But you’re looking up at him like you want him to break.

And that’s all it takes.

He crushes his mouth to yours.

Hard. Heated. Deep. It’s not gentle. It’s not slow.

It’s possessive.

His lips bruise. His tongue leaves no space between you. His hand on your waist tugs you tight into him.

Your gasp gets swallowed.

He presses you to the wall like he’s trying to anchor himself there.

“You cast quite the little spell on me.”

“Mihawk—”

“Say my name like that again and I’ll ruin your throat.”

You moan softly into his mouth.

He groans.

Your legs go weak. He notices.

And he loves it.

“Don’t you ever disappear like that again.”

You nod, dazed.

He kisses you again. Slower. But no less deep.

This time, it’s not about frustration.

This time, it’s about need.

MARCO

You return to the medbay late, expecting a quiet reunion. You’re humming. Tired. Just hoping to get off your feet.

But the moment the door shuts behind you—

“Oi.”

His voice is low. Hoarse.

You turn.

He’s standing near the supply shelf. Lab coat undone. Sleeves rolled. Hair messy like he’s run his hands through it too many times.

And his eyes? Locked on you.

“...Marco?”

He doesn’t say a word.

Just strides toward you, slowly, like a lion pacing down from its throne.

You barely open your mouth—

SLAM.

Your back hits the cabinet. A low gasp escapes you.

His hand settles against the wood beside your head. The other curls around your waist, pulling you in tight—flush to his chest.

You can feel it.

His heat. His tension. His arousal.

“You really didn’t know what you were doing, huh?” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked.

“W-What do you mean—?”

He chuckles darkly. Nudges your nose with his.

“Four nights, baby.”

“Marco—”

“Four nights of you on top of me. In my head. Moaning my name like I was the only thing keeping you alive.”

You blink. Breathless.

“I—I didn’t know I—”

His lips crash into yours.

It’s deep. Wet. Desperate.

His fingers slide under your shirt, ghosting over bare skin. His knee slips between your legs, pinning you harder to the cabinet.

Your body arches into his without thinking.

“I woke up aching for you every damn morning, yoi.”

Another kiss. This one filthier. Your gasp draws his tongue in deeper.

“I thought it would stop when I saw you again…”

He growls against your mouth.

“But now I want you worse.”

You whimper.

His hand tangles in your hair.

��Tell me to stop.”

You don’t.

You can’t.

Your lips meet his again with fire.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispers.

And this time, when he kisses you—

He kisses you like he’s never letting you leave again.

ACE

You come back from your assignment around sunset.

Your boots echo down the corridor as you head to the deck of the Moby Dick.

He’s sitting on the railing just outside the kitchen, watching the waves, posture relaxed.

But when he hears you?

He turns his head— And his whole body stills.

You smile.

“Hey, straaanger. Missed me?”

His lips twitch.

“You have no idea.”

You walk closer, thinking nothing of it. He stands as you pass.

“Phew, long trip! I brought snacks, though. Figured you'd be—”

He grabs your wrist.

You blink up at him.

“Ace?”

His expression is unreadable. A soft frown. Something burning low behind his eyes.

“You were in my dreams.”

Your breath catches.

“I was? Awwww, how cute—”

He glares. Steps closer. You're almost touching.

“Not just once.”

You shift, your back brushing the wall behind you. You don’t realize it until it’s too late.

“For three nights.”

He places a hand against the wall beside your head.

“Kept thinking it’d stop.”

He chuckles. Dry. Not amused.

“But it didn’t.”

His eyes lower to your mouth.

“You had your hands all over me. Said my name like it actually meant something for once.”

You try to respond, but your breath betrays you.

He leans in.

“It felt real. Too real.”

His voice drops, low and steady.

“Woke up sweating. Frustrated. Missing you.”

Your back hits the wall completely as his hand slides to your waist.

“And now you’re here…”

“—Right here in front of me.”

He kisses you.

Slow. Deep. Hot.

A kiss that knows exactly what it wants.

You gasp into it. His hand on your waist tightens. His body presses into yours just enough to make your knees shake.

When he pulls back, his voice is husky and the air is scorched.

“Did you mean it?”

You swallow.

“...What?”

He brushes your hair behind your ear.

“The way you touched me. The way you said my name.”

You stare into his eyes.

Then nod.

“Y-Yeah.”

He leans in again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles.

“I'm glad.”

He’s so glad. Because this time?

He’s not letting you wake up without him.

SHANKS

You board the Red Force just before sunset, waves golden and glittering behind you.

You stretch your arms and laugh.

“Mmm, it feels so good to be back!”

He hears you before he sees you.

Leaning against the railing near his quarters, half-shadowed. A bottle in one hand, his coat slung over his shoulder.

But his eyes? Dead on you.

“Well, well… look who finally came home.”

You grin.

“Miss me?”

“Every night.”

You laugh—but don’t notice how still he’s gone.

“Bet the crew missed me more.”

“I didn’t say the crew.”

Your smile falters.

He steps forward.

You step back on instinct.

“Shanks—?”

Your back hits the cabin door. He cages you in—one arm next to your head, his chest pressed against yours.

“Three nights.”

His voice is low. Rough. Not joking.

“You. Me. Right here.”

You blink, breath catching.

“I don’t—I didn’t know I—”

“You didn’t have to.”

He leans in, brushing his nose against yours.

“You rode me like you owned me.”

“Shanks—”

“Said I was aaall yours.”

And then?

He kisses you.

It’s filthy.

His tongue parts your lips without warning. His hand grips your thigh, pulling it up against his hip as he pins you harder to the door.

Your gasp disappears into him.

His breath is fire. His mouth is all heat and hunger.

When he finally pulls back, you’re dazed—barely holding yourself up.

He chuckles, low and dangerous.

“Still think I didn’t miss you?”

You shake your head.

“Good girl.”

His lips graze down your neck.

“Now let’s see if you meant everything you whispered when you were possessing me in those dreams.”

Your knees give out.

He catches you.

And smiles like he’s won the grand line.

LAW

You walk into the Polar Tang’s medbay with a skip in your step, tossing a file onto the counter.

“Mission complete. I didn’t die. I deserve snacks.”

He doesn’t answer.

You glance over.

He’s sitting on his stool, coat off, gloves gone, eyes on you.

But there’s something off in them.

Sharp.

Tense.

You blink.

“...You okay?”

He stands.

Silent.

You open your mouth to speak again, but he’s already crossed the room—grabbing your wrist.

“Law—?”

You’re turned, spun, and pinned to the steel wall.

His body cages yours. His hand slams the wall beside your head.

“Three. Nights.”

His voice is dangerously low.

“Three nights you’ve been crawling on top of me in my sleep.”

You blink. Red.

“What? What do you—”

“Shut up.”

His fingers slide along your jaw.

“You said you wanted to be ruined. By me. Only me.”

“I-It was just a dream—!”

“No. It wasn’t.”

He leans in. Breath hot. Voice sharp.

“Because I’ve thought about it every minute since.”

His lips brush yours.

“And now you’re back. And I just don’t give a fuck anymore.”

He kisses you.

Rough. Desperate. Unforgiving.

You gasp—he swallows it. His hand grabs your waist, the other threading into your hair. His body presses close, hips locking you into place.

He kisses you like he’s claiming you.

And maybe he is.

“Law—” you whisper, dazed.

He breathes against your lips.

“You want me to stop? Say it now.”

You shake your head.

“Good.”

His mouth is on yours again before the word even leaves.

Because whatever happened in those dreams—

He’s making it real.

CORAZON

You slip into his room like always, balancing a warm drink and a little smile.

“Rosi, I brought you chamomile! Thought you could use a quiet night in.”

