#barely holding on to not spoiling it all

[neptunesenceladus]

yj98 x rubicon fusion centered around bart where thad is his rubicon is where my minds at rn

[tojishousewife]

Whining to cockwarm toji while you’re having a picnic <3 tw - daddy kink, ddlg

You’re in his lap under the shade of a massive, old tree, the blanket beneath you soft and warm from the sun, a little Tupperware container of food forgotten as you whimper and shift in his lap. Birds chirp in the trees, there's a breeze tickling your bare thighs, and Toji just won't let you have his cock.

“You’re being real bratty, sweetheart,” he mutters against your neck, his voice low and lazy like he has all day to ignore your whining. His arms are heavy around you, one big palm resting right under your tits, the other lazily draped across your plush thighs, fingers brushing where your sundress has ridden up. “You gonna cry over not sitting on daddy’s cock in the middle of the park?”

You nod, sniffling dramatically, your glossy lips in a pout. “Mhm. S’not fair. You’re so mean,” you mumble, grinding your ass down into his lap, feeling the hard outline of him through his jeans. “Been good all day, I packed lunch, I even cut your sandwich diagonal like you like it—n’you’re being so mean to me, Toji...”

He snorts—that deep, condescending chuckle that makes your whole body throb. “Tch. You thought I was mean? Thought you liked when I'm mean,” he growls into your ear, teeth grazing your lobe. You mewl when his hand slips under your dress, his fingers spreading your slick folds. “You're dripping through your panties in broad daylight, kiddo. What—gonna soak daddy’s jeans just ‘cause he won't let you be a cockdrunk little doll in public?”

“Please,” you whisper, hips squirming around his grip, “just for a minute—I'll be so quiet, promise, daddy. Don't even have to move, just wanna feel it, pleasepleaseplease—“

He grunts as he shifts beneath you, one hand palming your squishy ass as he pulls your panties to the side with the other. “You’re lucky there ain't nobody around,” he mutters, thick fingers lining his cock up with your needy hole. Spoiled fucking brat”

You gasp as he sinks you down till your cunnie is swollen and split open around his cock, stuffed full while your thighs shake in his lap.

“Fuck,” he groans, holding you still when you quickly try to bounce. “No. You sit like a good girl. That's all you get”.

You whimper, burying your face in his neck, your fists bunching his shirt as your pussy flutters helplessly around him. “Daddy—“

“Don't ‘daddy’ me,” he huffs, biting into a strawberry like you’re not stuffed full and twitching on his cock. “Should make you sit there the whole fucking afternoon. Maybe you’ll learn some patience”.

You won’t. You'll beg again in five minutes. But he'll let you because you're his favorite mouthy little toy. And because your pussy’s already drooling down his cock like it knows it belongs there.

“Eat your sandwich,” he says, smirking. “You’re gonna need the energy.”

[anglbunny]

Safe word ♡ ryomen sukuna

cw: smut mdni, use of safe word, soft sukuna, based on this request

You’re not sure how long he’s been fucking you. Time’s gone blurry—melted into moans and muscle spasms, fingers digging into sheets, your body arching under his like instinct.

You're soaking wet. Wrung out. Shaking. And still, Sukuna doesn't stop.

"Look at you," he pants, watching the way your tits bounce with every brutal thrust. "All fucked dumb and you’re still takin' it like a good little slut."

Your mouth drops open—another moan spilling out, high and wrecked. Your thighs tremble on either side of his hips, limp now from being held up so long. You can barely move.

But you love it. Every second.

You were made to be spoiled like this. A princess, built to be touched, worshipped, ruined.

He presses his palm over your belly, smirking when he feels the outline of his cock moving inside.

“Such a perfect fucking body,” he growls. “Takes me so well. You were made for this, weren’t you? All mine.”

You nod. Nodding feels easier than speaking.

Your body jerks with the rhythm of his thrusts. Your wrists are pinned above your head. His other hand is tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make your eyes water.

But suddenly—it’s too much.

The moment creeps up fast. You’ve come too many times. Your body can’t handle more.

Your lips move without thinking—

“Rose.”

Your safeword.

Sukuna freezes.

Immediately.

Silence.

His hands loosen. His hips pull back. The feral, dominant glint in his eyes is gone in an instant—replaced by something soft. Something vulnerable.

"Shit—hey, hey." His voice lowers, gentle. Concern slipping into every syllable. “You okay, sweetheart? Look at me.”

You blink up at him. Overwhelmed, but safe. Still gasping.

“I-I’m okay. Just… needed to stop.”

His hands are already moving. Untying your wrists. Stroking your cheeks. His lips kiss your forehead, then your shoulder, then your temple.

"Good girl,” he whispers. “You did so good telling me. So proud of you.”

He grabs a blanket, covers you up, and lies beside you—pulling you against his chest like you're made of glass.

His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“You were perfect. You’re always perfect. I got you now, yeah? Just breathe. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod into his neck, tears slipping down your cheeks—not from pain, but from how held you feel.

Sukuna holds you tighter.

“Next time,” he says quietly, brushing your hair back, “we take it slow. I wanna hear those pretty sounds without hurting you. You’re too precious to me, baby.”

You manage a soft smile.

Because no matter how hard he goes—he always brings you back. Always holds you after.

TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau

A/N: bleh

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

[maskedbyghost]

cw: explicit sexual content, morning sex, somno? but its consensual, unprotected sex, dirty talk...

You remember saying it once, half-joking, laying on your back in bed, still sore from the night before, your hair a mess, and Simon standing shirtless at the foot of the bed pulling on his sweats while you groaned dramatically and said something dumb like, “I wanna start every day with a good fuck,” and he’d turned to you with that lazy grin, all sleepy eyes and messed-up hair, and just said, “Say less,” like it was a promise instead of just something to laugh about.

And now? Now it’s a few weeks later, and the bed is warm, and your limbs are heavy, and the sun is barely up yet, but he’s behind you, his big arm slung across your waist, bare skin pressed up against your back, and your brain’s still halfway in a dream when you feel him shift just a little, nudge his hips forward and slot himself right up against you like he does every morning now, but this time it’s different—this time he’s already hard and pressed up right there, thick and hot and heavy between your thighs, and you let out this soft little breath when you feel the way he pushes forward just enough for the tip of him to catch and press right at your entrance.

“Still wanna start your day like this, sweetheart?” he whispers right in your ear, voice all gravelly and deep from sleep, because he hasn’t spoken a word until now, and you’re so tired and turned on already that all you can do is nod and whine a little, shifting your hips back into him like that’s permission enough.

