#this is fluff to me

[strawberryspence]

I love the headcanon that Steve takes care of everybody and when he gets home, Eddie takes care of him. But I love it more when Steve doesn’t really know?

Like yeah, sometimes before he goes to work Eddie makes him sandwiches for lunch but that’s only because he was already making one.

Yeah, ever since Eddie and Steve started living together, it seems like Steve’s shampoos are bottomless. Steve found out that Eddie buys the shampoo so he never runs out, but that’s only because Eddie likes it for his long hair.

Yeah, Steve knows Eddie hates doing the laundry. But sometimes when he comes home, his work clothes have been folded and have been cleaned already. But that’s only because Eddie’s already doing a load.

It doesn’t really click with Steve, that this one person who loves him, is taking care of him. Maybe it’s the lack of caring from his parents, or maybe it’s because he grew up alone. But it’s not clicking to him.

It clicks for him one afternoon.

The sun is beaming high in the sun, but there’s a lovely breeze sweeping that keeps them cool. Lucas and Mike are screaming at each other as they pass the ball at each other. It’s not the best team up, but it’s not really a great practice if it’s just Steve and Lucas. So they’ve somehow convinced Dustin and Mike to come, in exchange of Steve finally trying to learn D&D.

Steve’s wiping his sweat with his shirt as he watches Dustin explain the science behind basketball. Something about velocity and gravity and mathematics. Steve’s trying his best to ignore it.

“Steve!” He hears Eddie call from the sides. He’s been sitting there the whole time, watching and laughing.

Steve jogs closer to his boyfriend, who immediately hands him a hand towel.

Steve blinks at the towel, “What’s this for?”

“For your sweat, sweetheart.”

“Oh.”

Steve reluctantly wipes his sweat with it. Maybe Eddie packed a towel for himself and decided to give it him instead. He knows Eddie also hates sweating under the sun.

“Water?” Eddie looks up at him with a smile, a bottle of water in hand.

Steve squints at him, worry clear on his face, "What about you? It’s pretty hot, baby.”

Eddie smiles at him, “I bought one for myself. I bought that one for you.”

Huh. That's... great.

“Thank you for bringing me water. I forgot to pack myself one.”

Eddie smirks at him, but there’s something endearing twinkling in his eyes, “I know. You always do. You always pack for the kids and me and Robin and then forget about yourself.”

The sentiment could melt him, there and then. But instead, Steve looks around, checking his surroundings before he kisses Eddie’s cheek in gratitude. Steve turns so he can go back to the boys who’s still fighting over the science behind basketball when he hears Eddie running after him.

“Stevie! Wait!”

He turns, watching as Eddie runs up to him, “Yeah?”

Steve’s eyes widen in surprise when Eddie suddenly kneels in front of him. There’s a drumming in his heart that makes him feel like he’s having an actual heart attack. He knows— He knows that Eddie’s not proposing to him on a random Saturday morning, in a random basketball court in the middle of Hawkins. There’s also the fact that they can’t actually marry each other. But with Eddie kneeling in front of him, Steve feels an intense longing for a ring on his finger.

Steve blinks back into reality when he feels Eddie’s hands against his feet. Eddie is— Eddie is tying his shoes for him???

When he finally comes up again, Eddie is smiling at him, big and gummy and brighter than the whole sun, “Your shoe laces are untied. I think I forgot to re-tie them this morning before we went out.”

“You’ve been tying my shoes? Every morning?” Steve whispers, disbelief laces unto every word.

Eddie nods at him, there's an expression of pride on his face, “Every morning since we started living together.”

And here’s the thing, Steve thought he was doing a good job hiding it. He does know how to tie his shoe laces, but he does it super slow and has to redo it multiple times. It’s one of the things that makes him feel— dumb. Like he's an actual idiot. How could Steve fight monsters and he can’t fucking put the bunny’s ear into the other fucking loop? He doesn't know who to be mad at, no one really taught him how to do it. He learned it from a book in the library with no visuals.

“I— I— I don’t know what to say.” Steve stutters, “How do you even know that? I’ve never told anyone.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I won’t tell anyone.” Eddie shrugs, smiling at him, “I saw you one morning struggling to do it. I think I heard you singing that bunny song and I thought I’d make your life a little easier by tying it, so you can just slip into it, ya know?”

“Oh.” Steve blinks back at him, the tears starting to pool on his eyes, “Thank you.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to thank me for taking care of you. It’s my favorite thing to do in this whole world.” Eddie stares at him, brushing a few wisps of hair out of his face.

With the way Eddie is staring at him, he already knows that Eddie knows what he’s thinking about, what the tears in his eyes signify.

“Go play with the boys. They’re suspiciously quiet.” Eddie snickers, “We’ll talk when we get home, hmm?”

Steve searches in his eyes, there’s a morbid part of him that thinks Eddie is realizing that he doesn’t want to be with Steve anymore. Maybe he's realizing how much of a burden Steve truly is. But there’s nothing in Eddie’s eyes that says that. There’s only love and warmth and tenderness all mashed together in two sparkling brown eyes.

“Okay.” Steve answers quietly.

“Okay.” Eddie pats his cheeks before walking back to the place where he’s sitting.

And Steve walks back to the kids and they start playing again. When he looks at Eddie, Eddie’s always tracking him with his eyes, smiling and waving at him as soon as their eyes meet.