He turns.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, coat off, shirt wrinkled, hair ruffled like he’s barely slept.

And the moment he sees you?

His whole body goes still.

You don’t notice at first.

Until you take a step closer—and he suddenly stands.

Tall. Towering. Staring.

You blink.

“Rosi—?”

He crosses the room in three slow, heavy steps.

Takes the cup from your hand.

Sets it aside without a word.

Then leans in.

You try to speak—

“I dreamed of you.”

His voice is quiet.

But deep. Raw. Wrecked.

“Every single night you were gone.”

Your blink, then smile. Hesitantly.

“U-Um, was it at least a nice drea—”

“—You were on top of me. Whining. Begging. Touching me like you’d die if I stopped.”

You freeze.

His fingers brush your jaw. Tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it.”

He leans closer.

His nose grazes yours. His lips hover.

“But now you’re here, and I...”

“I can’t.”

And he kisses you.

Not soft. Not shy.

Hungry.

His hand cups the back of your head. His body presses into yours, guiding you gently but firmly against the nearest wall.

The kiss deepens—wet, open, breathless. You whimper. His hand tightens at your hip.

He pulls back, breathing hard.

“I’m sorry,” he pants. “I just can’t pretend you don’t undo me.”

“Rosi—”

You kiss him back.

And he melts.

But only for a moment—before pressing his forehead to yours.

“You said you loved me. Tell me you meant it.”

“I did.”

He exhales—shaky.

Then smiles.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

He huffs a laugh, blinking back tears.

And kisses you like he’s never letting go.

[manapeer]

I'll call my dad

The justice league was in disaray. They had failed to stop the summoning, and already the demon was stepping out of the portal. The last standing heros didn't have the manpower to stop a whole thrall army and the magic users certainly hadn't the power to deal with the demon himself. They needed a plan, or a miracle, or the earth was doomed.

Suddenly, Constantine braced himself, and strode right to the beast.

"Don't step further, or I'll have to call my dad."

The heros were baffled. The demon too.

"Your... dad ?"

"That's right," he was sweating bullets but he continued "I'm John Constantine and Phantom is my dad. He cares a lot about Earth. He will not take kindly your little invading stunt."

"Who is Phantom ?" wispered Flash to Zatana.

"I don't know."

The league didn't know if he was bluffing or not. Zatana had recently heard rumors about Constantine's father, but it was all vague, shrouded in secrecy.

The surprised past, the demon laught.

"Alright," he mocked, "Let see what your 'dad' think of that."

Constantine took a deep breath and reluctantly put out a piece of paper form his inner pocket. As he put it in fire with a spell, the cave they were in was breifly plunged in freezing cold and supernatural darkness. A thunderous ice crack resoned, that they could feel in their chest as much as they heard. The shadows sleethed into the form of a titanesque being, and suddenly big, bright, lazarus green eyes opened. And they didn't look happy.

"John."

He gulped.

"Hi dad."

"It's a school night."

"I know," the magician cringed, "I swear I have a good reason."

Now the being looked downright pissed.

"Damn, I would hope so ! Do you have any idea what time it is ?"

"He wants to destroy the Earth !" defended Constantine almost petulantly, waving at the confused demon.

The green eyes looked at the demonic being, then the leaguers in various states of injuries, then the demon again. The demon didn't seem like he wanted to be here anymore. He was proved right when he received a monstruous fist in the face.

The entity grabbed him by an ankle, threw him back to hell, then slammed the portal shut as if it was a door. Constantine visibly relaxed.

"Thanks a lot."

"Don't mention it," grumbled the being. "Anything else you need ?"

"No. And I'm really sorry, I know it's late."

"Just don't make it an habit. See you on sunday."

And just like that, he was gone. Wally had to sit down.

"What the fuck."

---

Hi everyone ! I was reminded of that post a while ago where Danny inherited of Connie's soul and decided it counts as adoption (can't find it now) and this is what came to my brain.

[sangunary]

YANDERE BATFAM × NEGLECTED READER!

- Hush now crybaby.

\\Part 1// \\ Part 2// \\ Part 3 //

SYPNOSIS: After your death nothing felt the same.

Warning: Gore, death, violence, blood.

Everything happened in a flash, you couldn't even remembered what had hit you so hard to make your entire body run this high on adrenaline. You could feel your every pulse and the pounding on your head makes it hard to think properly.

When the clouds in your head finally clears you finally opened your eye's and looked down at your feet, your lifeless body laying on the ground.

Blood was profusely seeping out from the bash you received after the impact of the car... The car had hit you so hard that you flew and unfortunately your head landed on a fire hydrant.

The impact was so powerful that it left an open wound on your head... Everybody stopped to tape the situation not a single soul decided to even checked if you were still breathing.

You watched as the ambulance took your cold body. You watched as the medical staff's tried their best to wake you up. You watched as your own blood father hang up the call from just hearing your name, not even inquiring them further- He acted like your name was some curse.

You sit there by your body side, holding your own hands. Taking the little nursery book by the side table you began to read, you felt a little comfort but you can't complaint even a little was better than nothing.

The heart monitor began to beep indicating that you were no longer breathing. Staffs runs in trying to bring back your heart beat yet nothing worked you died that day.

You died because none of your guardians wanted to be involved with you... The hospital needed them to agree to a surgery yet since nobody or even if they picked up they just hang up without listening further.

You stood outside the morgue waiting patiently for your family to retrieve your body. You've been standing there for hour's, for someone who doesn't have a heart anymore it ache alot.

When your family finally arrived they were shocked, Damian was abit caught off guard, Bruce with the same face just more disappointed, Dick in tears, Tim was too sleepy to even react much... Jason was not present.

Barbara and Stephanie were crying holding your tiny cold hand's in theirs apologising, Duke was distraught and Cass you could tell she was uncomfortable.

Even during your funeral you stood beside your physical body, stroking your cheek and wishing yourself well. The funeral was small just the batfamily, your body was buried near the manor with high security.

Even your own mother didn't attend your funeral which made you frown which wasn't even your intention, your intention was to cry but not a single drop of tears could even fall.

Fortunately your mother did came but weeks after your funeral burst inside the manor and attack yout father. She was a mess, her mascara was ruined from the tears that won't stop flowing, her hair was extremely mess which was new. Your mother was a fashionable woman and seeing her this wild made you sad.

"You Piece Of Shit! OUR daughter died! How could you not inform me my babygirl is dead! I wanted to see her- To say goodbye!" Your mother yelled as she slap Bruce across his face. Bruce stays silent enduring the pain she was conflicting upon him.

"I left her with you so she could have something! How could You! She was so happy to have a father yet you let her chase your love and affection?! Even if you couldn't see her as your daughter why not call me??! I would have taken her with me!"

"...She was my world Bruce! My daughter... My baby... Now I can't even say goodbye. Im terrible, I should have been there..."

Your mother's grip on Bruce loosen as she fell onto the floor, sobbing into her hand's.

You slowly walk towards your mother, you wished you could have hug her in that moment for her to feel the warmth but you were cold.. Freezing, you don't think she would be comfortable.

Instead of hugging her you sit beside her holding her right hand, as you lean onto her...

"Im sorry mom, forgive me it's not father's fault... I was being emotional and being emotional makes me stupid...Maybe this is why nobody love's me"

Ever since that day Bruce became worst. You were haunting the manor watching as everybody tried to cope with your death.

You felt abit happy to be death, afterall you felt as your family finally noticed you. And all it took for them to love you was for you to die!

But it was tragic to watch your allready insane family become... This.

Dick was now sleeping on your bed every night, even when others tried to interfere he didn't budge. Holding onto the dress you wore that day and mumbling on and on about how he would take you to the park if you just come back.

