#when you turn into a tree in order to get a man to leave you alone

[life-imitates-art-far-more]

John William Waterhouse (1849-1917) "Apollo and Daphne" (1908) Pre-Raphaelite In the myth of Apollo and Daphne, she is a beautiful nymph who turns into a laurel tree in a bid to escape the affections of the god Apollo.

[oreo-creampies]

“𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧’ 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞!”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: spanking, pain kink, pussy slapping, caught, hints of jealous!reader, fingering, belt used to choke you, face spitting, hints at a quickie outside/outdoor sex, bondage with a tie/light choking with said tie, pussy inspection, praise/degradation, teasing/begging, daddy(Toji, Kento & Suguru’s)/sir(sukuna’s)/lil mama(suguru’s)/brat, edging/ruined orgasms, choking, pussy inspection, oral (receiving), hints of cock warming, grinding your cunt on suguru’s fat cock, suguru plays with your nipple, biting, mating press, prone bone, vibrator/vibrator goes up your ass

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: you're such a fucking tease, you know that? ❜ sukuna 🙏🏻

Fey: maybe she shouldn’t have flirted with your man (Sukuna) / @maxellera remember how we were talking about Toji getting annoying when you ignore him after a fight well, why not purposely dress up for him to add the cherry on top

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

“It’s been all fuckin day! First that damn skimpy maid outfit, and tonight you’re walking around in this?” He grabs a handful of your sheer nightgown ripping it off your body and dropping it. Pushing two thick fingers into your soaking wet cunt with a loud squelch.

His thick rings rubbing your lips, “You’re are such a fuckin’ tease dumb lil slut!.” Your grasp on the edge of his desk tightens as your toes curl into the carpet.

His fingers feel too good stroking your soft soaking wet cunt. Clenching his fingers and crying when he smacks your ass. The sharp stinging on your sorry cheeks feels too good.

Whining, “Thank you for spanking me sir!” Pulling his fingers out and slapping your cunt until your thighs are trembling. His desk keeping you from running.

Your cunt is throbbing with a sharp sting. “I just wanted to check on you sir before turning in! See if you needed anything from me.” Sukuna’s assistant walks in and Sukuna yanks your head back by your hair.

He nudges your lips apart pushing three fingers in knuckle deep whilst ordering, “Tell her I’m busy.” There is a small satisfaction when you realize it’s the assistant who was flirting with him earlier.

Pumping his fingers faster making it hard to talk without moaning. “He-he’s busssy nnn fuck he feels so good. He’ll call for you after he cums in me!” Sukuna let’s your hair go, squeezing your throat whilst pumping his thick fingers faster.

Your soaking wet cunt’s squelches are getting louder than your moans. His fingers are magic in your cunt fucking you closer towards cumming.

Sukuna snaps, “Leave, you’re ruining the moment, looking at you is making my cock soft.” The assistant quickly scurries off and Sukuna glides his fingers out of your sloppy cunt.

Letting you go to rid himself of his clothes, looping his belt around your throat. He keeps it loose whilst asking, “What makes you thinking I’m gonna cum in you instead of on you?” Gliding his fat cock head between your lips.

You’re quick to answer, “Nothing sir! I wanted to make her jealous I know she wants to be in my place. I’m a jealous slut!” Tightening the belt around your neck, he yanks you back onto his cock by your throat. Filling your soft tight cunt up with his fat heavy cock.

Sukuna croons, “Aw you want my fat cock all to yourself?” You’re clawing at his desk whilst taking his punishing thrusts. Sukuna’s fat veiny cock is hitting too deep. His hips snapping against your ass with loud smacks.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

All Satoru can think about is how he can see your wet, pretty cunt underneath your skirt. There is a tight throbbing in his cock and his balls ache. He can't think straight.

Pinning you to a tree, “I can’t do this anymore you win.” Satoru’s cheeks flush pink, “You fucking win god fucking damn you’re such a fuckin’ tease I love it.” Slipping his hand underneath your skirt, you grab his wrist to stop him.

Looking up at him smiling, “Say that again first!” He unzips his pants and pushes them down letting his pretty cock stick out.

He steps back giving, stroking his cock in front of you whilst smirking, “You win! N’ you’re reward is cumming on my wonderful cock.” Letting his cock go, it sticks out straight, softly bobbing as he slips his clothes off.

He’s beautiful, soft white hair catching the sunlight. Sliding his fingers through his hair. You can't see his eyes but you know he’s staring down at you. “This will have to be quick but tonight you’re coming to mine, I'm tying you up and taking my time with every fuckable hole.”

Reaching for your skirt Satoru protests, “Don’t, I want to fuck you in your skirt.” Pushing you against the tree, unbuttoning your shirt pushing it open and tugging it off you.

“Since I'm the one who won shouldn't I be making the calls.” You’re folding for him so easily despite this. Keeping your skirt on and sliding your hands down his chest. You’ve been wanting to feel him up since he lifted his arms to stretch and his shirt lifted to show his silver happy trail and a strip of skin.

Satoru croons, “This bra and your wet cunt has me thinking I'm the real winner, so really it's debatable.” Snapping the bra’s strap against your shoulder, then raising your arms tugging the bra up t bind your wrist with it.

You lift up one leg wrapping it around Satoru’s waist. He grabs his cock rubbing his warm head between your lips. “I thought you didn't like debating.” Pulling him closer with your leg around his waist, moaning as he cock glides into you.

He smirks, “That’s why I'm not debating I'm telling you, I win.” Pinning your other thigh by your side he groans, “I’m the one getting to fuck you, you’re so wet n tight for me.”

Satoru fucks you harder, loudly groaning, “Fuuuuck! Squeeze my cock with your wet cunt! I definitely win! Look at me, you’re so beautiful when you cum i want to see your face.” Holding your wrist above your head and squeezing your thigh.

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

Toji lets you get a few gasp of air before he’s squeezing your throat again. “Nah you wanted to ignore me so you get to be quiet n take this fat cock. Stupid slut beggin' me to help you cum after ignoring me for an hour over a dumb ass fight.”

Using his heavy weight to press you into the mattress whilst you’re on your side. One leg bent the other straight between his legs. Toji grunts, “You’re such a fuckin tease putting on lingerie when you’re mad at me. It makes it so hard to argue with you when all the blood is rushing to my fat cock.”

Rutting his hips faster as your sqlueching cunt clenched and quivers around his fat, veiny fat. He smirks and croons, “Awe my stupid brat is about to cum!” Pulling out and smacking your cunt, replacing the tingling pleasure with a sharp pain.

Writhing underneath Toji he sits on your leg partly pinning you making it hard to avoid his punishing smacks. “Poor lil slut does it hurt? Is your poor little cunt throbbing?” Letting your throat go he grabs a toy turns it on its highest setting then presses it to your sensitive clit.

Pleading with Toji, “I’m sorry I won't do it again! Please lemme cum!” Your throat is sore from Toji’s firm grasp yet you can't stop begging. “Wanna cum! I'm sorry! I wanna cum on your cock! It feels so good!”

Swirling the toy on your clit, thrusting his fat cock into your tight, sloppy wet cunt. Toji groans, “That’s bullshit! You’re a brat n ya like gettin’ your attitude fucked outta ya too much.”

Clenching his fat cock, moaning, “Please please please please please! I'm a bratty slut for your cock daddy please! I'll be good after this!” You’re so pent up after several ruined orgasms your getting so close to cumming too quickly.

He grunts, “I know you will be, I'm gonna make sure you’re be too exhuasted to be a brat.” Pulling out taking the toy away at the last second, slapping his heavy cock on your lips. He rubs it in your face, “That was so close, you almost came there!”

Pushing the small vibrator into your sensitive cunt. Clenching the toy pushing it out onto his palm. Toji smacks your ass the shoves the wet toy into your other hole. Leaving the string with its heart shaped button sticking out.

You can feel the strong vibrations in you cunt from your ass. “Keep on begging n’ trying to convince me to let you cum.” He rolls you fully onto your stomach, grabbing your hair, gliding his cock in with a quick thrust.

Toji leans over you, his heavy weight pinning you into the bed as he fucks you prone bone. Groaning in your ear, “If you stop begging I'm pulling out, then we can find out if you’re worked up enough will you cum from a vibraotor in your ass. Or if you still need my cock in your sloppy wet cunt.”

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Suguru is fighting for his life with how your shifting on his lap, rubbing his throbbing cock against your clothed cunt. You’re soaking through your underwear yet your attention remains on stardew valley.

Controller in hand you running towards your farmer’s house before running out of energy and passing out in the yard. “Aw damn I didn't get out the mine fast enough.” Leaning down Suguru kisses along your neck, biting softly when you falter.

He suggests, “You should carry some coffee around.” Slipping his hand underneath your shirt, sliding his large hands up your sides. It’s was already difficult to to focus with his hard cock and now he’s softly rubbing your nipples.

Moaning, “I should, nnn Daddy! You’re such a fuckin’ tease! You haven't been able to keep your hands to yourself all day.” Setting the control down on his bed. “My cunt is still sore from the last round.” After three hours you could still feel his fat cock in you.

He softly gasps, “I’m a tease?” You can hear the cocky smile in his voice. “Lil mama you’re the one making my cock hard squirming in my lap. If I didn't know better I say you’re grinding your cunt on my cock on purpose.” Holding up his fat cock, Suguru is long enough he covers your wet cunt.

You lean back against Suguru, grinding your hips sliding your sloppy wet cunt on his fat, veiny cock. Moaning as his head rub your sensitive clit. Slipping your fingers into his dark hair knocking his messy bun loose.

Rocking your hips faster, rubbing your clit below his cockhead. “It feels too good not to! I've been horny all day and your fat cock is so thick and long it hangs past your balls. N’ you’ve been groping me since before you opened your eyes thus morning.” Dipping his head to bite your neck.

Whining, “It’s all your fault!” Looking up at Suguru’s beautiful face when he sits up. The angle reminds you how much taller Suguru is.“I love how big you are, your cock, your muscules, your height, I get wet just being near you.”

He gloats, “That sounds like a you problem, but I'll help you just daddy what you need lil’ mama.”

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Kissing your forehead then ordering, “Bend over for me so I can see if you’ve touched yourself in the past ten minutes.” Undoing his tie, it's errotic watching his thick fingers tug on the tie’s kno. You want his thick fingers in your wet cunt getting you ready to take his fat cock.

Bending over for Kento “How can you?” Kento wraps his tie around your throat then tugs your wrists behind you back to bind together. If you tug your wrist or hang your head you’re choking yourself.

He pushes the sheer skirt of your babydoll lingerie. Slowly dragging his finger over your clothed cunt. “By inspecting your beautiful cunt, don’t tell me you think I can’t tell what she looks like after you cummed.” You fight the urge to squirm as he pulls your underwear aside spreading your soft lips apart with two fingers.

He kneels behind you putting his handsome face close to your wet cunt. “Stunning.” Kissing your soft lips then slowly thrusting a thick finger in. Watching your small hole stretch to take his thick

Kento slowly thrust a thick finger in eliciting a soft moan from you. Pumping his finger slowly, he’s taking his time feeling your soft cunt and your frustration bubbles over. “I’ve been good all day! Please you’re such a fuckin’ tease with all those pictures of your cock and that video of you cumming in your hand, please daddy I've been trying so hard to be good!”.

Slapping your cunt, biteing your ass and squeezing a handful of your other cheek. When he slaps your cunt again you can his wedding ring hitting your lips. “You were good, but I can't let get away with slipping up just now. I know you’re frustrated but that no reason to give me any attitude.”

Pleading with Kento, “I’m sorry! It won't happen again!”

He warns, “If it does I'll edge you until you cry.” Kissing your sore cunt, nudging his tongue past your lips. The position makes it easy to sit on Kento’s handsome face. His soft tongue feels so good rubbing your sore cunt, easing the stinging.

“Please let me cum! I'm so sorry daddy! I shouldn't have given you any attitude please take care of my cunt!” Pulling his tongue out Kento stands up and you can hear him undo his belt.

He tugs on the taunt tie between your shoulder blades pulling you upright. Kissing the top of your head, he slides his large hand up your side. “I know you’re sorry which is why you’re going to good for me and keep my cock warm and wet whilst I finish a glass of 1792 whiskey.”

Oreo’s m.list

[kuurechr]

Satoru woke up with a start.

His pulse raced. His breaths came out laboured, heavy, as he recovered from waking up so suddenly.

The contents of his dream - no, his nightmare - were quickly leaving his head. He knew it had something to do with you. He knew his chest was constricting in fear. He was sure there was blood, lots of it. Even though nothing was clear, he knew what he must have dreamed of.

He looked to the other side of the bed.

You weren't there.

But he knew you wouldn't be. He knew you were sent on a mission at the worst possible time. He'd insisted on going instead, but you said you'd be fine. He reached out for the dressing table beside the bed, where both of your phones would usually be. Instead, it was just his tonight, and he grabbed his phone.

2:46 A.M.

Satoru sighed and got up. His throat was dry, and he could do with a midnight treat. He stretched his arms out, yawning as he made his way through the bedroom door. He had to step through the living room in order to make it to the kitchen.