They’ll talk later. They’ll talk about how Steve doesn’t know what it feels like to be cared for, and how his parents ruined him. They'll talk about how Steve is cared for now, that their own little found family cares for him so much. They'll talk about healing and changing.

But for now, the fact that Eddie— a person that truly loves him— takes care of him without wanting anything in exchange, is more than good enough.

[obsesssedblerd]

when you and satoru gojo started dating and agreed to take it slow, the first thing that you got used to was the fact that his infinity was up 24/7. though you understood and never brought it up, part of you yearned to feel his skin and not the invisible shield that kept him from the rest of the world.

then, during one beautiful evening after a lovely picnic date, you're comfortably lying against his chest—against that familiar shield, until you realize that you aren't.

as he's adorably rambling about something funny that happened while he was teaching the second years, you notice that you feel the material of his jacket against your cheek. then, you realize that the comforting scent you've been inhaling is his cologne. curious, you gently grasp one of his hands that's closest to you, and your heart practically skips a beat when you feel the warmth of his palm for the first time.

satoru senses your excitement and quietly intertwines your fingers with his. it's also his first time touching you without infinity activated, and he wants to savor it. his thumb brushes soothing patterns on your hand, and you don't even realize how hard you're grinning until you feel the strain in your cheeks.

he chuckles, and you look up to see him staring at you, blindfold raised and his blue eyes soft with adoration. "what's got you cheesin' like that, pretty girl?"

you shrug, your smile unwavering. "just thinking about how perfect my boyfriend is."

satoru stares at you for a little while longer, then tilts his head a bit lower. you feel his lips gently press against your forehead, then against your lips, feather-light and brief. the kiss is short, but it's absolutely perfect for the first time.

you snuggle against satoru, and his other hand strokes your soft face. "that's good," he finally replies, "because i'm always thinking about how lovely my girlfriend is."

[coffee-and-geto]

satoru is the kind of husband who’s often absent. between missions, meetings, jujutsu high, and let’s not forget his clan, he spends his time running around instead of spending time with you — his wife.

it’s a routine. though sometimes, not seeing him can get really frustrating (not to mention the number of tears you’ve shed because of his absence). he’s well aware of it. poor guy feels guilty every second he’s away from you.

one evening, after spending the whole time of it crying over his absence, curled up like a caterpillar in the soft, cottony white duvet, you finally found sleep. a deep sleep, to be precise.

but apparently not deep enough, because in the middle of the night, the moonlight filtering through the windows wakes you up. you quickly realize something heavy is resting on your body. a warm, steady breath brushes against the skin of your neck, sending shivers across your whole body.

you squirm slightly under your husband, who’s lying on top of you as if you were his mattress. “satoru, get off me…”

“hmmm,” he hums, pouting and furrowing his brows. instead of freeing you, he shifts lazily on top of you, trapping you further in his arms. and you’re still wrapped in your duvet, too.

“satoru, i can’t move anymore.” but that doesn’t seem to matter. he clings to you like a koala to a tree. you sigh.

“i missed you.” he plants a soft kiss on your cheek, instantly melting your heart. “i love you.” he chuckles softly, eyes still closed, because he knows you don’t really hold it against him. “i’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” a promise he kept, to your delight.

[l0caltiredgirl]

when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

[emphistic]

Even before you two got together, you've always known that Sukuna was a heavyweight when it came to drinking. He was often the designated driver when you would go out with your circle of friends. Hell, he was the one who had to take care of you after having one too many Pornstar Martinis last week. Not that he minded. . .

But, with that being said, Sukuna was still able to get drunk sometimes; it was rare, but still. And when Sukuna gets drunk, he gets drunk. I'm talking absolutely wasted. To the point he doesn't even recognize his own girl is the one trying to cop a feel.

Sukuna scowled, swatting your hand away before it could touch his arm. "Fuck off. 'm not interested, 'kay."

"Babe, are you serious?" You laughed, steadying Sukuna as he almost tripped over himself. "It's me."

"I don't know anyone named Me," Sukuna said the name with confusion evident in his tone. "Now piss off."

When Sukuna awoke the next morning, he immediately told you of all he remembered last night, despite his pounding headache.

"The craziest thing happened to me, y'know."

You smiled expectantly, "Do tell."

"Some girl who was wearing the exact same pair of earrings I bought you came up to me yesterday. And her name? Super weird, never heard of it. It was Me."

"No, I'm pretty sure it was me," you said, pointing to yourself.

"What."

[miss-jaye]

cw: slightly suggestive when nanami kento saw his wife about to leave the house in a stunning, tight sundress, he swore his whole world stopped for a moment.

“honey?”

“hm?” you glanced at him, then looked back at the mirror, trying not to stab yourself with your earring. nanami cleared his throat. “where are you going?” he asked as he walked over, standing behind you and sliding his hands around your waist.

“i’m having lunch with my friends, sweetie. i told you that this morning, remember?” you raised a brow, confused. your husband nodded dazedly, his eyes glued to your figure.

“right.” he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “where are you going to have lunch?” he asked, his hands gently roaming over your body, feeling the fabric of the dress he so badly wanted to tear off you.

