#especially after you have not had them take a single test in their life

[tonsillessscum]

*screams into my pillow bc my parents set me up for failure bc of the way they educated me*

[saintobio]

blank canvas.

problems arise when your tattoo artist boyfriend starts getting too cozy with the girls that wanted him to do more to their bodies than just inking their skin. the thing is, they knew what he wanted and they knew what you couldn’t give.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags. nudity, insecure!reader, virgin!reader, dry humping, mentions of needles, mentions of cheating, slutshaming

notes. if you’ve been here for a while, yes this is a repost from an old hq fic :’D i rewrote and remodeled it for sukuna bc i feel like he fits this au!

part 2 | part 3 | epilogue

Sukuna had seen it all.

He wasn’t dumb and he most definitely wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he was attractive, bringing him a clientele of adoring women who would frequently visit his tattoo parlor. Who could blame them? He was handsome, had a good physique, and an overwhelming aura that pulled the attraction of many women, single or not, who were desperate to vie for his attention. His tattoos and his dyed hair even added to the overall bad boy persona that he had which, to be fair, was a girl’s guilty pleasure. 

The women were very assertive, it seemed, to try and lure Sukuna into their little seduction game. Was he getting tempted into it? No. He was loyal and he’d like to stay loyal to his kind and beautiful girlfriend. After all, winning you over wasn’t as easy as it would with any other girl. 

However, there were certain moments that almost tested his loyalty to you, especially when some of the women would ask to have their tattoos done on the most intimate places of their bodies. 

Take yesterday as an example: one girl asked to have a tattoo on her buttocks and she was certainly more satisfied at the feeling of Sukuna’s palms on her bum rather than the actual tattoo she was getting. And to top it all, she bluntly asked if he offered more service rather than just giving tattoos. Crazy. 

He had previously mentioned it to you that as part of his job, he was obligated to give his clients the tattoos they requested, regardless of where on their bodies they wanted them. It was strictly business. Ironically, despite dating a tattoo artist like himself, you had no single trace of inked art on your body. You were an untouched canvas that had never been painted on. Still, Sukuna respected your choice and he surely respected your boundaries even more. 

He knew that you had always been a gentle girl when he first met you at the floral shop across the street. You were always prim and proper, always dressed modestly, always following the rules, and always doing the right thing. All you cared about doing was to express your love through the delicate petals you arranged in your flower-scented haven. You were happy to be in your own little bubble, content in the company of fragrant blossoms and soft-spoken solitude. Introverted. Reserved. Pure. Unassuming. He was the exception to your goody-two-shoes nature, because he ended up winning your heart despite being the complete opposite of you. It wasn’t an easy task, either. Deciding to get to know you was on a whim at first, since he was intrigued about your simple joys in life and how you weren’t the type of girls that would visit his tattoo parlor. Something about your demure nature pulled him in until he realized that there was nothing else he wanted in this world but to make you his. He began by greeting you every morning from across the street, then giving you the same bouquet of flowers he purchased from your shop, followed by sending you texts complimenting how beautiful you looked as he watched you from his store, and finally asking you out on spontaneous dates.

It may be a bit peculiar to see the two of you together, but Sukuna pursued you because liked you. He was undeniably in love with you. He liked your smile, liked how cute and adorable you were, and liked how a simple look at you made him want to be a better man. He loved the idea of being with a girl he could protect. 

The main issue was, Sukuna dropped out of college and just decided to open a tattoo parlor business because he simply didn’t want to waste his years studying for something that he wasn’t passionate about. But that was the source of your parents’ distaste. They told you that you had no future with a guy like him. They said that they would disown you as a daughter if you decided to choose him. They called him dirty, rebellious, and uneducated. 

At that point, he thought that you would leave him after learning his rather reckless choices in life, but you stayed. 

You left your parents' home and stayed with him.

And he was grateful that you did. 

So to ask the question again, would he ever do something to betray you after everything that happened between you two? Of course, not. Not in a million years, no

But then again, he was also just doing his job and it wasn’t like he was purposely flirting with the girls that often flocked him during work hours. He was simply accommodating a client. Nothing more, nothing less. 

And on one of those typical days, he had to work overtime when one of his returning clients asked for her fifth tattoo to be done by him. He just finished picking up the tools he needed as she walked towards the recliner seat asking, “Should I sit here?” 

He nodded once, turning around to face the girl who looked at him with her alluring eyes. “Yeah, just let me know when you’re ready.” 

Oh yes, she was surely ready. She even had a smirk displayed on her face when she slowly unbuttoned her shirt, keeping her gaze at him while teasingly revealing her busty pair. 

He didn’t really pay attention to the size of her tits but instead, just casually pointed to a certain part of her body, “Is this where you want it?” he asked, referring to the lower left part of her breast.

With a very flirtatious grin, she nodded, clearly knowing that her assets were her biggest weapon. “Yes. Would it be easier if I took off my bra, yeah?” 

“You don’t have to. I can work it out,” he casually responded, reaching for his glove and busying himself with all the tool preparations. 

The girl let out a silent giggle along with her best friend who sat on the side, waiting for her turn. Waiting to be the recipient of Sukuna’s full attention. Sigh. 

“No, I can take it off for you,” the girl insisted, unclasping her bra and setting her huge breasts free for him to ogle at. They were perfectly round, probably a 40D, and a light pink shade for her nipples. With how firm they were sitting on her chests, she had probably gotten them done.  

He cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he asked her to sit on the recliner chair. Sukuna had seen women half naked in his shop before, but this was the first time someone willingly got naked in front of him, most especially with other intentions rather than to simply get a tattoo. 

Because of the awkwardness, he went ahead and blasted some heavy metal music to distract his mind. He had to think of something else and not stare at the girl’s luscious tits. He had to shift his mind to somewhere else like, for example, why the girl chose a calligraphy of the words ‘la douleur exquise’ on her skin this time.

“Is this French?” he nonchalantly asked, motioning for her to rest her back while he wiped the chosen area with a damp cotton pad. He specifically avoided brushing his hand on her breast, but it looked like the girl was actually angling herself to make him touch it more. 

“It means exquisite pain,” she purred, batting her thick eyelashes at him. 

His lips formed a smirk, impressed at how much of a skank she was willing to be for him. It wasn’t new, as established before. He’d also had a fair share of women who tried to get into his pants last week, but none of them were successful. He actually found it entertaining to watch them do all sorts of stunts to make him give in. To make him submit himself to his carnal desires. He was a man after all. He had needs, he had to get some form of release, otherwise it could pose a problem in his masculinity. 

All while she was getting her tattoo done, the other girl got up from her seat to walk closer to her best friend. Sukuna decided to refer to them in his head as Slut 1 and Slut 2 because he had no intentions of knowing their names. He knew slut-shaming was terrible, but he never said he was a man of virtue and truthfully, how else could he describe them? 

“Hey, Sukuna,” the other girl called, sitting at an empty stool with a smile. “You’re single, right?” 

He kept his eyes focused on the skin he was inking on. “...No.” 

Even from the corner of his eye, he knew that both girls looked surprised, “No way? You have a girlfriend?” 

Was it really that much of a shock? 

“Yeah, she owns the floral shop across the street,” he mumbled, wiping the trace of blood on the girl’s skin after he finished another letter. 

There was a visible pout on Slut 1’s face as if learning that Sukuna had a girlfriend was more painful than the needle pricking at her skin. “So, what’s she like?” 

Sukuna thought for a while because he didn’t know where to begin. It was too much of a long story for them to hear about. You were everything he wanted in a woman and that was all he knew. “She’s cute and kind.” 

His words earned a giggle from Slut 2. “Is she like the good girl type?” 

“She is.” He figured it would be okay to converse about you like this. Besides, he would rather be talking about you than to have these girls just try to flirt with him relentlessly. 

“How much of a good girl, though?” Slut 1 egged on, “I bet she’s a virgin and a prude.” 

That was obviously none of their business, but damn. They hit a nerve that they shouldn’t have. No one else had managed to bring up a topic like that to him, more so a topic that he himself knew not to cross. His sex life wasn’t as fruitful as anyone thought so, yet not once in his life did he complain. Not once did he talk about it to anyone. Not once did he tell anyone that he had been dating you for a year now and you two never really went further than making out. 

“I respect her,” was his answer, much to the two girls’ dismay.

“That’s kinda boring, though,” the other girl claimed, draping her arm around his shoulder before leaning close to his ear. “You’re still a man and you have needs. If I were her, I’d sleep with you every day. In every position.” 

The girl on the recliner chair grinned. “Totally! Like, you’re so hot and I feel like you’re good in bed.” 

Fuck. 

He almost messed up one of the letters because his mind just flew to somewhere unforgivable. It was a sin to even think about, but shit, he definitely missed the feeling of fucking someone. He couldn’t even remember the last time he did so. 

“Sukuna?” 

He snapped out of his trance and looked up upon hearing the familiar voice, only to find you by the door, your eyes filled with hurt.

“Hey—” 

Your voice was caught in your throat as you avoided his gaze. “I just... I thought you were done.” 

In a swift motion, you hurriedly walked out of the room before dashing out the door. You didn’t even bother to look back, dead set on leaving him alone with the girls. Your footsteps were far too quick to even catch and he was hoping that you would at least slow down. 

“Babe!” he called, unable to chase after you as you shut the door. An exasperated sigh followed. 

This was going to be a big problem 

Just what was he thinking? 

He had a half naked girl in front of him and another girl clinging to him like he didn’t have a girlfriend. It must have hurt you a lot. No, it definitely wrecked you.

“Uh-oh...” the girl mocked. “I can sense trouble” 

He decided to leave it be for now and get his job done as soon as possible, even thinking of banning the two girls from going into his shop just to avoid further trouble. He had a lot of explaining to do and he couldn’t wait to go home to make sure that you would listen to him, not overthink the whole thing and place your assumptions because hurting you was the last thing he would do.

At least, he hoped you knew that.   

You were washing the dishes when Sukuna came home and the first thing he did was to wrap his arms around you. He had your waist caged in his tight embrace, his chin resting on your shoulder as he whispered sweet nothings to you. To be real, you weren’t in the mood to see his face after what you saw this afternoon. You get it—he was exposed to all sorts of people with his line of work and most of them probably couldn’t just ignore his physical appearance. You were aware that some girls were only getting a tattoo to get close to him. Heck, you were aware that they all wanted to be with him.

But the only reason you were hurt wasn’t because he was desired by women, but because those very same women were all better than you in more ways than one. They fit his type more than you did and you were sure that they could give him exactly what he wanted. 

Still, it awfully tugged at your heartstrings. 

He was yours, not theirs. You had the right to be jealous when a girl was getting cozy with your man, but to see him letting them have their way? That was a different story. 

“Baby, talk to me,” he mumbled, planting a soft, apologetic kiss on your neck. 

You gave him the silent treatment as you walked away and dried your hands with a towel. What else would you say? He should already be aware of why you were acting that way. He should be the one to try and talk to you, not the other way around. And with your stubborn mind, you did your best to keep your insouciance, pulling his tattooed arms off of you and heading towards the couch. 

You could hear his sigh as he followed you, but you were determined to keep your eyes glued on the TV screen. If he wanted to talk, he should do the talking, you reminded yourself over and over. 

“You’re really pissed at me, huh,” he spoke as soon as he sat next to you, a hand carefully placed on your thigh. “I’m sorry.” 

“They’re pretty hot, aren’t they?” The bitter question left your mouth before you thought of holding back. 

He scooted closer and hooked an arm around your shoulder this time. “Definitely nowhere near as hot as my girlfriend.” 

What a load of… You rolled your eyes, remembering how the girls looked and how comfortable he was with them. “Yeah, right.” 

You couldn’t explain the tightness on your chest every time you recalled the scene earlier because you knew, you just knew, that there was more that could have happened if you didn’t check on him. You saw it in his eyes, even for a split second, that he almost gave in to temptation. How could he not? You were a prude just as they described—just because you didn’t have any sexual experience like they did. Perhaps when they called you boring, they were right and Sukuna wanted to agree. 

He couldn’t be stuck with a girlfriend that he couldn’t even have sex with, could he? 

“I shouldn’t have let them put their hands on me like that,” he admitted, showing his dire attempt to look apologetic. “Only you can.” 

You took a deep breath and shook your head. “I don’t even know why you’re still with me, Sukuna. I put so many boundaries between us. Don’t you get tired of me?” 

“Fuck no,” he quickly answered, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Never. You’re the only one for me.” 

Truth be told, you did feel bad that he couldn’t fully experience you as a girlfriend, but he had been very patient and respectful towards you. He never crossed the line and never forced you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. He said he was doing that because you never gave up on him even when you had the choice to. He said that you were worth waiting for. He said that he was satisfied with what you two already had.

Maybe you could let this one incident go, after all, he was never really a bad boyfriend to you. Sure, he looked like a bad boy, but when it came to you, he was surprisingly soft. 

“Okay,” you muttered, sighing in defeat and finally meeting his eyes. “Just don’t do it again. I don’t care if they get naked in front of you. Please set some boundaries and don’t entertain them too much or you’ll give off the wrong impression.” 

Your leniency earned a smile from him, delighted to earn your trust again so he made an effort to peck your lips. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“You’re annoying.” 

“You love me.” 

“I do,” you professed, placing a hand on his cheek, “so much.” 

Pleased with your words, he leaned in again to give you a much, much deeper kiss. He knew it was all he could do with you, but he wanted to make you feel that his kisses were satisfying enough for the both of you. Just with the way he moved his lips against yours and how your tongue rolled around his—it was almost impossible to breathe at one point, but he softened the kiss to allow yourself to catch some air. 

Gosh, you were jealous again. You were becoming annoyed as your mind ran at full speed, thinking of how those girls thought they could put their hands on your man. You were livid at how they tried to steal him from you. 

“You’re mine, right?” you asked for reassurance, pulling away to look at his dominating eyes. 

The smirk on his lips was replaced by a cheeky grin. “All yours, darling.” 

You didn’t know what gave you the sudden confidence to straddle his lap after he said that, but it just felt right. You wanted more of his physical affection and felt like you couldn’t get enough. Both of you were taken aback, obviously, because this wasn’t something you would normally do, and so the heat on your cheeks was mixing with the surprised look on his face. You were sitting directly on his crotch and he was having a hard time to control himself. 

“Babe,” he breathed on your neck. “You don’t have to force yourself.” 

He was right, but the thought of the other girls constantly seducing him behind your back just gave way to your deepest insecurities. You didn’t have the most perfect body in the world and you most definitely didn’t have the skills in bed that he expected—you were scared that you might lose him because of these facts. Or that he would find someone better, even at the cost of having them on the side. 

“Hey,” he spoke again, making you look at his eyes as you relaxed into his touch. “It’s fine. If you want it, I can be gentle. We can go slow.” 

“I-I don’t know... I just,” you hesitated, not knowing exactly how to put it into words. 

You didn’t know why sex intimidated you. It should be as easy as 1-2-3,  just him putting his member inside you, right? But you weren’t really scared of doing the act itself, you were scared that once you did it, he would leave you because he already got what he wanted. Losing it to the wrong person sounds like a nightmare and that was why you were having trouble coming into terms of losing your virginity before marriage. 

You could feel the hardness on his crotch pressing against your core and you didn’t expect a moan escaping your lips when you moved at the slightest. The fabric of your shorts were thin enough for you to feel the outline of his hardened member, displaying a prominent bulge on his sweatpants. You haven’t seen how big he was, but you could tell just by looking at his bulge that he was huge. Could you even take that? 

He held your waist and guided you to move again, this time urging you to move your hips back and forth, allowing you to feel the friction from his hard erection. Lust was clouding his eyes and it made you feel weak. 

“How does it feel?” he asked, his hot breath tickling your ear. 

You continued grinding on him with your lips parted, releasing your silent moans, “G-Good.”

He leaned forward to kiss your neck, eventually sucking the soft skin to leave his beautiful marks. “I wanna eat you down there, baby,” he growls under his breath, squeezing your right breast, “You’re gonna taste so good, I bet.” 

“Suku—” you whined, gripping his hair while he started matching your movements with his own. It was a foreign feeling for you to feel his bulge rubbing against your untouched core. 

“Fuck,” he cussed in a low voice, squeezing your ass with his huge hands in growing excitement. “Let me get a condom.” 

This was it. 

It was happening. 

Or was it?

Your eyes widened in panic as you pushed him back onto the couch. It was as though all of your senses were awakened and your body was telling you that you shouldn’t be doing all this. “N-No, I... I’m not ready.” 

You didn’t mean to always chicken out when you two were almost about to do it. You just didn’t feel confident enough to give yourself yet and even if you badly wanted to, you just couldn’t make yourself do it.

You could see the hint of disappointment on his face and he was trying to hide it. 

“Right,” he exhaled deeply with his head thrown back on the headrest. “It’s alright. Maybe next time,” he convinced himself. 

“I’m sorry,” you softly mumbled, hand gripping on his shirt. 

He gave you a quick peck on the lips before pulling you out of his lap and getting up from the couch. “Yeah, yeah. It’s fine.” 

You stayed seated as you watched him walk away. “Where are you going?” 

“I have to finish this off on my own,” he answered without looking back. You realized he was referring to the act of touching himself because you just couldn’t do the job for him. It was obvious how frustrated he was and for goodness sake, you did feel guilty, but then again, he didn’t act like this before. When you told him you didn’t want to do it further, he would simply laugh it off and say he would wait for you. 

This wasn’t the same Sukuna that said that. 

You became a little paranoid. 

Considering that girls would still pay your boyfriend a visit at the tattoo parlor, you always ended up overthinking about what he was doing while you were supposed to be busy at the floral shop. In the middle of arranging a bouquet of beautiful peonies, your mind was on haywire. You just didn’t feel at ease. You felt like anyone could easily snatch him away from you because you weren’t particularly a striking girl to begin with. You were leaning on the simple, conservative side rather than the rebellious, liberated women that swarmed his shop in hopes of sleeping with him. 

Because your thoughts were eating you alive, you decided to head to his tattoo parlor after closing the shop to make sure that he wasn’t doing any funny business. 

And you were somehow right. 

About three girls were in there this time, two of which you had already seen a couple of days ago, and they were already leaving the parlor just as you arrived. 

“You’re really amazing, Sukuna,” one of the girls told him in gratitude, “I might get another one soon.” 

You watched them walk past you with a smug expression on their faces as they left the shop. Sukuna had then seen you standing by the door with your arms crossed. 

“Really?” you questioned, walking inside with a frown. “They’re here again?” 

He sighed and walked back to his station while cleaning the mess from the tattoo session. He wasn’t even trying to win you over anymore. “I can’t just ask them not to come anymore. They’re still clients.”

“Let me guess,” you continued, “Did one of them get naked in front of you again? Did you let them put their hands all over you again? Did you perhaps forget that you had a girlfriend again?” 

His brows, now furrowed in annoyance and his mouth, thinning in displeasure. “No. We talked about this.” 

You held your breath, raising a brow in return. “I’m starting to think you’re doing more for them than just giving them tattoos.” 

“Like, what? Sell my body?” His question was clearly a taunt. A spasm of irritation crossed his face, but he still managed to display a mocking smile. “Is that what you’re suggesting, angel?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Then, what?” 

“You know what I mean,” you replied, trying to get your point across while keeping your composure. “You’re an attractive man and they’re the type of women you would willingly sleep with.” 

“Jesus. You’re so insecure, it’s crazy,” he retorted, rolling his eyes at you. 

Insecure? You couldn’t believe, just couldn’t believe he called you insecure. The air crackled with tension as your jaw tightened, muscles twitching with every suppressed urge to lash out.

“I wonder why!” Your voice rose hysterically. “If you weren’t busy flirting with those girls, maybe I won’t be so insecure.” 

“I said I’m not flirting with them!” he argued, slamming his gloves on the floor. His face contorted into a mask of rage and he looked at you with frustration that you had never seen before. It hurt. It certainly hurt. He had been acting distant since the night you didn’t give in to him and you knew that his exasperation towards you was rooting from that. 

Your breathing became unsteady. “But you know you’d sleep with them if given the chance. Since I couldn’t do it with you.” 