Jason was also affected as much as it shocked, he was smoking more and barely even coming to the manor inorder to avoid anything that reminded of you.

Tim health was getting worst, he didn't even have the heart to look into any case at times and would just stare at blankly talking to himself and imagining that you were there.

Damian didn't show any weakness to anyone else he didn't show that he was greatly grieving. Nobody had a clue that he was trying to bring your soul inside your favourite doll. He would talk to himself which was alot tame than Tim but he was indeed speaking about how he will force your soul inside the doll just so everything could went back to normal.

Barbara was neglecting her job as Oracle. She doesn't have the energy to do anything, without your presence everything felt dead to her and if everything is dead what's the point of trying to salvage it.

Duke was taking it very well, talking about his feelings and making sure to clean your grave everyone Saturday, replacing the flower as much as he could... He was obsessed with your grave. At times he would sit there for hours just staring at it...

Stephanie wasn't as cheery as she was and even when she genuinely smiled it faid quickly... She kept getting nightmares of your body inside that morgue as a result she can't deal with crime including death in it. She gets reminded of you and when that happened she went into panick mode.

Cass on the other hand tried her best to move on unlike the others. But sometimes you would watch her as she entered your room and leaving quickly, it was as if she was trying to imagine you inside your room solely.

Bruce took it the worst, he would take his pent up guilt and anger out on any criminal, he even broke a couple bone of a guy who just rob a store with a knife. It was as if he was ignoring his own and the most important rule.

Silently blaming himself. He thought that Jason death would be the end of death in the family but that wasn't the case.

Alfred was heavily affected as well. He knew he was also in the wrong for favouring your other siblings while trying his best to avoid you during your time on Earth as a human. He would bake your favourite food and left it at your grave.

Alfred also had to stop the family from bringing your rotting corpse and dipping it into thr Lazarus pit. He knew you wouldn't like the idea of being brought back plus your body was too old to be able to be put together again.

Crime rate was raising because none of the family members were willing to talk about your death and keeping to themselves only. You could only watch as sigh as they tried to bring you back to life over and over.

The body inside the casket which was buried sixth feet underground was a simple decoy.

Your corpse have been rotting slowly inside a special room, where Bruce tried to bring you back somehow. You couldn't help but get teary just by looking at your corpse.

It was skinny and extremely pale... The stretch was horrible... Your body was clearly rotting away. It was not fun witnessing your organ being taken from your body just so your suddenly crazy/obessed father could bring you back.

Special credit - @trash-in-a-box ( I forgot to credit them im sorry )

[kissbabie]

ONLY YOU ♡

where they have a bad dream about losing you !

rin

rin sees you and sae together.

everything around him is white, but in front of him, is none other than you and his brother. you're holding sae's arm, and you smile so sweetly at him that it makes rin sick to his stomach.

turning around, you seem to notice him and give him a strained look, eyes darting around. rin opens his mouth but closes it, unsure of what to say.

finally, you speak up.

"rin.." you began, "I can't do this anymore."

rin feels his heart drop to his stomach. what do you mean? what are you even saying?

"what are you-" his words are cut off before he can finish.

"I-I'm in love with sae. I want to be with him. rin, I'm sorry, but I just don't love you anymore." you reveal, voice distant as you avoid his gaze.

your words feel like a slap to his face and his world begins to crumble. he wants you to reach out to you, to grab your wrist and tell you that he'll do anything for you to stay. what can his brother do that he can't? he feels his legs beginning to crumble before he slumps down onto the floor on his knees. rin doesn't want to let you go, he loves you too much.

sae gives him a disinterested look over his shoulder. he walks to where rin is, eyes cold as if he was mocking him, before crouching down closer to him and whispering something in rin's ear.

rin wakes up with a start.

he's sitting up, sweating and trembling as he gasps for air, his heart pounding in his chest. the room is dark and silent, but the weight of the dream still lingered. the haunting thought that maybe he wasn't enough, that you would choose someone else over him, even his own brother. he closes his eyes as he presses his hand to his face, trying to even out his breathing and convince himself that it's just a dream.

"rin..?"

he freezes. right, he forgot you were sleeping next to him.

"rin.." you whisper, voice groggy from sleep. "what's wrong?"

"nothing." he grunts. it's stupid, but he doesn't want to admit he just had a nightmare about losing you to sae. it's not real he repeats to himself in his head.

obviously you are not convinced. after all, rin is sweating and he seems so stressed, plus his shoulders are tense so it can't just be nothing. sitting up, you lean in to be closer to him.

"rinnie, did you have a bad dream? you can talk about it if you want, I'll listen," you offered. your voice is soft and comforting, and rin resists the urge to just rest his head on your chest. it makes him think that maybe you are too good for him. that he doesn't deserve you. that you deserve to be with someone who's better than him. maybe he should let you go. he loves you, so maybe he should let you go to be with someone who will really make you happy. after all, what exactly has he done to deserve someone like you?

but deep inside, he doesn't ever want to let you go. rin doesn't want to share your smile or laughter with anyone else. he wants you to smile only at him with that fondness in your eyes. the thought of you with someone else is enough to make him go crazy. which is why, he finally admits the truth.

"I dreamt that you left me for sae." he states, rather bluntly.

you blink.

before you can even speak, rin says something that makes your heart hurt.

"do you ever wish you were with someone else?" he asks. he's so vulnerable right now and so different from his normal cold nature. the dream must've really had an effect on him. since he's staring at the wall in front of him instead of looking at you.

"rin," you say, cupping his cheek as you turn him to face you. even though the room is dark, you can still see how his eyes lack any emotion except for insecurity and doubt. "I wouldn't ever leave you for sae, or anyone else. it's just a dream. I promise, I want to stay with you forever."

your voice is so honest and your words make rin feel as if a huge rock has been lifted from his shoulder. right, it's just a dream after all. besides, he would never let his stupid brother steal you away. he won't let anyone steal you away.

"okay." he nods.

gently, he lays back down and pulls you down with him, hugging you close to his chest as he rests his chin on your head. he doesn't say anything, but just holding you close like this is enough to make most of his worries go away. if he has to, he'll be better for you.

rin is tired and his eyes are on the verge of closing when he hears you whisper out a quiet, "I only love you, rinnie."

isagi

isagi is twisting and turning around in his sleep, eyebrows scrunched as a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. what exactly is he dreaming about?

in his dream, isagi is walking through the bustling city with you. the streets are busy and filled with people, but he's only focused on you. his only thought is you. in fact, you occupy most of his brain space. he's holding your hand, but you seem a bit distant. almost as if you're bored being there with isagi. even though you've been roaming around the city together for a while, he feels as if the connection between you guys was slipping through his fingers.

he sees you glance at your phone, as if there's something more important that's pulling you away. isagi tries to shake the feeling off, but it won't go away and he feels that nervous feeling form in his stomach.

the dream warps, and what he sees is horrifying and it makes his heart drop.

in front of him, is you. and rin. rin is on top of you on the couch as you're pressing kisses onto his face.

isagi can't move. the only thing that he can whisper is a quiet "what's...what's going on..?"

his voice seems to grab you and rin's attention as both your heads snap towards isagi's direction. instead of looking panicked at the fact that you just got caught, you gently push rin off you and sit on the couch. in the softest tone, you tell isagi something that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

"I've been thinking a lot, and...and I just... don't love you anymore." your voice is flat and distant, as if you're talking to a stranger.

isagi takes a step back, unable to process this. you're joking right? you're joking, you're joking, you're joking, you're joking...