And Simon, fuck, he doesn’t even wait—he kisses the back of your neck real slow, one hand sliding up your thigh, gripping your hip, and he just sinks in like he’s got all the time in the world, sliding inside you so gently but so deep that your breath hitches and your toes curl under the covers.

“There you go, baby,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear, hips rocking slow as hell, savoring it. “Nice way to wake up, yeah? All warm and wet f’me already… been dreamin’ about me, haven’t you?”

You manage to let out this sleepy little moan, eyes fluttering shut again as he keeps fucking you slow and deep, trying to draw those sounds out of you, wanting to keep you stuck right here between sleep and bliss, and his hand moves up your body, cupping your breast, squeezing it softly while his other arm tightens around your waist to hold you exactly where he wants you.

“You’re so good like this,” he whispers again, mouth right against your skin, breath warm as he keeps fucking into you in these long, unhurried strokes. “So fuckin’ perfect, lettin’ me in like this… every single morning, baby. Gonna spoil you rotten.”

You’re whimpering into the pillow now, body arching into his with every roll of his hips, and it’s slow, it’s so fucking slow you could scream, but it feels too good to ask him to speed up.

“Don’t even have to say a word,” he keeps talking, voice all low and cocky and sweet at the same time, like he can’t shut up when he’s this deep inside you, and he needs you to hear every dirty thought in his head. “Just wake up and take it, yeah? Always so ready f’me. Fuckin’ made for this, I swear.”

His hand slides down again, slow and lazy like everything else he’s doing, fingers finding your clit and rubbing little circles that make your whole body tense up and shake just a little under him, and he hums when he feels it, all proud of himself.

“That’s it, love,” he says, a little louder now but still all low and husky, still in your ear, still so damn close you feel every word. “Come for me. Let me feel it, baby. C’mon, let’s start the day right, yeah?”

And it’s too much, all of it—the warmth of his chest pressed to your back, the way his cock stretches you out so slow and deep, the constant soft praise in your ear, the way his fingers don’t stop even when your body’s twitching and gasping for air—and you come with this choked-out cry, biting down into the pillow to muffle it, legs shaking as he keeps fucking you through it, gentle but firm, holding you tight like he never wants to let go.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder, hips starting to move a little faster now, just a little, chasing his own release while you’re still trembling in his arms. “Takin’ it so good, always so good for me…”

You can feel it when he gets close—his breath starts coming faster, hips stuttering, arm tightening around you until you can’t even move, just feel him rutting into you, the way he groans low in his throat and presses his forehead against the back of your head, whispering your name like it’s the only thing keeping him together.

And when he finishes, it’s deep and messy and perfect, spilling inside you with this quiet, broken noise that makes you clench around him all over again, and he stays there, buried to the hilt, breathing hard, kissing your shoulder over and over like he’s thanking you just for letting him have this.

Neither of you moves for a long while—just breathing, tangled up, skin on skin, his hand rubbing slow circles into your belly now.

“Best part of wakin’ up,” he says eventually, voice all smug and soft and still out of breath, and you laugh into the pillow even though your thighs are still shaking and you feel like jelly.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumble back, reaching behind to smack his thigh, and he just laughs too, hugging you tighter, still inside you, not even thinking about pulling out yet.

“Yeah,” he says, kissing the back of your head, “but I’m your idiot. And I got your morning routine memorized now.”

You hum, smiling. “Good. Keep doing it. I’ll never need coffee again.”

And he just chuckles again, nuzzling into your neck like he’s getting ready to doze off all over again, still deep inside you, and that’s exactly where he plans to stay for the rest of the morning.

And honestly? There’s no better way to start the day.

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

hope you enjoyed this bc next up is angsttttt

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid @syofrelief

[gl1tchxr]

hi so i heard that you have a tragic oc ending. Wellllll im listening :D

it's not really a tragic ending. everything (most everything) turns out ok despite some tragic stuff happening on the way there

(warning for gore/body horror)

Paradox always thought there was so much untapped potential to shapeshifting. sure, anyone with the right magic can change into whatever temporary form they want, but is there any way to make it permanent? to grow back parts of yourself you've lost? to achieve total control over your own body? to become functionally immortal?

he could never try it. not with this weak, flimsy magic afforded to him from his hometown. but now the magic of a god has bonded itself to his heart, and the possibilities open up.

the first trial was a success. all the venom from a snakebite that could kill in a matter of hours, cleansed from his body in a matter of minutes.

the second took some doing. the nasty gash over his face healed easy enough, but repairing the eye was a slow, agonizing process. all that matters is that it worked, in the end, despite the strain.

the third... well it's not really a trial anymore, is it?

it was the magic of a god that finally let him hone his craft. but anything divine is a commodity, and sooner or later someone would come for it. no matter how entangled it was inside him, no matter what collateral would have to be wrought, they would have what they came for. and they took it.

did he ever need divinity? could he become immortal with only the magic he had the whole time? he must somehow be already, he thinks, because his blood keeps running despite the gaping cavity of his chest.

[rafeslittlepup]

— “you’d be such a good mom”

it starts stupid. you’re both at some overpriced boutique on the figure eight strip. you look at yourself in the mirror while you try on some sunglasses, rafe’s on his phone, barely paying attention to you.

but when you disappear into another corner of the store, he finally looks up, he sees you holding a pale pink onesie between your two perfectly manicured fingers. there’s a tiny embroidered bunny on the chest. adorable.

he raises an eyebrow, “what the fuck is that?” you smile, teasingly, “it’s cute.” he slowly walks over, taking the onesie from your hand, flipping the price tag over and scoffs. “two hundred bucks for a baby to shit on it.”

“whatever, if we had a daughter, she’d wear this.” you laugh.

rafe goes silent, slightly smirking.

“…what?” you chuckle, “i was kidding.”

“say it again.”

“if we had a daughter?”

“she’d have your eyes, maybe your cute dimples too.”

“that’s kind of-“ you scoff

“you’d be such a good mom,” he says, brushing a thumb against your cheek. “i want to put a huge diamond rock on your finger, and then… i want you to give me a lot of babies, a whole soccer team.”

you swallowed hard, but couldn’t help to smile a little.

“yeah… that’s right. as soon as i’m out of college, we are doing it. no waiting.” he added. “you’d spoil the hell out of her… and you will teach her how to be soft, like you. not like the girls out there.”

you raise an eyebrow, “you really think about this?”