“that cafe we always go to…” you trailed off, finally securing your earring. “are you okay?” you met his gaze through the mirror. “i do this once a month—same place, same people.”

he nodded, humming in acknowledgment. you stayed silent for a moment, trying to figure out what had him so distracted. now that your earring was in place, you became hyper-aware of his hands, their slow, deliberate movements over your hips, squeezing in that familiar way that told you he was restraining himself from acting on his desires.

oh.

a blush crept up your cheeks as you realized nanami hadn’t seen this dress on you yet. you’d just bought it last week and forgot to show him. “kento?”

you called out to him, but he seemed too entranced by the way the dress clung to your curves. he leaned in closer, burying his nose in your neck, his hands trailing down to squeeze your thighs.

you let out a startled moan, hastily covering your mouth. he inhaled deeply, the scent of your perfume overwhelming his senses.

“your friends won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late, right?”

[screampied]

you don’t really realize you’re growing old with satoru until you spot a grey tress inside the roots of your hair as you’re looking in the mirror. the thing about marriage and life itself was that time really doesn’t stop—for no one. as you entrap the lock between your fingers, you murmur out to satoru with a cheeky grin. “satoru baby, c’mere.”and as he’s lying in bed with a wrinkled nose, he reads some book titled ‘three men in a boat.’ as he flips a thick page, his cerulean blue reading glasses crook down the bridge of his nose before he turns his attention toward you.

“yesss, honey?” he rubs his eyes, bringing a palm up to his growing stubble. as he got older, you noticed how he moved a bit slower. satoru was still fit as he aged, but he’d have a bit of a waddle whenever he walked. it was cute—how his limbs were getting more and more fragile, but he was still labeled as the strongest despite his inevitable aging.

he makes his way behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. the two of you make eye contact through the mirror that reflects you both, a happy married couple. “look, we’re finally matching now,” and his face softens once you bring the silvery colored strand up to his view. ‘matching,’ because his hair was naturally a snowy white . . almost similar to the strand of hair you just showed him.

although as the years progressed, satoru was growing ashen grey streaks too.

“i guess we are,” he replied in a gentle tone, his hands remaining on your hips. satoru’s touch was always gentle and ginger. he presses his lips near the back of your nape before letting off a soft sigh. “you’d look pretty with white hair, actually.”

“prettier than you?” you hum, glancing at him through the mirror. satoru towers over you as he holds you, the band of his wedding ring grazing against your hip.

again, you watch as the corners of his lips crease into a smile. a toothy genuine one where his dimples show.

“haha, veeeery funny,” and as he buries his face into your neck, he deeply ponders to himself for a moment.

to think . . how much time has passed, out of all the countless tiresome battles he’s had to face—

all those years at trying to keep the world safe and now, he could finally relax. having his arms around you gave him a peace of mind, and in the end it was all worth it because at the end of the day, satoru gojo—the strongest, came back to you. you were his personal safe haven and he was yours.

“but honeyyy,” he yawns with rosy pouty lips, shifting his chin up to rest against your left shoulder. satoru starts leading you toward your side of the bed. “ ‘s pretty late, let’s getcha back to bed, hm?”

“okay,” you mumble, already feeling your eyes starting to get heavy again. satoru’s still got his burly arms wrapped around your waist as he leisurely guides you back to bed. he was clingy, and that never changed. satoru gojo’s always been clingy ever since the two of you met. as he pulls down the cover for you to enter, you crawl back in and he gets beside you.

satoru slings an arm around you, pulling you close as his hooded eyes starts a staring contest with the swaying wooden ceiling fan.

it’s moving slow. . just like time was.

whenever he was with you, it felt as if time stood still. and as the both of you cuddled against each other with your head resting against his beating heart, he sighs. it’s a content happy sigh, and satoru’s hands find their way near the top of your head. his thin fingers maze it’s way near your soft grey growing strand before he leans in, giving the crown of your head a goodnight kiss. “mwah,” and he watches as your eyes briefly widen before glancing away, growing sheepish. “get some rest, my love. i’ll be here when you wake up. promise.”

you nod, too drowsy to reply and he pulls you closer. satoru’s heartbeat was steady and slow, and each pulse that bested against your ear made you felt more and more protected. as he holds you firm and close, a hand of his softly caresses your forehead—brushing against the soft hairs that cling onto your skin.

as your breathing starts to relax and your eyelids finally close, he realizes you finally drifted off to sleep. satoru exhales lowly, almost forgetting to take off his reading glasses. as he places them near the nightstand, he lies back down, giving your sleeping state once last glance.

“i love you,” he whispers against your ear before reaching for the pearled lamp switch. “so much.”your head nuzzles against his chest and he assumes that was your non-verbal way of saying it back, even in your sleep. cute.

the only sounds that could be heard were the faint tick tocking of the grandfather clock that stood near the hallway and your soft breathing as you deeply slept. satoru feels a smile tugging against his glossed lips yet again, but this time it’s different . .

it’s not the same smile from when you showed him that you were graying, it was a more genuine smile that was satisfied at everything—primarily at life. satoru’s long crystalline lashes gradually flap shut as he smiles to himself, a thumb brushing against your forehead. all those battles was worth it in the end, because right now, he’s at the only place he wanted to be . . with you.

life wasn’t a competition, but satoru finally felt at peace, true peace—and that peace was being in your presence. he wasn’t one for believing in good endings, but maybe this particular one wasn’t so bad.

“i . . won.”