On the coffee table, in front of the sofa, were cookies.

Despite his grogginess, Satoru smiled.

He loved having kids.

The trap they had set up was so obvious. Satoru couldn't help but chuckle.

He grabbed the cookies, knowing it would set off the trap, which was somehow supposed to capture Santa Claus - a man who may not have been taller than Satoru, maybe not even much more white haired, but definitely a man who weighed a lot more. The measly trap barely captured a half of Satoru's hand.

He took the trap off, and ate the cookies, eyeing the milk left out wearily - there was no way he trusted milk that had been out since who knows when.

Lights suddenly turned on, not blinding Satoru since he knew what was coming. He still winced, to be all dramatic, and hissed as he saw the kids gape at him. Tsumiki seemed fully awake and energetic, while Megumi, behind her, was still rubbing sleep from out of his eyes.

"Aw, what!" Tsumiki huffed, stomping her foot. "You're not the one we wanted!"

Satoru smirked as he took another bite of the cookie. "That's a bit rude, no? Is Santa the one who bought you all those sweets last week?"

"Those were for you, be honest," Megumi grumbled, walking over to the couch and sprawling over it, resting his head.

"Even when you're tired, you find a way to annoy me," Satoru grunted. "Anyways," Satoru said, as he continued munching. "I thought you didn't believe in Santa, 'Gumi."

"I don't," Megumi said hesitantly. "But..." He looked away. "It doesn't hurt to try and figure something out."

Satoru chuckled. "So, were you excited to see a big man with white hair munching away?"

Tsumiki pouted. "Don't laugh! I really thought we caught him!" She let out a loud sigh and walked over to the couch as well, pushing Megumi's legs to the side so she could sit comfortably as well. "I was so ready to tell everyone at school."

"Well, tell them you got something better," Satoru grinned, gesturing to himself. Megumi huffed, reaching his hand out and slapping the crumbs off of his shirt.

"When's Y/N getting back?" Megumi asked.

Satoru, reminded of you and the nightmare he'd had, grimaced slightly. "I'm not sure." He pulled out his phone from his pocket. No texts or calls from you. You were in a different timezone, opposite to Japan, and if the kids weren't here, Satoru would simply pop in and check on you. To be frank, Tsumiki and Megumi were kids that Satoru would never worry about leaving alone for a week, much less two mere seconds. But he knew you'd yell at him and he'd rather not have that.

And he himself would rather not leave the kids alone on Christmas - it was too important of a day.

Satoru looked over at the presents under the Christmas tree. The light was dimmed by the lights of the rest of the room. But it was important. It held a special place in this family's hearts now. These were the same lights they had used for two years of Christmas, now the third.

There were just as many presents as there had been during their first Christmas.

"Will she get here before we're supposed to wake up?" Tsumiki asked, tilting her head. The tinge of hopefulness made Satoru's heart churn. He really needed a confirmation from you, something that said that you were alright.

"She said she'd try," Satoru said, forcing a smile. "But what's the point when the two of you can't get up tomorrow because you're tired from staying up! She'll end up blaming me for that, you know?"

Tsumiki giggled, and Satoru chuckled along, as he began to usher them both to bed.

Once he had successfully done so, wishing the two goodnight and shutting their door, he let out a tired sigh. He looked back down at his phone, and still, nothing, no word from you or from anyone else about you.

He got a bit too scared to head back to bed, even though he wouldn't like to admit it out loud. He was nervous about living through that nightmare again. He went to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and washing his face again.

As he slowly prepared himself to go to bed, practically procrastinating it, he swear he heard a noise. It was a subtle and quiet. A knock on the door, making sure it wouldn't wake up the kids. Satoru practically tripped over his feet, dashing to the door, as quietly as he could, and fumbling with the lock as he opened it. He didn't need to check a peephole to check who it was. He just knew.

He swung the door open, and there you were, bundled up in winter clothes to withstand the cold air that had blown into your shared home now, no doubt making Satoru freeze in his light pyjamas. But Satoru couldn't care. He was too happy to see you, your chapped and bitten lips, your tired smile, your loving eyes, your slightly runny nose.

Satoru grabbed your face and pulled you in for a kiss.

You melted into it. You missed his warmth and his presence as much as he missed yours, even if it hasn't been a measly 24 hours. For some reason, not being able to sleep in bed together when one of you had missions at night, was always worse.

You tapped out, your freezing fingers unable to move much anymore. "Inside?" Satoru asked, breathlessly. You nodded, shivering despite your warm attire. He nodded and hurried you inside, shutting the door. Your home was heated well, but the presence of the people you loved probably made it feel all the more warmer.

Before you could take any of your winter clothes off, Satoru reached out and pulled you in for a hug. You chuckled, exhaustion seeping through, but hugged back anyways. "Did something happen, Toru?"

Satoru squeezed you tighter. "Nightmare," he whispered. He knew your next question. "I'm alright now though."

"Are you sure?" You asked, patting his back lightly.

He smiled, burying his head in the crook of your neck. "Yeah." He took a deep breath. "You're here now."

[fushitoru]

私はスター ! masterlist

note: longfics are works that are >10k, and oneshots are standalone fics 1k-10k. works indicated with a star (★) contain/will contain explicit smut. proceed with caution, heed all warnings, and remember⸻don't like it? don't read it!

series.

the season of thorned roses ⸻ gojo x reader ★

dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

long-fics.

infect me with your love ⸻ gojo satoru x reader ★

you have always existed in gojo satoru’s shadow. he is a physics prodigy, a person that everyone endlessly admires for his intelligence and charisma, and you hate him for taking the spotlight that you deserve to share with him. but it all changes one day at 5:07AM at your starbucks job when gojo barges in, ordering ridiculously sweet drinks and posing existential questions. is there more to gojo that meets the eye, and is it linked to the vigilante swinging around New York City? (19.7k). part of kinktober 2024!

an imperial command ⸻ kamo choso x reader ★

you, the princess of the nation, and choso, the son of your father's most trusted general, have been inseperable since birth. but after many deem it inappropriate for him to be so close to you, the distance between you and him only deepens after he leaves for war. when he comes back older and a more handsome, bigger version of the choso of your childhood, you both grapple with love, duty, and test the bounds of propierty (13k).

a song of past romance ⸻ gojo satoru x reader ★

king gojo satoru of ithaca travels to sparta, seeking to win over who they say is the most beautiful mortal woman's heart. so when he sees you upon his arrival weaving under an olive tree, looking goddess-sent, he immediately loses the plot and concludes that it must be you that the tales and legends must talk about. it is not, but gojo has chosen who his queen will be. as gojo continues to break down your walls with his endless devotion and silver tongue, you must decide: will you let duty and your loved ones's expectations decide your fate, or will you choose the man who would defy even the heavens to claim you as his queen? (14.8k)

one-shots.

gojo satoru.

worth the wait ★

you abhor your academic rival, satoru gojo. he's a cocky asshole that you fight with constantly for the spot at first place. but when you finally discover what's underneath all those lame sweaters of his with a once in a blue moon visit at the gym (spoiler alert: he's not a scrawny nerd), you'll be fighting your severe attraction to the man who makes your life a bit harder. and maybe fall in love with him, too, in the process (8.8k)

rainy days and brownies ★

you wake up for some soft moments with your boyfriend that involves brownies (turned freaky) (2.2k)

seperation anxiety! ★

clan head satoru begs you to attend a meeting with the higher-ups, but not for the reasons you thought.

all i want for christmas is you! ★

after a well needed rest from the kids, you and your boyfriend focus on baking christmas cookies for your pta responsibilities. however, it ends up taking a naughty twist when satoru finds out the surprise you've planned out for him (2.8k).

the importance of skincare ★

worried about your boyfriend's skin health, you're set out on a mission to teach him about skincare, sitting him down and rubbing products over his face while seated on his lap. only, he convinces you that he has something to teach as well about facials. just not the kind you expected (1.4k)

trouble ★

an unexpected tutoring session with your bully satoru gojo leads to somewhere...unexpected (4.2k)

sukuna ryomen.

so i know who i'm looking at! ★

on halloween night, you get a strange phone call from a man with a distorted voice right as you're chilling while babysitting yuuji. you get an ultimatum: perform for him, or risk your and yuuji's lives (3.1k). part of kinktober 2024!

toji fushiguro.

finish her! ★

you will have to face one of the most formidable wrestlers in history in your next match: toji fushiguro. but don't be confused, this isn't normal wrestling⸺no, it's nude wrestling. and winner gets the spoils of the other's body! (extended ver of my toji drabble here) (3.8k). part of kinktober 2024!

multiple (seperate)

i can't stop looking at his d—d—d—d—FACE! ★

jjk men as overused p0rn/h3ntai plots! (4.1k)

back to the kitty, cause she's kinda pretty! ★

jjk men as overused p0rn/h3ntai plots! (pt 2) (3.5k). part of kinktober 2024!

drabbles

ranking types of hugs he'd be comfortable with another guy giving his gf! ⸻ gojo x reader

ranking types of hugs he'd be comfortable with another guy giving his gf! ⸻ nanami x reader

[fandomizedtrash]

I need to remmick lowkey, making turning you into a vampire like a marriage proposal like gets a ring and everything only to ruin your pretty dress with your blood as he taste it and you ruin his nice shirt by tasting his(i know it's not in the film so maybe a symbolic gesture?) Smut if you feel inspired or willing ✨️

Hope this inspires something it is a little cliche

Blood Vows

Summary: When he came into your life, everything changed. Your once tedious routines now had purpose, and soon enough, it came time for you to give yourself to him completely. Bone and blood

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: blood, smut, some violence(?) Reader and Remmick bite each other and it gets messsyyyy

Notes: thank you anon for matching my freak

REQUESTS OPEN

The night you encountered him was like any other. The sun had just set over the rolling fields and you were walking home after a long day of serving meals and taking orders. Little did you know it would be the day you life, and your fate would change forever.

Truth be told, Remmick had no intention of finding you, or really anyone. For the first time in his centuries old existance, it was as if someone had found him instead. An odd experience to say the least.

Walking down the road you have walked down all your life, you heard a rustling from the trees. Usually it was nothing more than a squirrel, deer, or other forest critter, but it was followed by a soft moaning sound that was unmistakably human.

“Is someone there?” You called out.

No responce came but the rustling sound of leaves in the wind.

Your conscience took over and you scurried off the path behind the tree to have a look anyway. There before you laid a man who seemed as if he just spent an hour in a furnace. Skin scalding and blistering.

What followed was you on autopilot. Helping him up, trying to get him to walk to your house which laid a quarter of a mile further down the road. But by the time you got home and the sun had set, the man was completely healed, not a single sign of injury.

You’ve heard stories. Every child growing up in the Delta knew the lore and stories of the things not to be meddled with. The manevolent beings that lurked in the darkness who would lead you down a path of a fall from grace.

But he was not that. Not one bit.

You sat him down on your couch and gave him water which he sipped eagarly. Standing at the end of the couch, you looked at him with curiosity. You saw the change of color in his eye, his unhuman-like healing. I was all you needed to know.

“I know what you are,” you stated. It wasn’t a threat, merely a statement.

The man looked up at you from his position on the couch. Eyes just as curious as yours.

“Then you must be mighty brave or mighty stupid if you just let me into your home.” He echoed back.

You scoffed in response. “I guess that's for you to figure out."

“And are you afraid?” The answer to anyone else in your position would have been obvious. He was deadly. A physical depiction of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And if any of the stories you grew up with held any truth, you ought to be running for your life.

“No.”

After that first encounter, you had him stay the night. The two of you talked for hours. Learning where he came from, how he got here, what he wanted. And you shared your Delta childhood, your tedious life, what you heard about his kind.

“Can I see you again?” He asked with caution, scared of the potential answer.

You smiled softly, “Certainly.” That was the first time he kissed you, and the devil had never tasted so sweet.

***

Your life then became a series of nights. It was no longer the day that mattered. You had your mundane routine of breakfast, work, shopping, dinner, other household tasks, and then the torturous waiting. It was completely random the hour of the night he arrived. Sometimes it was the moment the sun set, others had you up just an hour away from dawn.

The lack of sleep was difficult at first but nothing you body couldn’t adjust to. Besides, the reward at the end of the wait was so sublime, you would have gladly waited hours more. His touch, his voice, his strangely soft hands on your body, how could something damned feel so right?

“I want you to be mine.” Remmick uttered. Breathy and desperate. Hands clenched in your hair like his life depended on it, your bodies covered in sweat. He had you against a wall, not even bothering to get to the bed, your dress already half unbuttoned and hair messy.

“You know I already am.” You chuckled in response.

“Y/n.” He began, already breathless. “I want you to be mine completely.” Out of his pants pocket, he took out the finest rings you have ever laid eyes on. The women in the Delta could never imagine something so grand.

You looked back at him, eyes wide, mouth half open.

“Will you have me, forever?” By then, the air has left your lungs completely.

Unable to muster the words, you kissed him fiercely. Smathing your lips together as your hands started to grab at his clothes.