“all the time, you and me, forever.”

a/n: i kind of hate this… but i’m ovulating and i have a horrendous baby fever. also thinking about writing a parents!au … >ᴗ<

[neigepomme]

some time after caleb and you start dating, you realize caleb grows more and more spoiled.

he still does his part and is a great boyfriend! however, you see his pout more and more often nowadays. it's mostly caused by things outside of your control; for instance, when a guy checks you out while you're out with him.

you barely gave that guy a glance, but caleb had his bottom lip jutted out and let out a loud sigh, one clearly designed for you to hear. when you don't acknowledge it the first time, he does it again — louder this time.

you lift your head to stare at him, and you're met with slightly furrowed brows and a pout, somehow making caleb look like a puppy rather than his 6'2 pilot self.

“what's got you down, hm?”

and then the brand new spoiled part of him kicks in — he looks away and sighs yet again before speaking.

“nothing.”

you let the silence sit for a beat, suppressing an amused smile at how caleb has gotten. after some more awkward silence, caleb speaks again, only with a flushed look on his face now.

“it's just.. that guy was checking you out. you. my girlfriend.”

you could eat him right up. how cute is that? the man who never outwardly admitted he was jealous and wanted more of you all to himself, who couldnt bring himself to be more greedy with your attention is sulking at the fact that a random man, checked you out while he was by your side. 

fully beaming at him now, you grab onto his cheek and pull lightly, “is my favorite pilot jealous? i only have eyes for you, you know.”

judging by the way the corners of his mouth curl up, caleb seems to be satisfied with your answer. holding onto your hand tighter, he mumbles something along the lines of “i wasn't jealous, just.. unimpressed.”

spoiled darling of a man you have by your side.

🍎 pomme's notes — do you guys know when dogs just sigh really loudly when they don't have your attention sometimes? that's caleb

[luvbabydoll]

proper fed — simon “ghost” riley

simon ghost riley x fem!chubby reader

warnings: tried to mimick his accent in the writing but i probably failed cause im extremely southern

when ghost comes home, he’s all worn-out muscle and quiet exhaustion, his broad frame leaning against the doorway as he watches you from beneath that ever-present balaclava. but the second he sees you—curled up in one of his old shirts, all soft and waiting for him—his shoulders ease just a little.

“missed you, love,” he mutters, voice thick and gruff as he strides over, pulling you into his arms like he’s been starvin’ for the feel of you. his hands, rough and calloused from too many fights, find your waist, squeezing just enough to make you shiver.

“you’ve lost weight again,” you scold, smoothing your hands over his chest, frowning at the way his body feels sharper, leaner.

“been busy, ain’t i?” he grumbles, but you’re already dragging him toward the couch, settling yourself in his lap as you grab the plate you made for him earlier. He doesn’t argue—not when you’re all warm and snug against him, not when he can feel the soft press of your thighs over his own.

the telly’s on, some football match playing, and he barely glances at it as you lift a forkful of food to his lips. “c’mon, si,” you murmur, tapping it lightly against his mask. “up.”

with a quiet sigh, he pulls it up just enough, letting you see the sharp cut of his jaw, the hint of stubble he never quite gets rid of. and when he takes that first bite, his eyes flutter shut for a brief second, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

“bloody hell, you tryna fatten me up, sweetheart?” he mutters, cockney drawl thicker now that he’s home, safe, warm.

you grin, feeding him another bite. “maybe. can’t have you wasting away, yeah?”

his arms tighten around you, one hand settling on your hip, thumb rubbing slow circles over the softness there. “gonna make me proper spoiled, you are.”

but he doesn’t complain—doesn’t stop you from feeding him, doesn’t stop himself from pressing his face into your neck between bites, inhaling deep, like he’s trying to memorize the way you smell. and when the match ends and he’s full, relaxed, his hands stay where they are, holding you close, keeping you exactly where you belong.

[mihanisms]

endurance test

— you decide to spoil your boyfriend by riding him stuuupiddd :p

— sub zayne, use of "mistress", overstimulation, mindbreak, zayne eventually goes into subspace, biting kink, nipple play

The remaining sanity that your boyfriend was trying to preserve crumbled the moment you pressed his body deeper into the mattress, grinding your pussy onto him for what felt like the hundredth time. The slick that was dripping between your legs, a mixture of your juices from the rounds you had pushed him through, made every movement of yours effortless, your pussy clamping down on him and making him see stars as a strangled moan leaves his throat.

"Love, I think- I thinhaah! are you still n-not-" His cock throbs as you grind down in a particularly harsh manner, cutting off any of his protests. "Not satisfied? Of course not - you can still talk, honey." Your voice was sweet and teasing, yet your actions were anything but, your hands sliding over his torso and finding his nipples, the two pink buds perky and cold to the touch.

Watching his flushed face intently, you start to pinch and pull at his buds, the sudden gesture causing his eyes to roll back and his body to jerk into you, a high-pitched whine slipping past him before he could stop himself. Spurred on by his reaction, you pull harder, causing tears to well up at the corners of your doctor's eyes.

"I-It's too much, please it's too seehns'tive-!" Zayne's words were barely coherent at this point, his words slurred together as he cries and sniffles at all the sensations overwhelming him, from your pussy bullying his cock to your fingers rolling over his nipples and your heated gaze that wanted nothing but to see him driven to ruin - it was all too much, and the doctor found himself orgasming again, spurt after spurt of cum painting your walls and dripping down from you to his thighs.

The tears that he was just barely holding earlier were now spilling onto his red cheeks as broken sobs fell from his lips—pleas for mercy that completely contradicted how he remained rock-hard inside you. A condescending smirk curls up at your lips as your fingers trail up from his chest up to his jaw, tracing it lightly. Your voice dips into something low and sultry, amusement dancing in your heated gaze. "Your words say one thing and your dick says another....Now, I just don't know what to do."

Zayne, parting his lips to reply, gets cut off by a choked whine as you abruptly halt your movements. His teary eyes focus in on your self-satisfied smirk and hooded eyes. Fuck. He knew that look.

Your still-teasing fingers slide back down to toy with his oversensitive nipples, gentler this time but enough to pull a shaky breath from him. "I’ve gotta say, honey….If you really want me to stop because you can’t take anymore, well, I guess I have to respect my sweet doctor’s wishes."

His breath hitches and his expression falls, but he knew he had it coming with all the mindless babbles leaving him throughout the whole session. It only hits him how far you wanted to take it when you slowly start to lift yourself off his cock, a small whimper leaving him as his hands instantly move to your hips to stop you, a pleading look in his eyes. "I...I..." He starts out, the words catching in his throat.