[seafumes]

rich husbands who make their whole life about taking care of you.

oh, that necklace you glanced at while at the mall? now you're there trying several other ones on because "they all look perfect on you."

the dress you looked at through that shop window? bought. plus anything else you even remotely wanted.

that snack you crave almost all the time? he almost buys the whole business for you just to have them as often as you'd like. (in moderation of course!)

rich husbands who don't understand why you want to work, and every time you tell them why they simply say:

"i can provide more than enough for the both of us, but go ahead."

rich husbands the second they see you all stressed and tired from that job, call in and quit for you.

and when you try to get up the next morning to go to said job, he ushers you back to bed, lays you down and tells you to "not worry about that pesky job again."

rich husbands who like to make it known to everyone that you're married to him.

buys you the biggest rock you've ever seen adorned on your finger to propose to you, and makes it his routine to see if you have his ring on. (which you always do.)

indirectly flaunts it to passersby's by holding your hand, occasionally picking your hand up to inspect it, and trying not to crack a smile as he hears women gasp, and whisper, "she's one lucky woman."

rich husbands who tell everyone they know about you, whether that be coworkers, family, or random people, he'll always somehow flip the conversation to being about you.

"oh that? my wife is quite fond of it, yes."

"that reminds me of my wife, she quite likes those things. often calling them "cute.""

rich husbands <33

[tiedsuccubus]

What position was nanami’s mom getting clapped in to create such a beautiful man

[hellishattempt]

nanami kento comes home on a saturday afternoon, hands full of groceries and hair freshly cut. in the distance, he hears his precious wife humming along to her favorite soundtrack. you must not have heard him come in. he smiles to himself, setting the groceries on the counter, but not unloading them. that can wait. right now, he wants to hold you.

he slips out of his shoes, padding quietly to the laundry room where you are folding towels. you have your back to him, headphones lodged in your ears. as nanami gets closer, the music bleeding from your headphones becomes audible. he chuckles softly. no matter how many times he tells you it's bad for your ears, you insist on listening to your music at just below full volume.

snaking his arms around your waist, you jump at the sudden contact. nanami presses his chest against your back as you take out your headphones, leaning into his touch. you sway in silence for a moment, nanami resting his chin on your shoulder. when you turn to face him, your expression changes at the sight of his hair.

"your hair," you state dumbly. "you cut it."

"yes," your husband muses. "is there something wrong with it?"

"no, no!" you assure nanami, studying his hair. "i just wasn't expecting it. you normally have me do it, which you know i don't mind doing."

"i know, but i didn't want to bother you on your cleaning day."

your expression softens at his words. nanami, your ever loving, ever caring husband, always thinking about you before himself. you reach one hand up, smoothing the hair down the back of his neck. as you bring your hand up, the freshly cut hair pricks your palm, and nanami lets out a low hiss.

you immediately apologize, pulling away. "did that hurt?"

"yes, but it's okay. it felt... good," nanami confessed. "... do it again. please." his voice is thick and demanding, and you obey without hesitation.

this time, you use just the tips of your fingertips to graze his undercut, beginning at the base of his neck. his breathing quickens as you continue to to run your hands through his undercut, going up and down, switching from one hand to both, thumbs caressing the sides of the cut. the laundry room fills with his melodic whimpers and faint groans. his eyes are shut tight, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

"fuck..." he cusses lowly.

"you okay, nani?" you giggle, stopping momentarily. his eyes flash open, pupils blown. "kento?"

"let's go to the bedroom," he insisted, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the master bedroom. you barely have time react before nanami pushes you back on to the bed, practically ripping your leggings off.

"kento, what are you doin-" you try to protest, his hands clamping around your wrist and bringing them down to grip his hair. his head disappears between your leg, lips latching around your clit. involuntarily, your fingers tighten around his sharp undercut. he moans into your cunt, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body.

from then on, nanami kento always got an undercut.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki who breaks his sleep schedule ONLY on your birthday because he wants to be sure he’s the first one to text you.

at exactly midnight .on.the.dot. you get a string of messages from your boyfriend saying :

“happy birthday, moron.”

“i love you and all that stupid mushy shit”

“you better say it back. fucked up my sleep for you.”

“❤️”

he doesn’t even care if you’re already asleep, he’s already sure he was the very first one to text you but if you are still awake he’s even more proud cause you saw it happen. him who you (and his friends) tease all the time for going to sleep at like 8:30 sharp stayed up doing fuck all just to be the first to wish you a happy fucking birthday.

so yeah, you bet your ass he’s proud. and he’ll go to sleep and knock out immediately with a smirk on his face when you text him a “thank you sm, katsuki !!! i love you sosooososos much💕💕”

“yeah you better. go to bed, g’night <3”

n’ yeah okay, maybe he’ll be a bit crankier than usual, but it’ll be worth it seeing how bright you smile and jump to hug him, kissing all over his cheek with thank you’s and love you’s.

he’ll just take it out on kaminari.

[satoruxx]

boyfriend toji asks you to workout with him all the time, but not in the way you’re thinking. you’re his incentive, a little prize for working so hard.

so of course he cages you underneath him as he does push ups, claiming a victory kiss each time he lowers himself to the ground. honestly the way you laugh and giggle is far more satisfying than the actual workout part of it, his lips quirking into a half smile each time he pushes back up.

“you’re so lame,” you laugh, patting his flexing bicep and he rolls his eyes.

“what’s wrong with havin’ a prize? i’m workin’ so hard,” he stresses the last word with an over exaggerated sigh.