Once you finally parted, Remmick spoke. “You know what it means?” You nodded. Of course you knew. It was something you have made your peace. There was no one left for you here. No life worth saving. Remmick slid the ring carefully on your finger.

“I’m ready.” You announced, massaging his neck and shoulders.

Remmick hesistated. This was a moment he has been waiting for as long as you have, but the thought of him actually doing it now was more pressure than he realized.

“Please.” You whisphered. Taking his hand into yours, you squeezed it reasurringly.

He opened his mouth, eyes glued to the soft curve of your neck.

Your breath hitched, eagarly anticipating the bite.

And then, there it was. His fangs penetrate your skin slowly and torcherously. You breathed in deeply, taking in the sensation. Nothing in all your years of living has ever hurt so good. Blood started to spill out of you and onto the (very fittingly) white dress you had downed that morning. It trickled down your neck and onto your chest, and Remmick couldn’t get enough. He knew he had to control himself, but no blood had ever tasted as magnificent as yours.

The two of you collapsed to the ground, adrenaline practically radiating off your bodies.

It didn’t take long for his own clothes to get stained as well. The blood red steadily made its way through his shirt's fabric.

It was pure ecstasy. The venom was making its way through your veins and through your body. Venom wasn’t even the right word for it. It wasn’t painful or unwilling, it was a drug, a drug you’d be high on for the rest of your existence.

After summoning up enough will power, Remmick finally pulled his fangs from your flesh.

“I want you to taste me too.” You looked at him stunned, the thought never occurred to you, but seeing as you gave yourself to him, it was only fitting for him to do the same.

You approached his neck gradually, scared, but exhilarated to taste him.

Just as he did to you, you opened your mouth and penetraded his skin.

When his blood touched your tonge, all the chocolate cakes, the pies, the roasted chickens and steamy casserols that made up your once human diet were brought to shame. Of course you have had Remmick in, well, other ways to say the least, but this, this, was something different. More personal, more intimate. Still sitting on the floor, you continued to taste him as you got up to straddle his hips, mouth still on the bite.

As much as his flavor intoxicated you, you still wanted more.

“Remmick.” You started, detatching from his skin. “I want more of you.” You immortal lover took the cue and begain to grind his hips against yours.

You tossed your head back and groaned, already feeling his buldge against your clit. Placing your arms around his neck, you brought your faces together for a fervid kiss. Remmick’s hand supported your back as he cacrefully laid you down on the wood floor. As the kiss deepened, your hands went down to unzip his pants, your cunt already aching for him.

When his cock sprang free, he made his down and up through your dress to the hem of your panties, all but tearing them off you. After casting them aside, he aligned himself with your enterance before agonizingly burrying his cock as far inside you as he could.

The stretch was intense, perhaps it was the energy between you or your recent transformation, but the feeling you were so accustomed to felt more vigorous than usual.

Remmick started to roll his hips back and forth. Torturously, removing his dick halfway out before slamming back into you. His thrusts began to speed up as his hands roamed your body from under your dress, trying to feel as much of you as he could.

Your nails dug into his back and shoulders while arching your back. The pace was unrelenting, every movement sent a firework through your body. You couldn’t remember the life you were living before, everything was dreary and grey compared to now. A life with endless possibilities, a life with no end ast all.

Remmick’s breathing deepened as he let out a heavy groan. It wasn't long before you felt your climax approaching. A steady but sure build was leisurely growing instead of you.

One look at your lover told you he wasn’t too far either.

Soon, the pressure that was growing shattered as your orgasm hit. Your pussy fluttered around him as you felt Remmicks hot stream coat your walls. He collapsed ontop of you, chest heaving up and down.

“Y/n.” He said as he stroked the side of your face with his hand. “Mine forever.” Gentle lips kissed your forehead.

You looked up and smiled at him.

“Your’s forever.”

[reidrum]

under the mistletoe

note: happy first day of reidrumas! a nice little munch!spencer to keep you warm <3

summary: in which penelope uses a plant to get her friends together, or the time you find yourself under the mistletoe with spencer

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, munch!spencer, fingering, oral (f receiving), heavy kissing, idiots in love, friends to lovers, fem!reader, reader wears a dress and heels

wc: 2.8k

12 days of reidrumas

The annual BAU Christmas Party became an accord Penelope headed all on her own, and was a job she took very seriously. The amount of times the team had been called away on a case near or on a major holiday is too sad a number to count, so whenever there was certainty that there would be no case or bureau event, Penelope went all in.

That is, on David Rossi’s credit card, of course.

Light up sleighs and reindeers adorned the front lawn of Rossi’s mansion, of which was decorated with red ribbons and twinkle lights galore. The silhouette of the biggest Christmas tree you think you’d ever seen was illuminated in the window as you approached the front, rubbing clammy hands down the sides of your dress.

You don’t even know why you’re so nervous, just that you are. While it had been some time since you had joined the team and you have definitely had some fun nights out with them, the nerves never get easier to deal with when you know a certain genius will be in your presence.

It seemed everyone knew of your crush on Spencer except the man himself. The way your face heats up when you’re near him, the words tripping over each other as you try to speak, somehow are not dead giveaways to him. If he notices your nerves, he doesn’t mention it, and you don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

A call of your name from the bottom of the stairs grabs your attention, and you see none other than Spencer coming up the stairs to meet you. He straightens out his sweater and looks at all of you, “You look nice.”

Suddenly you forget what words are, “Um…I.. thanks! I just got this, and I thought the antlers would be cute too.” you gesture to the light up headband. 

“They’re really cute.” he smiles and gestures you to walk in, and you’re both ambushed by Penelope immediately.

“You’re here! Oh, you look so cute with your little reindeer antlers,” she gushes, “And Spencer! Looking so dapper!” You both walk down the hallway with her, seemingly leading you to the kitchen when she abruptly stops halfway.

“You’re too cheery. What did you do?” you squint.

“Don’t hate me.”

Your eyebrows raise, “What did you do?”

“Why would we hate you?” Spencer says at the same time.

Penelope pauses, and with a hint of mischief in her voice, “Look up.”

Your eyes trail upwards to the arch of the door you’re both stood in, and there hanging with its leaves and red and white berries tied in ribbon, is of course, mistletoe.

“Penny.” you mumble under your breath. If she heard you she paid no mind, only beaming at you both with her Cheshire cat grin. You look over at poor Spencer, who’s sheepish smile and red cheeks are breaking through his stoic demeanor. 

“Did you know mistletoe in nature is actually poisonous? It’s a parasitic plant that has to grow on other trees in order to survive. But it’s holiday tradition comes from Norse mythology when the son of Odin is killed and his mother is so upset her tears turn into the berries on the plant, as a symbol of her love for him.” Spencer rambles out of nervousness.

“That sounds nice Spence,” Penelope grabs both of your hands and positions you in front of each other in the doorway, “Okay great, I’m sure you know the rules of mistletoe. Now kiss.”

“Penelope.” you lightly chide. Her persistence is a match for no one, there’s no way of getting out.

“You have to, that’s the rule! If you don’t, Christmas will be ruined!” she sighs dramatically.

You blink at her a few times hoping she understands that she’s out of her mind and that it’s a little cruel to put you and Spencer in this situation. This is probably his worst nightmare. He has that thing with germs you remember and you both are merely friends so there’s no way he’d see you like that, yet alone want to kiss you because a plant said you had to.

Spencer clears his throat in front of you, and says with a soft voice, “Well, if it’s going to ruin Christmas…”

Huh. Maybe not as cruel as you think.

You turn your head to meet his eyes, “You’re okay with this?”

He nods sheepishly, “I—I mean I love holidays, and even though I’d never done this part of Christmas, I’d hate to break tradition….”

You look at him with disbelief, but Penelope’s smile could not be wider and she squeals, “Amazing! Okay, I’m ready.”

You both look at her knowingly, and she immediately puts her hands up. “Alright, fine! I can take a hint. But, I want details later, both of you.” she busies herself off in the kitchen.

Spencer turns his body to face you, hands tentatively reaching out to ghost the curve of your hips. His eyes look to you for permission, and with a slight nod he takes purchase, bringing you closer while resting his hands on your sides. You gingerly place your flat palms on his shoulders, and it’s then you realize just how close you both are. His breath fans softly against your face, and even in heels you find yourself rising a bit further to meet his lips.

Just mere milliseconds before your lips meet he whispers with the softest pitch you’ve ever heard, “You sure this is okay?”

You think you give him a nod and a word of approval, but it’s lost as soon as you press your lips onto his with no hesitancy. His hands pull you closer to him, leaning deeper into the kiss. The endorphins run loose before  being corralled immediately as the kiss ends as quickly as it began.

He pulls back and he stares at your puffy lips, lips that are puffy because of him and it’s enough to drive him insane. He needs to find a way to have you like that again, to feel your lips against his again fearless of a watchful eye, to show you that he really doesn’t give a damn for tradition, but would do rituals and ceremonies on end if it meant getting to kiss you like that again.

You’re about to say something when your name is called from the living room, the other girls now noticing your arrival and waving you over to grab a drink. You look between them and Spencer, “I should go,” you say reluctantly, “Find me later?”.

He smiles softly, “I’ll find you later.”

You hesitate before moving, wondering if it’s even a good idea. But you realize you’re already this far deep, so what difference would it make? Your eyes dart between the girls and Spencer once more making sure they’re not looking, and rise to your toes again to kiss his cheek, “See you later, Spence.”

A blush rises to his cheek as he touches the spot with his fingers, watching you walk into the living room. You might be the death of him, he thinks.

—

The party’s gone on, games of white elephant are played and countless wine bottles are scattered around the place. He finds himself in an aimless conversation with Matt and Luke, he thinks they’re talking about some sport, but all Spencer can think about is you and your damn lips.

You’re addictive, he’s come to find. He’s had a taste of the forbidden fruit and now fully empathizes with Eve, thinking if something was as nectarious as you, he’d also have to go to great lengths to get it again.

He excuses himself from the conversation, not caring if they said anything, and goes off to find you. You’re sat on the loveseat with JJ that’s entirely too small for the two of you, but you certainly look comfy wedged into the seat. He circles around the back, resting a hand on your shoulder to let you know of his presence and bending down to whisper in your ear, “Is this a good time to find you?”

You startle a little at the voice, calming once you recognize it to be Spencer. You’re surprised he actually came and found you like he said he would, and by the look of his face it seemed like a determined mission.

“I’d say it is,” you smile up at him, his body looming over you behind the couch. He holds a hand out for you, “I’ll be back, J.” you tell her as you stand up. She looks between you and Spencer and a smug look rises to her face.

“Okay…be safe.” she winks. You groan.

Spencer leads you away from the bustle of the living room and further into the depths of Rossi’s mansion. You both walk side by side, talking aimlessly about anything and everything, grateful to have moments just walking with each other. You push open on a fancy door, revealing a vastly large room but with the same crown modeling as the rest of the place. A three piece couch set rests in the middle, and bookshelves filled with antiques line the walls.

You’re intrigued by the telescope pointed out the window, bending down to look through it. Spencer looks up from the book he’s holding on the other side of the room and watches you. You’re ethereal, the moonlight casting a soft glow on your figure making you look like an angel from above. You gaze through the lens to look at the stars, and he can’t help but wonder how lucky he is to have you in front of him and not in the sky with the rest of them.

“Can I confess something?”

You straighten your back and turn around, eyes widening, “Um, sure.”

“Nothing scary, I promise,” he reassures.

“That’s not concerning.”

He takes a deep breath, “I had an ulterior motive, when I came to find you.”

Your brows furrow nervously, “What do you mean?”

“No no, I meant it, it’s nothing bad,” he confesses, “I just… really wanted to kiss you again.”

Oh. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Who else?” he chuckles.

You stammer, “W—Well, I just wasn’t sure…”

He nods and slowly walks to you, “Would that be okay?”

You look up at him and see that he’s so close again. The waft of his cologne invades your senses. His hair is long again, you told him once he looked good with long hair and he hasn’t so much as looked at some scissors since then. The ends of his curls tickle your forehead when his head dips, lips mere nanometers away.

“Yeah.” you barely muster an audible whisper.

The corners of his lips twitch, “Yeah?” he says in the same pitch, leaning even closer.

“Please.”

His lips press to yours again for the second time this night, and he kisses you with a fervor you couldn’t comprehend. He brings one hand up to cradle the back of your head, padding the impact as he uses the other to back you against the wall. Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, lightly tugging on the roots that makes him fold even more into you.

Kisses travel down the side of your neck to the nape, and he spends time littering the area with lovebites. The soft gasps that leave your mouth only spur him on, but it’s not nearly enough for him.

“Sweetheart,” he pants between kisses, “Need to—fuck—need to taste you, please. Can I?

Your blown out eyes meet his, and it wasn’t even an option to say no when he was begging you so desperately, “Yeah, yes, please.”

His hand snakes through the slit on your dress, tracing the edges of your panties and grinning when he hears your breath hitch. He toys with the edge some more before dipping a finger below the band, never touching you where you really need him but getting awfully close.