"You….You....You what, Zay?"Your voice is thick with amusement, his hesitance deepening at the smirk on your face. "You have to use your words." To punctuate your statement, you roll your hips, letting the remainder of him inside you feel that brief, fleeting pleasure and earning yourself yet another wobbly gasp of your name.

For a few agonizing moments, his mouth opens and closes, nothing coming out—until he finally caves, his voice barely above a whisper.

"...Please." His fingers dig into your skin, his resolve crumbling entirely. "Keep on riding me…until I can’t think."

His admission brings a wicked grin to your face, one that the doctor knew only spelled ruin for him. Before he could brace himself, you slam your hips down onto his, changing your rhythm from slow, teasing grinds to an eager and relentless pace, your slick pussy easily moving up and down his cock as he writhes beneath you.

This time, his thoughts truly scatter, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of your movements, your voice, and the way you looked at him as you rode his cock—like he was nothing but a pretty toy for you to use.

And oh, that turned him on.

Small pleas and whimpers for more left him like he had never protested against you in the first place. He lets himself get fucked into oblivion, relishing in everything you so generously give him. In between his moans and mumbles of pleasure, a singular word leaves him that lets you know he'd fully given up control.

"Mistress...!"

That one desperate cry of your title sends heat flooding through you, your desire surging into overdrive. One of your hands slide from his chest to his abdomen, steadying yourself as you lean down, biting into the flushed skin of his neck. His breath hitches and breaks into tiny, high-pitched mewls, his hips jerking up instinctively to push deeper into you.

He was beautiful like this.

Wanting more of his delicious sounds, you keep your teeth against his skin, sinking in just enough to leave a mark—something for him to wear long after this was over. When you finally pull away, Zayne lets out a soft hic, his hazy, tear-filled eyes locking onto yours with a look of longing…and unmistakable desire.

You open your mouth to tease him about it, but before you can, he surprises you—his voice needy and utterly wrecked as he stumbles over his words. "M-Miss...please, I- ah-! N-Need more, want t' be marked-"

Even as his consciousness crumbles, his desires remain clear. He knew exactly what he wanted from you now, and he wasn’t afraid to beg for it with each of his shameless moans and hips that were desperately meeting yours with every thrust.

Unable to deny your lover's desperate plea, you bite down, canines marking him as yours once more. Your tongue follows, soothing over the fresh wound, and causing Zayne to break off into a series of fast-paced cries. His body trembles as pleasure courses through his veins, a whimper of gratitude escaping him and sobs wracking his body as he cums, filling you up again and sending a wave of bliss through you, your cunt fluttering in the tell-tale sign of orgasm to seal both your fates.

"....Cumming just from a bite? Oh honey, you really are gone, aren't you?" You receive no answer but Zayne's flushed face, tear-streaked cheeks, and violent hiccups of pleasure let you know exactly what he would have said, anyways. He was completely spent. Yet you keep moving, using his cock to chase the last of your high.

When you finally reach your peak, your body tenses, shuddering through the aftershocks. Even then, you don't pull away, merely slowing to a gentle grind as you catch your breath. By now, Zayne was barely conscious, a hazy look in his eyes as his body twitches from the overstimulation. He weakly attempts to pull away, not wanting to keep his cum in you for too long but you push him right back down, a soft snort of amusement breaking free from you.

"Don't worry about it, honey. Let me stay like this for a little while, alright?" He only whines reluctantly in response but makes no further moves to resist. Instead, he simply lies there, his body spent, mind floating.

As the minutes pass, the heavy rise and fall of Zayne’s chest gradually even out, though the occasional aftershock still runs through his arms or legs. His hands that were gripping you so desperately now rest limply, his fingers twitching with the lingering echoes of pleasure.

You brush a hand through his damp hair, smoothing it back from his sweat-slicked forehead. His half-lidded eyes flutter at the touch, unfocused but filled with something tender—something that made your heart clench despite what you had just made him go through.

“There you go,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “Breathe, love.”

A faint hum vibrates in his throat, and after a few slow blinks, his dazed expression melts contentment. His lips part, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. “…You're insatiable.”

A warmth spreads through your chest as you giggle, shifting just enough to lie against him without breaking the intimate connection you both shared. "...I know. But you liked it, didn't you?"

He scoffs lightly, burying his face in your hair. Even without a response, the way his hands soothingly rubbed over your skin said enough. And as his body finally relaxes beneath you, you hold him close—letting the night settle around you, wrapped in the heat of each other’s presence.

a/n: BOOOOMSHAKALAKAAAAA I GOT SOMETHING OUT OF MY DRAFTS

[evis-gossip]

Thinking hard about retired!Simon and retired!Riley. A cute little fluffy thing about Simon and his K9 unit dog. Cuz he named the dog after himself and I personally find that a little odd, that at the same time, the dog would somehow be an exact replica of him but as a German Shepard.

Also thinking about how worried Simon would be about you and the dog getting along. His lil birdie he so in love with he's already planing your future together has to love Riley as much as he does. And maybe you've mentioned in passing that you don't enjoy dogs that much, but he holds on to faith. Simon knows how lovely Riley can be he just hopes he likes you as well remember how he has de same personality .

And then you meet Riley. It's the first time he has you over to his place. The flat is pretty empty, barely any furniture and absolutely no decoration, but it doesn't even cross his mind that you might find that odd, he just wants you to like Riley you can redecorate as much as you want once you move in. The dog barks when Simon comes in, and would usually go back to his nap, an old doggo yes he is, he gets up and goes to inspect this new guest. His tail starts wagging happily when you crouch down and coo over him, licking your face and practically jumping on you when you scratch behind his ears.