he gulps, unable to breathe as he can only whisper out a quiet no.., his voice barely audible. your words sting and suffocate him. he wants to say something. he'll do anything to fix your relationship. just tell him, and he'll grovel at your feet on his knees if it means you'll stay.

rin is sitting casually on the couch. he hasn't said anything, but his eyes meet isagi's gaze. isagi clenches his fists when he makes eye contact with rin. his piercing gaze seems to be mocking isagi, almost as if rin is saying i win.

isagi gasps for air, heart pounding as he sits up in his bed. it took him a moment to realize it was just a nightmare, but his hands are trembling and he can't really shake off the image of you smiling and kissing rin. seriously, out of everything he can dream about, he has to dream about you and rin? why can't he dream about scoring ten goals in soccer?

isagi looks down at the bed to the space next to him. you're still sleeping soundly and he sighs in relief that he didn't wake you up. a small frown grows on his face. he's aware that it's just a stupid dream since you're obviously still with him, sleeping next to him. there's a bit of hair covering your face, and isagi reaches his hand out to brush it away. it's dark, but the light from the digital clock makes your face a bit visible. he stares at you, admiring your sleeping face. you're so pretty, he thinks.

he sighs, before finally laying back down on the bed next to you. he pulls you in close to his chest as he presses a kiss on your forehead.

you grumble and shift a little in his hold, before finally settling down and whispering out a tiny "I love you, yoichi.."

yeah, you only love him. and he only loves you. even if the world ends, you will always be the only one for isagi, and he hopes that you feel the same. that you'll love him always, and that you will always be by his side.

he doesn't want to think about losing you.

nagi

nagi was at first dreaming about playing video games, but he's losing in all of them. and then the dream shifts to him being outside of his classroom

he's confused. the last thing he wants is to be at school right now. but then he hears voices and talking from the other side of the door.

"he's so weird, you know? a total loser." he hears someone say.

he hears anyone person agree with the previous statement, stating their own personal opinion of "he doesn't even try. I mean come on, you can do so much better than a slouch. better than that sloppy looking guy. come on, someone like nagi is never going to change."

oh, so they're talking about him. and you're there.. talking about him as well?

the dream shifts again and he's across from you sitting at a table. there's a heavy silence, and finally, as if you'd been searching for the right words, you say "I don't think this is working out. I.. I don't think we're right for each other. it's not personal, but I just.. don't want to be with you anymore."

someone like nagi is never going to change, the words echoed in his mind.

his heart is sinking, and he reaches his hand out to you, desperate to make you believe that he can change. he'll try, he really will. he wants to speak, but nothing comes out.

your eyes are cold, nothing like the ones that used to look at him full of love and adoration, as if nagi was the one who hung the stars in the sky.

just like that, nagi is jolted awake. he's breathing heavily, staring the ceiling.

he sits up, rubbing his face and trying to shake off the nightmare. but it clings to him, like a whisper in the back of his mind. someone like nagi is never going to change.

oh, you're not in bed with him. no wonder it feels so cold. for a split second, he thinks the dream was real. that maybe you really did leave him. but from his room, he can see a small light coming from outside.

surprisingly, he gets out of bed and walks to the kitchen. there, he sees you, in your nightgown standing at the counter. you don't seem to realize he's behind you, so he sneaks up and hugs you from behind.

"ah!" you let out a small squeak, surprised that nagi was awake at this hour.

"sei, why are you awake?" ironic that you're asking that question, since you're also awake...

"mm.." he grumbles, "can't sleep."

there's a silence. neither of you say anything else.

"s' cold without you.." he mumbles out, rubbing his cheek against yours.

"alright, alright, let's go back to bed." you say. nagi doesn't protest and instead drags you back to the bedroom where he lightly tackles you onto the bed and buries his head in your chest. you run your fingers through his hair and he lets out a sigh of contentment.

"am i unattractive?" he suddenly asks, making you halt your movement of playing with his hair. his face is squished into your chest so the words did come out a little mumbled, but you're genuinely confused. nagi wasn't one to care about appearances and he never asked you questions about how he looked.

"seishiro, why are you asking that?"

"am I?" he seems a bit pressed for your answer.

maybe he dreamt about his appearance? either way, you decide that you won't ask about it right now, since you doubt he'll tell you, claiming it to be too much of a hassle.

"well, sei, I think you're very handsome," you coo at him, as if he's a baby. "and you're cute. you look handsome when you're playing soccer, and even when you're gaming, or even when you've just woken up and your hair's a mess."

nagi just lets out a hum, mumbling a quiet "kay, angel.."

sae

sae drifted into a deep, restless sleep.

he dreams about you. the both of you are at the beach and the sun is setting, which casts a golden glow on your face. you're beautiful, he thinks. your hair is swaying gently due to the wind. he feels content here, being with you. the both of you are walking along the shore and there's a comfortable silence between you two.

but you look distant. and sad. sae doesn't ask about it at first and he attempts to brush it off. but you stop walking and look up at him with eyes that hold a million emotions that he can't comprehend nor understand.

"is something wrong?" he asks with concern.

you don't respond right away, and he's growing worried. but when you finally speak, it's not the answer he's expecting nor wanted.

"I don't think I can do this anymore, sae," you reply, voice quiet and timid.

he freezes and his chest tightens. "what do you mean?" he asks, his voice almost cracking.

you don't look at him.

staring down at the ground, you let out a shaky breath and admit the truth.

"I can't be with you. not anymore."

sae wakes up, heart pounding. the room is dark and he reaches towards the other side of the bed to grab you close and hold you. only.. you're not there.

oh, that's right. that wasn't a dream. you really did leave him a couple months ago. the bed feels large and empty without you. it feels cold. he vaguely remembers your words, something about how he doesn't prioritize you and that you can't be with him, not when you feel like you're not important to him.

sae recalls something you asked him a month prior to your breakup.

"saeeee.. if I ever die, or something happened to me, would you ever be with someone else?

back then, he had scoffed at your ridiculous question. but now, the answer is clear to him.

no, he doesn't think he will ever be with someone that isn't you.

reo

reo is a lot of things. he's attractive, kind, smart, and loaded with money. girls come up to him but he knows that they're really after his money. they don't care about him.

but you're different. you loved reo and you didn't care about how much money he had. thus, he fell for you hard. he loved you ten times more than you loved him, and he wasn't afraid of showing it. and he believes that you love him more than anything as well. that he's your one true love.

so why.. does you hear you talking with your friends about how you're only with him for his wealth?

he hears you, in your room, talking to your friend about something. he's come over to surprise you, so you have no idea he's about ten inches away from your door. but when reo hears you talking on the phone, he leans his ear closer to the door, only to feel his heart get crushed once you hears you talking about him.

"yeah, yeah.. sure." you admit, rather casually, on the phone. "sure he's nice and all, but his money is way nicer. mm, actually I might break up with him soon. he's kind of getting boring."

reo doesn't know what to do. he's unable to move and his feels like he's about to cry. after all this time, you really were only with him for his money. what about the times you kissed him, cheered for him at his soccer games, and came over to his house to spend time with him? what about all those times you sat in the bathtub with him, when you let him sleep on your lap like he was a kitten, or when you giggled putting pink clips in his hair? what about... what about.... what about... what about...

the nightmare fractures, like a mirror.

he lets out a yell, breathing heavily as he wakes up. his loud scream unfortunately woke you up from your slumber too, and you turn around to face him.

"reo...what happened..." you mutter, voice groggy with sleep.

reo feels bad that he woke you up, but the dream felt too real. did you really love him? he knows he shouldn't doubt you, but..

"do you love me?" he blurts out.

"...huh?"

he stutters, embarrassed that he suddenly asked that outloud.

reo doesn't have the chance to explain himself before you say, "of course I love you reo. that's why I'm with you. are you okay?"