“Then, just fucking do it with me instead of bitching about it every day!” he snapped, voice thick with insinuation. “I don’t wanna be stuck acting like I give two shits about your interest in flowers and whatever nonsense you like to talk about. I wanna be with someone I can have sex with, not sit on the couch all day with a boring person like you!” 

His hurtful words left you frozen like a statue, unable to move while being dominated by the shooting pain inside your chest. 

You knew this day would come—that he would eventually get tired of waiting around for something that he could easily get from others. However, what hurt you most was the fact you believed he wasn’t that type of guy. That he wasn’t with you solely for what you could give, but rather, for what you just had. You thought he sincerely understood your boundaries and respected your choices the very same way you respected his, but it seemed that he had another thought in his head all along. 

After seeing the look on your face, Sukuna had softened his gaze and walked closer to you in reproach to his words and actions, “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean that.” 

A tear fell from your eye as you looked at him with both anger and pain building inside of you. Your eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You wanna have sex? Is that what you want?” Your voice cracked in the middle of your sentence. “You wanna do it so bad, let’s fucking do it, then!” 

Your fingers forced their way to spitefully unbutton your blouse despite his desperate efforts to stop you. You must be going crazy. But also, he drove you to this point. 

“Baby, no,” he said in remorse, grabbing your wrists tightly. “No, I’m sorry. I’m content with you. I really am, I’m sorry. Please.” 

Your chest heaved as you cried, unable to stop your emotions from exposing all of your vulnerabilities. “It’s obviously not enough for you.” Your voice quivered, each word a fragile whisper trembling with the weight of unspoken sadness as you sniffled and wiped your eyes. “You knew what kinda girl I am when you dated me.”

He pulled you for a hug and kissed your temple way too many times that you lost count. He felt absolutely sorry for ever hurting you with his words, but they just hit you so painfully to the point that your gaze grew distant and your face was clouded with resignation. 

“I know what kinda girl you are and I’m in love with you for it,” he reaffirmed, as if trying to get it through your head but his words were beginning to feel empty. “Please, believe me. I really didn’t mean what I said. You’re enough for me, baby. You’re all I want.” 

You didn’t feel comfort from his words, but you still returned his embrace because you loved him. Because you knew, even if he said more hurtful words, that you would still love him. Sure, you would be angry, but your love for him ruled higher than your pride. 

You were just scared of losing him over something like this. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered in your ear before placing a soft, apologetic kiss on your lips. 

When he pulled away, your heart still felt heavy, but you managed to conceal your face with an agonizing smile. 

“I love you, too.” 

He ran his thumb across your cheek and held your waist on his other hand. You just couldn’t get his words out of your head even after he apologized, because you never knew he was seeing your relationship that way all along. 

The girls were right. He was a man after all and he had needs. 

The fact that he was staying with you despite not fulfilling his needs must be a work of charity for him, and eventually, he would get sick of waiting around. He would desire you less and less the more the days passed by and it wasn’t absolutely crazy to think that he could potentially meet another girl he liked that was willing to give it all. 

The mere thought of it scared you. 

“I’ll do it with you tonight,” you offered, your voice breaking, hoping that you could finally break the barrier and be enough for him. 

[shaisuki]

POSITIVE TEST RESULTS

ft. gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, geto suguru

content warnings ─── pregnancy, babytrapping, noncon, dubious consent, stockholm syndrome, implied abuse, breeding kink, mentions of abortion, allusions to suicide. dead dove do not eat.

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ a baby! the excitement and the incomprehensible joy they felt when they are expecting from you. a blessing or a curse? anyways, no matter what it is to keep you in place with them.

GOJO SATORU

the six eyes are everything. it can see the unknown and the forces that dwells that is invisible in the naked eye. satoru is grateful for the power he wield and it is the most useful in also keeping an eye on you. he knows it first before you can. the breath you take, the first step you make and the rhythm of your heartbeat. wether it was racing from the fear or the continuous pleasure he gives to you while he pumps his fingers into your tight hole.

there's nothing the six eyes he possess can't see and it's no different when he hears the first heartbeat of his child formed into your womb.

his child. he is having a child with you and satoru was over the moon when he found out.

long arms encased your soft form in his lap. your back in his chest while he hums a song. his lips ghosting on the expanse of your exposed shoulders. playfully nibbling on the skin when he hears the tiniest of whimper from you.

large palms drapes in your stomach. kneading the layered flesh like a cat making biscuits. satoru hums in delight. contented at this domestic bliss without too much fuss from you. you could be such a handful at times but it was fine to him. you were still adjusting to this life. a new environment for you and for him.

after numerous of escape attempts, he declares the staff and servants alike in the gojo household to be incompetent. it wouldn't happen if they were doing their job. he founds it useless and he took the matter in his own hand.

a penthouse to keep you. luxurious it was for one's taste. equipped with the latest security and glasses so thick that a bullet cannot dent it. money was no problem for it. gojo has an endless wealth to spend it especially for you. the safety and welfare of his wife always in the top of his priorities and it was worth every single penny of it. you cannot be bored taking the view of the city lights in the night time. overlooking the streets of tokyo.

pleasant it is but to you, beautiful the penthouse is but no matter how gilded it is, it is still a cage and you were the bird.

he breathes into your scent. it has been days since he touched you and satoru savors every second of it. your body a wonderland to him and he must be the only to explore it. satoru doesn't shy away from touching the parts that you didn't like. giving it the most of attention to prove it to you how much he loves it. particularly your stomach. lately, he's been obsessed with it. the talks of getting you pregnant and seeing you with child sparks the joy deep inside him.

satoru's patient. waiting for the result of the labor and love you both had poured in creating a life and he knows it is not that fast but he made sure you were properly bedded every chance he can get. now, all he had to do is wait. he may or may not been activating his technique to ensure you are with his child.

it happened in a blink of an eye when he first felt it. it was like an explosion of tiny molecules and forms into one. a dew rolling from a leaf and creating a ripple in calm waters. then he can hear the small “thump” of a heartbeat and you were rewarded by the sweetest of kiss and the next words he uttered were static in your ears.

“i'm not. it's my body. i'm the first one to know it.” you mutter. reasoning the most obvious truth and it was just a lie your ears want to hear.

“why would i lie to you, i can see and feel everything and that includes you, my wife.” he confidently counters to you. his voice never faltering in enthusiasm as he reveals the newfound joy to you.

your lashes are clumpy and the familiar stinging sensation makes way to your eyes. there is no way you will be carrying this man's child. you can't. you can't bear it. you can't carry this child. not with this man. you already feared the day it would come and now. you didn't realize the first drops of tears came cascading down you cheeks. placing your hand in your stomach and clutching the flesh like the fetus inside of you will magically disappear. this child wasn't even born yet and you're dreading you would become a mother to this one.

“don't cry, (y/n). i promised you didn't i? i will take care both of you.” he ever so sweetly convinced you to carry with this pregnancy and you felt manipulated again and then you were just a puppet.

“you've been a good wife to me. what's the difference of being a mother to our child.” he says, consoling you in his way that would only matter to him. you're carrying his child and as your husband and him being a father in the next months, you would be provided with the utmost care from him. starting on how he's going to worship this body of yours. pregnant and sensitive.

he's already kneeling in front of you. his blue eyes all of it's glory. staring at you with such adoration while he kisses the roundness of your stomach. pressing his cheek in the flesh. wanting to hear the faint thump of the heartbeat of his unborn child.

you tried to push him away. pressing your thighs together to avoid further ministrations from him but gojo effortlessly pried your thighs open. easily diving to get closer to you while his hands holds your wrist.

“satoru—ahhh” a moan accidentally slipping past your lips. his nose nudging the slit of your cunt before taking a lick from it. his hold on your wrist tighter as you tried to stop him.

“satoru, no—ahh” he chuckles. hearing you moan again and gojo takes pride of that. he ought to make you happy. furthermore increasing the success rate of you giving birth to a healthy son or maybe a daughter. frankly, he don't care. a child with you is better than none. a baby would eliminate all the problems he used to have with you and all the fuss will decrease.

such sweet cries for me, my adorable wife. he thought. your grip getting weaker the more his tongue laps up the slick coming out from your sweet cunt.

submit to him and let him do all the work. he did promise he will take care of you. for now, let him taste you. claim his reward for all the efforts.

you wouldn't deny him of his happiness, eh?

NANAMI KENTO

it's not everyday you can see a man with a built like nanami looms and searches from every rack of the pharmacy looking for a pregnancy test.

he's not getting his hopes up but rather ensuring that you are just fine and well though deep inside he's hoping that you are expecting. nanami had been dreaming of a domestic bliss lately. a child with you. hopefully one that looks and takes after you. he would be so happy.

nanami sighs, adjusting his glasses and shaking his thoughts of you being pregnant with his child. your welfare comes first before any others.

he's gone in the day before he comes home in the evening and the very first step he took in his home, he knew something was up.

the bathroom lights was on and there he sees your plush form kneeling in front of the toilet, spilling the contents of your stomach.

by the sound of his footsteps getting nearer he noticed how your body turned rigid.

“uhmmm.” flushing the toilet and standing up to turn on the faucet. letting the cold water run through the drain and wipe your mouth stained with vomit. trying to hide the evidence of you being sick.

“are you okay?” his stern voice cutting through the nervousness creeping up on you. large palms cupping your cheeks gently. you nod. “just a bit tired, actually. i'm going to bed.” you excused and with the furrows of your brows and that frown in your lips. nanami is sure what you're trying to hide.

he grabs a multiple of test kits. it's better to be sure before checking it out along with a few necessities for him to bring home.

when you see the pregnancy test kits being handed to you. you gave him a puzzled look. “i'm not. it's just the bug or something.” you reason to him. shielding yourself from the possibility of what he's implying.

“i know. better be sure than never, my love.” he managed to convince you and with that you took the test.

“why, ken? why would i be pregnant? i never missed taking the pills!” you asked him. sobs racking throughout your body as you look at the multiple pregnancy stick resting in the sink. all positive.

cruel and heartless and beyond him, nanami may or may not have tampered your pills. he never did intended to do this but lately you have been being stubborn than you are. his choices leading him to this unwanted pregnancy for you but to him he was happy. always wanted to be a good husband and a father to his child with you.

“accidents happen. we're in this together, okay?” it was never be fine with you. you can't be pregnant. “no—no!” your voice raising into a pitch. “i can't carry this child.” you could never. if kento was willing to shackle you with those cuffs, what's the difference it would be to your child. already chained to this man.

it took him a few minutes to fully calm you down. you're settled in the bed with him behind you. “i would be present throughout the duration of your pregnancy.” he assures you. bundling your hair in fist and putting it aside. kissing your nape and the gesture sending a shiver down your spine. “you are going to be a good mother.” peppering kisses to your shoulder blade and his other hand wanders until it reaches you belly. plump and squishy. in the next months it's going to be rounder and firmer. swollen with his child.

“i'm unfit to be a mother.” you whisper and nanami murmurs to your skin. “you're not.” pressing a tender kiss in the spot of your pulse in your neck. “i will harm this child.” you warned. “i will keep you confined to bed if needed then, but set aside those thoughts for me. i won't allow such things.” holding a firm hold to your jaw and then he whispers to you.

“allow me, my wife.” your body jolts in response. his index finger prodding your hole while rubbing your clit. “let me reward you for such wonderful news.” the gravel in his voice getting mellow. nanami won't allow you to harm yourself or the child you are carrying.

if it means of complete submission coming from you. nanami would not think twice of doing it over and over again. for now, he's happy you're gracing his home with a child. hopefully, it would take your mind off from the trivial things.

FUSHIGURO TOJI

it wasn't a surprise when toji received the news of you being pregnant. he did breed you well. mounting you every night like you were nothing but a fleshlight and his cumdump.

you were only given a raised brow and a cocky smirk coming from him. oh, how did he love the look on your face. scared and bothered of the reality of you being a mother to his child. toji wasn't that interested in becoming a father either but now it's a thrill. thinking of the ways he can control you without you resisting him.

“is that so?” he asks bored. disinterested even before breaking into a smirk. “now, you won't even think of opposing me.” patting your round belly in a degrading manner. once the spotlight for mockery and humiliation he used to hold you. “my brat spawning in to you. i did give you plenty of it.” he says amused.

a invisible leash wrapped around your neck for him to pull as he pleases. with the presence of the baby in your womb it looks like the future of yours is getting bleak with no hope for you along with the little one growing inside you.

it would curse you for being the mother and the father it will grow up with.

your body feels like lead. stuck in the mattress and every time you move, you sink deeper and maybe it was better until it swallows you whole. you wished it was that easy.

“spread your legs wider.”

you bite back a whimper. bile rising up in your throat as your body moves in autopilot. listening in what he orders to you. “geez, all those troubles i had to deal with and you're only this obedient when pregnant. maybe i'll just keep you pregnant all the time.” licking his lips before leaning closer to you. his breath in your ear.

there's a stinging sensation in your cunt while his cock slowly bullies inside you followed by a groan coming from him. his teeth nibbling in the shell of your ear and you bit your lip. silently taking him while he relishes on the feel of your tight hole spasming around his length.

“you're tight as ever. you don't mind me filling you up again, wife?” you remained silent. his power overwhelming you and toji chuckles. “then, don't mind me”

GETO SUGURU

there's been quite a commotion in his own little family and geto paid no mind to it. having a cult to run that requires his attention every now and then. seriously, stupid monkeys can't be trained without him and there's also those who can't keep their money running stable. quite trouble.

anyways he had to know what is causing those commotions that keeps everyone in high spirits. there he meet nanako and mimiko gushing over his chubby darling. seated in one of the chairs while the twins surrounds you. mimiko brushing your hair while the other twin, nanako holds your hand. soothing and assuring you of a situation he have yet to learn.

“geto-sama.” the twins greeted him. bowing their head a little before giggling a bit of the news they recently learned. “(y/n)-sama received news from the doctor earlier. they said she's expecting.” they broke to him and geto sees you in the corner of his eye uncomfortably shifts in your seat. “leave us.” he instructs the girls and they oblige. scurrying to leave the room in glee.

by the gods above, he worships you more. if only you knew that. it would be a weakness if he shows how much he adores you. he's in control. he's above you. you could never surpass that.

his lover on front of him shifts her gaze away from him and geto grasp your chin in his index and thumb finger. forcing you to meet his steely gaze in the purple abyss of his eyes. “i'm sorry.” you first speak up to him. biting your lower lip to hold a sob.

he can see you're scared. “what for?” he asks. searching for those gleaming eyes of yours, now misty. “for being pregnant.”

geto scoffs playfully at you. “there's nothing to be sorry. a wonderful news for us.” he assures you and you swallow the invisible lump in your throat. “is it?” you reply to him and he smiles. “it is.”

“i lay with you every night. made sure you are properly bedded by me.” no shame of that and there's a deep rumble of his laughter upon seeing your flustered expression. it's almost real how he looks so happy.

he is. when suguru decided to eradicate non-sorcerers he thought of how he's going to fill a country with sorcerers then you came to his life and he would be the creator of the new era. a bloodline. it would be his. yours and his. children that would carry his will and would be the part of a country where they are safe for him.

the news of you expecting. he can see the cogs being place to each of their respective places. already fulfilled.

his palms rough against your skin and yet it brings comfort to you. warmth. long gone he replaced the uneasiness in your heart with his and all the doubts you had of him. now, you're ready what he is about to make use of you. no questions. no qualms. all for him.

“you're mine.” he reminded you once again and you fall harder for him than the last time. “yours.” you whisper.

you were rewarded by a kiss. divinity touching you and warmth blooms all over you along with his hands wandering. to your round cheeks. squishing your chest and his palm in your round belly. imagining all the things he is already to do with your growing body with his child and geto is ecstatic.

his long and thick fingers finds the back of your obi and pulls the hem with no hesitation.

“mmm, suguru~” you mewl and geto smirks at how fast it takes for you to submit to him. “lay with me again tonight.” hands pinching to your supple flesh. fingers rubbing the spot between your legs and with a need. you grind your hips against them.

“as you wish.”

[roosterforme]

It Won't Be Long | Rooster x Reader

Summary: How are you supposed to tell your family that you have to leave? Especially when everything still feels new and flawless and beautiful? Bradley knows it will be rough to break the news to you, but telling Everett will be so much worse.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, adult language

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

This is a Batting Practice one-shot but can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more!

"Oh, shit."

Bradley's heart sank as he read the paperwork that Maverick just handed to him. "Fuck," he groaned, fighting the urge to crumple up the pages. The sounds of conversation buzzing around him in the rec room faded to a dull noise that set his teeth on edge as he thought about how he was going to explain this to you. And even worse....how he would tell Everett. 

"Sorry, Rooster," Maverick replied, cuffing him on the shoulder, but Bradley didn't move except to shake his head a fraction of an inch. He should have known this was coming. He should have been prepared for this, but it felt like a slap in the face. You and he had only been married for less than six months, and he still felt like this was very much the honeymoon phase. How the hell was he supposed to spend a single day without you and Everett, let alone one hundred of them?

He'd been planning to take the three of you up to Disneyland for a little overnight trip during spring break. Kind of a precursor to a longer vacation to Disney World in Orlando in the summer. Well, now he'd be missing all of spring break. And he was going to miss opening day at Petco Park, too.

He vaguely registered that Maverick dismissed him early, and he heard Bob calling his name as he headed for the door. He stopped but didn't turn around as he told his future brother-in-law, "I'll call you later." He'd have to tell Bob and Molly soon, because you and Everett would need them if anything happened while Bradley was deployed, but he didn't want to talk about it with anyone until he told you himself. 

When he got home before you, it gave him plenty of time to mope while he got dinner in the oven. He decided to take a long shower, suddenly wanting nothing more than to change out of his fucking uniform. The Valentine's Day card he gave you a few days ago was still propped up on your dresser, and he sighed when he looked at the pretty flowers still blooming beautifully in the vase next to it. When he opened the card and read what he'd written, he wasn't surprised to find that he had it practically memorized after spending hours agonizing about what to say to his wife on a day dedicated to being in love.

Kitten, 

You changed my life and everything in it for the better last spring, and not a minute goes by that I'm not thinking about you. I hope you'll let me love you every Valentine's Day for the rest of my life. I hope you'll love me back for all of them. I'm so happy you're my wife.

Love,

Bradley

P.S.- How do you feel about wearing your collar, leash and your bodysuit tonight?

He set the card down again with a soft groan and stripped out of his uniform. The shower felt amazing, and he treated himself to your expensive body wash before he rinsed himself off. When he put on his sweatpants and started looking for a tee shirt, everything in his drawer seemed to have Top Gun or Navy Waves printed on it. He just wasn't in the mood for any of it since he knew he was about to have two conversations he'd really rather skip, so he pulled on the Phillies shirt that he got for Christmas from you and Everett.

The kitchen timer started going off at the same time he heard your car in the driveway, and Bradley ran back downstairs to get dinner out of the oven. "You're home early!" you said, bursting through the front door with Everett by your side, and for the first time since this morning, everything seemed more colorful and loud in a good way.

"Dad! I aced my math test!" Everett said as he came running into the kitchen, waving a sheet of paper in the air. "A hundred percent!"

Bradley's heart clenched as he picked Everett up in a hug and buried his face against him. "I'm proud of you, kiddo. That's what happens when you stop rushing through your homework."

He held onto his son a little longer than he normally would before kissing his cheek and setting him down. You eyed him closely as you dumped your work stuff on one of the chairs. He must have done something to give himself away, because a second later, you said, "Ev, you promised you'd take ten minutes to clean your room before dinner."

"Fine," he replied, his voice right on the edge of whining. Normally Bradley would remind him not to talk to you that way, but he let it slide right now. Everett headed for the stairs, and once he was out of sight, you were in Bradley's arms. 

"What's wrong, Coach?" you asked, running your fingers along his cheek before pushing them through his damp hair. "What's bothering you?"

When you gently kissed him, he didn't stop you. And when it took him a minute to reply, you didn't rush him. "Baby... I'm being deployed."

Your grip on him grew incrementally tighter as you whispered, "Oh. When?" 