Simon almost frowns. He hadn't considered the possibility that you would start paying more attention to the dog than him, kissing his head repeatedly and sitting on the floor to cuddle him cuz Simon doesn't let Riley on the sofa. He was supposed to get cuddles from you but no, his dog gets all the attention. And then you start to spoil Riley rotten. Buying him all kinds of expensive treats, new toys and enrichment activities. Never would have Simon tried to put Riley on pastel pink sweater, but you do and Riley lets you. And Simon is almost jealous. Every time you coo at Riley that he's such good boy, yes he is, while rubbing his belly, he just crosses his arms, thinking "I'm a good boy too, I want belly rubs too"

Masterlist

[cyber333angel]

sevika making you squirt <3

a/n: sevikas kind of a bully, we dabble into watersports at the end, kind of dubcon but barely, enjoy (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

she had you sat down in between her legs, spread out and flustered while she worked you up with her thick fingers and harsh lips. bullying you with every touch and word that she knows will have you crying and cumming in just a moment, all you had asked for was for sevika to help you out a little but she just had to be so mean.

her orders were simple enough, she had told you to “ keep your legs open and your hands away from your cunt or ill stop yeah?” and you nodded, pliant to whatever she needed you to do, you just wanted to cum. you didn’t think it would be so difficult until sevikas hand we’re down your panties, your quivering legs closing on instinct when ever she would rub your sensitive clit in those mind boggling circular motions.

first rule already broken. but as it’s known, sevika was wrapped around your finger and always bended the rules for you with enough begging. she gave you a warning which was enough to fix yourself and behave before she really had to be strict with you.

with a small grunt from behind you, you immediately open your legs with an apology, “m’sorry vika..!” and she doesn’t praise you in response, you know better. the gentle grip she had on your throat tightened for a moment, feeling the cold metal against your skin only added to the pleasure, her mechanical arm always had that kind of effect on you.

the abuse on your cunt was resumed as she slid her thick fingers back into your sopping hole, thrusting them in and out that pulls the most jarring cry from your throat. “so fucking wet..” and with that you feel a heaviness in chest, you unconsciously buck your hips more into the palm of sevikas hand. “jus wait se-“ your arms fumbling around for some kind of release and you can’t even finish your sentences while sevika is basically laughing at you. “such a needy little pussy.” its all too much, the chokehold she had on your throat, her fingers deep in your cunt and the vibrating murmurs of her voice behind you.

without thinking you break rule two. it was inevitable honestly, sevikas fingers were so deep and slippery inside you along with her course thumb rubbing at your clit.. your hands innocently flew over sevikas, trying to grab a hold of the overstimulation and just calm yourself down for a moment despite your girlfriends stern orders. with your hand on top of sevikas you feel no motion. she stopped, just like she said she would. “what did I tell you hm baby?” placing kisses on your forehead, this fake sweet tone was all a facade for what she was really preparing you for. sevika had told you enough times to listen and just stay still but you just had to ruin it, with a pout you look back to sevika with your please-forgive-me eyes. “m’sorry I didn’t mean to sevi! please-just keep going..” you go on and on about how you’ll be a good girl and will listen properly this time, while she just watches at you blabbering waiting for you to stop.

you get the clue and stop talking with tears in your eyes, just hoping sevika would give you another chance. “good girl. finally taking the fuckin hint.” you try to make yourself small and hide into her hold until your back is against sevikas chest, dropping your head down to listen carefully. “you know i don’t wanna be mean to you baby..ill let you cum but you’ll have to work for it hm?” you perk up with all smiles as you turn around to kiss her on the cheek, chanting “thank you!”s repeatedly.

what you were not prepared for was actually having to work for it to cum, you were so used to being spoiled all the time you didn’t think she would purposely make you do all the work. you were still in her lap as sevikas thick fingers were held still in your cunt, laying there with no movement. she was making you fuck yourself on her fingers. not only was it embarrassing but it was tiring you out already. grinding your hips up and down sevikas digits as your slick runs down her hands. your crying as she holds your waist with her other hand, kissing at your back with humiliating praises. “feels good huh pretty girl? fucking dripping all over me..” the thought of even forming a full sentence was long gone, your head was blurry from all the whining and pleading you were doing. “please! need your help vika, can’t do it like you..” you gave up. you needed her help, needed to feel the way her fingers curled into that spot she knows oh too well in your cunt.

with a few thoughtless weak thrust on sevikas fingers you rest yourself on her chest, hazy eyes struggling to stay open. sevika thought about it and yeah, she’ll give you what you want. you asked for it anyway.

next thing you know your achey legs were on the sides of sevikas thighs in her lap with her hand around your neck, fingers deep and swift in the heat of your pussy. “always fuckin complaining huh, is this good enough for you princess? hm? im making this needy pussy feel good?” you both know it’s rhetorical but god you wished you could answer, it did feel good, unbelievably good. she shakes your throat with her hand and you start to croak. legs twitching across the bed with your back arching off sevikas abs. “stay still, you needed me right? can’t help if you squirm like that baby.”

your babbling incoherent pleads weakly and the feeling of her inside you starts to feel like too much —an invigorating pressure on your bladder specifically. “think im gonna pee vi-vika its too much!” her fingers slip in and out of your sopping hole, moving so hastily that the sound of your wetness was heard all around the room. and sevika was behind you enjoying the sight as if you weren’t struggling to control yourself. “s’not funny sevika I think I’m gonna cum!” damp thighs shaking on top of her legs as you shut your eyes, reaching your hands to clasp at the back of sevikas neck for some comfort. hiccuping and moaning at her.

sevika had her fun and finally gave in to let her baby cream on her fingers, surprised but impressed when she hears the spurts of liquid come out from your cunt. whines filling the air while sevika praises you on and keeps the same pace of her fingers in your pussy, “oh that’s my fucking girl, keep going. cumming so good for me messy girl.” placing a kiss to your temples and rubbing at your sensitive bud as your stream slowed down. now your crying with quivering thighs and soaked sheets while you sit spread out and embarrassed. “attagirl, it felt that good? huh? didn’t know you loved my fingers so much.” you groan sarcastically as you struggle to get up from the woman making fun of you, falling back into her lap with her arms wrapped around your waist. “im just kidding baby.” feeling her wipe your tears away with a smile.

[halfgirl-halfdolll]

You always try so hard to hide when something's bothering you. You're so careful not to let your phone unlocked and out in the open, you try not to let your eyes unfocus as you think about whatever's bothering you; you work so hard to keep being productive despite your sorrows.

But they know you better than yourself, doll.

They see how your shoulders tense up whenever you leave Price's office and how you're always so wary of your surroundings, looking this and that way, waiting behind walls to avoid certain people. You can't hide your fears from them. Not from them. Not from the ones who were placed in this godforsaken world to protect you no matter what.

Figuring things out is easy. There's a reason they're a special task force. Swooping your phone from you is as easy as stealing candy from a little kid, and so is unlocking your phone (you need to be more careful about your passwords, love. Really? Your childhood's dog birthday? That's like basic information for them).

And when you come back to the room, flustered, fretting over your phone, it's there: on Price's desk, as if it was untouched. They hide the anger caused by their discoveries behind clenched jaws and hardened eyes and wait until you leave to begin discussing their plan of action (it's cute how you still look at each one of them to make sure they didn't see a thing).