"uh..yeah I'm fine." he replies.

you scooch in closer to him and rest your head on his chest.

"do you want a new bag?" he suddenly asks.

"reo," you grumble, sighing at his antics. "I told you I don't need you to buy things for me. seriously, save your money."

yeah, whatever that dream was, he thinks to himself. it's just a dream, it's not real.

kaiser

kaiser did not have a loving childhood. from his mother who abandoned him to his abusive father, he grew up with a life full of hardship and troubles.

but despite everything, he found solace in you, his childhood friend who he was now dating. you provided him with the sense of comfort, you made his life happier, and he doesn't really want to imagine where he would be without you. he thinks you're gorgeous and absolutely breathtaking. you kiss away his troubles and he wants you only to himself. he's not the best at this relationship thing, but you're patient with him.

his dream starts during a soccer match. the crowd is roaring with excitement as usual, but something is off. he's standing on the field, looking for you, the one who's always by his side and cheering him on. but no matter how hard he looked around, you weren't there.

he feels the panic rising in his chest, but he won't show it. kaiser doesn't lose. he's a winner. the best. and he always will be.

that's when he sees it.

you, standing there, with isagi. you're laughing and your eyes are full of joy, but it's not because of him. why the hell were you even with isagi????

you meet his gaze, but your eyes are cold and emotionless. there's nothing there for him. the love you once had for him is gone.

he swallows. fine. he doesn't need you. he's the best after all.

but he wants to smash his hand against the wall and scream why?

as soon as the whistle blows, signaling the start of the match, everything goes dark.

kaiser wakes up with a start, gasping for air and his chest is heaving. there's sweat clinging to his chest and the uncomfortably, heavy weight of the dream. it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, irritating him.

but then he feels it. the familiar warmth next to him. you were there, besides him. his eyes snap towards you. he suddenly feels foolish. the dream wasn't real. of course, he hadn't actually lost you.

you were awake, your hand gently reaching out to him in an attempt to calm him.

"micha, are you okay?"

he shifts away slightly, brushing a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I'm fine." he scoffs.

"you're not fine," you speak gently. "you had a bad dream huh? you can talk to me. I'll always be here for you. you'll never lose me, ever."

kaiser's jaw tightens for a moment before finally letting out a shaky breath and relaxing. he's afraid of losing you, of how vulnerable he is around you, how you make him feel so many emotions he's not sure he wants.

but he smirks.

"course.." kaiser starts, "i don't lose, schatz."

© 𝒌issbabie | don't copy, steal, or translate any of my work

[abbotsanatomy]

I can’t stop thinking about the fluffy alphabet you did for Jack where his nightmare is you coming into his ER. I’d love if you could expand upon that please and thank you.

⨳ JUST A WALK-IN

pairing: jack abbot x wife!reader warnings: depiction of ectopic pregnancy, mentions of surgery/medical procedures. author's note: i think it'd definitely feel that much worse if he caused your visit to the ER (even if indirectly). so here's this..

It takes a lot for you to visit the ER. Lightheadedness, pain in the most random places, and three days of excruciating pain later, you've finally succumbed to the fact that this is, indeed, an emergency.

In truth, you're more worried about your husband than yourself. Jack's what the people call completely overbearing, when it comes to your health. If you could be a hypochondriac for someone, he's that. He tries to downplay it, but you know he's panicking inside every time you get a cold that lasts a little too long or tell him about that pain in your side.

That's why it's incredibly detrimental that your husband not see you in his ER. You're going to tip-toe around, asking for anyone who isn't him and hoping the nurses won't slip up and tell him they saw you around. You feel safe, for now, behind this curtain.

You managed to snag Parker Ellis on your way in. She's one of your favorites, and you know she can keep her mouth shut with Jack.

“Y'know if Abbot finds out, I'll tell him you totally threatened me, right?” she deadpans, pulling her gloves on.

She's sat on a stool beside your hospital bed. You shoot her a pouty look that you hope could soften her up. It doesn't.

“Come on! I only threatened you a little,” you yell, “Have my back. It can't be that serious. Probably just appendicitis or something.”

“You waited three days before coming in,” she berates you. “If it is appendicitis, you should be worried.”

You sigh loudly, and move to lie farther back onto the hospital bed. Ellis brings the cart with the ultrasound kit closer to herself.

“Whatever,” you whisper, pulling your shirt up to reveal your torso.

Ellis puts some ultrasound gel there. You close your eyes at the sensation. It feels too cold, especially with the preexisting pain.

She puts the transducer on your lower abdomen and moves it around, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her. You assume she's found something when her hand freezes and just stares at the screen for a minute.

“What is it?” you question, softly. You're a little scared now; you've never seen Ellis look so serious.

When the silence becomes too intense, you start turning the diamond ring on your fourth finger around. You know whatever Parker's about to tell you, it isn't good.

“Should Jack be here for this?” you suggest, unable to pull your eyes from the sparkling rock on your hand.

Ellis finally pulls her eyes away from the screen, “Yeah. Maybe.”

You nod, slowly letting your eyes flutter shut.

“Okay. Can you tell him? To come in here?” you finally look up at her, “I want him here.”

She leaves without another word. You put your head into your hands, breathing deeply. You think you're getting a moment of peace, and then the pain that's been following you around for days, maybe even weeks, it doubles.

Then, it triples.

You know this can't be a good sign. You make for the call button quickly. You're inches away, when you feel your consciousness slip away. Your vision goes black before you can do anything.

Ellis is making her way through the ER at record speed. When she finds Jack, she's even more frustrated than before.

He's operating. She can't interrupt. She isn't even sure how she was going to tell him in the first place, let alone in a room full of people, with someone's life in his hands.

Ellis is more than aware of just how much Jack loves you. She was at the wedding. She sat front row, listened intently to all of your vows. She hears how he talks to you on the phone, his voice completely morphing into something a lot softer. She notices how you’re on speed dial every time a major incident happens, because he always needs to make sure you’re okay.

She knows he'll freak out when he hears.

These things usually aren't that dangerous, but you've left it for too long. She isn't even sure if you'll make it into surgery before it gets bad. This thing's ready to rupture, and Jack should definitely be there for you if it does.

Fuck it, she decides. She walks into trauma room one with a newfound sense of determination. Ellis grabs a mask off of the tray at the door, and walks in, holding it to her face.

“Hey, Abbot?”

Jack only spares her a glance.

“Kind of busy here,” he tells her, his hands literally inside of the patient in front of him.

“You know I wouldn't do this if it wasn't important,” her voice comes off as frantic.

So much so, that it makes him look up. His eyes immediately become set into a deep frown. He quickly tells Walsh to take over, pulling his hands away. They're both out of the trauma room in seconds.

“Is it...” Jack pauses.

“Yeah, yeah. It's your wife. She's here. She came in for an emergency,” she explains.

“You didn't tell me?”

“She's freakin' scary, alright? Just—I'll tell you what it is there.” Ellis just walks away without a second glance. Jack's following, his footsteps heavy.

When they get to the hospital cubicle you were in, Ellis pushes the curtain back quickly to reveal...nothing.

“Where is she, Ellis?”

“I left her right here. Wait...” Ellis walks to the nurse's station to ask about your whereabouts. They give her the worst case scenario.

As soon as Jack hears the news, he's sprinting to the elevator to make his way to the surgical floor. You're having surgery, and he isn't there. You're having life-altering surgery, which he might've caused, and he isn't there.

His heart’s pounding so hard in his chest he think he might be having a heart attack. This is worse. It’s scarier. He isn’t scared of dying, he’s scared of losing the one thing that’s keeping him going. And the idea that he’s the one who put you in this situation makes him more uneasy.