His forehead met yours as he forced out the sentence, "I have to leave mid March, and I'm due back on Ev's birthday."

When you nodded, he could tell you were still letting his words settle in your mind. You took a deep breath and huffed out a little laugh as you whispered, "That's a long time."

Bradley swallowed down his guilt. "It's too damn long. I don't want to go fourteen weeks without you and Ev. I don't even like going a whole day when I can help it. I'm supposed to be here with you."

You nodded, and when you spoke, he could hear the tears in your voice. "We managed without you before, we can do it again. At least you'll get home on his birthday."

He collected you tighter against his body as he groaned. He would rather do almost anything other than miss his son's eighth birthday. "Kitten. Sometimes the dates aren't accurate. Sometimes the carriers run behind schedule. One time I returned a week later than I anticipated." 

You made a soft sound that left him reeling. "Well, if that happens, then I'll explain it to him. And we'll deal with it."

"Fuck," he grunted, slipping out of your grasp and gripping the edge of the countertop with both hands as his anger flared. "I don't want the two of you to have to deal with me missing out on celebrations. I already bought tickets for Ev and I to go to see the Padres on opening day! I was going to let him skip school! If I miss his birthday, I swear I'll be fucking sick, Kitten! And if Molly doesn't have the baby before March fifteenth, then I won't get to meet him until he's three months old!"

"Bradley," you whispered, ducking under his arm so you were right there between him and the counter. "Listen to me," you said, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. "This is why we love you so much. Because you love us so much."

You had tears in your eyes that matched his as he muttered, "I still feel like we just got married. Like every day with you is so exciting. And Ev didn't grow up with a military dad. He's not used to my lifestyle. I..." Bradley paused and dipped his head down, staring at your work shoes as he said, "I feel important every day because both of you rely on me for things around here. More than just my income. Ev and I do his homework together, and I like helping you cook meals. And I live for taking him to the park to play baseball. I live for it, Kitten."

With two firm hands under his chin, you shifted him so he was looking at you. "I said we would be able to manage without you because we did it before. We know how to do it. Not that we would enjoy ourselves, Bradley. My heart will hurt with worry every day that you're gone, and Everett will miss you because you're essential to his happiness. But this is part of your career, and you're very good at it."

Bradley knew he was crying now as he said, "I'll miss the beginning of his baseball season. He's the only one from his old team who is going to play real ball again this spring instead of tee ball."

You smiled and kissed his cheek. "All thanks to you. And I'll take a million videos for you to watch. I'll email them so you can scrutinize his technique, and then I'll help him improve. I mean, look how much more I know about baseball since I first met you."

Of course your words made him feel a little better. They always did. You always validated his place in this family when he started to doubt himself. "You've come a long way, Kitten. And it's a good thing, too, because I don't think Ev is going to lose interest in baseball any time soon."

You smiled as your lips skimmed his. "I really hope not since the two of you turned the extra bedroom into a Phillies shrine."

"Why are you both crying?"

Bradley's gaze snapped toward Everett who was halfway between the bottom of the stairs and the kitchen with a concerned look on his face. "Ev," he started, unsure how to handle this conversation. Part of him wanted to wait until after the three of you had eaten dinner, but right now, he looked very upset.

"Is Aunt Molly okay?" he asked softly. "She was crying the other day when she said the baby was hurting her back."

When Bradley still hesitated, you said, "Aunt Molly is fine. She texted me a picture of her swollen feet at lunchtime." Then you leaned in closer and whispered, "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No," Bradley replied immediately. "No, I'll do it." But it was harder than he thought it would be to get the words out in a way that would make sense to a seven year old. Why had he convinced himself that he'd be good at this parenting thing? He didn't even know what the hell to say right now. "Grab our gloves," he told his son. "Let's go out back and toss a ball around before we eat dinner."

Everett perked up immediately and ran off, only to return with two well worn baseball gloves and a baseball. "Okay."

Bradley slipped on a pair of shoes. "Okay."

Wordlessly, they threw the ball around for a bit, the quiet space soothing the part of Bradley that was terrified of fucking this up. "Hey, Kiddo?"

"Yeah, Dad?" Everett asked as he threw a scorcher to Bradley.

"You remember how we talked about deployments before?"

"Yeah." His voice was softer this time, and his face fell a little bit. "I remember. It's when you have to go way out into the ocean and fly off of an aircraft carrier."

"Yeah," Bradley croaked, squeezing the ball as hard as he could in his right hand. "I'm going to have to leave to do that in a few weeks."

He watched as his son tried to be strong and keep it together, but then Everett's face crumpled as he started crying. "But you said that lasts for months," he said as he looked at the ground, and Bradley rushed toward him. "And I heard Jayden in my class say deployments are really dangerous."

"Ev," he replied, dropping the ball and his glove and kneeling right in front of him. He swiped at the tears with his fingers as he said, "I can't stand it when you cry. It breaks my heart." 

But Everett just cried more. "I don't want you to leave now. You just got here!"

"Kiddo," he whispered, wrapping him up in a hug. "I'll be back soon. It won't be long. Nothing we can't handle."

"But what if something happens to you?" 

Bradley's heart shattered and was immediately put back together. He hated making you and Everett worry about him, but the fact that you both loved him enough to care made him feel whole. He kissed his son's tear streaked cheeks and said, "The only thing that's going to happen is me flying around in my jet for a few weeks before I come right back home. Sounds pretty boring, right?"

He nodded against Bradley's shoulder. "Yeah, I guess so."

Bradley kissed his forehead and whispered, "I'll be so bored without you. I'm going to need you and Mom to take a bunch of photos and videos and email them to me all day long. And I'll need you to ace all your school assignments and be well behaved for everyone except your Aunt Molly. You think you can do that?"

Everett shrugged, but when his glove slipped off of his hand, he hugged Bradley around the neck. "I'll try, Dad. But I'll miss you."

A tear slipped down Bradley's cheek as he managed to say, "I'll miss you, too."

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

"It's not time yet," you told Everett as he sat on the couch with the iPad on his lap, staring at it longingly. "Ten more minutes. Why don't you finish your math homework while you wait?"

"Because I like doing my math homework with Dad," Everett explained as he looked at you like you were absolutely ridiculous for even suggesting such a thing. "I want to solve the problem with him."

Even though it meant you would have less time to talk to your husband about other things, you'd let Everett do math homework with him over FaceTime. It wasn't like Bradley was going to complain. They were two peas in a pod. Everett even had the Phillies current pitching stats printed out and ready to share. 

"You'll have to show him your countdown, too. We're getting closer."

Before Bradley left, he and Everett cut up countless strips of paper and wrote numbers on them so Everett could conduct a countdown until his eighth birthday. Until the day Bradley was supposed to return home. There had been a gigantic paper chain snaking through the house, but now you were down to your final ten loops. Just ten more days without Bradley.

When the iPad rang, Everett nearly dropped it in his excitement, and you ran in from the kitchen. "Dad!" he said as Bradley's handsome face filled the screen.

"Hey, Ev," he said, sounding exhausted and relieved. "I miss you, Kiddo. Where's Mom?" 

"She's right here." 

Your son tilted the screen, and Bradley sighed. "Kitten."

"Bradley! We miss you. Ten more days!"

A crooked smile broke out on his face, and he kept his eyes on you for a beat longer while Everett started telling him all about baseball practice with his new coach and how his baby cousin Charlie threw up yesterday and about how the Phillies won three games in a row. You lost him to your son just like you knew you would as soon as Everett asked him for help with his homework. 

You sat quietly on the couch while Bradley looked at the math sheet and helped him work through the problem. Then Everett showed him the remaining length of the paper chain countdown, and as soon as that was finished, Bradley said, "Great job, Kiddo. Now why don't you go clean your room up before bed while I talk to Mom?"

"Okay. Love you, Dad!"

"I love you, too," he promised. "And I'll see you on your birthday."

Everett handed you the iPad and ran upstairs to his bedroom. "After all that, I only get three minutes alone with my husband this week," you said with a little smirk.

Bradley groaned and shook his head. "I can guarantee when I get home, I'll be on you nonstop. Don't worry about that, Baby. We won't sleep for days."

You bit your lip and laughed as he groaned. "What do you want for your birthday, Coach?"

He glanced around the small room where he was sitting before he said, "You can find that information written in your Valentine's Day card. Maybe throw in some vanilla frosting, and I'll be all set."

"Sounds good," you replied, and his smile grew. "We'll count down to Ev's birthday, and then we'll count down to yours."

"Speaking of which, did you get his present ready? All wrapped up in a box?"

You nodded as your heart fluttered. "Exactly to your specifications," you promised, picturing the package you had stashed in the linen closet.

"Perfect. I need to make it up to him for missing opening day for the Padres. I hated disappointing him."

As you glanced around your living room at the remaining countdown numbers and Everett's completed math homework, you said, "Something tells me you could never truly disappoint him. See you in ten days, my love."

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

"Dad!"

Bradley rushed through the crowd on the dock and headed for his family. You looked beautiful, and somehow Everett looked like he grew six inches in three months, but everything was perfect again once he had an arm wrapped around each of you. He kissed your lips and squeezed you to his side. "I missed you, Kitten," he murmured, knowing you wouldn't be too mad if you weren't his main focus until later tonight. "Happy birthday, Kiddo," he said with a smile as he released you to hug his son. "I missed you, too."

Everett clung to him when Bradley knelt down, and he stood up again with him in his arms. "Last week, my new coach said I have a heck of an arm. And school's already over. Mom took a video of my last day on Friday. You have to watch seventeen new videos from last week. We can watch them together tomorrow before we go out for pizza with baby Charlie and Aunt Molly and Uncle Bob."

Bradley buried his face against Everett's shoulder, excited to hear him talking a mile a minute in person. "Absolutely. But first, let's get home and open your birthday present."

The ride in your car was filled with your voice and Everett's, and Bradley sat back with a smile on his face and his fingers laced with yours. "How was the aircraft carrier?" Everett asked.

"Boring, loud and uncomfortable. And they never showed the Phillies games on TV."

"We can watch the game recaps!"

Bradley was already daydreaming about taking a few days off work, lounging on the couch with Everett until lunchtime, going to the park to play baseball, and then making love to you all night.

"We can definitely watch the game recaps," he promised as you pulled into the driveway next to Bradley's prized Bronco. "But first, I really want you to open your birthday present."

He didn't change out of his uniform. He didn't even remove his boots. He just gave Everett the box wrapped in red and white paper after you handed it to him, and he watched his son tear into the paper while your hands came to rest on his chest. "You are the only birthday present that kid wanted," you whispered.

Bradley felt the flush rising in his cheeks as you kissed his neck, but Everett had the lid off the box now. "I don't know about that, Kitten. I think he'll like this one," Bradley replied as Everett put the Phillie Phanatic hat on his head and read the paper he found in the box out loud.

"Three tickets for the Phillies game at Citizens Bank Park! On the Fourth of July! Behind the dugout! That's where the Phanatic dances! We can see the Phanatic for real! In Philadelphia!"

"Told you," Bradley whispered against your lips as Everett ran around the living room, already thrilled for his first trip to Philly.

But you were shaking your head and looking up at him with the most sincere expression as you said, "Just wait for it."

And you were right. A few minutes later, after Everett's excitement for his Phillies tickets tapered off a bit, he asked, "Dad, can we build a blanket tent and watch Toy Story and eat popcorn?"

Bradley paused where he was unlacing his boots and smiled. "Under one condition."

Everett smiled back and shrugged. "Okay. What is it?"

Bradley tossed his boots aside and said, "We change into our matching baseball pajamas and grab the stuffed Phanatic from your bedroom. And Mom gets to join us, too."

"Deal."

An hour and a half later, Bradley was watching one of his favorite movies with two of his favorite people. You were feeding him popcorn and teasing his hair as you lay with your head on his shoulder in the blanket fort. Everett was sound asleep, draped across Bradley's chest, and it felt so good to be home, he almost started crying. 

"I missed this so much," he whispered, kissing Everett's forehead. "Missed my family."

You hummed softly as you raked your fingers through his hair. "Like I said, going to the Phillies game will be great and all, but having you home today was the only thing he really needed for his birthday."

Bradley grinned and asked, "And does my Kitten need me, too?"

You popped up from his shoulder and whispered, "Why don't you carry Ev up to his bed, and then I'll let you find out."

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

I love emo Coach Bradley, and it was definitely time to check in with the three of them. He never wants to be the reason Everett cries, but that kid loves him so much, it's unavoidable. Let's check back in with them again soon. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[cupcaketeddybehr]

when your credit card declines pt. 1

featuring: nanami and toji (pt. 2 with sukuna, geto, and gojo coming soon!! i was going to include it all in one but wanted to feed you guys because its been soooo long!)

thank you so much to @luvxoxo for the request!! i loved writing it and hope this is what you had in mind!! for anyone that has a request/just wants to chat, my ask box is open!!

so sorry this took so long! i promise i'm back 💗

Nanami

you decide to take yourself on a little shopping spree after surviving this week (or most of it anyways). today’s entitled customers pushed you over the edge, with the workday ending with a screaming match and the bakery closing early. after running it for the past five years, you hadn’t gotten a customer as rude as the one you got today. upset about their iced tea having too much ice, they proceeded to throw the entire glass on nobara, one of your employees.

after trying to call your boyfriend, kento, and his phone going to voicemail, you started to lose it. practically glaring a hole through your phone, you waited for the voicemail beep. when it went off, so did you.

“kento i’m so fucking annoyed right now. i hate everyone and i just need to go shopping. don’t wait for me for dinner, i’ll be at the mall.”

angrily speeding out of the bakery parking lot and to the mall, you slam the car door as you take out your credit card, ready to spend your entire life’s savings on retail therapy. you weren’t even sure how much you had in your bank account, but you were ready to test it.

you walk into onitsuka tiger and begin pulling things off the rack. after eying their newest runway collection in your favorite youtuber’s videos, you have your heart set on their winter coats and midi dresses. you also need at least two of their shoes in different colors.

too bothered to try anything on, you walk to the counter with everything in your arms. people glance over their shoulders at you, watching you periodically drop things on your way to the cashier. you grumble and bend down to pick the clothes up, still too annoyed to care about anything besides your shopping. as you approach, you spot a familiar blondie talking to the cashier.

he turns around with a concerned look in his eyes and a gigantic onitsuka tiger bag in his hand. he walks towards you after glancing behind him to thank the cashier. “sweetheart… i listened to your voicemail... are you okay? do you want to get some wetzel’s pretzels and talk about it?”

while you look at him, confused, he takes all the clothes from your hands and walks around the store to put them back. “we can get the cinnamon kind you like” he tries.

“ken, I was going to buy those.” you snap, mildy infuriated.

he pulls your resisting body into a hug and kisses your forehead. “honey, you spent almost the entirety of your bank account on those three pairs of gentle monster sunglasses last week” he chuckles.

you glare at him. saying “no i did not,” knowing full well that you did. your ‘entire life’s savings’ was currently at a grand total of 50 dollars.

he takes your hand and brushes your fisted knuckles with his thumb as hands you the giant bag in his hands. “text me next time you run out of money, okay? i want to provide for you.”

“but you never spend money on yourself, ken.” you say, slowly looking through the bag. in it is every single thing you had in your hands earlier and more. the black denim dress, long brown coat, navy blue shoes, and much, much more. you look up at your boyfriend, eyes watering at his gesture.

he shakes his head, “you and what you want matter more to me than anything else.” he runs his hand over the back of your head, fingers gently caressing your hair. “i know this week was especially hard for you so i had these waiting here for pickup since wednesday. you just beat me here.” he chuckles. “i know this doesn’t make up for those shitty customers, but i hope it makes you feel better.”

you hug him tightly, “how did you know?”

he kisses the top of your head, “i’ve been looking at your pinterest boards for inspiration”

you pull him in for a kiss, “genuinely, honey, I don’t know how i got so lucky with you.”

“i’m the one who’s lucky, sweetheart.” he says.

Toji

you walk through the mall with your boyfriend, squealing with excitement as you spot the new jellycat diner. “TOJI! look!” you point happily. “which one should i get? should i get the pizza? no wait, maybe i’ll get the hot dog… no WAIT-“

he chuckles, “doll, didn’t your paycheck just come in? you can probably get a bunch.”

you look at him with giant puppy dog eyes, “wanna buy it for me?”

he scratches the back of his neck, “uhh… i might’ve spent my entire paycheck at the casino… sorry, ma”

“oh my god, ‘ji, how are we supposed to eat?” you rub your forehead, “you promised no more casino.”

he pulls your hand closer to him, “i know… shiu wanted to go for his birthday and i got carried away. i’m really sorry, doll.”

you huff, “if you go again, i’m going to shoot you.” stomping off without him, you pick up the two jellycats you want and bring them to the counter. “just these two, please!” the cashier bundles them up for you and motions for you to swipe your card.

“your card declined, could you try swiping it again?” the cashier asks.

you internally panic. “sure!” you say, swiping it again. you’re starting to doubt the fact that you cashed your paycheck in. unfortunately for you, your card declines three more times and you end up walking out of the store embarassed and empty handed.

after listening to toji’s endless apologies on the way home, he promises to make it up to you when he receives his next paycheck. you nod, deciding to forgive him before heading out to dinner with your best friend, shoko. with the amount of money in your card, you’re pretty sure that all you can afford is an onigiri from 7/11.

as you pull out of the driveway, you think you hear the whirring of your ancient sewing machine, but you’re not quite sure. you’re not even sure if that thing works anyway.

when you return home, toji’s nowhere to be found. knowing that he didn’t have plans to work today, you wander through the rooms of your apartment, calling his name. when you get to the dining table, you spot a half-crumpled post-it and concerningly ugly plushies that you think are kinda ugly-cute.

as you get closer, you realize that they kind of resemble the pizza and hotdog jellycat plushies you almost bought at the mall. their drawn-on sharpie eyes stare back at you as you take in their half-sewn and half-glue-gunned appearance. they have hot glue strings and threads poking out of the sides, but you’re falling in love with them nonetheless. you laugh as you think about toji giving up on using the sewing machine halfway through. hugging them tightly, you read the post-it toji left on the table.

"hey doll, i’ll be back in a bit, just finishing up something real quick. love you" it reads, with a hastily scribbled heart.

fifteen minutes later, toji walks through the door, hair tousled and the real jellycat pizza and hot dog plushies in one arm and chinese takeout in the other.

he grins, “hey doll.”

you run up to him and throw your arms around his neck. “did you make these?” you ask, referring to his handmade plushies.

he grimaces a little, “yeah, they’re kinda ugly, huh?”

you laugh and shake your head, “no, ‘ji, i love them, thank you so much”

he hands you the jellycats in his hands, “i got the real ones for you too because i can’t fuckin’ look at my ugly ones”

when you look at his hands, you see that they’re covered in glue gun burns and bandages. you run your hands over the sewing machine and glue gun damages asking, “i thought you didn’t have money?”

“i pickpocketed people on the street.”

you look at him, “toji, please, for the love of god, tell me that you’re joking.”

he just laughs, “yeah sure doll, i’m just jokin’” he says, knowing you don’t believe him in the slightest.

thank you so much to @saradika-graphics for the beautiful dividers and support banners 🫶

and thank YOU so much for reading! i appreciate you!

[tkwrites]

Understanding (or the one in which Jack Hughes is forced to get over himself) - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc) 

Summary: Still upset about finding out about Sarah from Brady, Jack has some hesitations when he and Luke come to town for the Finals. Can he get over himself enough to see what Quinn and Sarah have is real?

Warnings: Angst, sibling fighting, light body shaming

Word Count: 5,600

Comments: I’ve been working on this fic for almost three months and tossing around ideas for it since December. On Thursday, something clicked into place, and the story just fell together. I really like the way it turned out, and I hope you like it too! 

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

I love Quinn and Sarah, and I’m constantly blown away that so many of you love them, too.

 Understanding (or the one in which Jack Hughes is forced to get over himself)

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Sarah was sitting in the living room, trying not to freak out. Their night before had been one to remember, and her hips were still sore and achy from it in the most satisfying way. 