Love, why didn't you tell them? Why did they have to search through your messages to find the reason behind your sadness? Don't you trust them? They're your guard dogs, doll, why don't you just order them to maul and gnaw and rip to shreds whenever you need?

It took them breaking into your phone to find out about the Sergeant who's been messaging you. They could read the suspicion behind your words as you accused him of pranking you after he asked you out.

Pranking you? Pranking?

They read the following messages, where he admitted to his lies – it was a bet, he said. Some friends had bet a good amount of money that he wouldn't be courageous enough to ask you out and then stand you up. He then had the gall to thank you for believing his words and going to the date. For dressing up "weirdly" and being delusional enough to think someone like him would be interested in you.

"just an advice: putting lipstick on a pig doesn't work lmao thanks for guaranteeing me the money tho" he had said.

Seeing red wasn't enough to describe how they felt.

Soap could barely stay still. He leaned his weight on one foot and then the other, itching to run as fast as he could until he found the bastards that dared to insult his bonnie. He needed to feel their bones giving out as he punched them into a bloody pulp. He needed to scream, to let you know that you were too good for all of those scumbags, that he and his mates were the only ones who could appreciate you, touch you with the reverence and devotion that you deserved.

Gaz felt like he failed you. The sourness of his anger mingled with the bitterness of his sorrow. He swore he could taste his emotions on his tongue. He always makes sure to tell how beautiful he thinks you are, how lovely your uniqueness is to him – his little porcelain doll he wished he could place on a shelf. To think some random man managed to hurt you and disrespect you under his watch... it was unbelievable. He would spend a lifetime spoiling you until you forgot about it. After he sunk his teeth into those men throats and ripped them apart, of course.

Ghost was the other side of Soap's coin. But while the Scotsman wanted to seek and destroy as quickly as they do in action, Ghost wanted cruelty. He wanted to take it slow, deliberate. One fingernail for every tear they made you shed. One bone snapped in half for every second you suffered due to their disrespect. If it depended on him, they would only live up until the clouds that covered your sun cleared up. There would be no surrendering, no mercy. You deserve thorough revenge, lovie. And only the muzzle that Price puts on his rabid snout can hold Ghost back.

Price wondered why you didn't tell them about this... incident. Why? Are you trying to defend those poor excuses for men despite how terribly they disrespected you? No, that can't be it. You're their angel, but he knows you aren't some punching bag. Are you afraid they'd agree with those bastards? At that, Price has to laugh. You're so smart, love, but so so blind. You still can't see how they could sell their soul to you, if you became a devil. You still can't see how they'd kneel down on nails and pray to you if you became a saint. After Price pulls a few strings and manages to get that scum dishonorably discharged, he and his muppets would have to work really hard on making sure you know you're the only thing that matters.

[plethorawrites]

So, we all know Jason Todd would spoil the hell out of you, right? He'd know every detail, remember every important date, always do anything to make you feel special and wanted. The compliments would never stop, the random gifts always showed up, the physical affection never dwindled.

You loved it and he loved that you loved it.

But it was so normal (not to say it went unappreciated) that you almost didn't realize how lacking your own gestures were. Jason doesn't notice either, obviously.

However, he certainly starts to when instead of blowing a kiss to him from the couch when he leaves or comes home, you start getting up and draping your arms around him, kissing his cheek and lips. He'd never fault you for falling asleep when he's out on patrol in the middle of the night but feels a sense of warmth wash over him when you start leaving notes on his side of the bed telling him you missed him, or hope he was safe.

(+Bonus points if you told him his favorite food was waiting in the kitchen if he was hungry.)

You always match his energy when it comes to physical affection, holding him right back when he wraps his arms around you from behind or wrapping your legs around him while he holds you during the night, but realizing you almost never initiate it makes you reevaluate.

He notices, obviously, when you start asking him to join you in the shower or begin tugging him into your lap until his head is resting on your thighs and you can play with his hair. When you start smoothing out the few wrinkles on his shirt for him, or kissing his shoulder from behind while he works, sliding him a snack and telling him to eat.

It eventually all comes to a head when he's reading and you randomly start massaging his shoulders out of nowhere. Not that it doesn't feel good, because he always loves your soft hands on him, but he starts asking why you've been so affectionate lately you have no choice but to admit that you feel like you've been taking advantage of him.

"I never seem to give you the same kind of attention you give me," you confess, your hands softly kneading at the knots in his neck as he reads.

His head turns, one of his hands covering yours to get you to stop. "Is that what you think?" He asks, his voice much quieter, almost disappointed when you nod. He sets his book down on the table, dragging you around the chair and into his lap. "I give you attention because I like to," he explains, stroking your hair. "I don't need you to fawn over my every move."

You were his partner, not his parent. He didn't need to be watched over or fed and worried about to the extent you'd started leaning into. He needed your love, your support, your respect. Your honesty, kindness, compassion. Your smile, your laugh, your kisses. You, as you. His best friend and the love of his life.

Your lips pull into a tight line, arms wrapping around his neck. "You don't feel neglected?"

He almost laughs, shaking his head. "No," he states. "Never. I feel grateful as hell that you love me despite my past." He fusses with your hair for another moment before cupping your face. "I like showing you how much you mean to me."

You press your forehead against his. "I just don't ever want you to think you don't mean the same to me," you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper. You had always had a similar problem to him, struggling to accept love, let alone show it. He knew that.

His lips pull into a small smile. "I know. Believe me I know," he replies. "You don't need to follow me to the door every day or rub my shoulders for me to know you love me." He pauses for a moment, his voice getting a bit more playful. "But if you want to keep inviting me into the shower I won't complain."

[er1nne]

rafe hates when you buy things without using his card

(do not copy or plagarize, original work) The Range Rover hummed quietly, its blacked-out interior wrapping you and Rafe in a cocoon of shadows and muted streetlights. It had been his idea to take you for a nail day—completely unprompted but not surprising. Rafe had a way of knowing when you needed a little spoiling, especially after the week you’d had. The air smelled like his cologne, something expensive and sharp, mixing with the faint scent of leather from the seats. You were reclined comfortably with both legs stretched out, your freshly painted white toes wiggling lazily as you scrolled through your phone.

Rafe sat in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh. His thumb stroked absentminded circles into your skin while his sharp blue eyes flicked toward the darkened street ahead. Traffic was crawling, a sea of red taillights stretching endlessly ahead. Rafe didn’t seem too bothered, one hand resting on the wheel while the other stayed on your thigh. His thumb moved in slow, hypnotic circles against your skin, his blue eyes flicking between the road and the glow of your phone screen. He was calm—you liked him this way.