He can't help but feel guilty, especially when they hand him your wedding ring and the band T-shirt and jeans you presumably had on, and tell him to just wait in the room you'll be admitted in.

He just stares at the glittering diamond in his hands for what feels like hours, until they wheel you in. Then, he puts it back on your ring finger and stares some more.

When you wake up, it's like being reborn. It's completely stressful, you feel like you’re learning how to breathe all over again, and you want to burst out crying. But Jack's right there, with your hand in his.

It makes you smile. Your face still feels heavy, but you manage to show a little teeth. You turn your head to the side, and he's still looking down at your interlocked fingers. He finally looks up when you squeeze his hand as tight as you can.

He can't say anything, so you do.

“I'm, like, so fucking hungry,” you whisper, and then start laughing.

Jack stands up from his seat at your bedside, leaning in. He pulls your head up with a hand buried into your hair. His lips are pressed onto your forehead and, if it's even possible, you're smiling wider.

“That was scary,” you admit.

He nods, his forehead resting against yours now. Your brows crease.

“What, uh...What happened?”

Jack shakes his head, “It was an ectopic pregnancy. Ruptured. I thought—”

He closes his eyes tight, “I thought I'd lose you.”

“You didn't.” You bring a hand up, so your fingers can brush against his jaw.

Jack takes a deep breath, but you can tell it's a little off. “I...I sit up, late at night, thinking about this. You dying, here, in this hospital. Me not knowing about it.”

You shake your head adamantly, pulling his face back so you can really look into his eyes. It takes you a good minute to form a whole sentence.

“I didn't die. I'm right here. It wasn't even close, I swear,” you promise him, offering the best smile you can in this moment.

You plant a firm kiss on his lips to punctuate your point. You let your fingers play around in the salt and pepper strands of his hair.

“But, seriously,” you sigh, “I'm totally starving. How do we get someone to bring me something to eat?”

You look around for a minute, until he starts laughing. It's more of a cathartic coping mechanism than a genuine laugh. You giggle along with him anyway.

[aleksatia]

Don't know if you will accept this one because not everyone is comfortable with writing for pregnancy trope. But i will try. 😭

Imagine the reader is pregnant, and for some reason, she can't get to the hospital or opted for giving birth at home, and the labor starts with just the reader and the boys, how would they react? (Zayne would go well, I guess lol)

Anyway, I gotta say I am obsessed with your writing ✍️ 🤤🥰

It honestly took me forever to get this request done, but here it is—finally! I ended up splitting it into two parts, including a bit of my own experience with childbirth.

The main challenge was that, even when extreme, birth tends to follow a similar pattern. I didn’t want to lean into unnecessary drama, so I approached it differently: wrote one complete mini-fic and turned the rest into short drabble-style sketches, which I’ll be posting here.

You can read more about Xavier/MC’s story here. I chose him simply because I hadn’t written anything focused on him in a while—and it just flowed (from pen... well, keyboard) that way.

CT/WT: birth scene, childbirth, emergency birth, home birth, water birth, airplane birth, snowstorm birth, intense emotional content, partner support, soft!men, vulnerable!men, protective partner, found family, twins, hurt/comfort, emotional intimacy, fatherhood, new dad energy, birth fic, drabble collection, first-time dad, emotional whump, soft smutless intimacy, love confession, trauma comfort, birth complications, raw vulnerability, medical emergency, no smut just feelings, domestic intensity. Headcanon!!!

🖤 SYLUS — The Moment He Realizes It’s Up to Him (Home Birth, Unprepared Conditions)

The Second It Clicks: You gasp. Double over. He’s at your side in a heartbeat. “Is it time?” You nod. Pain. Panic. Wet warmth. His blood freezes — then boils. No hospital. No doctor. No help. Just him.

His First Thought? “Fuck. No. Not like this. You deserve better.” Not chaos. Not uncertainty. Not cold floors and towels that aren’t sterile. He’s Sylus — he controls everything. But this? This is the one thing he can’t delay, buy, or dominate. It’s coming. Now.

Terror?Not for himself. For you. For the pain in your eyes, the grip of your hand, the sheer fragility of the moment. His entire being rallies like a war horn blaring inside his chest. “If the universe put this in my hands, then it’s getting the best fucking performance of my life.”

What he does first:He lowers you carefully to the bed. Kisses your knuckles, even as he’s barking quiet orders into a phone no one picks up. His voice is deep, steady. But his heart is galloping. He never lets you see it. Never lets his fear break through. You deserve certainty, and he’ll give it to you — even if he’s unraveling at the seams.

What He Says:“Kitten. Look at me.” You do. Eyes wide. Brave. Terrified. “You trust me?” You nod. “Then breathe. I’ve got this. I’ve got you. I always have.”

What He Feels:You’re vulnerable. And you’re still the strongest creature he’s ever seen. He wishes he could take the pain. Rip it from you and carry it in his own bones. But this is your war. And all he can do is be the sword and the shield. “Don’t you dare break on me, baby. You’re almost there. We’re almost there.”

And when you cry out —Something inside him shatters. Not weakness. Not panic. Love. The kind that could burn cities. The kind that makes gods kneel. He wipes your brow with trembling fingers, and for the first time in years, he whispers: “Please. Just let me do this right.”

The First Push:Your nails dig into his forearm. Hard. He doesn't flinch. He leans in, forehead almost touching yours. “That’s it. Breathe through it. I’ve got you.” Your body trembles. He sees it — the pain, the fear, the fight. And God, he’s never loved you more than in this bloody, imperfect, holy moment.

The Next Contractions Hit:They're relentless. And so is he. He’s on his knees beside the bed now, sleeves rolled, jaw locked, hands steady but heart breaking. “You're doing so good, kitten. So fucking good. I'm right here. Ride it. Ride it out. You're the strongest thing I've ever seen.” He keeps talking because your cries are the sound of his soul ripping open. He wants to scream with you — but he doesn’t. He can’t. You need him iron-clad.

When the Baby Crowns:For a split second, he freezes. The sight undoes him. It's real. His voice catches. He swallows hard. Then acts. Fast. He speaks softly but firmly. “Almost there. Just one more, baby. Give me everything you’ve got.”And when you do — when you scream and bear down and sob his name — the world shifts.

The Birth:The baby slips into his hands. Warm. Fragile. Alive. He catches it like it’s made of light. For a moment, he just stares. His lips part, but no words come. This. This is his child. His hands are shaking now. Bloody, trembling. But when the baby cries? He lets out the most ragged breath of his life. “You did it,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours. “You fucking did it.” He ties and cuts the cord. Precise. Careful. Reverent. Wraps the baby in a soft towel and places it in your arms. And then? He just watches. Like the world cracked open to show him something he never thought he was worthy of.

When the Medics Finally Arrive:He doesn’t move from your side. Doesn’t let go of your hand. The men in white bark questions. He answers in clipped growls, still on alert. They try to move in too fast, and he snaps, “She’s fine. You move when she says so.” The room is full now — but all he sees is you.

Afterward, When It’s Quiet Again:He sits beside you, one hand on your leg, the other gently stroking the baby's tiny back. His shirt is soaked, his knuckles still stained, his eyes rimmed red. He doesn’t speak for a long time. Just breathes in the shape of you. Watches you like you might disappear.

And then he says it, raw and low:“I’ve killed for less than the pain you just went through.”“You scare me,” he adds, almost smiling. “Because I didn’t think I could love you more than I already did.”A pause. His voice softens. “Turns out, I was wrong.”