“Spence..” you whine.

He groans, “Fuck, you sound so pretty saying my name and I haven’t even touched you yet.” He puts you out of your misery when he finally drags the pad of his index to the bundle of nerves at your center, tracing light circles that draw the prettiest moans he’s ever heard.

You grip his forearms for more stability, feeling your legs turn to jelly. Spencer sees your struggle and wraps an arm around your waist, “I got you, pretty girl it’s okay.” A few more minutes of teasing you and marking you relentlessly and he decides you’re okay enough for him to stand on your own, so he can sink to his knees in front of you.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he crouches down, making sure you’re okay every step of the way. His finger is still tracing a line from your clit to your entrance, the wet line seeping through your panties. He bunches up your dress and silently gestures to you to hold it, and steadies his hands on either side of your hips. He presses chaste kisses up your thighs, your breath getting heavier with each one closer to your center. The delirium hits an all time high when he presses a firm kiss to your core.

Skilled fingers hook your panties to the side, revealing you in all your glistening glory, “Look at you,” he marvels hoarsely, “that all for me?”

You nod fast, “Yes, yes Spence please.” you whine out, you’d sound like you were in pain if it were anyone else.

“Hey, hey it’s okay, don’t do that. I’m gonna take care of you, promise.” he coos, calming your pleas, “Come on, leg on my shoulder.”

The new angle opens you up beautifully for him and he can’t help himself when he leans in and swipes a tentative tongue through your folds, satisfied when he hears the sound of a guttural moan leave you.

You immediately slam your hand over mouth as he taunts, “Careful sweetheart, can’t be too loud or someone’s gonna walk in.”

You try to keep your moans and whimpers to a minimum as he continues eating you out like a man depraved, like all he was meant for on this earth was to be between your legs. He prods a finger around your entrance and slowly slips it in, you whimper and clamp your fingers into his hair tugging tightly.

Spencer groans into you at the feeling, and adds another finger swiftly moving them in and out. You’re getting close, he can feel it from the way you clench around his fingers, unable to stop himself from thinking about how you’d feel clenching around him.

“Ah—I’m….I’m close.” you whimper.

He speeds up ever so slightly, “Yeah? Okay angel, you can let go, it’s okay.”

Soon your climax washes over you, with you gripping his hair tightly and his fingers never faltering as he rides you through it. He slows down his pace as you come down before gently taking them out and giving you one last lick through your folds before standing up.

You yelp but it’s quickly muffled by him kissing you again. He feels you smile into the kiss and matches you before you both start giggling and pull away.

He can hear the smile in your voice when you rest your forehead on his shoulder, “That was…”

An arm wraps around you again to hold stable, “Good, I hope?”

You press a soft kiss at the base of his neck, “Really good. I guess we have to thank Penny now.”

“Actually…”

“What?”

“I may have been the one to tell her to put some mistletoe up.” He confesses sheepishly.

“You told her? S���So you could…like…” you ramble.

“So I would have a chance to kiss you, yes.”

You get real shy in front of him as if he wasn’t on his knees for you five minutes ago, “That’s really sweet…you could’ve told me.”

“I wanted to! But I thought you might not feel the same way because I notice how you are around me and I didn’t want to overwhelm you, but then Penelope told me you felt the same and I just figured one of us had to pull the bandaid off.”

You smile shyly, “I get nervous around you, because I really really like you.” you quietly admit.

He pulls you close into his chest, kissing your forehead softly, “Well that’s good then, because I really really like you too.”

Penelope is obviously over the moon when she finds out, giddy as can be knowing her two best friends are now together. What she doesn’t tell you, is how she sends the mistletoe to a preservation company to be pressed and framed. She’s just preparing to have the best gift ever to bring to your wedding.

[yandere-romanticaa]

𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔶.

❝ Darlin', darlin', darlin', I fall to pieces when I'm with you, I fall to pieces. ❞ - lana del rey.

🌹: based off this little fic here, by the lovely @pomegranate-eater. also - happy birthday to me! i just turned 23! hurray! i just love being a cancer girlie! ❤️ i wanted to write something to treat myself, this right here is just pure indulgence on my part. you don't get more anacore than this.

His loud grunts blessed your ears before you could even open the window. It was impossibly hard to focus on any housework, no matter how easy it may be. Pots and pans clicked and clanged in the kitchen as you tried chopping some fruit in order to give to your dear friend as a treat - only to then accidentally cut your finger against the sharp blade. Regardless, you haphazardly threw the slices in a neat white bowl, the tart juice of the fruit sticking onto your fingers as you watched him from the window's corner.

Thank the stars, his back was turned. Those toned muscles of his were on full display, broad back and shoulders so bright, sweaty and perfect, as if a god himself had handcrafted him from top to bottom. His white hair clung to his forehead, the salty sweat so very clearly dripping down his biceps as he jumped off a tree unceremoniously, almost like an animal.

His cheeky grin was no better.

Phainon held a simple tin bucket and it was filled to the brim with various goodies which were in season from your garden, cherries and strawberries most notably. That saccharine smile of his almost made you drop everything, the ever growing urge to just kiss him becoming impossible to handle. And oh, how Phainon had graciously offered to help with picking your fruits, the way he so cheerfully ran up to you like an adorable little boy, his wide blue eyes filled with sincerity and a delectable sort of intensity, as if he was not willing to take no for an answer.

"I'll gladly pay you." you had told him, a happy grin on your maroon red lips. Phainon shook his head at that, his eyes not so subtly tracking the corners of the very same lips.

You pretended not to notice.

"Come now, don't be like that! If you want, I can even give you some of the fruit!" you told him wistfully, eyes wide as you pouted playfully at him. The man could not help but to let out a chuckle at the cheeky display, his chest positively rumbling with amusement as his voice suddenly dropped, the timbre lowering to a degree you never heard from him before.

"Don't worry." he said, his blue eyes blazing.

"I'll be sure not to leave empty handed."

With a start, he suddenly turned his head to look at you, as if he could sense your very life essence. Making eye contact, you almost dropped the bowl completely, some of bits and pieces of the fruit scampering elsewhere.

Curses. His senses were too sharp for your own good. You just hoped he wasn't aware that you were so shamelessly oogling him, daydreaming about flat out licking off the liquid sin off his body, fingers grazing those pure locks and tugging like the wretched little thing you were.

Phainon didn't even grant you the luxury of finishing the daydream as he now stood directly in front of your window, a large finger tapping against the glass politely three times. Opening it in a rush you pressed yourself forward against the window sill, cheeks blazing with heat as you looked down at him with a cheerful smile. A giggle erupted from the back of your throat, the desire to call out his messy and dirty appearance too great. Just as you were about to say something witty, all of the air was knocked out of your lungs as Phainon's large palm pressed itself at the back of your head. Pushing your body a bit forward, Phainon stood just a bit on his tiptoes, those gems for eyes so full of life and... And something else you could never quite pinpoint.

"Time to pay up." said Phainon as he licked his lips in a gleeful manner. Just as you were about to offer him the bowl, the man lunged forward and pressed his lips against your own. Gasping, your cheeks became hotter than the sun itself as Phainon closed his eyes, his lips moving in tandem as he let out a long, drawn out sigh. It was if he was feasting on your body, a piece of sweetness offered up for him on a silver platter, all his to devour and enjoy. You felt how his fingers tugged at the back of your head, fingernails gently digging into your scalp in order to tilt your chin, granting him even greater access to your being.

He took his time, the kiss more a force of nature rather than contact between two human beings. It was as if your soul was set ablaze, the flames flickering forward for more and he took it all for himself, never once easing up.

With what felt like near suffocation creeping up, Phainon pulled away, his movements slow and deliberate. He cackled softly to himself, the wicked sound most likely not meant for your ears but it was still heard regardless of his intentions. He sighed, his pale chest heaving with air as he licked off the spit from the corner of his lips, never breaking eye contact with you.

"Mmm, you sure do know how to treat people well." he said with a lazy tone, as if he was planning to dive right back in. You stared back at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging wide open as he cackled once more, the hand at the back of your head now slithering closer towards your lips, his fingers gently dabbing away your own spit, his fingers now coated with the liquid.

"Don't look at me like that. I said I'd get my payment, right?"

His tone was firm, commanding even, as if he was speaking the sheer truth, as if you were the silly one for thinking that he would take nothing. His gaze finally shifted back to your garden, the wind gently caressing the green leaves which hung on the trees, the scenery practically tranquil, save for the devil before you.

"I'm not done yet you know. And I do require adequate payment. It wouldn't be fair otherwise, yeah?"

By everything that was holy and above - how would your raging heart ever recover from this? As if he could supernaturally sense your distress, Phainon gently let go of you, his fingers softly toying with locks of your hair.

"Don't go anywhere." he said sweetly.

"I don't mind you watching."

Busted.

Even so, he continued, his voice gaining an odd edge to it.

"I hope no one else receives such delectable payment from you..."

His voice trails off so casually, like he's talking about the weather. The tips of his fingers dance around your hair, as if he doesn't want to let go.

Do you even want him to go?

Like a whisper in the wind, Phainon breaks free from the spell he cast upon himself, his back now fully turned towards you. He craddles his lips as he grabs another bucket, his heart thumping as if it was pumped with liquid sugar.

He'd eat you alive if he could.

You just didn't need to know that.

[darkbluekies]

Small Otto drabbles: Watch duty, "Otto, protect" & Hide and Seek

Warnings: yandere mafia man, darling trying to escape and being captured

Watch duty:

Silas watches how you pull out your towel on the grass, eyes narrowed with lust and darker than normal.

"I don't know how I feel about you being out here alone", he mutters. "Especially in practically nothing."

"I haven't felt the sun in months", you pout.

"That's a lie, but fine, I'll buy it, if it makes you feel better."

He turns and whistles at Otto to come over. He does. Silas eyes flicker between you and the Doberman.

"Otto, watch", he orders, nodding at you. "Make sure no filthy creeps come close. The house is full of them, so be on guard."

Otto barks.

"Good boy."

"Who?" you ask. "You or him?"

Silas chckles and shakes his head as he walks over to you, bending down to give you one last kiss before he leaves. You lay down, facing upwards. Otto stands alert by your head, body turned towards the house. You hold out a hand and gently pat him on the back.

"Quite evil of him to make you work in this heat", you mumble and stand to go get him some water.

Otto growls as one of Silas men comes over. You hush and pet his head, whispering how it's fine. The man returns with a bottle of water. It hasn't been opened. You're not allowed to take anything else, in risk of someone poisoning you. You cup your hand and pour water into it, letting him lick from your hand.

"That's a good boy."

"Otto, protect"

You're walking hand in hand toward the dog playground. You can see SIC a mile away, shirtless and with a dog toy in his hands.

"Let's see how focused he can be while we're there", Silas says.

"Who?" you ask. "SIC or Otto?"

Silas scoffs out a laugh. They walk closer to the dog park and Otto notices the two of you.

"Nuh uh, keep your eyes on me", SIC smirks, waving the chew toy. "Don't get distracted."

Sweat runs down his chest. Silas nudges you, eyes dark.

"Where are your eyes wandering, little thing?" he asks, voice tight. "Maybe you should stay focused before I decide to beat my best friend to a bloody pulp."

Suddenly, Otto stops. His ears perk, head turn. Silas and SIC follow.

"What?" you ask.

"Be quiet, darling, Otto's noticed something", Silas whispers.

SIC looks at him. Silas lets go of your hand and signals for Otto to move closer.

"I want you to stay here with Otto", he tells you. "We'll go see what's going on. Otto, protect."

He barks once, as if to show he understands. Silas and SIC walks away, leaving him in work mode.

"You're scaring me, Otto", you mumble. "If you got both Silas's and SIC's attention like that ..."

Otto changed position, standing between your legs, as if daring someone to come close. Only a fool would come up to you now.

Hide and seek:

He only looks away for a second and you are gone, disappearing between the trees. Silas groans loudly and marches back to the car.

"What?" one of his men asks. "What's wrong, boss?"

"I didn't know I married a fucking marathon runner", Silas mutters and opens the trunk where Otto is deliberately chewing on a bone. "Out, boy."

Otto obeys, jumping out on the ground, waiting for instructions.

"Find Y/N."

Otto is off, shooting away like a bullet. Silas walks calmly behind him. It doesn't take many minutes until he's circled around you like a shephard's dog.

"Traitor", you hiss at him. "You're supposed to me on my side!"

"Your side?" Silas scoffs and walks over, grabbing your hand tightly. "He's my dog. Listens to me. He might like you, but in the end, he always returns to me, where his rightous place is. Sounds familiar?"

"You're so annoying, let my hand go."

"Not a chance."

"It's not fair!"

"You figured that out just now?" He gives Otto a nod. "Good boy. Always going to return my naive spouse to me, aren't you? Even when they don't know what's best for themselves."

You glare at Otto, but he just wags his tail and sticks out his tongue, panting, happier than ever to see his favorite humans in front of him. He doesn't know, bless him. You sigh.