But even remembering Quinn giving her so many orgasms she lost count — murmuring how proud he was of her with each and every one of them — couldn’t take away from the fact that his brothers were about to arrive. 

Sarah and her siblings were close, but Quinn and his brothers were closer. They were all in the same phase of life - all playing professional hockey, all unmarried, and all figuring things out. Even Luke, who she knew, had been dating his girlfriend Kylee for two and a half years wasn’t in a place to get married, especially not while Kylee was still in school. 

It was so different from her own siblings, who were both in the young family stage of life while she was still figuring out no-longer-single life and dating-a-professional-athlete life. 

She loved her siblings, but they had less in common than they used to.

It felt like a huge test to be accepted by his family — his best friends. She wasn’t totally sure what she’d do if they didn’t like her. 

When she’d brought that up to Quinn after they’d finally collapsed into bed, he had pulled her close, kissed her forehead, and assured her, “they’re going to love you. I love you, so they’re going to love you.” 

She hadn’t pointed out how flawed his logic was. 

Quinn appeared at her side, holding a shot of rum, “here, I think you might need this.” 

“I thought you said I don’t have anything to be worried about!”

“I don’t think you do.”

Her eyebrows shot up, “but you think I should take a shot?” 

He gulped nervously, “Jack can just be kind of a lot. I’m not sure he’s totally over the whole, I didn’t tell him first thing.” 

Her eyes went wide, and while Quinn had the best of intentions, he realized what a stupid move this was. Instead of calming her down, he was making her more anxious. He tried to backtrack, “you don’t have to. It was a stupid idea,” he said before starting back to the bar — intent on dumping the alcohol down the drain.

“No, come back.” 

He turned, and she reached for the small glass, “it will take the edge off.”

Taking a deep breath, she tossed the liquor into her mouth. As soon as she’d swallowed, she pulled a face, “ugh, I hate shots. Remind me to never do that again.” 

Laughing, he lifted the glass out of her hands and leaned down to kiss her. They stayed that way for a while, each of them remembering slices of the night before. 

His phone trilled. He would have picked them all up from the airport, but Jack had insisted on renting a car for them to use while they were here, so there was no need.

The dinner they’d ordered was on it’s way, and everything was going to be fine. 

Having finished her finals the day before, Sarah had spent most of the day relaxing and sleeping in Quinn’s bed. He’d left for practice, then crawled back in bed with her when he got home, happy to fall asleep again, holding her close.

As a result, he looked refreshed and clear headed. 

“You ready?” he asked when the elevator dinged. 

She nodded, standing and wrapping her arms around his torso. 

She was wearing the same jeans she’d worn when she met the team and a cream colored top, partially unbuttoned, so he could see just a hint of her cleavage.

“It’s going to be fine,” he assured. 

The very fact that he kept saying it made Sarah wonder if he was trying to convince himself into believing it. 

She should have worn the green dress. When she’d been packing to stay at Quinn’s overnight, she’d convinced herself the boyfriend jeans were lucky enough now, and she didn’t need to pull out the big guns. Plus, she didn’t want Quinn to think she only had one outfit she wore when she was nervous. Now, that didn’t seem like it mattered much, and she wished she had the comforting assurance of it with her. 

When Quinn opened the door and his brothers came tumbling into the apartment, Sarah immediately understood what her own brother had missed out on by only having two sisters. 

They were so distinctly…male. There was a lot of congratulatory hair mussing and punching going on in celebration of Quinn making the finals.

Ellen was dutifully waiting for them to be done so she could hug her eldest. 

To Sarah’s surprise, Jim was the first one to greet her, offering a hug she gladly accepted. 

When they broke apart, Quinn moved to introduce everyone, “Sarah,” he said, and everyone’s eyes snapped to him, “these are my brothers Jack and Luke. Guys, this is Sarah.” 

Luke gave her a shy smile and offered her a hand to shake. Jack didn’t move other than to give her a curt nod. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, pulling a smile onto her face she hoped masked her disappointment at his clipped response. 

Ellen rolled her eyes and crossed the room to give her a hug. 

The front desk buzzed up to let them know their food was delivered, and Sarah offered to go collect it just to get away from the tense meeting. 

When they sat down to eat, Sarah was able to engage Luke in conversation, and they started talking about his girlfriend Kylee, who would be coming out once she had finished her finals. Once the ice was broken, Luke was easy to talk to, and they swapped stories about work and growing up.

More than once in their conversation, Sarah caught Ellen shooting disappointed looks at her middle son, who couldn’t seem to stop staring at her, but didn’t say a word.

The conversation lulled, and Jack spoke for the first time, “so, Sarah, what are you going to do when you’re done with school?” His tone was almost accusatory, like he expected her to say she would be moving to Dubai and leaving Quinn behind.

“I’m not really sure yet. I like working at the aquarium, so I wouldn’t mind staying there. But if I could get a job in conservation, that would be ideal. I feel more passionate about it.” 

“What would you do in conservation?” he asked. It sounded a little like they were rehearsed questions on Jacks part, as if he were trying to appease someone by making conversation but didn’t actually care much about the subject. 

“Well, there’s a lot that crosses over in terms of what can be done in the wild to make our oceans more habitable to everything that lives in them. And if we need to do any rescue and rehab, I can help care for most of those animals.” 

“So you’re like a vet?” 

“No, I can’t administer any medical treatment, but I can assist. I thought about going into veterinary medicine, but it would have meant seven more years of school, and there’s a lot of aspects of being a vet that terrify me.” 

“Like what?” he asked with an arched eyebrow, as if her admitting she had weaknesses was completely unexpected. 

Sarah flicked a glance at Quinn, who was looking at his brother with narrowed eyes, as if trying to figure out what he was getting at. 

“Well, I’m not great with blood, for one. Plus, the smell of hospitals tends to give me panic attacks.” 

Somehow, this admission made Jack relax. She was human, after all. When they met June, she was all smiles and rainbows and didn’t admit to having faults of any kind. Quinn talked about how genuine Sarah was, but Jack wanted to see it for himself. 

Quinns eyes darted to her, and she gave him a small smile. 

“What is it about hospitals?” Jim asked. 

She took a deep breath and reached for Quinn’s hand under the table. Their fingers entwined, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze. 

“My mom died of cancer, so she spent a good portion of the last six months of her life in a hospital, and every time I came home, I would have to see her there. The smell always transports me straight back.” 

Quinn didn’t hesitate to put his arm around her, and she leaned into his shoulder, blinking a few times. 

Jack looked between them and felt something twist in his gut. This was so much more serious than he wanted to believe. He’d seen the signs from Quinn — the dreamy look he often got when he talked about her, and how it seemed like they were together all the time, or the way he talked about the future, like he couldn’t envision one without her in it. 

The two sides of his mind warred. On one hand, he was glad Quinn found her, but on the other, he was still pissed he was the last one to know. He and Quinn were supposed to be best friends as well as brothers. He’d never keep something like that from Quinn, and it hurt every time he remembered Brady asking, “so what do you think of Sarah?”

Then, there was the whole issue of Sarah herself. Not that she was bad looking. She was pretty. But June was gorgeous, and Jack couldn’t help but think that Sarah was a bit of a step down. 

The meal ended on less tense terms than it started on, and Quinn took Sarah home. 

“Was it okay?” he asked. 

She knotted her fingers together in her lap, “I don’t know. Was it? You know Jack better than I do.” 

One of his hands dragged over his face before he reached for hers. 

Gratefully, she took it, glad for the reassurance of his touch. 

He felt off kilter. The end was such a stark contrast to the beginning that he had a hard time reconciling that morning as part of the same day. 

“Can you come up for a minute?” she asked when he pulled in front of her building. 

He glanced over with raised eyebrows only to find nervousness clearly written on her face. “Yeah, of course,” he said and flipped around to find a spot to park. 

They got up to her apartment, which she knew would be empty - Eunice had gone home to stay with her parents for a week, and Jane was working. As soon as the door shut behind them, she wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“What’s up?” Quinn asked, his hands heavy and comforting on the small of her back. 

“I just —” Sarah could feel the tears she’d pushed off for the drive home forcing their way up to the surface. 

She sniffed, and Quinn pulled back, “what’s wrong?” 

Sarah wiped her cheeks. “What if —” She didn’t want to say it out loud, but she needed to. Talking about it would make it better. She knew that, but it was still scary as hell to voice the anxiety that was eating away at her peace of mind. Not only was the summer going to fucking suck, “I think Jack hates me.” 

Something behind his sternum fractured, “Jack doesn’t hate you.”

Looking up to meet his eyes, she asked, “really? Because it doesn’t seem like he likes me very much.”

“I think he just needs time to adjust to the situation. He’s still mad at me that I didn’t tell them first.”

“I don’t understand that either. My sister was the second person I told.” Technically, she’d been the 4th with her roommates, but no need to split hairs. Rachel was the second person she’d told on purpose.

He pulled a calming breath into his chest. “I think Brady mentioned June to you?” She nodded, and he continued, “June was…” how did he even find the right words? “We dated for a long time. Way longer than we should have. We weren’t good together. I mean, you know all that weird shit she had about sex, and she would break up with me every few months, then come back after a few days, begging to get back together.” 

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It wasn’t great,” he admitted ruefully. “Anyway, my family never really came out and said they didn’t like her. They only said it after I called it off for good. I remember Jack told me, ‘Thank god, I never liked that bitch.’” 

Sarah wrinkled her nose, and Quinn laughed, “yeah. Brady was the only one who told it to me straight from the beginning. He was pretty frank with me; his family doesn’t really beat around the bush about anything. He encouraged me to break it off for good. Anyway, when we met,” he gestured between them, “I was kind of hesitant to tell anyone. Not because I thought you were like June. You’re not. In any way. But I didn’t… I didn’t really trust my own judgment, you know?” 

She didn’t, but she nodded anyway. That was something they could unpack later.

“I wanted Brady to meet you first since he and Emma had been so honest.” 

This, she knew from conversations with Ellen and Brady himself, but it was nice to hear it from Quinn. 

“Before I had a chance to tell him, Brady asked Jack what he thought of you while they were playing in Ottawa, and he called me, pretty pissed. I think he’s still caught on that.” 

Pursing her lips, she wasn’t totally sure what the protocol for this was. “Is there anything I can do to fix it? I don’t want —” she broke off, feeling she couldn’t say it. She didn’t want Jack to come between them. She didn’t want to have to forge a new relationship when Quinn’s brother and best friend didn’t like her, and she didn’t want to put Quinn in a position where he would have to choose.

That fracturing feeling was back. 

“That’s not going to happen,” Quinn said, picking up on what he thought the subtext of the conversation was as he ran his hands up and down her arms. “I think he just needs time. Jack doesn’t really hate anyone. It’s not in his nature.” 

“Was he like this with Kylee?” 

“No, but Luke and Kylee were friends in high school and college, so we knew her before they started dating.” 

She thunked her forehead onto his shoulder and took a deep breath. 

One of his hands ran over her hair, “I’m sorry. I know this put you in a really weird position.” 

She felt his words in his chest at the same time she heard them and swallowed the feeling whole. 

“I just don’t want to lose you,” she said, nuzzling into his shirt

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said. Definitive. Simple. Straight to the point. 

She knew she sounded whiney, but she needed to say it, “but what happens if he never likes me? I don’t want you to feel like you have to choose.” 

“Jack’ll come around. He’s never been able to hold grudges for very long.”

Looking up at him, then, hope filled her face, and he kissed her, hoping it reassured her. He was sure Jack would come around as soon as he could get his head out of his ass.  

“I’m sorry, but I need to get back,” he said as gently as he could. Not only was there a game tomorrow, he knew his brothers would want to talk. 

Swallowing down the loneliness of being in the apartment by herself for the night, she nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

‘Tomorrow,” he repeated before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too. One more?”

He couldn't resist.

One turned into six or seven, and he pulled away feeling light. “Jack’ll come around,” he assured again before kissing her once more and turning to go. 

“I mean, she’s pretty and all,” Jack was saying as they stood in the living room. Their parents had gone to bed, so it was best to have this conversation on the floor below. “But don’t you think she’s a little big?”

Luke stared at Jack while Quinn glared at him. “What?” 

“Don’t get me wrong, she has a pretty face, but her thighs are kind of huge.” 

Luke spoke before Quinn could follow through with punching his brother in the face. “Is this because you actually think that, or because you’re mad Quinn didn’t trust you enough to tell you first?” 

“Trust us,” Jack corrected through a jaw clenched so tight, it answered Lukes question for him. 

“Fine. Whatever,” Luke said. He’d come to terms with it. He had been too scared to tell Quinn what he thought of June. After thinking it over, it did make sense for him to go to the only person in his life who made their concerns clear and keep Sarah from everyone else. They got attached to June, or at least to the idea of her. Luke had never really liked her. But he liked the idea of Quinn having a girlfriend. Of him having someone here in Van while the rest of them were all out east. 

Now that he had met Sarah in person, not just talked on the phone with her - which Jack had made feel more like a job interview than a welcoming, get to know you chat - he understood just how bad of a match June had been for Quinn.

Gone were the tense morning phone calls after a blowout fight. Gone were the sick-in-love nights where Quinn was hanging up early before really talking to either of them so he could spend time with June while the getting was good. Gone were the confused, “I don’t know what she wants from me,” talks that happened way too often for Luke's liking. 

Not only was Sarah more stable, Luke felt like Quinn was more stable with her. 

“I’m saying it because it’s true,” Jack said, clinging to his pride. “You’re an athlete, Q. Do you really think she can keep up with the lifestyle?” 

“It’s not like she needs to go to the gym with me every day,” Quinn shot back. 

“The girls you’ve dated before have been…” 

“Listen, Jack. Yes, Sarah might be a little bigger than the girls I’ve dated before, but she’s more than all of them.” 

“I’ll say she’s more,” Jack snided. 

Luke stepped in, “don’t be such a dick.” 

“It’s true.”

“She’s better,” Quinn corrected, and his voice went hard. “She’s better than any of those girls. More driven and more supportive and more understanding and loving than anyone I’ve ever dated.” 

That stopped Jack in his tracks. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure of what to say. 

This. This was the thing he was most scared of. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jack knew Quinn or Luke would eventually get married, and their unit would be changed forever. They wouldn’t be The Hughes Boys anymore. Not like they had been. They would be different. Sarah was coming in and stealing his brother from him. 

“And just for the record,” Quinn said, getting in Jack’s face with a fierceness Luke rarely saw directed at either of them when talking about something so serious, “I don’t think Sarah’s fat, and I don’t think you do either. You never called Madeline fat, and she’s bigger than Sarah.” 

Madeline was a plus-size model Jack had quietly dated and broken up with the year before. 

Luke wondered, not for the first time, how much of their breakup was caused by Jack’s need to be perceived a certain way. Madeline was stunningly beautiful, but there were comments swirling all the time about how much bigger she was than him, and how could he possibly want to date someone so large, despite the fact that she was incredibly successful and was one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever seen. Not to mention that she kept to a diet that would put all of them to shame. 

Caught, Jack snapped his mouth shut and glared. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, okay?” Quinn practically begged. “I should have, and I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean you need to take it out on her.” 

Luke was struck at how much his oldest brother was trying to protect his girlfriend. Jack could say what he wanted about him, but when it came to Sarah, he was trying to put blame back where it belonged. 

Quinn sunk into the club chair closest to him, raking his hands into his hair. 

“Can you just TRY to get to know her?” he asked. “I think you’ll really like her if you get to know her.” 

Jack huffed a breath through his nose and nodded once. Once again, he was struck with a sudden sense of vertigo, like everything around him was shifting and changing, pulled just off kilter. 

He wasn’t blind, as much as he wanted to be. He knew Quinn, and the very fact he was directing the blame back on himself again and again told Jack all he needed to know about how he felt about Sarah. Even though he didn’t know her very well and resented the swift way she’d blown into Quinns life, Jack could see she would be around for a long time. 

A few days later, as they sat around the table to eat breakfast, Ellen met Quinn's eyes, a warm smile lighting her face. “She's good. I really like her.”

Quinn knew his mom liked Sarah from when she first met his parents several weeks before.

Still, hearing her say this after seeing her interact with the rest of the family meant more. Some of the lingering anxiety he felt blew away. Jack still didn't love her, but he was softening up. Quinn wasn't sure anyone would ever live up to Jack's ideal standard. Luke loved everyone and liked to talk to her about the ocean. Plus, it seemed like she’d get along great with Kylee. 

His dad nodded in agreement, “don't fuck it up.”

That spoke louder to Quinn than anything else he could have said. “I don't plan to.”

“Make sure you don't. She's good for you. Good for the family, too.”

“Too good for him,” Luke added quietly. 

“That goes without saying. Most women will be for all of you.”

Jack scoffed. 

“Is she coming to Hawaii?” his mom asked. 

“What?” Jack exclaimed. “She can't come to Hawaii! That's our trip.”

Ellen looked at her middle son patiently, waiting for his instinctive reaction to calm down so he could think clearly. 

“I asked her,” Quinn said, “but -”

Jack broke in, his hot head getting the best of him,“you talked about this without me?”  

“Relax Jack,” Luke said. 

“But she told me no,” Quinn finished. 

“She told you no? She told me all sorts of things we should do from when she lived there. I was really hoping she could show us around,” Ellen admitted.

“I know,” Quinn said. “She said she didn't want to tread on family time.”

“She's going to be a part of this family, isn't she?” Ellen asked. 

Jack glared at her, “mom, it hasn't even been six months.”

“Five months can tell you a lot, Jack. Can't you see how much your brother loves her? And how much she loves him?” 

Jack had to admit she was right. Quinn was more settled - no, that wasn't it. He had always been settled. He was more…at ease. A better, less worried version of himself. It was like Sarah had come in and soothed all this anxiety and all these fears that had been bubbling beneath Quinn’s skin. Only when they were gone did Jack notice. 

And Sarah was…sweet. She was considerate and kind and tried her best to engage him in conversation. 

“Sar told me she would only come if everyone said it was okay, especially you, Jack.” 

Jack looked at his brother, totally taken aback. Something in him shifted. “Really?” 

Quinn nodded. “She doesn't want to tread on our time. She knows we don't get much time together anyway.”

Jack had been feeling like she'd just come barging into their family, taking his brother away from him. He'd heard Quinn talk about her, but seeing it in real life - seeing how much time they spent together, how they had their own little language, and always seemed to be touching each other - he wasn't ready to lose his brother like that. 

But this shifted things a bit. It was one thing to visit the lake house or even tag along to a big family vacation, but the trip to Hawaii was more than that. It was going to be just them. Even Kylee wasn't coming. He was pretty sure it was because she had a family reunion of her own she couldn't skip out on, but the sentiment still counted. 

“I'll think about it,” Jack agreed begrudgingly. 

The morning after the Canucks were eliminated, Sarah wandered down to the kitchen wearing one of Quinn’s Michigan shirts and a pair of his boxers, still slightly twisted slightly from sleep. 

“Oh,” she greeted hesitantly upon seeing him at the bar, “morning, Jack.”

Watching her and Quinn interact last night had cracked something in him. Not only that Sarah was here to stay, but it awoke a kind of longing to have someone totally accept him. 

It was made even worse when he wandered up to the gaming room, figuring he could at least watch some TV if he couldn’t get any sleep, and heard noise from Quinn’s bedroom that let him know they were going at it. He didn’t ever want to think about his brother having sex, but the fact that Quinn had so many different levels of comfort available - all seemingly tailored to meet his exact needs - after a hard day woke a deep longing for that kind of intimacy in Jack. He hadn’t allowed himself to want it, at least since he and Madeline broke up.

He gave up on the gaming room and slept on the uncomfortable living room sofa. Now his shoulder was sore, and his hips hurt, and he hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep. 

“Morning,” he mumbled, hating that she felt like she needed to tip toe around him. He knew it was his own fault, but now he was in so deep that he wasn’t sure how to get out of it. The conversation about Hawaii, realizing she was thinking about their family as well as her relationship with Quinn along with what happened the night before, had him feeling ready to make peace with her. Except that would just be him admitting he was wrong, which seemed so much easier than it felt. 