“What’s got you so quiet, huh?” His voice broke the silence, smooth but with an edge that always demanded your attention.

“Just trying to check out before everything sells out,” you mumbled, barely glancing up. You were busy, furiously tapping away as you finalized your cart. The latest House of CB drop was a battlefield, and you weren’t about to lose.

“Lemme see.” He leaned closer, his sharp gaze cutting toward your screen. When he caught sight of the digits you were typing, his brows furrowed, his jaw tightening. “Wait, is that your card?”

You paused, immediately bracing for what was coming. “Yeah? Why?”

Rafe let out a short, irritated laugh, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You have all of my cards saved to your phone, and you’re using your own card? What the hell for?”

“It’s not a big deal, Rafe.” You kept your voice calm, like you weren’t trying to spark an argument in the middle of what was such a nice day. “It’s not like I can’t afford it.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a humorless smirk. “Afford it?” he repeated, voice tinged with a certain tone to it. “Sweetheart, I literally pay for your life. Why do you even have a card? For decoration?”

You glared at him, but the faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips betrayed you. “Rafe—”

“No, seriously,” he cut in, shaking his head as if the idea itself was absurd. “What are you holding onto that thing for? Just in case I drop dead tomorrow and you suddenly need it?”

You huffed an air of annoyance as a pout covered your slightly glossed lips and starred out the car window. The car filled with an almost unbearable silence. His hand, which had been rubbing your thigh, went still.

He turned to glance at you a few times before looking back at the road, the corner of his mouth twitching with a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “Afford-” he repeated again slightly scoffing, voice low and slow, like he was trying to decide if you were messing with him. “Do you even hear yourself?”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms leaning slightly closer to his natural warmth. “It’s not that much.”

“To you. To me, that’s pocket change.” His fingers drummed a little harder against the steering wheel now, a restless energy creeping into his movements more obvious than ever.

“Rafe,” you started to whine, but he cut you off, shaking his head.

“Nah. Don’t start.” He turned fully to face you now, his hand lifting to cup your jaw, gently but firmly enough that you couldn’t look away. “Why do you always make this a thing? Is it so hard to let me take care of you? That’s why I’m here. To take care of you. You’re supposed to let me.”

Your resolve faltered under his intense gaze. He wasn’t just irritated—he was hurt. His words were a reminder, the same ones he’d given you before. Rafe wasn’t just possessive for the sake of it—he hated seeing you stress over anything, especially when he had the means to give you whatever you needed, whenever you wanted it. He didn’t want you holding onto burdens you didn’t have to carry. He’d told you before how it made him feel when you refused to lean on him, how he hated the idea of you ever struggling when he had the means to make your life easier. Rafe always told you how much he loved taking care of you, he felt proud to. Anything you ever want, he would give you, plus more.

“I’m not helpless,” you said softly, and it sounded weak even to your own ears.

“Did I say that you were?” he shot back immediately, his sharp blue eyes flicking from the road to meet yours. There was no trace of anger in his voice, just a steady, unyielding determination. “I know what you’re capable of. But you don’t have to do it all alone anymore.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his gaze softening, though his tone stayed firm. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. You’re mine, remember? So stop making it harder than it needs to be. Let me do my job.”

Even while navigating the slow-moving traffic, his focus on you didn’t waver. His eyes flicked back to yours, holding them for just a second longer than he should have, but long enough to make your heart skip a beat. You felt the weight of his words settle over you, the quiet conviction in his voice leaving no room for argument.

“Rafe…” you started. You stared at him for a long moment before finally relenting, handing over your phone with a quiet sigh. “Fine. Just this once.”

He smirked, already deleting your card details and replacing them with his own Amex Black information. The confirmation dinged almost immediately, and he handed the phone back to you, smug satisfaction written all over his face. “There. Easy. Now you’ve got your shit, and I’ve got my peace of mind.”

“Thank you,” you muttered, cheeks warming as you avoided his eyes.

Rafe tilted your chin up, his fingers brushing against your jaw as he pressed a lingering kiss to your lips. “Don’t thank me, baby. Just stop making this harder than it has to be. Just let me take care of you?” A small pout covered your slighly glossed lips as you responded to him in a small voice, "Okay."

“That’s my girl,” He smiled and leaned back in his seat, hand returning to your thigh as he glanced toward the street, his usual sharp focus slipping back into place.

You smiled slightly, your frustration melting away as you leaned into him. Because no matter how stubborn you could be, you both knew he’d always win in the end. And deep down, you didn’t mind.

[dearhargrove]

summary for all that he’s rough, you're soft.

word count 817

You're all over him the second he comes home. He's covered in blood, sweat and other substances — all from his most recent ‘hunt’.

And yet you're clinging to him, arms around his narrow waist and pretty smiling face pushed into his chest. He has soft sides to him, goofy ones, that usually only come out when he's with his brother Dimitri. But with you he finds himself uncaring, not masking any emotions whatsoever.

“You took longer than I thought.. had me worried.” It's a murmur into his skin and his large hands gently wrap around your waist in reassurance, “I am fine. Not a scratch.”

It's a lie and you both know it; he's bruised up and bloody in too many places for you to not be worried.

“Go, you need a shower.”

He obeys your command and does a quick playful bow, which makes you chuckle. As you're about to go back to your previous task of putting new sheets on the bed you feel yourself being lifted up and held to a firm chest. With a yelp you grab at the next best thing – in this case his shoulders.

“I think I deserve my girl in the shower, too.”

He grins and when he's in the bathroom he sets you down on the counter next to the sink, making it his task to carefully and slowly undress you, leaving you only in panties. When you're bare he momentarily stops in his tracks, eyes taking in your soft and unmarred skin.

“Never gonna let anything happen to you,” he suddenly promises, firmly gripping your thighs. Your pout from being manhandled turns into a soft expression and you hum knowingly, pecking his shoulder sweetly.

“I know.”

He stares thoughtfully for a moment longer, then takes his own pants off and gets into the shower to adjust the water temperature, holding out his hand to you when the water is warm.

You slide off the counter, take your panties off and grasp his hand, not fully able to wrap your fingers around his large palm and let him pull you under the stream of water.

His eyes are just as intense as always as he watches you get your hair soaked and body warmed up. Blindly reaching for your shampoo he makes a noise in the back of his throat before firm fingers begin to massage your shampoo into your scalp and hair carefully.