[bi-writes]

Does MOB ever just like.. walk up to Simon and like... Grab his ass?? Fondle his tibbies a lil bit?? Give a good squeeze to his cheeks or his milkers?? Cause if he was my husband and he was okay w it I would do that shit literally on sight every day

mail-order bride

you've been staring since he walked into the room.

he's wearing a shirt two times too small. it must be laundry day. either way, your husband looks...bigger than normal. he's cooking, standing at the kitchen counter as he sears off a few pieces of something in a pot, and when he drops a few dashes of soy sauce into the pot, you think a man has never looked so sexy sauteing onions.

he turns finally to the cutting board behind him, and he winks when he meets your eyes. you giggle involuntarily, a shrill sound leaving you because you have the biggest fucking crush on this man.

can men have tits? they can. they do. simon does. and you can see them in this tiny fucking shirt, and now you understand sometimes why your dresses end up torn on the floor of your living room--because you just want it.

"simon--"

"'ello, luv," he hums, licking some sauce off his finger before going back to chopping some herbs that lay on the cutting board. you pad further into the kitchen, coming close, and he looks up finally when you're standing right beside him. "somethin' wrong?"

"you're so hot," you whisper, and simon continues chopping, big arm moving as he leans over into your space a little.

"wot's tha'?"

"you're so hot, simon."

he chuckles lowly, moving the knife under the pile to place into a bowl. he sets down the knife and turns to face you, crossing his arms over his chest. fuck, it's making his chest look bigger, ughhh...

"somethin' the matter? ya sick?"

"no," you whine, reaching over, and he drops his arms when you forcibly move them away, pushing your hands up his stomach, over his pecs, squeezing the firm muscle there. "oh my god..." you lean in, getting on your toes, and he gives in quite easily, kissing you warmly. "i can't believe you're mine--"

simon huffs as you throw your arms around his neck, lifting your leg around his waist, and he bends to hoist you into his arms as you start trying to climb him like your very own tree (which even then might be impossible, with the huge trunk of a man that he is). you sigh when he drops your weight onto the counter, and with less distance between you, you take full advantage--licking into his mouth, feeling and squeezing up his chest, whispering between kisses i love you and is it hot in here or is it just you? and i want this, i want you, please, simon.

"wot's gotten into ya, baby?" simon murmurs, holding you at a distance. you're eager to get back to him, to kiss him again, and you whimper when he holds you firm, making you look at him. "hmm?"

"i don't know," you breathe, panting. you squeeze the back of his neck, whining, and you try and scoot closer. "i don't know, i just...you look so good...i just..."

the smile that spreads across his face takes your breath away. he's not pretty, but he's pretty. his face tells a thousand stories. a missing tooth or two, a cut lip that never healed right, the slashes that have closed over unevenly across his eyes and along his cheek--but why is he so gorgeous? what makes you so feral for this one man, more than you've ever been for anyone else in your entire life?

there's just something about him. something about simon makes him so beautiful. there's a soft heart underneath that solid chest, there's a full belly and warm body under your hands as you explore the ridges and dips of the rest of his body. he's got the stature of a protector, the eyes of a killer, but fuck, he loves like no one else.

he loves you. he loves like no one else does, ever will, ever has, and he loves you.

you giggle as you cup his cheeks, tracing his lips with your thumb, admiring him.

"sorry, it's hard to be serious," you sigh, shaking your head. "just wanna jump your bones, simon."

"me, too, luv."

"then what are we waiting for, simon?"

he tsks, drawing you closer, pressing his forehead to yours.

"no idea, baby. no fucking clue."

[inkivaari]

your Conquest x Reader is so, so delicious… you see the vision!! may i request a Conquest with a f!Reader who is an absolute sunshine? one that doesn’t even fear him at first glance? the type that makes you wonder why this little woman is being so kind to him~ thank you! 🙇🏻‍♀️

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚡 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎! 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

a/n: yes yes yes, rubbing hands together like a fly rn, thanks anon! disclaimers: sexual content, i actually don't need to disclaim much this time it's just fluffy fun with a lick of smut because honestly i can't help myself, yippee!

conquest will never understand why you stick around. there's so many red flags about this guy that would make any reasonably minded person run for the hills. his bicep alone is bigger than your head. more than double the size. he's mean, he's old even by viltrumite standards, he's gnarled and grizzly and ill-tempered...

but you? little you? you love him so much it makes his head hurt.

you should have run away screaming the first time he crashed onto your planet and stared you down. instead, you gazed up at him like he was a god that had tumbled out of the heavens. he could swear that look of yours could turn back time by centuries, he felt like a younger man just from being in your presence.

he tried everything to make this little blossom see the fact that he was no good. told you about his mission, about viltrum, about all the planets he'd conquered. you would only gasp with amazement as you clung to his arm. 'so you're, like, super powerful, then? that's so cool!'

he would pretend you irritated him, for all the good that did, only for you to be totally impervious to his growls and grunts. he should fling you to the other side of the planet, he really should... but damn it. it had been so long since anybody had even... spoken to him like this. had a conversation with him, rather than just giving orders. he couldn't help himself, you made it so hard!!

every time he'd try to scare you away, use his strength to throw you up into the air higher and higher, fly you around the world, pick centuries old trees out of the ground with a fingertip? you'd squeal like a kitten! you'd applaud, you'd cheer, you'd beg him to do it again with those huge eyes like two full moons, what could he possibly do?! say no to you?! never!

you were just so... bright. and warm. you talked to him like he was the only person in the world, you were so full of wonder and excitement... sure, you'd get hyper sometimes, but he'd just pick you up and hold you in the air without a word, and you'd stop your spiel and beam down at him, kicking your little legs while they hung in the air. '...helloooooooo.' 'hello, little one.'

he tries his hardest to suppress his lust. you make it so difficult, though! too sweet, far too sweet, it drives him mad. he won't let you leave his sight, he doesn't like not being able to listen to you, smell you, touch your soft skin... if he loses his sunshine now, he'll be in darkness forever, like he always suspected he would be. no. you know what? you were offering your love and your warmth, he would be damned if he didn't accept it. and give you whatever you wanted in return.

when you first kissed him, it left him winded. he didn't understand it, grabbed you and lifted you by the scruff. you giggled and wiggled and beamed at him with those blushy little cheeks, knowing he wasn't gonna do anything, he lets you get away with everything all the time anyway...

he mimics the movement, mashing his lips to yours, not knowing what to do, he has genuinely never felt such a loving touch in his life. you have to teach him as you do most things about how to love, and you do it with a big smile and a patient mind.

he worships the ground you walk on. he's definitely the type to just let you do whatever silly thing you wanna do with him, but he'll pretend to be grumpy about it when all he wants to do is make you giggle and smile. think laying on top of him in the sun after a summer picnic, and you're making little daisy chain crowns to put on his head, and he's just lazing there like the big grumpy bear he is while you mess with him :3

always carrying you in his arms because no little blossom of his is straining her little feet, always following you around like an oversized puppy, but always switches into bear mode when anybody so much as looks at you funny. you've domesticated him enough that he won't kill in front of you... but he's got that fucker's face and scent memorised. after he puts you to bed, it's over, he's tracking them down.

always so cautious when he makes love to you :( clumsy at first, not knowing what all those little nerves do, where they are, what hurts and what makes your toes curl... ah, but he's so attentive. and you're not afraid to tell him where to go, where to lick, how deep to delve with his thick meaty cock... he appreciates your guidance immensely.

when you're used to his strength by now and lifting you like he usually does doesn't put a dent in your hyperactivity, he'll scoop you up and just eat you for hours. just like that. hell, sometimes he won't even stop what he's doing. like, if he's training, lifting some crazy tonnages of weights, and you patter out to bug him while he's on that bench, he's putting the bar down, sitting you on his face, and getting right back to it.

aftercare is so important to him, it never was before but you've changed so much in him after all. he knows how he can wear out his little blossom, knows how tiring it can be to shine as brightly and warmly as you do all day. he's so grateful for you, wants to give you all the pleasure you deserve, wants to bring you to the highest heights of bliss... ah, but he'll bundle you up against his burly, hairy body when you're too orgasmed out to move, babbling and panting and nuzzling at his skin, just wanting your nude bodies to melt into each other. he lets you work it out, massaging your skin with his careful hands, lets you lick and nibble and suck at his neck, lets you warble on and on, and lets you rest. you'll be up at dawn to brighten his day tomorrow <3

OH MAAAAAAN :( i just wanna nibble his big ol chest while i tell him about uni drama it'd heal me

[multific]

A Light in the Darkness

Count Orlok x Reader

Summary: In need of shelter you find an abandoned castle. Or at least you thought it would be abandoned.

The storm was ruthless, a howling windstorm that tore through the forest and drenched you to the bone.

You’d been travelling to the next village before the weather turned, but now, with no end to the storm in sight, you desperately desired shelter as you shivered.

A flicker of light through the trees caught your eye, and as you got closer a castle came into sight.

It towered above the forest like a sentinel of despair, its rough silhouette framed by flashes of lightning.

Hesitant but with little choice, you made your way to the massive door and knocked, your hand trembling as the sound echoed through the building.

The door creaked open, revealing a tall, lean figure.

The man, if he could be called that, stood in the shadows, his pale skin almost glowing against the darkness. His eyes, sunken but piercing, fixed on you.

“What brings you here?” he rasped, his voice as cold as the wind.

“I... I need shelter,” you stammered, clutching your cloak tighter. “Just until the storm passes.”

He seemed to consider this, his lips curling into something that was neither a smile nor a sneer.

“You would be wise to turn back. This place is not safe for someone like you.”

“I have nowhere else to go,” you said firmly, though your heart pounded in your chest.

With a sigh, he stepped aside.

“Very well. But do not say I didn’t warn you.”

The interior of the castle was just like its exterior, dark, cold, and filled with an eerie silence.

You couldn’t help but shiver as he led you up a couple steps to a small sitting room.

“I’ll find you something dry,” he muttered.

You watched as he walked away before disappearing into the shadows.

As you waited, uneasiness lurked up to you.

Something about him was deeply unsettling, and yet, there was an odd charm to his presence.

When he returned, his demeanour shifted.

He spoke little but watched you intently, his gaze flicking toward you whenever he thought you weren’t looking.

But you were and you noticed.

As the night continued on, his warnings became more insistent.

“You should leave at dawn. This place... it is not meant for you.” he said suddenly, his voice low and urgent.

It held a lot more darkness than before.

His tone was enough to send a shiver down your spine, and as you backed away from him unfortunately for you, your foot caught the edge of a step.

With a cry, you tumbled backward, pain flashing in your ankle as you landed.

He was at your side instantly, his movements unnaturally fast.

“Foolish girl,” he muttered, though there was no malice in his words. He knelt beside you, his long fingers hovering near your injured ankle. “I told you to be careful.”

“I didn’t mean to- You scared me.” you began, but your voice stuttered as pain shot through you.

“Don’t move,” he ordered. “You’ve injured yourself.”

Knowing that you couldn't leave with such an injury, he carried you to a room. It was old and very dusty but it had a bed.

At least you weren't freezing outside.

At least he didn't throw you out.

For the next few days, he tended to you with surprising gentleness. Though he rarely spoke, his actions revealed a quiet care that softened the fear you had felt before.

He brought you meals, ensured the fire never went out and constantly checked on your leg.

You did notice that he disappeared during the day. Locking his room to ensure you won't get in.

But during the night, he came out. As soon as the sun disappeared, you heard his door creak open and his footsteps carried him down the hallway.

As the days turned to weeks, the tension between you changed.

You found yourself drawn to this mysterious man, and he seemed less intent on pushing you away.

One evening, as he sat across from you, his eyes lingered on you longer than usual.

“Why are you so kind to me?” you asked softly as you continued your dinner.

He hesitated, his long fingers curling around the armrest of his chair.

“Because I caused your pain, I scared you,” he admitted. “And because... you remind me of something I thought I had lost.”

“What’s that?” you whispered.

“Light,” he said simply, his voice barely audible.

Your heart ached at his words, and without thinking, you reached out to take his hand. His skin was cold, but he didn’t pull away.

You took that as a good sign.

“You’re not as frightening as you think,” you said, smiling.

“I’ve spent centuries convincing others I am.” he replied. "Now eat up and go to bed." he replied before he stood from the table and left.

He never ate a bite.

In the days that followed, you began to see a warmth in him, one he tried to hide but couldn’t entirely.

He started smiling more, given that his smile was faint and barely noticeable if you blinked at the wrong time.

His eyes also softened with time whenever they met yours.

On the final night of your stay, as you prepared to leave, he stopped you in the doorway while you were packing your bags.

“You don’t have to go,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “This castle has been dark and cold for so long. But since you arrived, it feels... alive.”

"Only the castle? Is that why you want me to stay?" Tears welled in your eyes as you stepped closer to him.

He cupped your face with surprising tenderness, his sharp nails carefully avoiding your skin.

“You’ve given me something I thought I’d never feel again,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “It is not only my castle that needs you. I need you, Love. Will you stay here with me?”

"Yes. I will stay here with you."