“yeah right like this isn’t the easiest possible thing for you—”

a heavy kiss—his favorite way of shutting you up. he pulls back, expression going smug at your dazed reaction.

“you sure do talk a lot for someone who’s enjoying it.” he quips.

and you do enjoy it—honestly you’d take any excuse to steal affection from the hulking wolf of a man that is your boyfriend, especially when he’s always so willing to give it.

some days he’ll switch it up and ask you to get on his back as he does his push ups, because god knows he’s strong and he can handle you so easily.

and he likes the way you loop your arms around his neck, likes the way you squeal as he playfully tries to bite your fingers when they get too close to his face.

“i think i’ll just stay up here,” you comment from atop his back, and toji can hear your smile.

“oh yeah?” he grunts as he lowers himself to the ground.

“mhm.” your fingers drum over his back. “you look pretty good like this. i can boss you around and everything.”

“hah—” an evil smirk, even as sweat drips down his temple. “watch your mouth, kid. don’t push your luck.”

you laugh, he grins. somehow you just make the whole process that much more fun for him.

toji is selfish too. bad enough that he has you trapped either under him or on top of him as he does push ups for as long as he can. but once he’s done and you’re about to go do your own work he’s grabbing your wrist with that trademark smirk going, “hey i’m not done yet.”

and then you find yourself holding his feet down as he casually does sit ups, and of course each time he makes it back up he’s kissing you. you giggle each time, leaning your weight onto your palms to keep his legs steady as you peak over his knees. the sound tickles his ears—infectious.

“aren’t you tired yet?” you call out, tilting your head with a teasing smile. toji pulls himself up, abs flexing as his bulky arms stay put behind his head.

“tired?” he scoffs, lips brushing over yours. he pulls back just slightly, hooded eyes boring into yours. “i got my energy right here.”

he’s ridiculous. selfish and utterly ridiculous. it comes to a point where he refuses to do his exercises if you’re not there, claiming that “it’s no fun workin’ hard if there’s nothin’ to work hard for.”

but obviously half of the time he ends up forgetting about the workout anyway, grabbing at your waist to pull you into his lap as he presses his mouth to yours eagerly—one little prize already managing to distract him.

for someone so strong, toji can be embarrassingly weak when it comes to you.

oh well, no harm done. he knows he can get his exercise in a different way—and you have no problem with that either.

[tswkento]

nanami likes to take pictures of you when he finds you looking especially pretty.

his camera roll is filled with photos of you; smiling at the camera, waving at the camera, winking, giving a silly little pose, unaware of the camera, holding the camera in an attempt to hide from it and a lot more than that.

and kento likes to swipe through them whenever he misses you a little too much, meaning — his fingers itch to the hidden folder, where he has put some pictures of you he has taken when he found you not just beautiful, but ethereal.

the tips of his ears turn red as soon as his eyes start roaming through the little squares, having learned by heart which one is which and able to recognise the day and date it was taken on without checking.

it’s a goldmine — dozens of photos that he has taken just because he thought you looked criminally beautiful; too sinful and inviting not to revisit the moment, however his favourite will always be the picture he took when you first blew him.

a cheeky smile on your face and visible hunger in your glossy eyes as you held his dick in your palm. the smeared red lipstick on your lips, the way you felt his cock’s weight against your cheek, soft hand caressing it in a way that made nanami go crazy — oh, you knew what you were doing and he was so fucking in for it.

[coffee-and-geto]

satoru can be a clingy partner.

like, really clingy.

he likes having something of yours that watches over him or keeps him company when he can’t smother you between the muscles of his long arms. usually, he loves it when in the morning — before you both head off to work — you spritz on your favorite perfume, and he does the same with his. but he always craves that little piece of you.

so he almost (definitely?) begs you to spray a little of your fragrance on him. that way, he’ll have a part of you with him all day. and when that’s no longer enough, he drops to his knees in front of you, hugging you while whining, face buried into the plush of your belly.

“just one, pleeease!”

“satoru, your students are going to—”

“BOOHOOOOOO!” he cries, waterworks of tears streaming from his eyes behind his black blindfold.

so, after this morning tantrum, he’s beaming with the most adorable smile, while you pepper his face with kisses from your pink gloss, leaving shiny marks on his flawless, milky skin.

“gojo-sensei, why do you have kiss marks on your face?” yuji asks, furrowing his brows as he approaches the training yard.

satoru, his face peaceful and still dreamily dazed by your kisses, snaps out of his trance.

“haa?”

[readwritealldayallnight]

(part of the Wife at First Sight series)

In Ghost’s eyes, the first time you smiled up at him was the moment you became his and his alone.

So what if everyone apart from you knew it?

Didn’t make it any less of a fact, as far as he was concerned.

Still though, he wanted to learn more about just who his pretty little wife was, including anything that might make letting you know about your marriage a little easier. And so like the good soldier he is, he goes about it as though it were a reconnaissance mission.

He asks you how you take your coffees and teas, holding his breath as he watches you take the first sip of whichever drink he’s made you that day, pride swelling in his chest when you tell him it’s perfect, even better than when you make it.

The first time he’d done so, your eyes widened in surprise when he put his large, gloved hands over yours where they were wrapped around the mug, leaning forward and bringing the rim to his lips where he took a sip for himself, eyes locked with yours. You were unsure of what to think or say, but he apparently decided for you that this was okay, returning the warm drink to your mouth where he encouraged you to take another sip.