She put a pod in the coffee maker, more at home in Quinns house than he was. That was a new feeling. Jack had searched for the coffee pods that morning, and when he couldn’t find one, settled for milk. Now, he wondered why Quinn kept them in the drawer beneath the coffee maker when it would have made more sense to keep them in the cupboard above. 

“How did you sleep?” she asked, leaning her butt on the counter while the machine gurgled. 

He shrugged, “Luke snored all night.” 

Wrinkling her nose, she said, “I’m sorry.”

“We haven’t had to share a room when he’s not exhausted from hockey in a long time.” 

She nodded, pulling creamer out of the fridge. 

He watched her walk back to her mug, noting the way her thighs trembled with each step. He loved that about Madeline. The softness of her. She was stunning, but not hard. Before he’d met her, he didn’t know those things could coexist. 

“How did you sleep?” 

“Good,” she said, “Quinn was so exhausted, I don’t think he turned over once.” 

“Isn’t he the worst?” Jack said with a loud, laughing groan. “Flailing all over the bed.”

Sarah snorted when he nearly fell backward off the stool in his demonstration of flailing limbs. “Has he always done that?” 

“Since we were kids. He must be a nightmare to share a bed with.” 

“Thankfully, I don’t think I’ve experienced any flailing. He must be a little less writhe-y now, but if we’re not cuddling, he does usually toss and turn all night.” 

“Good,” he said, and then immediately felt stupid. What was she supposed to say to that now? 

“Where are your parents?” she asked instead, bringing the mug to her lips to blow on the hot liquid. 

“They went to get breakfast or something,” he said with a vague gesture over his shoulder. “They invited me, but I went back to sleep.” 

“Have you eaten? I was about to cook some eggs.” 

“Is Quinn up?” he asked. 

“He was still conked out when I got up. I figured I’d let him sleep. No use in waking him when he’s finally getting some solid rest.” 

There it was again - that pinch of jealousy. She knew him in ways Jack didn’t, like her knowledge that cuddling kept Quinn still at night, and she obviously liked to care for him. 

It’s not like he didn’t want her in his brothers life. She obviously made Quinn happy, and all Jack really wanted was for him to be happy. 

It was a weird, night and day difference between Quinn now and Quinn at the beginning of the season. When they’d left Michigan in September, it wasn’t like Quinn had been depressed - he’d been excited to get back to hockey - but he’d spent so much of the off season wondering if he and June were actually a good match that when he left, it felt like he was leaving without having anything truly resolved. When they’d finally broken up in November, a huge sigh of relief  had swept through Quinn’s whole life. 

Looking back now, Jack should have known something was up when Quinn started calling them, relaxed and cheerful, quick with a smile and a joke in a way he hadn’t been since he and June had broken up. Now, he was happy and content, and Jack could practically see the love he had for Sarah glowing on his skin. 

After spending time with her, he understood how Quinn had fallen so hard, so fast. She was kind but willing to put in the work, genuine and honest, but funny and snarky.

Might as well just get it over with. 

“Listen, Sarah,” he began, looking down at his glass of milk, “I’m sorry.”

She continued to look at him over her mug. It struck him that she waited for him to finish without jumping in or jumping to conclusions. 

“You’re really good for Quinn,” he admitted.

Something in her heart fluttered.

“And I’m sorry I’ve been kind of a dick. With June it was pretty obvious they weren’t going to last so I never put much stock in her, but I…” he chewed briefly on this thumbnail, thinking, “but I can see how you guys are good together.” 

A smile reached her eyes. 

He blew out a deep breath. “It’s just…Quinn’s my brother, you know?” Shaking his head, he raked a hand into his hair, “I’m sorry, I'm not making any sense.”

“It’s okay, Jack,” she said, her voice calm. He wondered if she ever raised it. “I’ve been through this, too, when my sister started dating someone seriously. It’s weird and hard when someone new comes into your family.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m taking Quinn away from you or something.” 

“You couldn’t,” he said, then realized how stupid that sounded. “I mean, I know you wouldn’t. I can see that now.” 

Smiling in a way he realized was totally genuine, she set her mug on the counter. “Thank you, Jack. That means a lot coming from you.”  

It was like she knew all he needed was time. There were no hard feelings, no grudges or fits. No glares from across the room. She just waited and gave him time, and wasn’t mad at how much he needed. 

And now that he’d admitted it, she let it lie, changing the subject as soon as it’d been put to rest. “So, do you want some eggs?” she asked, turning back to the fridge. 

It was a refreshing turn of events. 

“Sure,” he stood from the bar stool, “how can I help?” 

By the time Quinn wandered down the stairs, clumsy with sleep and rubbing his eyes, they had omelets going. 

Looking nervously between Jack and Sarah, side by side in the kitchen, he briefly wondered if he was still dreaming. One night, and it seemed all of Jack’s hesitations had been put to bed. 

“Morning,” he yawned.

Sarah glanced over her shoulder, smiling bright, “hey, how’d you sleep?” 

“Good,” he said through another yawn as he walked up to them. He slipped an arm around Sarah’s waist and rested the other on Jacks shoulder, “you two made up?” 

“I don’t think we were fighting, really,” Sarah said, “but we came to an understanding.”

Jack smiled gratefully, and Quinn leaned in to kiss her cheek. 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist 

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[foreingersgod]

I love your work! Could you write kate Martin x fem!reader whose just a regular college student?

of course my love!

A/N: hi everyone! i’m still working on several requests right now so be patient with me! i promise they will all get done soon, but i’m a busy college student who only has so much time! they’ll be done soon, thank you so much for your patience and support, ily all !! if you have any questions about your request, feel free to message me :)

Living Life with You . KM

pairing: kate martin x reader

synopsis: kate is just so incredibly in love with you

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

midterms were swiftly approaching for the semester and everyone was scrambling to prepare, yourself included. you had about 4 exams that you needed to study for, ranging from chemistry to psychology to family finance. so you spent most of your days this week confined the comforts of your apartment, sat on the couch with you laptop on your lap and your notes spread across the coffee table.

it wasn’t abnormal for you to hide away when you needed to focus on your studies, but kate had planned to stay at your apartment all this week to spend time with you.

“i just don’t want these stupid midterms to ruin our week” you had told her one night over the phone. “i would feel bad if you just sat in my apartment and watched me study for hours, especially since having a full week to ourselves is so rare”

“i just want to be with you, baby, doesn’t matter if you’re studying or not” she reassured you.

sure enough, when kate arrived at your apartment, a bag packed and a quaint little bouquet of flowers for your kitchen counter, she had no problem with you studying. in fact, she had changed into her pajamas like you had done and sat herself on the couch directly next to you.

but the night was not just spent on the couch watching you study. she had offered to make you your favorite dinner (offer is a generous word, more like forced you to stay out of the kitchen so she could treat you) and set the table. she even washed your dishes that remained in the sink from earlier in the week so you wouldn’t have to stress about it for the night. kate had called you into the kitchen after about an hour, announcing that dinner was ready.

“please take a break and have dinner with me?” she pleaded, you could practically see those puppy dog eyes from the living room.

so you rolled yourself off the couch, stretching for the first time since 3 pm, clambering your way into the kitchen. what you were met with made your heart absolutely melt.

“hey, you hungry?” kate stood at the counter, dishing up your plates, dish rag thrown over her shoulder and sleeves rolled up to her elbows. god, your jaw must’ve been on the floor.

not only did kate look so irresistible making you dinner like this, but she had lit your ‘nice candle’ and set two spots next to each at your kitchen island for the two of you. she pulled a couple wine glasses out of your cupboard, setting them next to your plates as you walked over to her in the kitchen.

“babe, you did all this?” you stood behind her, resting your chin on her shoulder as she put the finishing touches on your plate. she grinned, feeling your arms wrap around her waist, turning around to face you.

“you’ve been working so hard to study for your tests,” she placed a sweet kiss to your forehead “and i wanted to do something special for you to help you wind down”

“ugh, i truly don’t deserve you” you pouted, kate grabbing your hand and guiding you to your seat. “i’ve just been sat on the couch hardly giving you the attention you deserve. you’ve been working just as hard with your team.”

“and you show me that everyday, you go to every single game, even if it’s an away game. you come with me to every banquet and event. you fix me up when i’m hurt and give me your undivided attention every single day. you’ve truly given me the world, YN” she sat next to you, pouring you both a glass of wine.

“i love you so so much, kate” you said, looking at the delicious scene in front of you. you’re favorite food, a nice glass of wine, all of it by candlelight, and your sweet girl at your side.

“i love you too,” she pulled you in for another kiss “and i love living life with you”

[lilacxquartz]

BLESSED WITH BLUE

angel satoru gojo x mortal fem!reader

part 1 of 2 • masterlist • ao3 link • part 2 >>

summary: after making an offering, you catch the attention of a six eyed angel who despite promising you the heavens, leads you into hell instead.

themes: two parts, angels au, yandere, smut (next part), dark, dead dove, described violence, alternate universe

Part 1: Prayer

Initially, you were on your way home.

You were so tired from such exhaustive work for very little gain. The back-breaking labour for mere copper; to just barely afford another day in your uneventful existence.

Then again, this was just how it was for mortals.

To simply just… exist until the end.

You drifted through the radiating vibrancy of the capital adorned by the glowing cherry blossoms that lit up the streets; petals that both bloomed and glowed like rosy lanterns. Every step that you took through the wobbly cobblestone would bruise a soft glow per footprint, making you feel not quite as alone as you would have liked.

Tokyo was more so of a unique settlement in these parts; angels, demons and mortals alike, more or less co-existed although some strayed from their assigned alignments. The cold, silky mist that encased the country was especially strong in this particular region and allowed certain sorts of creatures to exist within the region.

Seeping waves of steam would continuously roll out and bless those who were known as the ‘chosen’, allowing them to harness the power of the gods. The locals called them cursed blessings; gifts from a higher power that nobody could quite describe nor understand. Should a ‘chosen’ abuse their power though, they’d become corrupt and morph into a caricature of their own selfish desires—twisted, disgusting beings, mirroring each and every single negative quality found in their very being.

Ordinary people like you though?

Why, those in particular had nothing truly special going on. That was just the way it was though and for good reason. Just the regular mortals were essential for balance to keep the world in order.

Or however it was that the sacred texts described it. Personally, you didn’t fully get it.

See, the chosen could properly defend themselves against the demons as well as the corrupt beings, however regular mortals could not. Maybe you were just bitter, though. It was against those vile things that you were left orphaned; forced to watch your family be reduced to guts spilled on the blood-soaked floorboards, their life essence stolen to build their power.

(Something about an uncorrupt soul, the texts claimed.)

The demons had a saying, after all:

In order to brew chaos; you had to take away from the balance—and that was exactly what they fed on.

Slowly, as you walked home, you found yourself drifting towards one of the many temples scattered over the city, wanting to test your chances against the order of fate. You heard it all before; angels taking pity on humans who had led tough lives and blessing them with a dosage of their power, not quite ascending them into the likes of the chosen, but close enough.

In some ways, you needed this. Demons ate your family when you were very young, leaving you to fend for yourself ever since then. The locals, while they did try to do their best to assist in your growing up, retired from their responsibility as soon as you were capable enough.

It hurt to grow up so lonely.

There was also the part that by being targeted by demons in the past, attached a negative social stigma towards you. Demons carried a more potent form of cursed energy, making them closer known to cursed spirits and being a survivor of such an attack was often seen as a bad omen.

So before you knew it, you were an outcast by association.

The elders made sure of it, at least.

Pressing on, you weren’t honestly looking for a certain temple in particular. It wasn’t as though you were starved for choice. A lot of temples existed within the city, after all. Different structures supported different things and sometimes not even the angels, even though their proof was highly abundant. Sometimes, people worshipped the simpler deities or just natural disasters as a concept.

You didn’t mind too much wherever you’d ended up. Maybe subconsciously you wanted to be noticed by an angel so that’s why you ended up at one of the flashier temples instead of the simpler ones.

Slowly, you climbed up the stairs; each bricked slab feeling somehow wider and wider with each and every single attempt to pull yourself up. You stared upwards with a certain degree of unease, the distant glow of candles not doing much to warm your worries.

You cautiously padded your way inside, finding that the flames collectively dimmed and were replaced with blue light in a flash. Each step lit up the wicks with a bursting blue flame as you approached the shrine up ahead.

Such a feeling was unsettling.

Almost as if you were being watched.

Gulping the unsettling feeling down and focusing on the shrine, you realised that you didn’t actually have that much to give. This particular temple gave the deity a whole collection of curated blue items from jewels to painted pottery, from woven cloth to scriptures written in colourful ink.

Feeling desperate however, you weren’t about to give up and so, you fell to your knees instead.

With a cautious whisper, you begged the shrine for change, “P-please, I’ll give a-anything, j-just…”

The flames reduced as you spoke; from vibrant blue to a soothing yellow once again.

“I’ll give anything… everything…!”

But nothing happened. You weren’t the lucky type of mortal. You weren’t born into riches and you didn’t have anything physical to offer and by the time the temple returned to its deceptive welcoming regular orange glow, all of your remaining hope had burned away.

Sighing as a result, you finally decided it was time to go home.

Not at all noticing the face of who exactly was watching you from the shadows.

His glowing blue eyes should have been a giveaway, but he kept himself very hidden and instead decided to take a chance on the girl who simply wanted an escape from this cruel routine.

However, just because he was an angel, it didn’t mean that he was going to give you a blessing.

No, he had something much, much worse in store for you.

But you did pray for it.

So perhaps you should have been more careful what you wished for.

~~~

The night was oddly calm at home, at least for a while. You had a dreamless sleep until you didn’t, waking up to what you thought initially to be a nightmare until you realised that there was actual movement going on within your home.

With a cautious ear, you listened in as the front door to your house creaked open and as heavy footsteps walked inside.

Demons were otherwise light on their feet so it couldn’t have been one of those, but they weren’t the only wrong in the world.

(Humans could harm too.)

A familiar feeling of being watched from before surfaced as you sank further into your blanket, hoping that the woollen sheet would somehow protect you as a barrier from impending danger.

You just barely managed to peek out from above your blanket, just barely managing to make out the person in your room. You had an oil lantern lit up on a nearby table but it had been steadily dimming all night, so the range of visibility was quite low.

With an almost exploratory approach, a man with a snowy complexion and frosted hair walked inside; his back carried spearing beams of blue crystalline light that resembled wings, similar to his icy blue gaze. If you focused your sights on other parts of his body, more eyes would appear before disappearing as soon as you redirected your focus.

Was this an angel?

As he approached closer, he reached out a hand to pinch your chin and point it towards his stare, “Do you really promise to give me everything?”

His question caught you off guard and you were left unable to form a coherent response just yet.

He reached out his other hand to press over your heart, his voice adopting an almost playful tone, “Worry not, I’ll… ‘bless’ you.”

“R-really?” you finally managed to blurt out, the next question coming out as a mere whisper. “But why?”

The angel smiled, “Because everything is a lot. Besides, you’re so fragile, so human. That's why you need someone like me.”

Within a flash, you woke up the next day in complete daylight wearing a cold sweat that enveloped your body.

Thinking that it was a dream, you tried to move on and continue your life as normal despite something seeming… different.

Somehow, the world seemed somehow more vibrant?

And as weeks continued to pass you by, demons seemed to almost avoid the area entirely. Better harvests were collected by the locals and less crops suffered from drought. Life also improved for you socially, finding that you got on quite well with someone new who moved into your village just under a week ago.

He was quite similar to you as well. A survivor of a cursed attack not too different than the one you had to endure. His personality was kind too and simply put; you both got along.

However just as things progressed, one night, you heard a thud right outside of your door and upon opening it up in the dead of night, you found him freshly massacred, almost as if professionally butchered in fact—precise, almost delicate cuttings against his flesh—bled him clean out on your doorstep.

Stumbling backwards, you cupped a palm over your mouth and almost wretched in a sickening nausea that overfilled your stomach.

However, just like before, a flash sparked before your very eyes and you were back in bed and it was just a regular morning.

Cautiously walking over to your front door, you opened it up hoping that it was just a vivid nightmare and that he was actually alive, safe and sound. Instead however, was a haunting reminder of what you promised was carved into the stone instead.

“Everything,” it reminded you. “Nobody else can compare like I can.”

So if that was real, then what exactly did you offer?

And to who?

(Or what?)

~~~

part 1 of lilac’s bite sized yandere nightmares

[sugaryplum]

broken ankles and middle names

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader summary: after a silly accident involving the hogwarts' infuriating moving stairs, you're found by a certain quiet boy (whom you not-so-secretly adore). warnings: no good exposition whatsoever, language mistakes, chaotic+flirty reader i want to be her!!! notes: this is part of a bigger story that i will probably never finish writing, let alone publish, so if it seems completely out of context, that's why. this is also the first thing on this tumblr blog and the first written thing i'm ever showing to tumblr besides poetry!!🤭 i hope you like it 🤍 let me know

“what on earth happened to you?”

the situation is silly and absurd, so you laugh, despite the sharp pain that almost makes your eyes water. theo is kneeling beside you with a confused expression on his face, looking from your swollen ankle to your face.

“can you help me to the hospital wing? i can’t walk.”

all you have to do is look at him and he carefully picks you up from the cold floor. you put your arms around his neck for support. “i was walking up the stairs. and then the stairs moved. and then i fell. you know, i’m glad you’re here, there’s not a single soul on the corridors at this time of day, i was just going to get some books, i have free period–”

“you should watch where you’re walking.” his voice sounds like honey and if you weren’t basically laying in his arms right now, your knees would definitely go weak. but you act unbothered. “maybe i should’ve. but then you wouldn’t carry me. maybe this is a win after all.”

“you’re infuriating.” the small smile that cracks on his face doesn’t go unnoticed, especially when you can see his lips from up close.

“infuriating is my middle name.” there’s a lot of things you can see from up close. his eyelashes are long and he has more freckles than you thought. you like how the ends of his hair twist and fall on his forehead.

“annoying.”

“middle name.”

“stop with the middle names.”

after no more than a minute of silence you speak up again. “you’re so quiet.”

“you think so?” a normal person who doesn’t talk to theodore on the daily basis, probably wouldn’t be able to tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. but you are not a normal person. you pay way too much attention.

you come up with a response and giggle before you even get the chance to say it. “you could say that quiet is your middle nam–”

“if i dropped you right now, i bet you'd be whining like crazy.”

“there’s no need to test that.” you hold on to his neck a little tighter. “besides, you’re lucky i’m not whining right now. i’m in enormous amounts of pain.”

“i can tell. your ankle is twice its normal size.”

“you seem to know my ankles pretty well.” theo chuckles more audibly at your words and your heart flutters.

“that's my secret. i've been staring at them since fifth year.”

you gasp, pretending to be shocked. “i never knew my ankles were so desirable! now you got me worried, that fall might’ve been a threat to my beauty…”

“oh, very much so. you're lucky you had me there to carry you and take care of you in such a tragic moment.”

you never thought hogwarts' insanely big castle was exactly convenient. you’re constantly late for classes, walking takes up half of your daily life and you never know what is creeping around the corner. but now, when you’re being carried through it by the boy you like so much, maybe it’s a blessing in disguise?

“how far away is that wing?” you ask in a whiny tone just to get this attention, but in your mind and in your heart you thank merlin for the long corridors.

“don't you dare even start to complain now, after i carried you all this way.”

“i’m not complaining about you, i’m complaining about the castle. although i’m sure i could find some complaints about you…”

“oh?” he looks at you, slightly amused. “go ahead, do your worst.”

“well, for starters, you make weird comments about my ankles.”

“your ankles are my favorite thing about you.”

“that’s an insult.”

“you’re an insult.”

“MIDDLE NAME.”

he sighs and he calls you insufferable and you smile. you can expect the hospital wing right around the corner, but you wouldn’t mind staying in the pretty boy’s arms for a little longer.