Before you could say anything else, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was gentle and full of emotions.

A kiss that was filled with both said and unsaid words.

From that day on, the castle no longer felt like a place of shadows. Together, you filled it with light, warmth, and love.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief  

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

@mel-vaz @akamitrani @ange-olras @nicholaschavezslut69

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[nkogneatho]

The sun felt extra bright today. You shrug in sleep, soon woken up by the sound of your alarm. Grabbing the phone, you hit on snooze, but reminded to sit up when met with the date on the lock screen. December 7th. It's Satoru's birthday. You immediately abandon the cozy bed and hop in the shower. Today's very important to you.

Putting on a pretty cerulean blue top—the color of his eyes—you dab the blush on your cheeks, fixing your hair and all ready for the day.

The first place you hit is a clothing store. Satoru loved sweaters that you bought. You always had the best taste. You pick up a beige crocheted sweater, turn to a mirror beaide you, imagining how he would look. Of course he'd look beautiful. He can wear a rag and still outshine everyone. You pay and leave.

If you run fast enough, you can still catch that bus that goes to the outskirts of the town, where the sweet shop is. Fortunately, you make it in time. The whole bus ride you keep thinking about him.

When you reach, you are politely greeted by the owner. Greeting her back, you order a box of kikufuku, his favorite.

"Can you write a note that says I will always love you?" You ask and she smiles. As she writes she initiates the small talk and discovers you're not a local.

"So you traveled 3 hours to get your boyfriend these? He is one lucky man." You smile at the compliment.

When you're back in town, it's time for the part you were most excited yet anxious about. You walk on the cobblestones through the beautiful trees and grass. You both have started meeting here too often.

You see him, you smile. It's bittersweet. You clear off the dried leaves tugging on him. Sitting down by his side, you open the box of kikufuku.

"Got you your favorite. Happy Birthday, Angel boy" you lay the sweater on him. the skin is cold. no. the gravestone is. it feels nothing like him. "I promised we'll always celebrate it together. I kept mine. You didn't keep yours." Tears roll down your face. "I got you a sweater so you don't catch a cold. You know..."you rub your hand his on engraved name. "i am cold too, toru. come back and hug me."

[yourauthorjen]

| ALL EYES ON YOU | — joaquin torres

(requests open)

masterlist

| synopsis: | a challenge was all it took for you to make your sharp eyed bodyguard fall for you.

| includes: | model!femreader x bodyguard!joaquintorres, angst, mutual pining, flirting, little bit steamy, mention of assassination, blood, and guns, little bit fast paced

| word count: | 3.5k

| a/n: | this was from this lovely request, thank you for the suggestion! i hope this is what you asked for it was a fun challenge to write but its the best i could get out. i also based this work off of the song "all eyes on you" by nicky youre, feel free to stream it while reading.

PROTECTION WAS THE wrong word to use when you were locked in your penthouse with absolutely nothing but your TV and a small pile of books you had already read five hundred times.

House arrest seemed like a better word to use, and your bodyguard Clint seemed to agree, rustling his suit jacket for the umpteenth time in the last five minutes.

You were sprawled across the velvet couch, feet kicked up as a reality showed played over the screen, too shallow and too fast to even bother paying attention to.

"Y'know, if you keep doing that to your jacket it's gonna ruin the seams."

Clint's mouth tugged upward into an amused smile— but it didn't reach his eyes. He glanced down at his watch, then at the door, like he was expecting it to burst open at any moment.

You rolled your eyes playing with the hem of your shirt. "Relax. I'm not going anywhere." And that was the problem, wasn’t it? You were stuck here — protected from the so-called threats swirling outside, from crazed fans to nameless blackmail to, most recently, a terrifying, too-close brush with a lot of drug addicts, the memory still clung to you like a shadow. It was a flash of silver glinting under the fluorescent lights, the sudden hard grip of a cold hand, cool metal buried into your forehead before you could even scream—

Blood.

Lot's and lot's of blood.

It still stained your hands, the metallic scent trailing after you even after you had washed your hands so many times that they turned raw. The dark red, almost brown, running down your fingers, even if it wasn't yours. The sight still haunted your brain, lingering in the corners when darkness fell and the monsters rushed back daring you to fall into a peaceful sleep, as if to say that the burden and guilt was something you had brought upon yourself.

You hadn't even read a quarter of your script yet, and the misery had already fallen onto you like rain, soaking through your body.

Now, you were under strict orders to stay in. Out of sight, out of danger.

And you despised every second of it.

You had whined, negotiated, bribed, and cried for your PR team to just let you out of the house once. But the only thing they had offered in return was a look of pity and a rough 'I'm sorry, we need to keep you safe."

A sharp knock snapped you out of your daze, and you scrambled upwards as Clint tensed. However, much to your disappointment, it was just another broad shouldered man wearing the same black uniform that Clint did, and an earpiece glinting under the dim lights.

He bent low, murmuring something into Clint’s ear— too low for you to catch, though you strained instinctively. Whatever it was, Clint stiffened immediately, eyes widening and his hand immediately going to his jacket pocket, patting like he was checking for something.

You sat up straighter. "Everything okay?"

Clint's jaw tightened as he glanced at the man beside him then back at you. "My wife's in labour."

You shot up from the couch already shooing him out the door. "Then why are you standing here like a tree trunk? Go! I'll be fine."

Clint grimaced, clearly torn. "I can’t just leave you—"

"Yes, you can," you interrupted sharply. "He can stand guard," you said pointing to the broad shouldered man hovering awkwardly near the door.

"With all due respect ma'am—"

"Oh be quiet, you," you rolled your eyes, "I'll be fine. As your boss I order you to go."

"But—"

"Go." you said firmly dragging out the word. "Before I get Grumpy over there to drag you out the door."

Clint looked helplessly at the man but he just shrugged and mumbled something into his ear. Still torn, he nodded and without another word he rushed out the door and into the hallway as the door slammed shut behind him, the noise echoing around the too big penthouse.

You knew you should've gotten the smaller apartment.

The other guard— Grumpy, as you'd already nicknamed him— cleared his throat meaningfully.

You turned your gaze lazily toward him, one brow arching. "Problem?"

"No, ma'am," he said stiffly, then glanced at his watch. "Your replacement protection should be here shortly."

"Replacement?" you gawked, "I thought you were already my replacement."

Grumpy cleared his throat again, "Ma'am I was just told to notify your bodyguard about his situation."

You let out a long, bored sigh. "Is he as good as Clint?"

He didn’t answer — didn’t even crack a smile — just shifted like he couldn’t wait to be anywhere else. But you supposed it would be fine. You could wait several minutes before your new replacement came, and you'd get a few months the least, to torment him as much as you want.

The next several minutes ticked by with the pace of the snail. Your phone had been abducted by your PR team and you couldn't Uber Eats anything. It was like your entire existence was now condensed to a few square feet of boredom and velvet cushions.

You swung your legs over the side of the couch, fiddling with the hem of your shirt again as Grumpy stood by the door like an awkward, overgrown statue.

Another glance at the clock.

Another glance at the door.

Another loud, martyred sigh from you — purely for his benefit.

He didn’t even twitch.

Rude.

You opened your mouth, wanting to ask if you could borrow his phone. Maybe buy some new books to read, or download Netflix so you wouldn't be bored out of your mind waiting for Grumpy 2.0 to come.

But before you had the chance to ask the elevator outside your apartment dinged, and the door flew open as a man stepped inside.

You had expected him to be a copy and paste version of Clint or maybe Grumpy, but instead you were greeted with a fresh eyed young man with dark curly hair and surprisingly not dressed in the generic uniform everyone else wore.

He was younger than Clint by a lot— probably close to your age, maybe a few years older at most— dressed in a black shirt that fitted just enough to show the lean, strong build underneath, a tactical vest and a pair of dark cargo pants, his legs sturdy and muscular.

He had a duffel bag slung over his arms and his eyes were a beautiful shade of coffee brown. Not the sludgy muddy kind, but the rich hazelnut kind that you found at your local coffee shop just a few blocks away.

You couldn't help the twitch on your lips as they curved into a smirk when his eyes flickered over the room landing on you for a fraction of a second before jerking away with a visible twitch of nerves.

How cute.

"This is Lieutenant Joaquin Torres," Grumpy said, glancing at his watch. "He's been assigned to you until further notice."

"Lieutenant, huh?" you blinked, their eyes both snapped towards you as you stood up from the couch "That's interesting."

The lieutenant— Joaquin, nodded. "Yes ma'am."

You scowled, crossing your arms. "Please don't call me that, it makes me sound like a grandma. How old are you anyways?"

Joaquin hesitated for the briefest moment, his bag still slung over one shoulder, before answering, “Twenty-seven.”

"Not that much older than me," you said, eyes sparkling.

Grumpy cleared his throat before turning to Joaquin. "Your orders are to keep the girl safe, and to not interfere with any harm that comes within her. You are to strictly keep her out of danger and to always keep her in your sight. Sam will be coming in every week to check in on you and if there are any... complications bring it up to him."

"Yes sir."

"Don't worry Lieutenant," you smiled sweetly, "We probably won't have any complications."

Grumpy's eyes lingered on you suspiciously as you waved your fingers at him before he nodded and stalked out the door. As the door closed behind him, you stood up, stretching before marching over to where Joaquin was standing.

"So," you said, dragging the word out lazily, "you're my new babysitter?"

Joaquin stiffened, his jaw ticking just a smidge. "Bodyguard," he corrected, voice earnest. "I'm your— I'm assigned to your protection detail."

You blinked slowly at him, lashes fluttering. "Same thing."

You studied him with open curiosity, head tilting to one side as you took in his appearance.

Up close, he was even more handsome with messy dark hair, lashes too long for someone who was supposed to look intimidating, and a faint scar running along his jawline.

"So," you said, "Do you go by Lieutenant or something? Or should I call you Torres."

"Whatever you like, but Torres is just fine."

You smiled slowly, ""Joaquin, then."

He flushed, much to your surprise. An actual flush, creeping up from under his collar to the tips of his ears.

God, he was precious.

You took another lazy step toward him, deliberately slipping into his personal space, tapping your finger against your thigh. He stood his ground, standing stiffly, but you didn’t miss the tiny shift, the way he tensed as he stood there, stock still.

Interesting.

"You nervous?" you asked lightly, cocking your head.

"No," he said too fast, too sharp.

Liar.

There was a long, heavy pause where you just stared at each other. You could see him fighting the instinct to look away, but he didn’t move. Didn't blink or breathe either.

So, you just spun on your heel, wandering back toward the couch, collapsing into the cushions with a dramatic sigh.

"This is bullshit," you said, talking mostly to yourself. "Do you have a phone? I'm hungry."

Joaquin shifted his weight awkwardly, clearly trying not to fidget under your stare. "I—" he started, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’m not supposed to give you my phone, ma’am."

You pouted, leaning your chin into your hand. "You can call me by my name, y'know. You do know it, right? Or did they just throw you in here blindfolded and wished you good luck?"

His mouth twitched in an almost a smile, but then he snapped it back into a straight line. "I know it," he said evenly. "I'm just trying to be professional."

"Professional," you echoed, letting your legs dangle off the side of the couch. "God, you’re like a walking HR manual. Lighten up, soldier boy."

"I’m not a soldier anymore," he said quietly, gaze flickering somewhere above your head.

"Fine, I'm sorry," you said, twisting the rings around your finger. "Are you allowed to order me pizza? Or can you at least call my manager and tell her to go fuck herself into a hole because this isn't fair."

His lips twitched again, and you grinned, proud of yourself for the little progress you were making.

"I'll let your manager know you're hungry."

"That'd be amazing," you said, "I would kiss you right now but I don't think that'd be very professional in your line of work."

His ears turned faintly pink again, and that's when you decided right there and then, that messing with him was going to be your new favourite pastime.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The next weeks slipped into the same sluggish, mind-numbing routine lounging around your penthouse which, for every passing day, seemed to get smaller and smaller while doing everything in your power to break through the heavy, silent barrier that Joaquin Torres had built around himself.

He was so polite and professional, alway standing when you were in the room, yet always looking anywhere but at you.

It was like a little game the two of you played, though Joaquin didn't seem as interested as you were. Even though you baited him, complimented him, joked with him he just calmly sidestepped and gave you a small smile.

You spent your days lounging on the couch, spewing nothing but nonsense. At first, it was just for fun, something to do and a distraction, but soon it became part of your daily routine.

You talked to him even if he didn't reply all the time. And it wasn't just because he was hot—though it was definitely a bonus— but it was the way he listened. Occasionally he'd nod along to whatever you were talking about, sometime he'd watch you an amused expression his face, other times if you were lucky enough he would offer a couple of words in response.

You hadn’t really dated anyone seriously. Not in this world. Not when every glance turned into speculation, and every touch became some crazy news headline. Your PR team would have a meltdown if they even suspected you were eyeing your own damn bodyguard.

But none of that stopped you from the way your eyes ogled at his chest when you accidentally walked in on him shirtless the other day. You swore on your life it was an accident as you were just turning the corner, fresh laundry in your arms, when you froze.