You figured that it was alright, he did make the tea for you after all, right?

You even laughed when he started only serving you in a mug with ‘Mrs.’ printed across the side, certain that it hadn’t been in any of the common room’s cupboards before.

He eyes the book peeking out of your bag one morning as you tuck it away, purchasing his own copy the very same day, curious to know what you like reading. You’re pleasantly surprised, if not a tad confused, when you find the next two books in the trilogy sat atop your desk soon after, a small note written in chicken scratch lain on top reads ‘To : Wife’. He’ll make a point of commenting on the novel if he sees you holding it, slipping in tid bits of information to impress you show he’s read it as well, likes the same things you like.

He’ll joke about how the food on the dining hall is always subpar, trying to casually find out what you like eating, subtly pulling out his phone and typing anything new into his notes app where he’s been keeping track of all your likes and dislikes. He just wants to get things right with you, be good for you, prove he can be the husband you need. You’re already perfect in his eyes, his sweet little soulmate who just doesn’t know it yet.

Though this was the first military base you’d ever worked on, you couldn’t recall anyone having ever warned you about the way Lieutenants apparently like to haze the new hires, never mind the fact that everyone else was apparently in on it.

No one bats an eye when you go to take the empty seat next to him in a briefing, and he wraps his strong arms around you to instead plop you down onto his muscular thighs, carrying on with the task at hand as though this is perfectly normal and professional. Even the Captain hardly glances at the interaction, so you figure it’s okay, some strange form of team bonding?

Not a soul comments on the way the Lieutenant insists on being the one to cut up your food and feed you bites during meals in the dining hall, pretending as though they don’t hear him telling you about how “my wife works hard enough, don’t need to be liftin’ a finger wit’ me around, love.”

They know to move out of the way if you’re approaching a closed door, knowing if the Lieutenant is anywhere near, he’ll be rushing to open the door for you before you can even attempt to do it yourself.

Even Soap has stopped complaining aloud and only rolls his eyes when Ghost drops anything and everything he’s doing- whether it’s spotting the Sergeant in the gym, being out on a morning run, hell even being in the middle of a shower- to send you a good morning text at six o clock on the dot. Every. Single. Morning.

No, you never exactly anticipated this sort of a running gag from a hardened military base, but you’re not exactly complaining either.

Not when you find your heart fluttering every time your fake work husband dotes on you like he really would marry you at the drop of a hat.

Besides, it’s all just playful, innocent fun, right?

Especially when everyone begins to apparently forget your name and instead refers to you only as Mrs Riley.

And when the Captain tells you that your requested time off for a honeymoon has been approved, something which you definitely don’t remember requesting, well that’s all just fun too, right?

[capricornlevi]

nanami x reader - w.c 3k, marraige of convenience, mentions of societal pressure but everything is consensual!, nsfw, mdni!

without even meeting him, you agreed to marry nanami kento without any expectations of future love, romantic or otherwise.

the pairing is advantageous for the both of you; you get access to the impressive nanami family fortune that has grown substantially now that kento is managing it, while he gets to enjoy a close association with your prestigious family and the subsequent educational opportunities that your children will benefit from. it's sensible and by far the best option you'd been presented with.

you've exchanged letters with him, polite and concise. you can read between the lines and see that he shares a disillusioned view of jujutsu society, but is more than willing to step up for the good of his family.

you weren't coerced by anyone. far from it -- your mother and father had sat you down and asked if you were sure, that they would understand if you wanted to take more time or to choose a different path for yourself altogether.

but you know the rest of society would not be so kind or understanding. marriage between two sorcerers, as antiquated as it seems, is how you survive amongst all of these competitive, power-hungry families.

from what you've read and heard about him, nanami will provide stability. he's progressive in his thinking, and so wont expect anything from you that he wouldn't be willing to do as well. you've learned that he's a teacher at tokyo tech, and has received glowing reviews; he'll be a good father.

and so on this misty thursday morning, you lay eyes on your fiancé for the first time as he slips a ring on your finger and promises to stay by your side forever.

the ceremony is as bare-bones as your reputation will allow. the guest list doesn't hit the triple digits, a huge departure from society norms, but representatives from the major houses sit in floral-clad wooden chairs to watch you repeat the words that the officiant speaks in your direction.

nanami takes your hands in his. they're warm, which is nice. this dress isn't designed for November weather, but it's an heirloom -- and truthfully, you're glad to be wearing it. you'd never given much thought to a wedding, but it makes your mother and grandmother very happy.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't relieved to discover how handsome nanami is. you were previously shown a few polaroids of him -- staff pictures, mostly, but some with the rest of his family -- and had known he wasn't bad-looking, but the pictures weren't clear enough to give you a proper understanding of his looks.

his blond hair is styled neatly, not a hair out of place. he has nice features, strong jawline and cheekbones, and soft eyes, a good combination. you know his gaze can be piercing when he wants it to be, but now, he looks at you gently.

you know you made the right decision.

more vows, a kiss, and you're married.