[courtforshort15]

All I Feel is You

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem Reader

Word Count: 10,700

Summary: The story of how Matt Murdock falls in love with you, as told through the five senses

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of sex and oral sex

Written for this post by @dorothleah

Seriously guys, this was supposed to be short🤣🤣

Masterlist

1. Touch

The fabrics you tend to wear are warm and inviting and almost begging to be touched. Every single thread is soft and calming, more so than what Matt is accustomed to finding on friends and the general public, and it's become a much welcomed change. He's noticed that you very rarely wear cotton, instead sticking to silk and satin and cashmere, and though you’ve only been at the firm a scant few weeks, he is addicted and can’t help but want to run his fingers up and down the fabric, dying to know how it would feel underneath his fingertips. 

He’s felt silk and satin and cashmere before, often preferring those materials on his own skin, but he’s never felt them on you, and it somehow still changes the way he gravitates towards them. The thought is arousing and enticing in a way he would have never thought possible. 

The fabric slides over your skin as you move, and Matt finds the sound almost distracting, wishing it was his fingers that were sliding over you instead. When you wear dresses, the material sways around your legs as you walk by him, and it takes everything in Matt to not pull you close and slide your dress up, just so that he can test if the clothing you wear is as soft as the inside of your thighs.

His fingers twitch at his sides whenever you move past him, ruthlessly pushing all indecent thoughts away and out of his head. He knows that if he were ever to touch you like the way he's hungered for weeks, he'd never be able to stop. 

Matt very nearly loses all semblance of control the first time you grab his hand and place it around the crook of your elbow, silk blouse pressed between his flesh and yours. 

Typically Foggy is the one to lead him, perhaps even Karen, because leading a visually impaired individual is a skill, and it requires a certain level of finesse and anticipation of the other’s needs. You’ve been hesitant, he’s aware, to guide him, though not because you don’t want to help him; it’s because you’re afraid you’ll mess up, you admit, and he outwardly laughs in your face. 

You flush, smacking his chest, and tell him you’re nervous you’ll forget to remind him of a step up or down, nervous you’ll walk him right into something or someone. He finds it adorable, especially given the fact that he has better coordination and direction than you ever will.

He’s not ready to tell you that yet, though the secret is constantly brimming at his lips, ready to spill at any given moment, regardless of the consequences.

But one day Foggy has a late meeting with a client across town, and Karen has left early for a date, and it’s just you left in the office with him. The long work day ends with a quiet sigh, the office pleasantly peaceful as the last few hours of work tamper off, and Matt startles when you kindly offer to help walk him home. It’s later than you’re usually at the office, and Matt briefly wonders if you’ve stayed because he had needed to finish things and wasn’t able to leave at a decent time.

Matt strives for a healthier life-work-vigilante balance, has worked for it since things ended with Fisk a little over a year ago, but he’s still a work in progress. He’s addicted to his work, both the work that sees the light of day and the work that doesn’t, and he still sometimes forgets that it impacts others, too, despite the constant drilling of these details into his mind by Foggy and Karen.

“It’s really not necessary,” he tells you with a laugh after the offer spills from your lips, packing his things up and putting his suit jacket back on, sliding his arms through the sleeves. The weather is still decently temperate, the warmth of summer still desperately clinging to New York City, but he can already feel the way the air outside has started cooling down now that the sun has almost finished its descent below the skyscrapers that surround the neighborhood. “I know my way around Hell’s Kitchen well enough. I’ll be okay.” 

And the words are true enough, with or without his senses. He’s a New York City boy, through and through, and he knows these streets and city blocks like the back of his hand.

You pick up your purse, pushing the strap over one shoulder, before turning back to him. The sound of your hair and the smell of the shampoo still clinging to each strand stirs a sense of want and yearning, one he so desperately wants to satisfy. 

“What if it makes me feel better?”

Matt shakes his head, smirking, the look on his face something Foggy would probably label as the typical Matt Murdock charm. The ticking of the clock echoes through the office, and though he can't read the time, the dull sounds of the New York City streets outside the window tells him it's later than he thought it was.

“And what if the idea of you going out of your way at night just to walk me home makes me feel worse?” He’s teasing, of course, though there’s some level of truth to it. He hates the idea of you walking alone at night, knowing far too well the danger that seems to always lurk in the alleyways, knowing far too well that even he can’t be everywhere at once, should something happen to you.

The words that leave his mouth seem to temporarily quiet you, but Matt’s not shocked when the silence ends after only a moment or two. You're usually quick with a rebuttal, your mind always sifting through sentences and body language, and Matt waits in amusement as you work to find the right reply for the situation. 

“It’s hardly night,” you finally respond, decidedly shoving the concern aside easily. “It’s only 7. There’s still a little light out.”

Matt may not be able to see the way his face lights up or darkens with certain expressions, but he knows he’s giving you the driest look possible. “You’d still be going far out of your way. Don’t you live in the opposite direction?”

He hears you scoff, though the sound is more amused than anything. “I can walk you home and take a cab back to my place.”

“You should take a cab back to your place regardless of where you are at this time at night,” he counters, stepping completely out of his office and into the lobby of their space, briefcase in one hand, cane in the other. “But I promise I’m fine on my own. It’s only a few blocks.”

“Humor me.” 

It’s a last ditch effort, he’s well aware, if the helpless sigh you let out is anything to go by. You’re waiting for him by the front door, and Matt, despite his protests, wants nothing more than to walk through it with you and bring you home with him.

“Fine,” he says with another sly grin, and he hears the way you exhale in relief. “But only because I’m not going to pass up a few extra minutes with you when you’ve so graciously offered them.”

The words settle between the two of you, and Matt can feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks as vividly as if he was pressed up against you. Your heart skips briefly, and the sound reverberates in his head. He laughs internally in pure satisfaction when you gulp.

“Fine,” you repeat the word back to him, voice slightly higher than it had been a few moments ago, and Matt can’t help but still be secretly pleased with the reaction you’ve given him. “Are you ready then?”

He gestures towards the exit. “Whenever you are.”

“Good,” you say, turning to open the door, but before you can step through it, you pause. Matt tilts his head at you curiously, wordlessly questioning the silence and the way you've hesitated. 

“So…this is an awkward question, and I don’t know how to do it delicately, so I’ll just dive in. At what point–”

Matt cuts you off, suddenly knowing where this was going. This time he's unable to hold back a laugh. “You want to know when you should offer your arm.”

There’s not a moment of hesitation on your end when you answer. “Yeah, pretty much.”

The grin on his face widens, and Matt wonders if it’s possible to ever frown when you’re around. “I can make my way to the elevator just fine,” he says with a brief shrug of his shoulders, unsnapping his cane as he takes a few steps forward. “But having help after that is always appreciated.”

“Got it,” you reply with a quick nod. You turn back to the door, finally opening it up, and step back so that he has room to walk through. “After you, Matt.”

He resists the urge to brush past you as closely as he possibly can, and instead places a careful distance between your body and his. It's almost excruciating, this self-imposed separation, but he pushes the feeling down.

He doesn't need your assistance with this particular task, but he'll be damned if he doesn't take full advantage.

It’s not long before the elevator is dropping you down at the lowest level, and the doors slide open with a quiet ding. He follows your lead, taking a step outside and into the fresh air of the building lobby, and waits patiently for you to reach for him.

Your hand is trembling as it stretches out to grab his, Matt notes curiously, but it’s steady by the time it pulls him slightly forward. Soft fingers settle on the skin of his wrist, and he adjusts his body so that he’s grasping the crook of your elbow as you step further in.

Matt’s stood intoxicatingly close to you before. He's felt the heat of your body close to his as you pass him files, or when you sit next to him at lunch. He’s felt the length of your hair brush his arm lightly as you reach for something that is on the other side of him, felt the way your breath fans over his face when you lean in to whisper something in his ear while at court. It drives him crazy, these little moments of feeling you, always burning and aching for more. 

But through all of that, nothing has prepared him for the feeling of silk that encases your upper arm and the way it feels against your skin resting underneath it. He’s sure he’s gone to heaven, or whatever sort of heaven is possible for a man like him, and he knows then and there that he needs to feel the way your skin will slide against the silk of his own sheets.

You feel far too wonderful him in that moment, wrapped in the soft material the way that you are, and Matt relishes the way your sensitive skin is an equal match to his, knowing he’ll never have to wonder or worry about rough, scratchy fabric rubbing against him if you can help it. It’s exhilarating, this idea that you’ll always be soft and ready for him.

He’s going to have you, one day. You may not know it yet, but there will be a day when he has you spread out and waiting underneath him, and he’ll tell you that it was this moment that was the tipping point for him.

It's hard to focus as you walk him home, saying your goodbyes at his doorstep when a cab pulls up, and he knows his hand will feel empty and bereft until it has the chance to settle on you once more. It’s like he was always meant to hold you, always meant to touch you, and he’ll wait patiently for you to come to the same realization.

*

2. Hearing

Matt has long since learned to drown out noises that aren’t necessary to the tasks at hand. His ears always pick up everything going on around him, relying on them more often than not for obvious reasons, but he’s mastered the art of tuning things out if they are not currently relevant to what he is working on. It’s a skill Stick had taught him, and it is perhaps the best thing that man had ever done for him, encouraging him to focus in the moment while forever remaining vigilant.

The same cannot be said for you.

He's not exactly sure when the others pick up on the way you need things to be softer, but he notices the first time you flinch as the front door slams shut by mistake. 

A potential client, rejected by their team due to several, incessant lies that pour from his mouth in the thirty minutes they meet with him, storms out of the office in annoyance. He mutters angrily to himself as he leaves, and yanks the door behind him, the sound of it echoing throughout the office. 

The sound was expected by Matt, having already anticipated the way it would reverberate throughout their space due to the heaviness and speed of the door headed towards the frame, but with his senses trained towards you, as they so often are, he doesn't miss the way you flinch and cover your ears.

Harsh and loud noises are triggering for you, it seems, and it’s something he can fully sympathize with, unfortunately. He finds it concerning, if not a little intriguing, this flash of vulnerability you display.

Your voice is gentle as it floats out around the office, rarely rising above a certain decibel, almost encouraging those around you to keep things quiet as well. It's impacted the way he, Foggy and Karen listen and speak to each other, making an effort not to shout things through offices, but rather get up and find the person they’re talking to. The transition happens almost over night, and he can sense the way your body relaxes the longer you are employed with them, trusting the team to use voices that aren’t louder than they really need to be.

Over the course of the months you spend settling into their team, you're frequently invited to happy hour at Josie's. It’s easy for him to pick up on the way you love joining the team, having told them you hadn’t felt like New York was home until you accepted their offer of employment, and it warms him. Your cheeks flush with the buzz of alcohol, your posture relaxes, and your speech becomes less poised, less polished. And every time you join them, without fail, you have soft, silicone plugs nestled in your ears while you're seated at the table.

Tonight you’re seated next to him, something that Matt had carefully orchestrated while you were placing a drink order at the bar, adjusting himself so that the only open seat would be next to him. He tries not to give himself away, but he can’t help but lean into you as far as he can without making it extremely obvious how much he wants to be pressed against you at all times.

He inhales sharply when you abruptly twist your body so that you’re angled towards him in a way that suggests he might not be alone in this need that runs viciously through him.

Matt does his best to focus in on the story you’re telling, your arms gesturing wildly as you regale the group with a funny anecdote about your younger brother. Your voice, despite the loudness of the bar, is still gentle in its cadence, and Matt has long since determined that no other voice will ever captivate him the way yours does.

When you’re done, you take a long sip of your drink, the liquid sliding down your throat, and Matt longs to wrap his hand around the column of your neck just to feel it, while maybe tilting your head back to kiss you in the process. 

Before Matt has the chance to ask you a follow-up question about your brother, curious to know more about the life you’ve led before moving to New York, Foggy jumps in with a question of his own, shouting over the noise of the bar.

"I've never asked before, but why do you wear ear plugs when we come here?"

You freeze next to him, and for a brief second Matt wants to shove his friend off of his bar stool. It’s a question he’s always had, though he thinks he already knows the answer, but he hates the way you’ve been put on the spot. He opens his mouth to tell you that you don’t need to answer, but you reply anyway, cutting him off.

"I, uh…I can get overwhelmed with loud noises," you explain quietly, fidgeting with the napkin still resting in your lap, placed there to wipe salt and grease off of your fingers as you munch on the french fries the group had ordered. "Sometimes it just gets to be too much. I can't focus on what's going on in front of me because everything else is just too loud. The ear plugs drown some things out."

Foggy tilts his head in curiosity, and Matt throws him a look of warning, wordlessly asking him to tread carefully, unwilling to let anything upset you. It had surprised him, initially, his reaction to the thought of you being uncomfortable, but now he knows and no longer questions the fact that he’d gladly rake his body over flaming coals if it meant you were always safe and happy and settled in whatever environment you found yourself in.

Foggy hasn’t caught on to his feelings just yet, but Karen has, and he can practically feel the amused side-eye she’s shooting him.

He rests a hand on your knee gently, intending to only leave it there for a second, but your hand suddenly reaches down and grabs it, easily interlacing your fingers with his. Matt tracks the way your cheeks flush, the way your heartbeat stutters for a split second, and is unable to stop the way his face splits open in a smile.

"Can you hear us okay, then? When you have them in?" Foggy questions, continuing on with the topic, completely oblivious to the body language of the people around him. 

You let out a quiet laugh. "You're sitting close enough that it's not really an issue. But I am decent at reading lips, so that usually helps, too."

“Gotcha,” Foggy says with an easy smile. “Let me know if there’s ever anything we can do to help make you more comfortable."

The conversation about your ear plugs ends there, Matt steering them gently towards another topic to help lead the focus off of something he can tell you're slightly self-conscious about, and he's rewarded by another squeeze of his hand. 

After that evening, the group still goes to Josie's fairly often, but they begin taking turns hosting happy hour at their own individual apartments. It becomes a frequent habit, ordering take out and staying in rather than going out, and Matt easily admits to himself that the quieter get-togethers are easier on his own ears, too. 

The lack of the sharp noises and drunken chatter of a bar also gives him the ability to focus on your heartbeat just that much easier, jumping whenever he gently brushes his fingers over yours when handing you another drink or carton of fried rice, and that alone makes the slight change worth it. 

Matt is committed at this point, intimately aware of what his presence does to you, and while he’d wait forever, he’s desperate to hear every single moan, gasp, or sigh he can draw out of you with his body pressed against yours.

"I never did thank you," you say quietly one evening, helping toss the beer bottles in his recycling bin. Foggy and Karen left ten minutes ago, claiming the need to prep a few more things before trial tomorrow, though Matt knows they had strategically left him alone with you on purpose.

Sometimes he thinks his friends are trying to get back at him for the years of chaos and tears he’s caused them.

"Thank me for what?" He asks, throwing some of the leftover Chinese into his fridge. He packs up a small bag of leftover white rice and vegetables for you to take, knowing without verbal confirmation that the slight blandness is something you'll enjoy and appreciate. He enjoys it, too, strong flavors sometimes too much for him, but he would rather you have it.

"You're the one who started encouraging us to spend time as a smaller group at someone's place, rather than going out," you say, voice floating through his apartment. He may not yet have told you about his own senses, but for some reason you've picked up on the way he can always hear you, no matter how soft or loud you are. "And I just really appreciate it. Going out isn't a big deal, but this is still a nice change sometimes."

Matt steps out of his kitchen to where you've picked up your purse from his table and stands directly in front of you, close enough to reach out and touch. He notices the way your breathing catches, as it always does when he stands near, and for whatever reason, tonight he feels emboldened to fully lean into it.

He reaches out to run a gentle finger down your cheekbone, and you sigh and seem to lean into it instinctively. It's all the encouragement he needs to continue. "I've found that I'd do just about anything to make sure you're comfortable," he says, enjoying the way your skin heats, and he takes another step forward, hand now fully cupping the side of your face. "Whatever you need from me to help that, I'll do it."

You pause for a moment, apparently weighing something in your mind, and he feels the moment you've made some sort of decision. He stands still when you take a tiny step towards him, the heat of you downright scalding, and he waits with bated breath for you to say something. 

"You don't need to do anything, Matt," you whisper quietly, taking his other hand in yours. "But thank you all the same. Truly."

Months of him needing you near more than he needs to breathe, months of him needing to put you first before all other things in his life, causes him to close the distance, unable and unwilling to spend one more second of not knowing what your mouth feels like underneath his.

Your lips are warm and soft as he presses against them, and he keeps the kiss gentle. Your hands reach up to wrap themselves in his shirt, and Matt knows he'll spend the rest of his life wanting to hear nothing else but that quiet sigh that leaves your mouth as it parts for his.

*

3. Taste

Matt grew up in perhaps one of the most unique melting pots in the world. 

New York City is an explosive mixture of cultures and ethnicities and races, and he’s been exposed to all the wonderful things that come with the mixture of so many people living in his city - the different music, the different languages, the different dreams and ideals. 

But the one thing that never fails to disappoint and sadden him about it is the fact that all the different foods of the world, so easily within his grasp, can be extremely overwhelming to his sense of taste. It’s a sense of irony that he doesn’t appreciate.

Over the years, he’s learned to cook with minimal spices and flavors, almost desperate to avoid making his taste buds go haywire, but though everything he makes is nourishing and edible, it doesn’t necessarily make them…good. Matt has a relatively bland diet, sticking to foods and flavors that are subtle, and the repetition is boring. 

But then…you come along.

It’s like an explosion, the flavors you bring with you in your lunches and snacks every day. Matt’s mouth salivates over the meals you bring in, knowing without tasting them that nothing you make will overwhelm his taste buds. It’s never anything fancy, he admits. But you’ve tossed ingredients and spices together in a way that he would have never thought to mix, and it suddenly sets him on a renewed journey of finding new things he can’t wait to try.

Rich and savory spices and herbs spill out of your small backpack as you load them in the fridge every day, and the way the scents sometimes stick to your skin makes him want to take you home and never take his tongue off of you.

…which, he feels that way one hundred percent of the time anyway, the taste of your skin divine by itself, but these moments bring out his hunger for you even more. He's had his tongue on you now, had it in you, and he'd gladly spend the rest of his time here on Earth tasting nothing but the salt on every single inch of your body that you'll let him touch.

He's only made love to you once, but Matt can no longer imagine his life without your taste in his mouth.

It's a rainy Friday night in Hell's Kitchen when you manage to drag him to one of your favorite restaurants, though the word drag is used lightly. He's eager and selfish enough to take every spare second you'll give him, but even he can admit that some cases at work require late evenings. There's an everlasting desire to press his lips to yours, if only to draw out every sound he now knows you can make, so he follows you anyway, despite the heavy workload resting on the secondhand desk that's situated in his office. 

The streets of New York City are wet and miserable, but you pull him happily with you, and he has no control over the heart that has decided your hand is a better home and keeper than his own chest.

Before you even round the corner with him half a step behind, he knows instinctively what restaurant you’re taking him to without a word being spoken. It's a few blocks outside of Hell's Kitchen, so he's never really walked by this restaurant before, but now, just a few hundred feet from him, it calls to him, a delicious mixture of spices and herbs and sugars rolling across his tongue that are satisfying without being overwhelming.

He takes his time on your arm, enjoying the way you sway and swerve in between other pedestrians, simply because it gives him an excuse to hold onto you that much tighter. And by the time he holds the door open for you to step inside, Matt's mouth is almost drooling in want and hunger.

It's not long before food is being placed in front of you both, and he wastes not a single second before diving in. He knew before he even entered the restaurant that he was about to eat one of the most fantastic meals of his life, outside of the classic bacon and eggs and pancakes his father used to make him every Saturday morning while he watched cartoons. 

The same explosion of flavors that he had smelled from outside is there, foods that are bold but still somehow subtle, and he swears he's never tasted a combination of ingredients and sauces and spices that fit so well with his palette. 

Add in the fact that the restaurant uses natural products to clean their dishes and wash their vegetables, rather than burning chemicals that scald both his nose and tongue, and it makes him feel like he never wants to eat anywhere else again.

He also never wants to eat or discover new things with anyone else but you again, but that's a conversation for another time. 

"This is one of my favorite places to come to," you say lightly with a soft smile on your lips, and Matt hmms in agreement, because it has suddenly managed to become one of his favorites, too. "I found it a few months back. It’s relatively new, I think. It just has so many options to choose from that fit with the sorts of things I like."