He had just opened the bathroom door, hair damp and sweatpants hanging low on his hips a towel in his hand as he rubbed it through his hair.

The laundry in your hand slipped out of your arms and fell into a heap onto the floor, as you watched the water drip down his chest into those perfectly carved chiseled abs.

His eyes immediately widened as he took a few steps backwards. “I— I thought you were—”

“Clearly not,” you said, biting your tongue to keep your lips from curling into a smile.

He yanked on his T-shirt, much to your disappointment and muttered a flustered apology before vanishing into his room, slamming his door shut.

You were tempted to knock on his door, but in the end, you decided to leave him alone. He'd probably just turn you away in the end.

It was maybe three or four days after the incident, and you were feeling particularly stir-crazy. The boredom had festered overnight and curdled into mischief. It didn’t help that Joaquin, with all his stupid politeness and that unfairly pretty face, was walking around like the poster boy for self-restraint, and every time you attempted to tease him about what had happened the night before, he just shut you down.

So you were very much in the mood to ruin that.

You strolled into the kitchen, barefoot, humming under your breath. You were dressed for breakfast, a thin, oversized shirt that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs and dipped low in the back. One of your straps was sliding off, and your shorts were riding up your thighs as you stretched.

Joaquin was already there, leaning against the counter as you strode into the kitchen, a spoonful of omelette halfway to his mouth as he looked up and choked.

You blinked at him innocently, lips twitching as he coughed into his elbow, the tips of his ears singing red.

"Uh oh," you said, propping your elbows onto the counter and leaning forward. "Are you okay? You want some water?"

He cleared his throat hard, setting the fork down with a sharp clatter as his eyes darted around the room. “Yeah—yeah, fine,” he said quickly, “Just—uh. Swallowed wrong.”

"Hmm," was all you could say as you grabbed an apple, taking a bite.

You opened your mouth after swallowing, ready to bug him more, but he was already pushing his chair back, face flushed and gaze fixed on a spot somewhere above your head. “I should, um—I’ll be in the other room if you need anything,” he mumbled, and all but bolted out of the kitchen.

Satisfaction pooled into your stomach as you chewed thoughtfully. God this was too easy.

By the time you wandered into the living room again, Joaquin was planted firmly on the couch, rigid as always, gaze fixated on the front door instead of the TV that was playing a rerun of Jeopardy. Clint was still MIA, and probably wouldn't return for another few more weeks, and Joaquin had been extra stiff lipped since this morning.

You flopped down onto the other side of the couch, lifting your head slightly before pushing back the curtain of hair that fell into your face. "So, are you allowed to tackle me if I ran out the apartment screaming?"

Joaquin didn’t even look at you. “Yes.”

"Okay."

Your fingers itched as you scooted over to where Joaquin was sitting. He was still staring dead ahead, but you caught the small twitch of his arm as you propped your legs onto his lap.

"Hypothetically though, if I managed to get out of this building somehow would you drag me back or would you help me escape?"

"I would drag you back."

"Ooh, kinky. You’d probably be gentle about it though. I bet you'd wrap me up real slow, would ya?"

He didn't answer, but his jaw clenched as he shifted beside you.

You rested your chin onto your hand, grinning. “Or maybe not. You are kind of strong, aren't you?” You reached out poking his bicep with your finger.

However, this time he jerked away, your legs slipping off his lap and your eyes widened as he stood up, a wild look in his eyes as he ran a hand through his hair.

You opened your mouth but he already beat you to it.

"You have to stop that," he said, swallowing thickly as he paced around the room. "You can't— you're making my job harder than it should be."

"I—"

"No!" he snapped, stopping in front of you. "I’m not just some guy, okay? I’m your goddamn bodyguard. I’m supposed to keep you safe. Not—” He ran both hands over his face, his voice fading.

Your breath caught in your throat and your eyebrows furrowed. "Do I make you nervous?" you asked softly, cautiously taking a step closer.

“You drive me insane,” he muttered, pacing again. “Every day I walk this line, trying to be professional, trying not to screw up. And then you go and look at me like that, say things like that, and I can’t—” He shook his head. “I can’t think straight. And I can’t do this.”

Your heart ached, and guilt bled through your chest. He looked absolutely wrecked, torn, and confused, and you couldn't help but shrink back.

"Joaquin... I'm— I'm sorry."

He blinked slowly, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes briefly. "No, it's fine, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have overreacted."

He turned towards you as you stood frozen in place, every breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your lips. His eyes were soft but raw with confliction and yearning. You watched his chest rise and fall, watched the way his jaw tensed like he was holding back a storm behind his teeth.

And then he stepped closer.

One step. Two.

Your heart was hammering, not from fear, but from the way he looked at you like you were both the problem and the answer. His fingers twitched at his sides before he slowly, hesitantly reached up, brushing a knuckle along your jaw.

"I shouldn't..." he whispered, his thumb ghosting over your cheek now.

"Then don't," you whispered back, "I don't... I don't wanna hurt you."

But his mouth crashed onto yours anyways, his hands cupped your face, firm and warm, and his lips were soft and sweet, kissing you frantically as if he was drowning and you were air.

He kissed you like he was learning every shape of your lips, like he wanted to remember this in a thousand ways. Your hands moved on their own, sliding up to curl around the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as his hands dropped to your waist, fingers splaying against your lower back.

He said your name, but you just slipped your hand underneath his shirt, tracing your fingertips over taught muscle and smooth pane of flesh. You gasped softly when his lips trailed from your mouth down to your jaw, your pulse, his breath hot against your skin. And still, he held you tightly, not daring to let go like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered against your neck, his voice low and strained.

You tilted your head back, eyes fluttering shut. "Don’t you dare."

A soft, breathy laugh left him, half-relieved, half-wrecked, and he lifted you, hands firm under your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He pressed you back into the nearest wall, his lips crashing into yours again, fingers tightening on your hips like he couldn’t bear a single inch between you.

Maybe your manager would murder you later, if you bothered telling her about Joaquin, but she could yell the damn out of you and it still wouldn't change the content sigh that came out of your lips and the stomach clenching feeling of his mouth on yours.

You could feel his eyes on you as he dragged a finger over the waistband of your shorts, and when his fingers dipped lower and lower, you kissed him once more, savouring the moment because it was the best thing that you could ever ask for.

[shotmrmiller]

What kinks do you think the boys would be too afraid to ask for/about? Like I know their tough but what would really frighten them to ask about?

good question.

kyle: shibari. he's an interrogation professional and sometimes business mixes with pleasure unbidden and he doesn't want anyone to see him as a masochist (too late bud) but it is what it is. he's always used fuzzy cuffs or a silken tie or whatever but he works magic with rope and loves the feel of it in his hands (coarse, prickly like the bristles of an old toothbrush) and seeing the indents it leaves after, the raised lines where it dug into flesh always makes him dizzy.

price: he's a very simple man. breeding esp during an unsafe day. he's all for condoms and pulling out and he knows his spend can throw off your ph balance plus he's still virile so whatever you prefer but something about seeing your hole drip with his seed, thick and viscous— he'd see red and shove it all back in with his fingers, can't waste a drop, see? and buss apologies into your sweat-slick skin after because he felt you wince.

soap: predator/prey. he's got a thing for the chase, something that'll run away from the inevitable (him) but he knows he's too intense, and while he's got all the blood in his body at his other head, he can't assume the same for you. he's terrified of scaring you. he can get carried away, knows it more like, and the last thing he needs is you flinching when he reaches out but lordt- he'd leave a bald spot on the tree he oh so wishes to pin you up against.

ghost: praise kink. he's a big, gruff man who's mostly mean to everyone he meets so this is a secret no one knows. he'll never force anyone to say anything, god knows he isn't the most vocal (he thinks himself so fortunate to have found someone who doesn't need him to say what he feels in that shriveled-up heart of his) but he yearns for praise, someone to tell him how well he's doing and how good he feels. he turns apple-cheeked when price goes out of his way to thank him for a job well done even though it's what was ordered of him, but it demands a certain vulnerability he's burrowed away deep, kept under lock and key.

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Dick had to give it to the kid, he'd somehow thought of everything. It was a little concerning, actually, but the kid had brushed off every attempt had probing for answers. Who trained him? If he was trained at all. ...had the kid gone into vigilantism alone? Oh, dear. THat's not good fro Dick's current worries.

Reading the file Danny had handed him, Dick had to wonder how long it had taken him to put together this cover story. Also, where he'd managed to get the equipment to do it. At a glance, the kid didn't seem to have much on him. Not even a phone!

He closed the folder and set it back down on the table. "Really?" he asked, "'Congratulations, it's a boy'?"

Danny's cheeks turned a bit red as his gaze shifted to the folder. "Well, yeah. You're stuck with me now until I can get you into good habits and a healthier schedule."

"That implies that you're planning on leaving."

Danny shrugged, all his confidence now fading away. Is this what he's really like? "Well, I mean, I'm sure you don't want me sticking around at all, let alone for a while."

Dick frowned and looked back at the black folder and the binder sitting on his coffee table. God, his apartment's a mess! He smiled at Danny. "My name's Richard, but everyone calls me 'Dick'. You can stay in the guest room."

Danny lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. "Really?"

"Yep. You went to all this work, it'd be a shame if it all went to waste."

The grin on Danny's face was more than worth the security risk that he now posed. "You won't regret it, Mr. Dick!"

Dick smiled back at him, "Please, drop the formalities. We're cousins, apparently."

Was he attached? No. He wouldn't allow himself to get attached. Sure, maybe he was letting this kid - he really needs to start calling him Danny - stay with him for a while, but he wasn't going to get attached. Getting attached meant losing him. Dick wasn't sure he'd be able to survive if he lost someone again.

...damn it.

***

First order of business, now that Danny was officially Dick's - why would he willingly go by that nickname? - ward/cousin, Danny was going to make sure he got some sleep. Today was Dick's day off, so Danny had sent him to his room to take a much needed nap. The man was basically dead on his feet and Danny would be damned if he let him wander around this mess of an apartment with blurry vision.

The second thing he did, once he was sure Dick was asleep, was start to clean up. The place was a stereotypical bachelor's pad, complete with questionable stains in the carpet, rips in the cushions, dishes piled up in the sink, and old take-out on every table and counter. Gross.

He made quick work of the old take-out by throwing it all away and hitting it with a very small and controlled ectoblast. He was so glad Dick had disposable gloves on hand.

The dishes were the next thing he handed. The water was cleaner than in Gotham, so he didn't worry about washing the dishes by hand when they all didn't fit in the dishwasher. He dried the ones he'd hand washed before putting them away. Dick had no organisation in his cupboards, so Danny fixed that, too.

The fridge and freezer weren't too bad. Sure, the dairy products had all expired and most of the food was freezer bitten, but none of it was moldy yet and the appliance itself was in perfect working order. He'd have to go shopping later.

Danny had never liked cleaning, but he'd had to when his parents refused to follow any OSHA laws or Lab Safety courses. So, when he found the cleaning supplies, he took a deep breath and began scrubbing the bathroom. It wasn't too bad, thank god, and was already fairly clean. It was quick and he was able to move on very quickly.

The counters, tables, walls, and tile and wooden floors were all easy to clean with a wet rag and a broom. He wasn't going to even try saving the rug because it looked well beyond the point of no return. The couch and chair cushions could be sticked up, but he didn't have a sewing needle and thread with him.

The last thing he did before taking his backpack into the room he'd been given was to write down a shopping list and leave it on the counter. It wasn't a lot, just food and some dishes and toiletries. He'd have to figure out with Dick a way to pay rent, too, but that was a later Danny problem. He'd tired himself out and was still running on pretty much empty. So, he allowed himself to fall asleep. He'd check on Dick when he woke up.

Part 4 Part 6

Tag List:

@flame-343 @ghestie93 @anarinette @aglmry @peachtreewriter @evix-syne666 @loudlypanickinginvenezolano @lumosfeather18581

[chimera-dreams]

Satoru, who...

Did you ask for more fluff? I did, ehe~

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

CW: pure fluff, just fluff, no angst, only happiness | proposal, marriage, pregnancy, husband!Gojo, dad!Gojo, soft!Gojo, categorically fucking whipped Satoru, domesticity, kinda slice-of-life, mildly suggestive at the end

The starstruck boy, Gojo Satoru, who is utterly obsessed with you in every way possible.

AN: while I’m in the middle of writing an absurdly long fic, I wanted to post some shorter stuff to 1) keep my hands loose and brain active/busy, and 2) post something while I’m working on the fic to come. I won’t post much about it rn because I want to actually finish it first and not make any promises, so enjoy a lil fluff in the meantime <3 just something short and sweet

WC: 3k

Satoru, who is smitten with you from the very moment he first lays eyes on you. Sure, he's had infatuations before, but they were short-lived and typically lasted no longer than a week. A quick fascination, then poof. You, on the other hand – you are different.

And it is plain to see for pretty much everyone. He is normally cocky and outgoing, even during the little fads he’s had, he never let down his façade of bravado. You, though? You melt all his walls until he’s a goopy puddle of a blushing, giggling school girl.