While the water washes away the suds you open your eyes again, adoring smile on your face. “Hi, handsome.”

He huffs in amusement and shortly taps under your chin.

The shower takes as long as it usually does when you share, him insisting to wash your hair and your body, then in turn huffing at being pampered himself. When you step out he has a steadying hand on your waist to prevent any accidents on the damp floor, already wrapping a soft towel around your body before you could even ask for one.

While he does your hair care for you, you focus on brushing your teeth and doing the little skincare you own — turning to grin at him with your face shiny with lotion and smelling of sugar and sweetness.

He pokes your side before brushing his own teeth, running his fingers through his curls and calling it a day.

“Sergei,” you pout, always quick to keep his skin from going dry as well as his hair. He sighs and bends down enough so you can reach, already accustomed to your little routine, as you lotion his face and put some hair oil into his curls.

“All done.” He hums and looks at you with all the adoration in the world mirrored in his blue eyes. He's still shirtless, only in his boxers – and of course wearing the necklace – while you're in your pajamas, fuzzy socks, slippers and a soft bathrobe.

He can't help but count himself the luckiest man alive; living a life as comfortable as this, no matter the side of brutality, with a girl like you waiting for him at home every day.

Acting on his desire he easily picks you up and carries you pressed to his firm chest into bed, careful as he lays you down.

“I'm being spoiled,” you giggle and he melts just a little further, letting your hands pull him down onto the mattress so you can cuddle into his side and use his chest as a pillow.

“Always need to spoil my girl,” he muses, fingers spread on your lower back.

You smile into his skin and trace invisible shapes on his firm abs, already halfway into a nap. You just barely hear it when he mumbles an ‘I love you’ and kisses the top of your head, but it makes you smile and squeeze impossibly closer to him.

[xhyjin]

husband toji! who would try his best to spoil you, even when he’s struggling financially. you want a romantic getaway? don’t worry, because he’s already saving up, cutting corners wherever he can, just to see the joy on your face when he surprises you with the trip of your dreams.

husband toji! he isn’t the most romantic man, but he tries his best. when he notices the small smile on your face as you watch a man surprise his partner with flowers hidden behind his back, he makes a mental note. the next time he’s away on a mission that lasts too long, he shows up at your door with a slightly crumpled bouquet in hand, looking a little awkward but secretly proud when he sees your face light up.

husband toji! who loves when you fall asleep on him—not just because he enjoys running his fingers through your hair as you rest on his chest, but also because it’s the perfect opportunity to snap a picture of the two of you. with a smirk on his face in the photo, he sends it to shiu with the caption, “bet you don’t have a cutie laying on you right now.” it always earns him an immediate middle-finger reply from shiu, which only makes his grin wider.

husband toji! who never expected to find himself in this position again—so lovestruck and soft for you that it sometimes scares him. he’s torn between wanting to bare his soul to you and protect you from the weight of his past. he doesn’t know if he should tell you about his late wife and the son he left behind, afraid it might change the way you see him, but also yearning for you to understand the parts of him he’s kept hidden for so long.

husband toji! who knows it’s wrong, knows he should let you be independent, but he can’t help himself. when you think he’s at work, he’s actually following you from a distance, keeping an eye on you to make sure you’re safe. the guilt of shadowing you like a stalker eats at him, but the thought of failing to protect you is even worse. so, he watches quietly, torn between trusting the world and trusting only himself to keep you safe.

husband toji! who finds himself spending money on “useless” and “childish” things like cute plushies or clothes simply because they remind him of you. he’ll grumble about it under his breath, but the moment he sees your delighted smile when he gives them to you, he knows it’s worth every penny.

husband toji! who doesn’t prepare for missions by training or strategizing beforehand, but by taking a long shower using your body wash, your shampoo, your conditioner, and your lotion—anything that smells like you. he sprays your perfume all over his body and clothes, not caring if anyone (shiu) questions why he smells so feminine and sweet. the comforting scent of you clings to him like a shield, grounding him when he’s away and reminding him of the warmth waiting for him at home.

husband toji! who secretly adores when you ask for his help with the little things. need help putting on your necklace for date night? he’s already behind you, gently moving your hair aside, his fingers brushing your skin as he clasps it on, all while staring at you lovingly through the mirror. need help opening a jar? don’t worry—he’s leaning over you in an instant, taking the jar from your delicate hands and twisting it open with ease. before you can thank him, he dips a finger into the jam, tastes it, and smirks, “almost as sweet as you,” he whispers in your ear, walking away just as he catches the sight of your flustered reflection in the marble counter.

husband toji! who sometimes forgets the strength of his own body, so he’s always extra, extra gentle with you. whether it’s holding your hand, pulling you into a hug, or brushing a strand of hair from your face, he moves with deliberate care, afraid of even the slightest chance of hurting you. his touch, though strong, always feels like the softest embrace, as if he’s protecting something he treasures more than anything.

husband toji! who picks up your hobbies just to have more in common with you, even if they’re things he never imagined himself doing—like painting, baking, or knitting. at first, he fumbles awkwardly, grumbling about how “this isn’t his thing,” but before long, he finds himself enjoying it more than he expected. the real joy, though, comes from seeing your excitement as you share these moments together, making him realize he’d try anything if it meant spending more time with you.

husband toji! who, after a gut-wrenching moment during one of his missions, realizes he doesn’t want to do it anymore. he doesn’t want to risk his life when all he wants is to spend it with you. knowing it’ll be hard to convince shiu, he brings you along under the pretense that you’re just meeting his friend. as you take a seat beside him, your face glowing with excitement at finally meeting one of his friends, toji and shiu sit across and beside you, their expressions serious as they speak in coded phrases to keep you blissfully unaware of toji’s real job. toji glances at you, his heart softening at your smile, and silently vows to make his case to shiu—because you’re his reason to walk away from it all.

husband toji! who will gladly hold your purse without hesitation when it keeps slipping off your shoulder, or carry your heels in one hand while giving you his slippers to wear, walking barefoot himself without a second thought. he doesn’t care about the stares or the inconvenience—your comfort is all that matters to him, and he’d do anything to make sure you’re at ease.

husband toji! whose favorite hobby, out of all the ones he picked up from you, is coming home to find you asleep on his side of the bed, wearing his tee and boxers, clutching his pillow to your chest. he gently removes the pillow, replacing it with himself as he slides into bed, pulling you close. with his arms around you, he kisses your forehead and whispers softly in your ear how grateful he is for you and how deeply he loves you, even if you can only hear him in your dreams.