Matt lifts his fork to his mouth, eyes briefly shutting in contentment, a swirl of rich, savory flavors that settle enticingly on his tongue. He savors it before he swallows.

He can track down every ingredient used for this specific dish. The vegetables are the same ones Monica Smith sells in her small market on 42nd, the chicken from the butcher on 57th. Most of these ingredients are sold fresh and locally, sources that Matt often trusts with his own meals that he cooks himself, and there's nothing more comforting than tasting Hell’s Kitchen, than tasting home on his tongue.

"Do you come here often, then?" He asks once he places his fork down and takes a sip of his drink. 

Your mouth twists into a smirk. "You've already got me, Matthew. No need to use a pick up line.”

A startled laugh escapes his throat, and the sound echoes throughout the quiet restaurant. "That's not how I meant it."

"Felt like you were putting the moves on me like we were some sort of dive bar," you tease. You blow on the spoonful of soup you're about to wrap your mouth around to eat, and Matt can't help but think of the way your mouth had been wrapped around him not too long ago.

"No need to put the moves on you when I've apparently already got you, sweetheart," he fires back with a grin. "Though I'd be very interested in discussing that particular fact later. In detail."

A quiet laugh trickles over to him. "That can probably be arranged."

"Good," is all he says. He takes another bite, and you mirror him, finally placing the spoon in your mouth. Matt lets out a quiet moan, both at the taste of the food in his mouth and the taste that's now resting on your tongue, eager to pull you to him and share it with you by way of placing his mouth greedily on yours.

"But to answer your question, I do," you tell him once you swallow, and Matt simultaneously attempts to push the arousal away temporarily (he fails), and smiles at the way your voice sounds wistful and happy. He hopes the sound can be contributed to his company just as much as the food in front of you. "It's hard for me to find places that I like."

He tilts his head to the side. "Any specific reason why?"

You shrug, and Matt's attention lazily drifts to the sound the silk makes as it slides over your shoulders. He's had you in his bed now, and the sound of silk and your skin gliding against each other will forever be etched into his memory. 

"Too many places just use ingredients that don't…taste right to me," you answer easily. "Too much salt. Too much grease. Too much everything, really. This place is more gentle, more thoughtful with how they prepare things, I think. Things just feel more natural here."

Matt has to bite back a smile because you just…get it.

He hasn't said a word to you about his senses, not yet at least, but somehow everything about you just fits with him, like you're two pieces of a puzzle, meant to connect and stay connected, revealing an image that only the two of you can see and feel.

"I understand what you mean by that," he says softly, reaching out to grasp your hand in his before he pulls away to grab his beer. "Have you always been that way? Sensitive to different foods? I've noticed the types of things you bring in for lunch; seems to be a common thread."

He feels the way your hand halts on its way to your mouth, and the pause sets him briefly on edge, the sound of your heartbeat stuttering for just a quick second. Opening his mouth, Matt means to ask what's wrong, but you answer before he can do so.

"Yeah, I've always been like this. I, uh…I'm on the spectrum," you tell him before shoving the bite of your salad in your mouth. Matt's mouth drops a fraction of an inch, honestly having not suspected the response. But it makes him pause, because all of a sudden it clicks that he has observed traits that seem to be consistent with what he knows about the diagnosis. 

Sensitivity to sound. Sensitivity to certain fabrics. Sensitivity to taste. He hadn't caught on before, but now it just…makes sense.

You continue. "I'm a fairly mild case, honestly, but certain tastes and textures of food are just overwhelming sometimes, or they don't feel right in my mouth. It's hard to explain."

His focus quickly shifts to the way you adjust in your seat, as if nervous about his reaction, and he finds himself intensely disliking the thought of you regretting your admission in any way.

"You could try to explain, if you're comfortable with it," he suggests softly, reaching out to gently grasp and squeeze your hand again before he pulls back, needing you to know that anything you divulge is safe with him. He hopes that when he's ready to divulge a secret of his own, you'll sit and really hear him, the way he's always needed someone to hear him, the way he's always needed someone to hear him and still love him.

"Whatever you have to say, I want to listen."

Taking a deep breath, you place your fork on your plate, though Matt doesn't necessarily take it as a sign that you're uncomfortable with the topic, to which he is grateful, but rather something that indicates you're planning in your head what you want to say.

When you finally answer, Matt is utterly powerless to do nothing but give you every single cell of attention that resides in his body.

"I'm not necessarily shy about it, I'm actually pretty open about it, but I guess there's not much to say," you begin, sounding less hesitant than you had sounded just seconds before. "It's pretty common for people on the spectrum to be picky eaters, and that's always been the case for me. But even if it's common, it doesn't mean it's necessarily well understood why, and no two people and their reactions are the same. For some reason, it tends to be more prevalent in women, which makes it even more difficult to track or explain because there isn't a ton of research on women who are autistic. Most studies focus on men."

He hmms in the back of his throat, tilting his head to the side in consideration. "I guess I hadn't really thought about that."

"Most people don't," you say after another bite, and he frowns lightly at the tone of nonchalance in your voice, because even though you sound unaffected, he can hear the quiet waver that suggests that there's a part that ever so slightly bothers you at people's general lack of acknowledgment of the matter. He vows to learn every single thing you're able to teach him, vows to read every single book, published article, or internet post he can find. "Long story short, my sense of taste tends to be limited in terms of what I can tolerate, you know?"

Matts quiet for a moment before he responds. "Oddly enough, I can understand that," he says with a small smile, raising his glass to take another sip of his drink. 

"I figured you would," you reply with a light shrug, the movement stirring the air around you, making the scent of you carry over to him enticingly. He opens his mouth ever so slightly to catch the taste on his tongue. "You tend to order pretty simple things when we all go out. You stick to the same foods and drinks for the most part."

A smirk replaces the grin on his face. "You've been paying attention to me? What am I supposed to do with that information, I wonder?"

He can feel the way your face flushes, and he imagines the color that is blooming rapidly across your cheeks. He vaguely remembers the color red, and he wonders if your skin is vibrant and bold right now, or if the hue is soft and sweet.

"Am I wrong, though?" You ask, neatly avoiding his own questions. "You prefer things that are subtle, things that taste smooth, as opposed to things that taste sharp or in your face, I guess? Do you know what I mean by that?"

"I do. Things that are easy rather than bold," he says with a quick nod. "I can't do bitter or spicy or sour."

Your face splits into a grin. "Exactly. Certain flavors are nice, but they can't be overwhelming or I just kinda…start to shut down. I don't tend to like new things. I'm perfectly happy sticking to the things I know I like."

Matt leans back in his seat as he places his napkin on the table in front of him. He waits until you swallow before speaking again, diving in for the kill, knowing exactly what sort of reaction he's hoping to get from you.

"I'm typically the same way," he says with a smirk. "Though, based on the other night, I'd have to say that my new favorite taste is you."

Your skin flares to life again as you take in a sharp breath, and the smile on his mouth is wide with borderline glee and satisfaction when you give him just the response he had been looking for.

He practically pats himself on the back for a job well done, but is unprepared for your response.

"Well," you say slowly, voice quiet and wavering for just a split second before it strengthens, "if that's the way you feel, then maybe we could go back to your place and you can have me for dessert."

It's Matt's turn to be momentarily speechless, and while blood had rushed to your cheeks at his comment, his own blood heads straight to his cock at yours, and at the thought of having his mouth on you again makes him go absolutely feral.

When he regains his ability to speak, he flags down the waiter he can hear at the table next to him, and asks for the check with a speed he's never managed to achieve, despite his years of snapping at the heels of every violent and manipulative criminal in Hell's Kitchen.

Your soft laugh continues to echo in his ear as he practically drags you to his apartment. 

*

4. Scent 

You miss two or three days of work a month due to what you’ve described as chronic migraines, and the whole office cringes in sympathy whenever you call out. Matt is no stranger to headaches, having had his head bashed in too many times to count, and he knows he’s caused several headaches of his own for Foggy and Karen, the direct result of them being friends with a man who is always finding himself in some sort of trouble.

But migraines, he’s heard, are a whole different ball game, and it saddens him to think of you in so much pain.

When you first started working for their firm, the team used to come to your home and bring you case files and notes at your request, as you were always eager to prove that you were a valuable member of their team, despite the illness that randomly knocked you on your ass for sometimes 24 to 48 hours. They all trust you to complete your work, usually staying late and working weekends to make up for lost time, and for months he humored you, if for no other reason than to have an excuse to show up on your doorstep and check up on you.

Now, though…it’s different.

He ignores your request to bring the files over, and is instead armed with decaffeinated coffee, green tea, peppermint tea, anything and everything he’s researched that is recommended to help ease you out of a migraine and prevent future ones. He’s not sure how much of it all works, but he’s willing and desperate to lessen your pain, even if only for a few minutes.

You’d gifted him with a key just a few weeks ago, shortly after he had told you he loved you for the first time. Unlike most things in his life, being with you is effortless and calm. The transition from friendship to this was seamless, the pair of you somehow knowing this was something meant to last, so he lets himself quietly into your apartment without a second thought. 

The air conditioning is cranked up and blasting as it always is when a migraine sets in, something about heat being a trigger for you, and he doesn’t need to see to know that all the blinds are shut, cutting out all of the natural light and the warmth that would have hit his skin through the windows.

You’re in your bedroom, your heartbeat too rapid for his liking, so he sets the items he’s brought over onto your counter, removes his shoes and suit jacket, and makes his way towards you. You don’t say anything when he settles in behind you, just grabs his arm and pulls it around you, and within a few moments, you’re dead asleep. It’s as if you had been waiting on him before you could fully relax, trusting him to watch over you in your moments of vulnerability.

It’s hours later, well into the evening, when you finally stir again, your body stretching before sinking further into his. Matt had drifted off to sleep beside you for a bit, but had already been awake for an hour before your eyes fluttered open, grateful that your heart rate had decreased and your breathing settled into something more peaceful. The way your body physically reacts to any sort of stress, whether it be sickness or an impending deadline, never fails to put him on edge, ready to leap into the fray of whatever has the potential to cause you harm.

“You’re still here?” Your voice is groggy with sleep, though it’s not as tight with pain as it normally is when you’re in the throes of a migraine, so Matt finds himself relieved that the worst of it may have passed.

“I didn’t want to leave,” he whispers in your ear, tightening the arm resting around your waist. “I don’t have to go out for another few hours or so.”

“What time is it?”

“Just after 7,” he said, placing a kiss to the top of your head from where it’s almost tucked under his chin. “I got here around 3, after the meeting with that new client.”

“And you stayed the whole time?” The words are quiet, but they still sound slightly incredulous. “Matt…you had so much to do today.”

“Nothing more important than making sure you’re okay,” Matt responds easily, slotting his legs up behind yours, pressing the entire length of his body against you. You’d called early this morning while he had been on his way to work, claiming that an awful migraine had started up last night, and he had rushed through his day as quickly as possible. “Are you feeling better?”

You make a non-committal noise. “Maybe a little. I think my meds kicked in this afternoon.”

Matt hums quietly in your ear. “Have you considered a new brand? They don’t seem to be helping much. You still get them pretty frequently.”

Shifting in his hold, you suddenly turn to face him, and Matt adjusts by rolling slightly on to his back, allowing you to curl up against his side and lay your head on his chest. Matt uses the opportunity to brush a kiss against your forehead, the heat of your skin against his always welcome. He had long since removed his pants and shirt, having taken them off before he decided to nap with you, and the way you snuggle closer reminds him that you like being skin to skin just as much as he does.

“They help as much as they can,” you say with a subtle shrug. “It’s hard when something triggers it.”

Matt stills the hand that had naturally risen up to brush lightly against your back. “What triggered it?”

“The lady that came in yesterday afternoon.”

He furrows his brow, searching back through his memory. “Mrs. Henderson?” He feels you nod against his chest, still shuddering and inching impossibly closer. “What about her?”

“It was her perfume.”

“Her perfume triggered the migraine?” You nod again, and Matt frowns mildly as he starts piecing some things together. 

It clicks. “Are you migraines…scent triggered?”

You sigh against him, throwing a leg over his, further settling yourself against him, and Matt tightens his arm. Your eyes flutter shut as you speak. “Yeah, usually. Being around strong scented things can be awful.” 

Matt’s not sure why he hadn’t recognized it before, now that he thinks back on it. The way your apartment always smells clean, but not in a way that smells like a solution of pure chemicals. It always smells more natural, made up of subtle scents that are warm rather than piercing. Your detergent is in similar fashion, and the shampoo you use on your hair is soft and almost indistinct to anyone who doesn't have a nose like his. No candles. No air fresheners. It’s a wonder that he hasn’t noticed it, given the fact that he has always used similar products at his own place that are equally kind to his nose.

“How come I didn’t know this?” Matt questions curiously. He should have known, uniquely prepared and understanding of yet another sensory factor that he has in common with you. But unlike your own unique sensitivity, Matt has found a way to block out most scents, especially the more unpleasant ones that come with living in New York City. 

“Didn’t seem important.”

“Didn’t seem–? It’s super important, if it means there’s something that causes you this much pain,” he argues quietly, resuming the movement of his hand running up and down your back. You arch into the touch. “I might not be able to help all of the time, but I might be able to help with this.”

Matt knows you know exactly what he’s talking about, having told you his biggest secret not long into the relationship. You take a sudden deep breath.

“I guess I didn’t think of it that way,” you admit quietly. “It didn’t really occur to me, that this might be something you could maybe…help with.”

“We’ll figure it out, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear, shifting his head to kiss your cheek. “Whatever I can do to help, just like I said before.”

You nod sleepily into his chest, the conversation having apparently worn you out already, and Matt huffs a laugh when your eyes close again and don't reopen.

It doesn’t take long to develop a routine from there on out. Matt’s able to pick up on a scent headed up the elevator that he knows will bother you, long before the client even enters the office of Nelson, Murdock & Page, and he takes great care in either encouraging you to work from home the rest of the day, or hoarding you in his own office, the quiet and unassuming scent of your shampoo and detergent an everlasting sense of peace to his own sensitive nose.

It’s only been a few months, but he has every intention of permanently blending your scent with his.

*

5.  Sight

You prefer muted lights over fluorescent ones.

It doesn’t take long for Matt to notice that the lights in your apartment are warm and relaxing, a strong contrast to the lights he can hear in other various settings. It’s no surprise to him, not really, when he pairs this detail with all the other sensitivities you have. And while the low lights are a benefit to your eyes, Matt considers them a benefit to his hearing.

He’s never mentioned it, but even though he can’t see the harsh lights of a courtroom or police station, he can hear them, and the buzzing noise isn’t always pleasant. He can block most things out, but the constant thrumming does wear on his nerves sometimes, a sharp sound that blazes across his skin before settling in his ears.

He appreciates coming home to you, for more reasons than he could ever possibly count, knowing that the only lights you’ve brought with you when you moved in are soft and warm and blessedly quiet.

Matt knows your eyes are sensitive, that you wear sunglasses whenever you’re outside, regardless of sun or rain or snow, and the lenses that perch on your nose have a special blue-light filter to help take away the strain of staring at a computer screen for too long. He split the cost of having custom sized curtains throughout the apartment to drown out some of the light, and he’s heard you explain to Foggy and Karen the reason the backlight on your phone is so muted.

This isn't something he can necessarily relate to, the one sense of five he is lacking and will never regain. He remembers what it was like to see, colors and faces and neighborhoods rich and vibrant, but light had never caused him actual pain.

He will forever live his life in the dark, even while you remain the bright and pulsing star he will never stop orbiting around.

Over the course of the past year and a half, Matt has spent time tracking the similarities he has with you. All the sensitivities that match up, and it's brought so much comfort to his life that he doesn't know how to articulate it. You've begun building a life together that is soft and soothing for you both. 

He's not surprised that the topic of his own sight has taken so long to be brought up. Calm and simple conversations have sprouted up here and there, and he's always known that you'd haven't avoided the topic, but rather simply made it clear that while losing his sight has continued to be a large part of his story, it is not necessarily the one that is most important to you.

You have always understood that he is more than his blindness, even before his big reveal. And when the topic finally surfaces, it carries both more and less weight than it has anytime before. 

"Matt," you begin quietly, settled in his arms after he absolutely wrecked your world with his fingers, his tongue, and his cock. He's wrapped himself around you from behind, one of his favorite ways to ensure that you're here with him, that you're safe, that you're his. "Can I ask a question?"

He makes a sound in the back of his throat quietly, indicating that yes, you can ask him anything. He has stripped down every barrier that keeps you from him, both his walls and yours, and there is nothing he'll deny you. 

You must pick up the unspoken words he's given you in a language only the two of you understand, so you proceed. "If this sounds insensitive, please tell me. I don't want to upset you, I'm just curious."

Beyond interested now, Matt rolls you in his arms until you're facing him. Your breath gently rolls over him as he pushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "What is it, sweetheart?"

Taking a deep breath, your mouth parts in response. "Do you…ever wish you could still see?"

The question makes him pause in a way he hasn't quite stilled before. He's been asked the same question hundreds of times over the decades of his life since the accident, and the answer has always been the same. In an effort to tell people he's happy with where his life is at, in an effort to make people not pity him by him thinking a part of his life is missing, he has always responded with a quick, no, I'm fine. I've gotten used to it.

And while he is fine, the reasoning goes far beneath what he hands out for others to know. Matt may struggle with believing he is worthy of being loved and adored, but one thing he is sure of is that he doesn't owe anyone his story, and that very few deserve to hear it. 

He told Karen once that he wished he could see the sky one more time in a rare moment of opening up, though he admits that he had mostly done so to earn her trust in a display of offering a vulnerability. He had hoped it would inspire an admission of her own, something to help guide him towards the next clue to the puzzle in her case, but he had been unsuccessful.

But that was neither here nor there.

The question falling from the lips he'd gladly spend every second pressed against is quiet, less probing than others who have asked, and he knows this is yet one more thing he's unable to keep from you. 

Actually, the word is no longer unable, but rather unwilling, because there's not a single piece of himself that he wants to keep hidden from you. You own him, body, heart, and soul, and months ago that acceptance of ownership came with the realization that he has no desire to be anything but open and free beneath your fingertips.

A soft hand runs up his torso and settles over his heart, a quiet yet intentional moment of comfort, and you speak before he gets a chance to reply. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

He shakes his head. "No, it's not that. I'm just thinking."

"Take your time, love," is all you say, and the term of endearment never fails to knock him off his feet. You are his love, but he is also yours.

With a subtle clearing of his throat, he opens his mouth to answer, not an ounce of hesitation, though the words at first seem disjointed because he's not quite sure how to say what he wants to say. 

"I…yes and no," he starts softly in your ear. "There...are certain things I wish I could see at least once, or at least one more time, but for the most part, no. I don't necessarily wish that."

Sheets rustle as you push a thigh between his to press even closer. "Is it because you just have accepted it? That there's nothing you can do about it, so no use thinking about it?"

"In some ways, sure," he tells you, pointer finger drawing lazy circles on your hip. "But I was angry about it for a long time. Angry that my vision was taken from me because I tried to help someone. I felt like I had been punished by a god who only ever saw the devil in me, rather than the good I had tried to do, even as a kid. But that anger shifted the older I got, and rather than blame God, I blamed the rest of the world for all the injustices, feeling like I was doomed to do nothing but hear them. And it made me furious that everyone else had the ability to actually see these horrible things happening, and yet they did nothing."

"So…you let the devil out," you murmur against his chest, already familiar with this part of the story, having heard the explanation of what had made him snap, the final straw that broke the camel's back. 

"Yes," he whispers back, knowing you held no blame or disgust associated with the sentence you had just let out. "I let the devil out."

Once upon a time he had begged Foggy to understand why he had chosen this particular path, asking him to forgive him for doing what he had thought necessary to save that little girl. He had repeated the process with Karen some time after that, but the results had been even worse the second time, the lie in their friendship and failed relationship a chasm between the two of them.

But with you…there had been no begging involved. No praying at your feet that you would understand it, understand him. The shock had been there, true, when he finally revealed himself all those months ago, laying all his cards on the table, yours to do with what you wished.