He is whipped, almost to an annoying point. He rambles off Suguru's and Shoko's ears enough times for them to know when he’s about to start singing your praises and avoid him, or distract him somehow (which is a monumental task when his ditzy head is full only of thoughts of you).

Even so, they are conflictingly bewildered and happy for their friend. For him to have found someone that he is interested in for longer than a week – let alone several months, now – is a riveting change of pace. He seems so genuinely delighted any time you two interact, bubbly, dreamy sighs leaving him as hearts dance in his eyes.

He has fallen for you bad.

Satoru, who’s a stuttering disaster when he tries to ask you out on a date, and damn near collapses in relief when you’re able to decipher what the hell he’s going on about and agree to go to the new café that opened up near campus with him.

One date turns into two, then three, then a dozen more that become routine for you. You meet up after classes let out, then head to the café side by side. Or, if one is running late, you have each other’s orders memorized. You even go the extra mile and order him a sweet he hasn’t tried yet to surprise him with when he bursts into the establishment, panting like he ran a marathon. He might as well have, he booked it for the café as soon as he was free, dying to see you.

Satoru, who is somehow in even more shambles when he gets the nerve to ask you to go steady with him, despite the two of you being borderline boyfriend and girlfriend by now. He’s jittery, sweaty, downright vibrating with tense energy when he brings you to the sakura tree near the back of school that you two had laid claim on. Oh, and when you say yes? He’s certain he’s died and gone to heaven. Nothing can explain how an angel like you decided to grace him with your existence as is, let alone love him – even while you called him an idiot and said you thought you two were already dating.

Satoru, who was already protective over you when you first met, dials it to eleven after you agree to being his girlfriend. Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive, could inspire fear and respect simply by being in the room with his confident and brash nature, completely relaxed and faithful in his skill. But if, gods forbid, something happens to you? Gone is that cocksure attitude. Gone are the coy smirks and passive-aggressive taunting meant to rile others up. Gone is everything but his one track mind that focuses solely on two tasks: protecting you, and destroying whatever harmed you.

Satoru, who spoons you to his chest and watches ASMR, random videos, or movies on your phone with you 'til you both fall asleep. It became routine shortly after you began officially dating. You'll climb into bed first and decide what you want to watch while he finishes his nightly regimen, then he'll slip under the blankets and pull your back flush against his front, prop his chin atop your head, slide a thigh between your legs, and off to cozy dreamland you two go as whatever you choose acts as white noise. 

It brings him an immense amount of comfort, and though he doesn't need as much sleep as normal folks, he'll refuse to leave bed until you're awake (with the exception of any needs he might have to take care of that will only see him away for a couple minutes at most before he’s cradling you in his protective hold again).

Satoru, who salts and peppers your face with endless, ticklish kisses to wake you up, saving the best kiss for when your sleepy, pretty little eyes open: right on your lips. He always wakes up before you do, and spends hours watching your blissful, precious face as you snooze, content and relaxed like a cat with full trust in its human. The comparison always makes him smile, because he, truthfully, envisions you both as being cats all the time. Lazy ones that cuddle in the sun, your smaller form using his ridiculously fluffy and larger one as a pillow-slash-blanket. His tail twined with yours, your ears twitching as he grooms you with kitten licks, ah, the dream.

Satoru, who wants to slap a ring on your finger the very moment he can. You two spend so many days and weeks raving about your imaginary wedding that he so desperately wants to be real, setting up plans, picking out what you would want for decor, scrolling through forum boards for ideas on a wedding dress for you. He is practically more excited at the prospect of getting married than you are, eager to help in every step of the process and more. 'Let me handle all the hard stuff, baby,' he nearly begs. 

He won’t tell you the cost of anything, and insists you go all out. Get the dress you want, don't you dare look at the price tag. Choose the perfect venue, he doesn't care if it's in Japan or fucking Dubai, he'll handle paying for everyone's travel and hotel needs on top of the whole wedding. Only the absolute best for you, nothing less, everything more.

Satoru, who is a train wreck of nervous excitement, anxious anticipation, and giddy trepidation when the day comes for him to propose. He takes you to the perfect location – up a short and easy hiking trail that leads to a cliffside with the most magnificent view of the ocean and setting sun. You think it's just a sweet date trip, until you see the path of tea candles guiding you to a romantically set up picnic blanket, a basket resting atop it, waiting to be opened.

When you turn around to express your shock and confusion, you find Satoru on one knee, looking up at you as if you are the most gorgeous and divine creature to ever exist. He's confident and boisterous, as always, as he plays out his little speech about how much he adores you and wants to keep you by his side, forever and ever, but he's a shaking trash fire inside. A shivering little dog that's relieved he didn't stutter or screw up the speech he practiced a hundred times over and then some.

Satoru, who's thanking every god to ever possibly reside above (and even below) when you throw your arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder as a flood of yeses pours out of you, slurred as you ramble through your tears and tell him you love him, how happy you are, and a plethora of other things that make him genuinely the most elated person to ever live.

Satoru, who slides the brilliant engagement ring he had custom made for you onto your finger; smooth, with an inset blue diamond that shares the same shade as his eyes, nestled in with a dozen tinier crystals in vine-like spirals flowing outward from the center. Swarovski, of course. He made sure that it was all flush with the platinum to ensure it wouldn't snag on anything. 

He was practically breathing down the jeweler's neck during the entire process, needing to guarantee it’s positively perfect for you. And, when he sees the glimmering jewelry cozy on your finger, the evidence of your bond and the next step in your journey to unite as one, he knows he made all the right choices.

Satoru, who only uses the finest material for your matching wedding bands, and has the insides of both engraved with each other's names. Yours in his, his in yours. He has the same jeweler as before (poor guy) design them to have two stripes of platinum within the gold of your rings, delicate and stunning for himself and his wife.

Satoru, who's jubilant and so incredibly ecstatic that you're now his wife that he can't help but tell everyone he knows, everyday, multiple times a day, even those that were at the wedding. He just can't get over it. You're his wife, the girl he's been crushing on since highschool, the girl he swore to make his, and to devote himself to. It feels like an incredible dream, and he worriedly pinches himself from time to time to make sure it's real. 

He did it. He married you, and now you carry his name in yours, in your wedding band, everywhere he could put it to subtly (not really) show you off as the unquestionably precious treasure you are, his wife, and how overjoyed he is that he managed to catch you and keep you.

Satoru, who forgets how to function when you hold up a pair of white and pink sticks on his birthday, from different brands, both showing positive symbols. You. You're pregnant. With his baby. He swears his brain short-circuits because one minute, he's staring at you like you'd grown a second head, and the next, he has you wrapped up in his arms as he showers your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw, lips, neck, ears, anywhere he can reach, with kisses.

He's a babbling, sniffly mess as he practically crushes you to his chest and coos and preens and weeps with elation. He reveres you like a deity and he’s your loyal and pathetic servant who was blessed beyond measure that you decided to give him the gift of life. He's going to be a father, and it's all because of you.

Satoru, who completely spoils the living hell out of you during your pregnancy (as if he hadn't already been), bending backwards for you for everything. Weird cravings? He's on it. Swollen ankles and nausea? He's rushing to the store for medicine, then rubbing your feet to ease the ache. Insatiable horniness? He's your slave for you to use for your pleasure. Hormones swinging wildly back and forth? He's there with a box of tissues and his firm chest for you to beat on when you feel like you're going crazy. It's his fault you're pregnant, after all. You're doing the hard work of not just carrying his child, but of nurturing it, growing it, letting it take from you to develop strong and healthy. Of course he's going to take care of you.

Satoru, who refuses to let you do any work. You're on indefinite parental leave. From the moment you show him those positive tests, he sits your pretty ass down on the couch and tells you firmly that your only job now is to help your baby develop. He'll take care of everything else, don't even think about lifting a finger.

Satoru, who's there at every appointment with you, clutching your hand tightly as you talk to your doctor about everything you need to know. And when you have your first ultrasound, and see your fetus together for the very first time, he's crying right alongside you.

Satoru, who spent meticulous hours packing a duffel bag with everything you'll both need for when it comes time for you to go into labor. Spare changes of clothes, plenty of water, blankets to keep you warm, a couple pillows, anything and everything. He refuses to go in unprepared. As soon as it's all packed and ready to go by the 8 month mark of your pregnancy, it's in the backseat of the car. The baby car seat is in the trunk of the sleek and top-of-the-line SUV he purchased specifically for your soon-to-be family. He doesn't care that it's taking up space, or that it’s too early, he refuses to go in unprepared.

Satoru, who immediately ditches work the very instant your water breaks. Who gives a fuck if he's in the middle of something important, nothing takes precedence over you and the incoming birth of your infant. He's breaking several driving laws to get you to the hospital, but neither of you care. Not when you're panting in the passenger seat, white-knuckling the grab handle with a palm pressed to your stomach, grunting and crying out in pain any time you have a contraction. It's a miracle he doesn't get pulled over, and he's incredibly thankful (and proud of himself) for thinking of calling the hospital ahead of time so that they're ready for you.

Satoru, whose entire world becomes a blur from the second you reach the hospital, to the second you're crushing his hand in your grip, screaming as you fight to bring his baby into the world. He's letting you yell at him and blame him for the pain you're in, easily accepting and agreeing because it is his fault. 

But while your shaking sobs and shrieks of agony wound his heart beyond any possible measure, he also can't help his elation at knowing it's time, all the waiting has been worth it, every minute spent catering to your every need, want, and desire. He'll do it indefinitely, wait on you hand and foot for the rest of his life, treat you like a queen, because you deserve it and so much more.

Satoru, who's shocked by how well he's holding up when the nurse puts the wrapped up, pudgy little newborn in his arms, gazing down at the tiny being. His tiny being, your tiny being, the fragile and priceless life you both created. Looking down at his kin, his reason for being, he knows he'd do anything and everything to protect you and your child.

Satoru, who sees you, a disheveled and tired disaster, with your hair all tangled, frizzy, and astray, strands stuck to your sweaty skin, your body slack in relief as the hardest part is finally over, watching your husband hold your baby, and he thinks you're more beautiful now than you've ever been. 

You look like you’ve been dragged through hell; your legs are sticky with residue blood, amniotic fluid, placenta, and whatever else that needs to be cleaned off (though your legs are covered with a few layers of blankets to keep you toasty warm while you recover from labor), your face is a little pale and sallow, you're barely clinging to consciousness, and he's marveling at how he's never seen anything or anyone as utterly blest and sacred as you. 

A goddess amongst men, the only one the strongest man in the world would ever willingly bow down to without you even needing to ask.

Satoru, who helps place your baby on your chest, the nurse having opened the blanket for skin-to-skin contact as you feed it, and finally lets himself release all his pent up emotions of raw, unfiltered joy. Every cell, every fiber, every atom in him is dancing in overwhelming happiness. He'd do it all over, again and again, as many times as you'd let him, if it means he gets to see you this blissful and tranquil. The glow of maternity suits you like no other, even in all your unkempt and chaotic glory. 

Satoru, who can't believe he's a dad. He goes above and beyond, insisting he takes care of the baby at night so you can sleep – he doesn't need as much rest as others do, after all. He murmurs to his newborn about how much he cherishes and adores you, how much you mean to him, how you're the best wife and mommy a man could ever ask for and more. He reads the kiddo bedtime stories to help it sleep, feeds it, changes it, whatever it is that is needed, he's there and doing it. 

On top of that, he continues to be your doting, devoted, caring husband. He makes sure you're taking your vitamins, takes you to all your postpartum appointments, aids you through your subsequent depression, all of it. He's sworn himself to you for life, not just in this timeline and universe, but in any and every single one of them.

He made and said his vows with purpose and conviction. He meant every word, and upholds them like his life depends on it. Because, in his mind, it does.

Satoru, who is patient with you, and firmly commands you to not push yourself to do things you can't do while you're still in recovery. He doesn't care if he has to wait months or even years for you to be ready to lay with him again, he'll wait it out. He might not be a patient man, but for you, he'd wait until all the stars die. 

Oh, but you, darling little minx that you are, do your best to take care of him, too. Even when he urges you to rest, or not worry about it, or anything other arguments he might have against it, you tend to him in whatever way you can. Touching, sucking, rough and heavy petting, whatever it takes. You refuse to leave him alone to suffer through months and months of dryness with no relief save for his hand and the toy you surprised him with to help take the edge off.

Satoru, who can't be more grateful to you. You're more than his wildest dreams, the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect person as a whole in the entirety of the universe. He really can't help boasting about being the Chosen One, because he really is, if the cosmos decided to gift him with you.

Satoru, who swears to take care of you for the rest of your lives, and does well on his promise.

Satoru, who fights for the sake of you and your kin alone. He refuses to leave you in any way, shape, or form. He refuses to let the world be a danger to any of you. He refuses to have anything happen to his family. Nothing will tear you apart, not now, not ever.

Satoru, who loves you more than the sun, the moon, and all the stars combined.

—-—-•(-•ʚɞ•-)•—-—-

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