How He Is With You After: He won’t leave the room for the first 24 hours. Won’t sleep unless you sleep. Won’t speak unless it’s to you. Every time you shift, he’s there. Water. Blankets. Warm palms. He touches you like you’re made of fire and stardust. And maybe you are. You brought life into the world — and now he’s a man who’s seen a goddess bleed and survive.

What’s Changed? Everything. You’re no longer just the woman he worships. You’re the mother of his child. And he’s never been more dangerous, more devoted, or more in awe. And when he finally holds the baby in his arms, whispering something in a voice only the stars can hear, you catch the look on his face — as if the king of the underworld just met the one soul that could make him believe in heaven.

🎨 RAFAYEL — Water Birth Gone Off-Script (But You're Still His Masterpiece)

The Second It Clicks:You gasp. A real one. Water shifts behind the door. He hears it — not the splash, but the silence that follows. Brush mid-stroke, he freezes in the studio. Palette still in hand. Then he hears you call his name. Soft. Urgent. Different. His heart misses a beat. Oh. Oh, fuck. It’s time.

His First Thought?“Cutie, not yet — where’s the damn midwife?” This was supposed to be smooth. Music, candles, soft towels, help. He practiced. Took notes. Learned everything. But you’re contracting, you’re gripping his arm like a lifeline, and that carefully prepared plan just drowned.

Terror?Only for a split second. Then? It turns into motion. His version of war. No armor. Just bare skin, water, and wild love. He tears off his silk shirt, drops to his knees beside the tub, and cups your face. Eyes blazing. Smile trembling. “You’ve got this. I’ve got you. Let’s be legends, sweetheart.”

What He Does First:Lights dimmed. Calm playlist turned off. That’s not helping. He speaks instead. Constant stream of velvet and madness — anything to keep you in your body. He checks your breath, strokes your arms, pours warm water down your back. He holds your thighs when the cramping gets too much. “Breathe, Cutie. Moan if you need to. Scream. I’ll scream with you.”

What He Says:“You’re the most divine creature I’ve ever painted and you’re not even trying right now.” “Do you know what it does to me — to see you bring life into the world? I’m ruined.” “I love you. You’re terrifying. It’s magnificent.” “I’m not ready, but I’m so ready. Are you ready, sweetheart?” He laughs and cries all at once. Classic Raf.

What He Feels:Absolute awe. Like watching a volcano give birth to the moon. You’re in pain, and he’d trade his soul to take it away —

But you’re also gorgeous. Power and surrender. Fury and grace. He watches you like a living epic, memorizing every second. And somewhere deep down: terror. Because he’s about to meet a little soul that already feels like the most important thing he’s ever waited for.

And When You Cry Out —He flinches like someone hit his body. Then kisses your forehead. Then your shoulder. Then your fingers. “I know, I know, my love. You can hate me right now. But when it’s over, you’re going to be a fucking goddess in my arms again.”

The First Push:He holds you. Literally. Behind you in the tub, your back pressed to his chest. Whispers in your ear like poetry, nonsense, love confessions. His hands steady your belly. His cheek presses to yours. “Push. With me. Right now. Pretend the stars are watching.”

The Next Contractions Hit:You sob. Scream. Curse. He laughs through tears. “That’s my girl. Go feral, baby.” He doesn't pretend it's easy. He matches the chaos. You scream louder? He screams louder. You sob? He hums a lullaby in broken Lemurian. And when you break? He stitches you back together with every ridiculous, poetic, stupidly beautiful word.

When the Baby Crowns:He feels it before he sees it — the shift in your breath, the way your body tenses like a storm breaking. “Cutie — he’s here. He’s really here.” He helps you lean forward, moves behind and then lower, one arm steadying you as he shifts to kneel in the water. And then he sees it — the beginning of everything. His voice is gone. His hands shake. But he stays.

The Birth:The baby slides into the water. Raf catches him like he’s catching a star falling into the sea. He brings him up gently, lets him cry, and then stares — completely undone. He places the baby on your chest with reverence. Then breaks. Just breaks. Weeps silently as he holds you both.

When the Medics Finally Arrive:He answers the door shirtless, soaked, with red-rimmed eyes and a feral look. “Too late,” he snaps. “She did it herself. I just got to be lucky enough to watch.” Then walks past them, back to the bathroom, because he’s not done looking at you.

Afterward, When It’s Quiet Again:You’re in bed. Baby asleep. Candles flickering low. Raf’s lying next to you, propped on an elbow, fingers lightly tracing invisible constellations on your arm. His voice is almost a whisper. “You made something I could never paint. Not with all the colors in the universe.”

Confession:“I used to think love was chaos. Fire. Tragedy.” He swallows. “But you — carrying him, birthing him — you made me believe in something bigger than all that. Something gentle.” Beat. “Still chaos. But now… now I want to live in it.”

How He Is With You After:He won’t stop touching you. Ever. Cheek pressed to your stomach. Hand around your ankle. Lips to your collarbone. He calls you his ocean, his cathedral, his everything. Gets jealous when the baby gets more attention, then sulks dramatically — only to melt the moment the baby yawns.

What’s Changed? He didn’t think he could love more than he already did. But now he’s ruined. Completely, gloriously yours. He paints you every day. He stares at the baby like a spell. And every night, he murmurs: “Cutie, I would live a thousand lifetimes just to land in this one with you.”

🛩️ CALEB — 35,000 Feet Up, When the World Falls Apart (And You’re the Only Thing That Matters)

The Second It Clicks:Your breath hitches. You shift. Then freeze. He knows your body too well — something is off. You whisper, "Caleb…" He looks at you. And in that one heartbeat, he knows. It’s happening. Here. Now. Too early.

His First Thought?“No.”Not like this. Not at cruising altitude. Not without equipment, backup, time. You were supposed to have two more weeks. He had a plan. A perfect one. And the baby just threw it out the emergency exit.

Terror?It brushes him. A ghost against the back of his mind. There’s a moment — sharp, almost blinding — where every instinct screams: get to the cockpit, take the controls, force the descent, get her to a hospital, make it stop. Not the birth — your pain. The helplessness. But Caleb is a fortress — fear doesn’t get through the walls. Not when you need him solid. Not when your breathing goes shallow and your fingers dig into his thigh. He shuts it out. Cold. Calculated. He stays. Right where you are. “Handle it.”

What He Does First: Turns to the nearest flight attendant — she’s pale, shaking. “Get blankets. Towels. Water. First aid kit. Everything. Now.”Then he takes your hand. Squeezes once. He shifts the cabin — clears seats, turns it into a command zone. Straps you in, kneels in front of you like you’re his entire mission.

What He Says:“Breathe.” “Look at me, not the chaos. Me.”“You're safe. I'm here. I’ll get you through this.”“No one’s going to touch you but me. You hear me?”Low, controlled. The voice of command — but laced with something raw. The kind of voice that means he’d rip this plane open and land it with his bare hands if he had to.

What He Feels:Failure. Because this wasn’t the plan. Because he let you on this plane, knowing the risks.  Because you’re in pain and there’s nothing he can shoot or order or carry to fix it.  But above that — something bigger. Something anchoring. You’re about to give him a child. His child. And he’s never been more terrified or more in love.

And When You Cry Out —He stops breathing. Just for a moment. Then grabs a wet cloth, wipes your forehead, presses his mouth to your knuckles. “It’s okay. I know. I know it hurts. Just hold on, love.” He doesn’t flinch when you scream. He braces for you. Becomes your wall.

The First Push: He helps you brace your legs. Talks you through it. Counts your breaths. His voice doesn’t shake. You’re gripping his shoulder like you want to break him — and if it helps, he wants you to. “Push. Right now. You can do it. I know you can.”