___

the reception goes mercifully smoothly. the mix of guests -- powerful sorcerer family heads, rich businesspeople, and just a few of your personal friends -- didn't appear to gel too well on paper, but they mostly stick to their own factions. you greet them all until your vocal cords grow tired.

a meal is served on plates so ornate it makes you feel awkward eating off them. you nurse a glass of wine for most of the evening and nanami does the same, politely waving off the servers who approach to refill his glass.

a promising sign that he doesn't feel the need to drown his sorrows. this is a marriage of convenience, yes, but you'd like to be able to get along reasonably well with your spouse.

and, to his credit, he's been making light conversation with you all evening. he doesn't dip into deep or uncomfortable topics like your marriage or future plans, figuring that's best saved for later, but he asks you questions about yourself. by the end of the evening, you feel safe enough to allude to your desire for a future somewhat outside society's norms -- "I've always wanted to travel, honestly. maybe ... spend a few years abroad" -- and, to your pleasant surprise, he doesn't rebuff them. if anything, he seems somewhat pleased.

you have another glass of wine and before you know it, it's the early hours of the morning. you're nowhere near tipsy but feel ready for bed, ready to wipe off this makeup and slip into something more comfortable; thankfully, guests have started to slip out one by one, with only immediate family remaining.

your unpleasant and friendless older cousin makes a joke about you needing to say your goodbyes to 'go please your husband', and nanami's face sours for the first time all evening. your cousin notices and sheepishly takes a drink, mumbling something about it being his time to leave too.

with some final hugs to your respective families, it's time to leave with ...

... with your husband.

in his last letter before the wedding, nanami agreed that your city-centre apartment would be the best place to live in the first few weeks of your marriage, until you find somewhere more permanent that suits you both, and so that's where you go.

you show him around each room, including some storage space where his luggage had been delivered this morning. interspersed with some more small talk, you explain that although it's small, it's well placed for both of you to get to work. he smiles and nods, thanking you with a warmth that doesn't feel forced.

you offer him some tea or whiskey; he says he's fine.

you yawn. he loosens his tie, clearly exhausted himself.

the last room you show him is your bedroom, and it becomes harder and harder not to address the elephant in the room. there's very clearly no second bed, no room for him to stay that wouldn't necessitate a lot of closeness between the two of you.

the silence hangs heavy and loaded, both of you waiting for the other to speak.

well. this is one issue you hadn't covered before the ceremony.

you have no issue with a sexual relationship -- in fact, you're somewhat looking forward to it, having spent the evening admiring the way nanami's shirt hugs his strong arms and chest. but you're not sure if tonight, the first night you've ever met, is the best night to start.

sure, the concept of the wedding night speaks for itself, but it's not as black-and-white in your situation. he might want to spend some time settling in, first. he might not even be that interested in you.

"want me to take the couch?" he asks quietly, with no hint of resentment or offence in his voice. he makes the offer with a sincerity you haven't heard from a man in a long time.

you don't break your silence, but not because you're uncomfortable or anything of the sort -- you're just assessing your options.

"there's nothing i expect from you, just so you know," he continues, and you turn your head to face him, seeing his eyes scan your face for any sign of unease. "the last thing i want is for you to do ... this ... out of obligation or pressure. we have a lifetime to get to know each other, to reach that point -- i want you to be comfortable around me."

your upbringing has made you a sceptic, a pessimist at times, but for some reason, you believe him. maybe it's the look in his eyes, or the fact that he's taken your hand in his own, interlocking your fingers, but there's something about him that sets him aside from normal sorcerers.

he seems real. he seems as though, powers and fortunes and family names aside, he has some substance about him.

"do you want to?" you ask then, voice almost inaudible quiet from a day spent conversing with guests at your wedding.

he doesn't hear you, so he dips his head in your direction; you repeat yourself and wait, hoping you hadn't pressed the issue.

his composure doesn't crack, but something flashes in his eyes as he processes your question. he has such control over the movements of his features, over every expression in his body, except for his eyes, you think.

maybe you just happen to be good at reading him.

he mulls it over for a second, his grip on your hand never slacking.

"i want to," he finally admits. "i've wanted to for a while, truthfully. I've spent a lot of late nights picturing how it would feel to be inside you, to hear what my name sounds like when you say it. but i only want that if you want it too."

you smile without meaning to. "you imagined that from just reading a few letters?"

"yes, and it's a testament to my trust in my new wife that I'm telling you that," he replies, still polite but tinged with amusement.

it feels strange standing at your bedroom doorway, hand in hand with this almost-stranger, imagining what it would be like to indulge in these thoughts you've both been having, spending your first night together tangled up in the sheets and allowing some of the indulgence you've long denied yourself.

duty gets tiring. for a long time, you've been unsure what it feels like to genuinely want something.

now, you're pretty sure it feels something like this. it's organic and unforced, a natural desire that sends heat curling in the pit of your stomach.

wordlessly, you guide nanami into your room, closing the door behind you. there's a hint of a smile on his lips as you ask him for help to untie your wedding dress, the intricate pattern of buttons trailing up your spine proving too technical for your own hands. he's methodical in his work, careful to not damage the delicate clasps.

soon your dress is loose around your hips, your chest covered by the thin slip you wore underneath. you set the garment carefully aside before returning the favour and starting to undo nanami's shirt, avoiding eye contact as your hands expose more and more of his bare chest.

you want to do this, you know that for sure, but that doesn't mean you won't feel a bit of awkwardness at the start. you're not well practiced, having had too busy a life for romantic relationships until now. you hope that instinct will kick in sooner than later, but you've no doubt nanami will help you along the way.

when you finally build up the nerve to glance up at him as he shrugs off the shirt, he's looking at you as though you're the only person he ever wants touching him.

you hear the soft clink of metal and realise he's undoing his belt.