The Next Contractions Hit:They come fast. Brutal. You’re soaked in sweat, sobbing, slipping in and out of focus. He holds your gaze. Forces you to stay present. “Stay with me. Just me. Eyes on mine.” He’s not just commanding your body now. He’s anchoring your soul.

When the Baby Crowns:His jaw locks. There’s blood. Pain. A sound from you that breaks something in him forever. But then— “I see the head. One more. One big push, baby. Do it for me.”He’s never begged in his life. Until now.

The Birth:The baby slides into his hands — hot, wet, alive. He holds it like it’s a grenade and a prayer. He hesitates for a heartbeat, then moves on instinct drilled in from every medical video he obsessively watched in the weeks before. Wipes the face. Rubs the back. Hears that first cry. And his shoulders slump like he just survived a war. He lays the baby on your chest with military precision— But his hands are shaking. And his voice is gone.

When the Plane Lands:Paramedics are already waiting on the tarmac. The moment the wheels hit the ground, he’s on his feet, securing the baby, then lifting you into his arms — no hesitation, no discussion. Your body wrapped in his jacket, his grip unshakable. “She stays with me,” he tells them — low and final. He carries you down the stairs himself, eyes scanning every face like a soldier clearing a field. And when the medics move in, he doesn’t flinch — but he watches every hand. Every word. His eyes never leave you. He’s still on the battlefield.

Afterward, When It’s Quiet Again: The baby’s wrapped and asleep. You’re in a hospital bed now, monitors quiet, lights dim. Caleb sits beside you — still in his flight-worn clothes, hands resting on the edge of the mattress like he’s holding the line. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t blink. Just watches you breathe. As if any second, the universe might try to take you again.

Confession:“I don’t know how to do this part.” Soft. Almost a whisper. “I know war. I know strategy. I know how to keep you alive.”A pause. “But you just gave me everything, thirty-five thousand feet above the world. And I don’t know how to thank you for that.”

How He Is With You After: Hypervigilant. Keeps you warm. Fed. Rested. Checks the baby’s breath every ten minutes. Doesn’t leave your side — not even to sleep. Carries you to the bathroom if he has to. Barely talks. Just does.

What’s Changed? He always thought his job was to protect you. Now he knows — you are the reason he fights. You made life, in midair, with nothing but pain and instinct. He’s seen you soft. He’s seen you in love. Now he’s seen you divine. And no enemy will ever get close again. Not even turbulence. And definitely not labor at 35,000 feet — because he’s never letting you board a plane pregnant again. He’s already planning the next birth. Controlled environment. Ground-level. Walls. Doctors. No sky. No chaos. Just you, safe — the way you were always supposed to be.

🧊 ZAYNE — Snowcrest Emergency (Twins, a Storm, and You in His Hands)

The Second It Clicks:You’re at the stove, stirring a pot of mulled wine, the scent of cloves and orange peel curling through the wooden walls of the chalet. Snow presses against the windows like a soft white fist. Then something shifts. You freeze. One hand goes to the edge of the counter, the other to your belly. Your breath catches — once. Twice. Too sharp. Zayne looks up from the hearth, where he was stacking firewood. Sees your face. Sees your hands. His mind clicks into motion before you can speak. Contractions. Strong. Rhythmic. A month early. Twins. It’s happening. Now.

His First Thought?“No hospital. No OR. No neonatal equipment. Two infants. High-risk environment.” His mind races: What’s missing? What can he improvise? What matters most? You. He recalibrates in milliseconds. The plan has changed. You’re the plan now.

Terror?He doesn’t let it register. But for the first time in a decade, he feels his pulse spike without choosing it. This is not a patient. Not a clinical environment. This is you. And his hands — hands that saved hundreds — suddenly feel too slow, too human.

What He Does First:Takes control. Quietly, precisely. “Lie down. Left side. Pillows under your knees.” Gets gloves. Clean cloths. Lantern light. Wipes the counter. Boils water. Checks your pupils, your breath rate, heart rate. Starts counting contractions. Voice — steady as marble. “Vitals are within threshold. We’ll manage.” He doesn’t say "I’m scared." He sets his jaw and becomes the machine you need.

What He Says:“Cut the noise. Focus on me.” “Deep breath in. Hold. Now exhale slowly.” “You’re safe. I have you. Nothing’s going wrong under my watch.” And softer, almost like it slips out against his control: “You’re not doing this alone. I’m here.”Then quieter still, barely audible over your breathing— “I don’t want you to be afraid. Not with me.”

What He Feels:A depth of protectiveness so massive it short-circuits logic. He can’t afford emotion — so it burns quietly behind his ribs. Every sound you make, every twitch of pain — he catalogs it, files it, calculates it. But somewhere behind the math, something whispers: “These are my children. And she’s the one I never deserved.”

And When You Cry Out—He doesn’t flinch. But his jaw locks, and he moves faster. More towels. More warmth. Calmer voice. He adjusts your position, murmurs into your hair: “I know. I know, love. It hurts. You’re strong. You’re going to get them here, and I’m going to catch them. I promise.”

The First Push:““Push with the contraction. Not before.”He watches your breath, cues your muscles, syncs with your rhythm like surgery. You scream. He doesn’t blink. Just steadies your knee, keeps his voice low and close. “You’re doing it. This is the part that ends it. The worst is behind you.”

The Next Contractions Hit:They come harder, closer. You’re shaking. Your body starts to give. Zayne grips your hands, brings your forehead to his. “You’re not breaking. You’re giving life. Do it. I’m right here.” He says it like a command. But his voice catches.

When the Baby Crowns:It’s fast. First twin is anterior. Textbook. Zayne’s gloves are slick, but his hold is perfect. The baby slips into his hands — screaming. He wraps, clears, breathes. Then glances up at you, and — for half a second — his breath stutters. One down. One more.

The Birth (Second Twin):This one’s trickier. Breech. Zayne’s hands move with silent grace, guiding you, shifting your hips, protecting you from the risk. It’s intense. It’s dangerous. But he handles it like a master. The second baby arrives blue. He doesn’t panic. Just acts. Clears airway. Stimulates. Waits — cry. Only then does his chest move again.

When the Medics Finally Arrive:He meets them at the door. Calm. Precise. These are his colleagues — people he trusts. He listens to every reading, watches every movement. They confirm what he already knows: vitals are steady. No signs of immediate risk. He should transfer you. He planned to. But then you look at him — raw, pleading, exhausted. And he recalculates. “We’ll monitor here. Twelve-hour window. I’ll oversee everything myself.” He’s already wrapping you and the twins in fresh blankets, resetting the monitors. His voice is steady. His posture sure. But his hand doesn’t leave yours. He’s not just responsible. He’s personally invested. In this. In you. In all three lives now resting in his hands.

Confession:He speaks only when you touch his wrist. “I’ve never been this scared.” A beat. “And I didn’t let myself feel it. Until now.” Another pause. “You and them — you’re the only variables I can’t solve. And I think I’m okay with that.”

How He Is With You After: Meticulous. Attentive. Understated. Charts feed schedules. Tracks sleeping patterns. Never wakes you if he can help it. Takes night shifts. Warms bottles. Still quiet. Still reserved. But touches you more often now — almost absently. A thumb to your wrist. A hand at your back. Like he can’t not.

What’s Changed? Something in him has shifted — quietly, irreversibly. He was a man of logic. Now he’s a man of you. He doesn’t smile often — but when he looks at the twins, something in his eyes softens in a way he can’t quite explain. And every time you cry — from exhaustion, or joy, or pain — he presses a kiss to your temple and says, “Tell me what to fix.” Even if he knows he never could. Because he’ll try anyway. For as long as you’ll let him.