"are you sure?" he asks one more time.

that one question, and the earnestness with which he speaks, erases the last shred of doubt you had. you place your trust in him for the second time today.

you nod and reach across to his belt in the same breath, helping him pull it free from the loops to be tossed by the armchair near your desk.

you move as though controlled by something other than yourself, the decisions coming so naturally it feels as though you've been imagining it for weeks as well.

and maybe you have, you think to yourself, as you confidently guide him back slowly until he's sitting down on the plush armchair, his suit pants still on as you crawl onto his lap, pressing your chest against his. the thin fabric of your slip means you can feel the heat of his body against your skin, nipples hardening as they graze against his muscles.

you've just about balanced yourself, carefully perched on his lap when you feel his hand on the nape of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that has you grinding against his thighs before you can even catch your breath.

you've never been kissed like this. the few kisses you've had before have been with partners who see you as a means to an end, be it for your family name, your reputation, or just for sex. you've never been kissed by someone who seems to get more from your pleasure than from his own.

you now know he meant it when he said he's been picturing this.

you kiss him for as long as you can, and you're not sure if it's for seconds, minutes, hours. you kiss him until there's a heat burning between your thighs you can no longer stand, that you need to have satiated by the visible, prominent bulge in the front of his suit pants.

when you finally break away, lips numb and kiss-slick, nanami's hair is touselled - you don't remember running your hands through them, but you must have at some point - and he reaches up to run his fingers under the straps of your slip, asking with his eyes if he can guide them off your shoulders.

you nod, and your chest is exposed to the cool night air for a split second before nanami's mouth is on one of your nipples, tongue circling the sensitive skin and making you cry out.

one of the words you moan must be his name, because you feel him smile as he turns his attention towards the other nipple, hands now at the small of your back to keep you close to him.

you can't take it much longer. you need to be touched so badly, you didn't even think you were capable of wanting it this much -- and you only want him to do it, now and maybe forever.

maybe he can read your mind or maybe you babbled out the request, but nanami finally takes pity on you, giving your nipple one final lick before resting his shoulders back against the cushion of the armrest and sliding his hands up your thighs, hooking your underwear with his fingers -- you lift your hips up to let him slip them off.

his composure slips further when he finally touches you between your legs, feeling how wet you've gotten for him, seeing how you react when he slips his index finger inside.

your head falls back and you hold a breath, focusing all of your attention on the sensation of him inside you, on the way he curls the digit ever-so-slightly before pulling it out and fucking you with two this time, almost -- almost -- tipping you over the edge.

"such a pretty wife," he mumbles almost under his breath, voice and gaze reverent as he watches you rock yourself against his hand. "my beautiful, perfect wife, aren't you?"

you want to answer him but can't, lungs feeling near-empty as you fumble with the buttons of his pants.

"i will never be able to think of anything else but you, i think," he muses, half-smiling. "you in my lap ... you making those pretty little noises ... i might be a ruined man, you know. and I'm glad of it."

he only stops speaking when you finally get your hand on his clothed cock, his breath catching in his throat as you trace it with your fingers.

you want tonight, the first of many times together, to start with you cumming on your husband's cock.

nanami just watches as you finally pull him out of his underwear, his length thick and hard in your hand as you give it a few messy strokes. it's all the both of you can manage before you need to have it inside you -- you shift your hips to sit on it, nanami's eyes fixed on the site of the head slipping inside.

it's a stretch, as you expected, but one you've been craving since you closed the bedroom door. you take him inch by inch, lowering yourself down as his breath quickens, clearly battling the urge to thrust up inside you.

but he's careful with you, and doesn't want to hurt you. his wife.

you lift yourself up too much and his cock slips out, slapping aginst his stomach and you nearly cry at the sudden emptiness, eager and clumsy as you guide him back inside you.

he kisses you when you sink down next, tongue massaging your own until the feeling of almost-too-full turns to a perfect, satisfying heat in your core.

eventually you're ready to quicken the pace, bouncing on his cock before long, your mind working too fast for you to keep up as you see nanami's cheekbones flush pink, his pupils dark as you ride him until your thighs ache.

you power through the sensation, nanami helping you along by meeting your hips with his, his thumb tracing uneven circles on your puffy clit. he calls you perfect and other beautiful words; you don't say anything besides more, more and, soon after, nearly there, nearly there, please, please, I'm so close --

your entire body lights up with the most wonderful sensation, hitting you like a wave and sweeping you away in its warm glow, with nanami's hands now on your hips, guiding your movements in exactly the way you need it -- not too hard, not too slow, not too fast.

you're still pulsing around him when you feel his body stiffen, his strong thighs tensing as he groans through gritted teeth. he pulls you in for a crushing kiss as he finishes, filling you up and thrusting as deep as he can until oversensitivity takes over.

the afterglow has you a contented and exhausted mess, muscles aching but satisfied in a way you'll spend forever seeking.

reluctantly, you slip off his cock to retake your place on his lap, marvelling at how undone you both have become, a far cry from your perfect wedding appearance.

you look perfect to him, though, you know as much from the kiss he presses to your sweaty forehead and the way his arm wraps around your shoulders.

"we didn't even make it to the bed," you observe, eyebrows raising as you finally return to your own body. "i ... wasn't expecting that."

"we have a lifetime to spend in bed," he replies, a smile in his voice.

and once again, for reasons you still don't understand, you believe him.