A silence had echoed between you, one that had felt like years but had only actually lasted a split second, before you picked up all the cards he had given you, tucked them in your chest for safe keeping, and responded with endless amounts of love and affection. You'd taken his hand just as easily as you'd taken his heart, told him you trusted him to do what he thought was right, and that there was not a single piece of him that you did not want and adore.

"And now? How do you feel about it now? About not being able to see?"

"I talked about this once with Maggie," he replies, recalling the conversation he'd had with her years ago underneath the church. "This idea of looking back on the past and trying to figure out if the life we led was on the right path or not. I told her about all the anger I had felt, all the hurt and betrayal. It took me a long time to realize that maybe God thought sight was unnecessary to do what needed to be done, and that I needed to go through the things I did in order to become Daredevil."

"And has that helped you? Thinking about it that way?"

"Yes," he says without hesitation, without pause. "If getting back my sight meant losing everything else, losing all the things that have helped me to help others, then it wouldn't be worth it."

"That makes sense," you whisper quietly against his chest. Your hair rubs against his skin, and Matt sighs at the contact. "You're Daredevil. Daredevil is Matt Murdock. There's no separating the two, because you're both. You wouldn't be your full self if you couldn't do what you can do."

He pulls you tighter against him. "Yes, I....that's exactly it," he says with a rush of breath that slides over your hair and skin. "I couldn't…be me without it. So, no. I don't wish I could see, not if it meant giving this up."

"And you don't feel the need to see." 

Matt can't help but love the way it's a statement, and not a question. 

"I don't," he says simply. "I've lived the vast majority of my life without sight, and I can live the rest without it, too. I have Foggy. I have Karen. I have our practice. And I have you. My life is complete the way it is."

Fingers trail up his chest, up his neck, and settle on his cheek. Matt instinctively leans his head into the touch, relishing the way you always manage to provide love and affection without saying a word. 

He's not necessarily sensitive to the topic anymore, and certainly never could be with you, this wonderful person in his life who has filled him with warmth, a steady flame licking at his heart and spreading outwards, always finding every crack and crevice to stitch together and make whole. 

He'll never be able to fully articulate the way he's never felt like home with anyone else but you, never be able to fully articulate the way you've righted the axis of his life that has not felt safe or secure since his father died.

All he can do is try. 

Try to explain just how you've pulled him in like a moth to the flame, but never once tried to burn him.

"My eyes haven't worked since I was 9, but you manage to help me see, sweetheart. In a way no one else has been able to before, " he says, and the words cause your breathing to hitch. He continues without much pause. "You describe things to me without me asking. I can hear and feel everything so much, but there's always going to be things I can't pick up on, and you've filled that void for me."

Your hand twitches, curling into itself on his chest, and he doesn't waste a single second reaching up to flatten it against his heart again. "Matt." Your voice is thick with an emotion mimicking both surprise and reverence, and your heartbeat has sped up considerably. 

Bending his neck lightly, he brushes his lips across your forehead. "You just naturally tell me about things going on around me, as if you had been doing it your whole life. I thought it was cute before you knew what I was capable of picking up on, but you haven't stopped. You still describe colors and facial expressions and funny signs you see when we're outside. You still tell me all about these things you notice, as if you want to make sure I don't miss a single thing, and I love you for it."

Seemingly stunned into silence, you lay cradled up against him, heart racing and skin flushed and warm. Winding his hand in your hair, Matt pulls your head back, and waits until he knows for sure your eyes have rested on his face. His smile is soft, as is the skin of your cheek when he moves his hand to stroke a thumb down your cheek, picking up a stray tear that rolled down. 

He tilts his head down to kiss you, but before he can move an inch, you're pulling his mouth down towards yours with a hand of your own wrapped around the back of his neck.

He pulls away after a brief moment before he gently rolls you onto your back, parting your thighs so that he can lay between them, anxious to be pressed against you, pressed in you, in every way he can. You moan as his weight settles on top of you, though it changes to a quiet gasp when his cock slides inside, your cunt still wet from where he had finished inside you not an hour before. 

He's pretty sure you're nothing but wet when you're around him, something that never fails to arouse a sharp sense of satisfaction that he makes your body react that way. It makes it easy to take you whenever he wants, your body ready for his with his name and a murmured yes on your lips. 

Matt captures your mouth again with a soft kiss, and when he pulls away, even as his hips rock languidly against yours, he can't help but whisper the words that have unconsciously circled in his head for months now.

"Out of everything out there, out of everything you've told me or described to me, if I could see only one thing in the world, it would be your face when you say I do."

And with that, he laces his fingers with yours as he presses your hand into the mattress next to your head, lightly tracing over the engagement ring he had slid on to your ring finger not too long ago.

It seems that every one of your sensory sensitivities matches his in some way or another, and he can’t help but be thrilled, be calmed by it. The idea of spending the rest of his life side by side with someone he not only loves and adores and cherishes more than his own life, but someone who appreciates and understands the way that the world is just too much sometimes, someone who has helped him find peace in a way he had never thought possible, has forever changed this path that his life has always been on.

Your mouth parts in a sigh underneath his, and he spends the rest of the night using all four senses to drive you both to the edge over and over again, aware that he'll never need his sight to see how perfectly, how flawlessly you were made for him.

[thebisexualdogdad]

Club owner fuckboy Mihawk x GN!reader

● Mihawk owns the hottest club in town with Shanks, Ace and Buggy working there as bartenders and Smoker and crocodile as security

● and he is the biggest fuckboy around

● he has a reputation for hooking with customers

● he lives in the penthouse above the club so it's easy for him to bring someone upstairs for sex

● you and your friends became regulars at the club after Sanji gets hired as the new chef and you immediately caught Mihawk's attention

● after hearing about his reputation from Sanji you decide to play the long game, letting him buy you drinks over the course of a few weeks but nothing more

● until he wants you so bad he's desperate and practically begging to get you into his bed

● Nami tells you to not make him wait too long or he'll find someone else to get his fix from and that means me no more free drinks for any of you

● so you give him a taste by making out with him in his own personal booth in the vip section of the club

● and a week later you finally spend the night with him

● and it is the best night of your life

● the rumors about what Mihawk is packing turn out to be very true

● he's absolutely massive (he has a variety of lube on hand for everybody's safety)

● and he knows exactly how to use it

● the next morning your friends are blowing up your phone asking how it was

● you respond with a picture of a sleeping Mihawk on his stomach displaying all the scratch marks you left down his back

● and sure both of you are still hooking up with other people on the side because of his inability to settle down with just one person

● but he clearly favors you making time for you 3-4 times a week while he usually only sleeps with someone once and is done with them

● sexting is frequent with Mihawk

● like every single day frequent

● he sends you so many shirtless pics

● which leads to pics of him with his hands down his pants

● and then videos of him playing with himself while moaning your name

● he's a total dom in the bedroom

● he's in control of every second and makes sure you know it

● he's got an entire closet full of very expensive sex toys for you to play with

● you also sometimes bring a third in when you meet someone you are both attracted to at the club

● Mihawk loves having you watch him fuck someone else

● making eye contact with you the entire time

● and waking up in the middle of both of you the next morning (which usually leads to him fucking you in the shower after they leave)

● your friends greatly enjoy the benefits that come with you hooking up with Mihawk

● for Luffy that is the unlimited amount of food that he gets for free (despite Sanji being his roommate but Luffy would never turn down free food)

● Buggy doesn't quite enjoy you being around as much as mihawk because he usually ends up playing babysitter when your friends have a little too much to drink after the drinking games they play with Ace

● especially Usopp who's a bit of a lightweight and Buggy has had to accompany him many times whilst he's puking in the alley behind the club

● Shanks on the other hand enjoys having Robin and Zoro there to taste test new drinks he's experimenting with

● all the while Mihawk's full attention is on you, getting handsy in his booth to get you worked up before taking you upstairs to fuck you senseless

[vimeddiart]

I DREW MY OC TOAST AAAAAA

The folks at XPPen sent me the XPPen Deco Pro (Gen 2):

XPPen is having its 18th anniversary, and is celebrating with sales and product promos, so it's worth checking those out.

My thoughts on the tablet (and purchase links) under the cut!

⭐ Review ⭐

First impressions: After unboxing the tablet, I thought it sleek and professional-looking, especially after setting it up with my PC.

The remote I LOVED right out of the box because I enjoy fiddling with buttons and wheels. The keys are super satisfying to press.

The pen and storage case are nicely complete, lots of spare nibs to switch out (though I mainly stuck to the default nib while drawing, the textured ones have a nice gritty feel similar to paper).

I had some troubleshooting when I started, as connecting to Bluetooth wasn't happening with either the tablet or the remote. I tested the Bluetooth connection with a different device and my phone successfully, but couldn't with my work PC. I was promptly helped by XPPen Support, and it turned out to be a Windows update messing things up, so I uninstalled it and Boom; I could connect both the tablet and remote, no problem. Up until then, I used both via cable, which was a convenient option!

The tablet: The XL model at 15 x 9 inches, with plenty of space to work (although you'll need space to put it, luckily I have a lot of desk to spare), and can connect via cable or Bluetooth. It also looks so dang pretty.

The tablet was so smooth, and the pressure (16k pressure levels) felt amazing to draw with. After fiddling around with the pen settings, I barely had to press down to get a nice flowy line.

I usually work on a screen tablet, so it took some getting used to returning to a pen tablet and looking at my PC screen again, but it came back to me quickly. It actually helped my posture, as I tend to shrimp-curl over my screen tablet while working.

As lovely as it was to work on, I feel this size may be too large for me, despite it being perfectly proportional to my PC screen. I like to draw quickly, and I noticed myself making more effort to travel over the surface of the tablet and tiring my arm out faster than usual. I needed to take more breaks and stretch often, although I could classify that as positive. That said, this tablet has a sloped resting area that helped. All my drawing tablets have been medium-sized, so I'm probably just conditioned to that surface area.

The battery lasted as long as it took to draw this piece and more! I didn't need to charge it the entire time.

The remote: I love this thing so much. It has ten shortcut keys and a wheel you can configure to your heart's desire. Five sets of key functions!!! That's fifty shortcuts!! I only configured four sets and struggle to memorise them, but it's very convenient. I have my keyboard right next to the tablet and would bang out shortcuts there, but this remote changed my life.

I've been using it for a month now, and it still hasn't needed charging!

The pen: Comfy to use, with a design I was already accustomed to, and one thing I noticed was that the nib wasn't scratching the heck out of the tablet. After all the drawing I did with it, not a single mark.

I LOVE popping the case open to retrieve or store the pen, and it's one of those physical things that I find satisfying and so rare with digital products. I thought it would be nice to have a pen stand too, but I have pet birds that will (and have) run away with my tablet pens, so a storage case is a strong solution.

Final thoughts: This is a solid tablet with the potential to become an essential tool for industry professionals and freelancers. I didn't think I could be convinced out of a screen tablet, but I was offered a super strong contender. I can confidently recommend it, plus my experience with support was a positive one that boosted my trust in the brand. Overall, I had a great time using this tablet and really appreciate the opportunity I've been given to try it out!

⭐ Purchase links ⭐

US Walmart Store

CA official store

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Mutual request for this hc with Lilia and Riddle. Babytrap, Malleus + Leona being infertile. @yasminzys hope you like it!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, Infertility and talk about pregnancy/children, killing, kidnapping and cheating.

Lilia has lived a long time, seen a lot, so when you try again and again to conceive a baby and nothing works, he knows. He knows that there is a possibility that you or he, or both, are infertile, so Lilia shares his suspicions with you and together you go to the doctor to have these suspicions confirmed.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He raised Malleus and Silver, he had the full experience of being a father twice in a row and he wanted you to have the same experience, he wanted your love to be able to conceive a child, but this it is not possible because he is infertile. He is infertile and even for someone as old as he is, this news is still a surprise and not a good one.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Depending on the underlying cause of the problem, his infertility can be treated, so Lilia prefers to undergo treatment. For you and the thought of having a little bat with you. But… No matter how much time passes, your relationship begins to deteriorate with nothing being able to restore that beautiful feeling. And he knows that it doesn't matter if he brings you flowers or if he brings you chocolates, you won't feel what you felt before. A dream was stolen from you and all he can do is be sorry.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Which doesn't mean he can understand how you had the courage to send letters to another man while all this time you've been dodging his kisses and hugs. He has seen a lot of betrayal in his long life, especially allies betraying each other in war, perhaps even he was betrayed once, but without a doubt your betrayal is the only one that was able to pierce his heart so deeply.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Your poor lover? Dead. Your destiny? A cabin in an enchanted forest to never let you get away. And his heart? Trying to patch himself up as he hugs your struggling figure. Adultery once was punishable with death so you're very lucky that he loves you very much.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Honestly, I believe that Riddle doesn't really want to be a father, not while his mother's words and actions are still so present in his mind and haunt him often. If he tried to get you pregnant before it was only because, once again, he decided to listen to her and because he realized that you wanted it too so he didn't want to deny you the experience.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ 'Eventually,' he tells himself after all the times you have sex. 'it will eventually work out.'

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ But no matter how hard you try, it doesn't work. The child you want so much is never conceived, so the only plausible explanation is the one most terrible for you; one of you is infertile. Riddle is quick to assuage your fears and offer comfort as you go to the doctor to share your concerns. Tests are done, the results announced as an omen of death.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Riddle is the infertile one, the cause of your deep sadness and the destroyer of your dreams of having a family. He can see it all in your eyes as tears fall from them and you force yourself to tell him it's okay. He knows what a lie looks like, he knows because living with his mother taught him to lie. And you're doing it now and he can't blame you.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ If a treatment option is viable, he wants to try it. If there is nothing that can be done then he will discuss with you the option of adopting a child. Riddle closes his eyes to every letter you write, to every correspondence exchanged, he hopes that his words and actions reach your heart and that you don't love him less for it since it's something he has no control over, nonetheless, your love waned. And there's another man on your mind now. Another man he chases away.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He's not someone who gets his own hands dirty, but you force him to. You forces him to kill the other man and he forces you to watch every single thing he does. And then he takes you back home because you're a happy family and family stays together whether you want it or not.

[megustacat]

30 Jason Mendal Head Canons - Imagines from someone who does not like him so much

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non-explicit but slight nsfw mentions below

◎━━━━━━◎.◈.◎━━━━━━◎

Enjoys and collects expensive whiskeys from all around the world, also collects cigars - especially the Cuban ones.

Gets a kick out of power - will keep you in suspense because he likes to see you struggle and then releases you as the relieving savior that he is (and yes, I mean that in every possible way).

Has a collection of several black suits which are all the same model.  

Goes for Sunday drives in one of his cabrios as soon as there is one single ray of sunshine out - also drives like an asshole and will tailgate you even if you are already 10 over speed limit. Road rage is real with him.

Has a pool table room in his mansion where he keeps his whiskey bottles neatly organized and plays pool against his visitors - he will always win and he will let you know that he is going to win.

Sore loser - especially in competitions he is good at.

As ambitious as it gets - will stay after hours and also work from home. Sundays are rarely a Sunday for him.

His love language is Giving Gifts - loves to buy clothes and jewelry for his partner, but also other trinkets and things that will serve as a constant reminder of him being in your life.  

Possessive. Will leave love bites all over you and will compromise little.

If he had to choose a pet he would go for a cat. It must be a black cat though and she has to be well behaved. Doesn’t like dogs and their blind loyalty and especially not their smell.

Red wine drinker. Almost as bad a divorced auntie.

Uses hand lotion and chapstick regularly but would not admit to it.

Reads the newspaper on a daily basis and puts a lot of importance on staying informed and on top of recent trends. Judges you if you are not interested in politics and economics and finds it childish to not stay involved in what is going on in the world.

Apple fanboy. Every tech item he owns is from Apple and he will immediately have the newest tech iterations on launch day.

Goes to opera but is not very interested in it. Sees that more as an opportunity to go there with potential clients and discuss business matters.

Always plans slightly over the briefed client budget and then argues with them. Is willing to go down but wants to test his clients. Can effort to lose the ones who are not willing to invest more, and also gladly lets them go.

Has an older sister, who’s a mean girl. Now that they are older they get along better and are mean girls together.

Bondage.

Is very charming when it comes to networking. Meeting new clients and other potential company leads for collaboration is easy for him and he is a sharp observer. Finds it easy to be charismatic and connect quickly and reads people like a book.

Private jet is love, private jet is life.

Loves to travel, especially with his partner. Not because he necessarily wants to see the world or the big wonders of it but because he wants to physically distance himself from his work. He takes it very seriously so actively seeking physical distance from it is one of his ways to get away from it for good.

Has a private coach with whom he works out a lot, at least three times a week, to keep himself healthy.

Generally puts a lot of emphasis on being and staying healthy, like eating well, working out, ergonomic working with standing desks, regular med checks up, to the point where he almost feels like a hypochondriac. Also loves to regularly have saunas.

Judging and directiv. Doesn’t like to elaborate on decisions, mostly wants to have them respected and followed. Also, very direct and ordering when he talks to people. You will hear him say “Listen here”, “Let’s do this”, “Talk to me” a lot in his speech pattern.

Follows in the steps of his father who expected him to also make it big, like him. Jason always felt pressure to accommodate and now that he succeeded over his father, it still seems like there is still no satisfaction. Does not have the best bond to him, but will always have his father as his biggest male influence in his life, seeking a never satisfied-approval from him and mostly finding frustration and criticism.

Plays Golf. Of course he does. Prepare to be the golf cart princess / prince, and pop a bottle of champagne every time he scores a hole in one. He lets you play as often as you like, but he likes it the most when he sees you cheer for him.

Actively participates in day-trading, and if he can’t do it he has a personal stock trader do it for him (which is most of the time because he is too busy with work).

Has a large selection of guide books for succeeding in various fields in life - whether that’s financials, work optimization, self-confidence, charisma and communication. If he reads fiction he likes to go for classics. Can and will judge you on your taste in literature. Finds poetry a waste of time.

His favorite movie director is Christopher Nolan and he can and will make you watch every single one of his movies. Could discuss Interstellar and Inception for hours on end.

Even though he prefers to have people follow his orders and respect his decisions without questioning them, he wants and needs you to go against him. He wants to have constant stimulation in his relationship, mostly in the form of receiving contra from you. It keeps him on his feet and specifically wants you to be different to the world around him. He doesn’t want you to go too far, and generally wants you to agree with him on basic ideologies, but he needs your backlash - it keeps his love for you alive.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

idk if this it too specific but maybe reader gives the band friendship bracelets? i have them all up my arms so maybe some hcs ab that? idk but i seriously love ur writing ur carrying the fandom!

(Hello! Sure I can and I'm glad you like my stuff! Lmao, I don't think I'm carrying the fandom, I fully believe editors are because damn)

So Make The Friendship Bracelets

Bill Kaulitz

He is so happy you even thought of him

Especially when you gave up time and effort to make him a bracelet

He didn't have a lot of friends or a good school experience to make any

So he almost cried out of honor and happiness when you gave him it

You told him it's because he's one of the best friends you've ever had, and that makes him stop for a moment

He's just looking down at the bracelet in his hand

Expect a hug, and a kiss on the cheek

Before the band and before he met you, Gustav and Georg he didn't think he would ever actually find friends

So to have literal evidence of your care and love for him in his hand makes him a wee bit emotional

Your his best friend man

Tom Kaulitz

He is surprised you give him one on the first place

He would've thought you were giving it to someone else

You guys are best friends but he didn't think he was worth giving a bracelet too

Much less making one on your own for him

He's asking over and over

"For me?"

He's happy inside, but he's joking and teasing you on the outside

If you try and take it back he's fighting you

He cherishes it

Wears it on his wrist or keeps it in his pocket

Isn't ashamed of it

Especially since it's for your friendship

When someone asks where he got it he proudly goes

"My best friend, (Name)."

Georg Listing

He thought you made it as a joke at first

Or that it was just a little thing you were testing out to give him to see what he thought of it

You had to explain it's like a little symbol for your friendship

He doesn't have much of a reaction but a small little nod as he holds the bracelet

"Oh. Okay."

He may not look it but inside he's fighting with himself on how he made such a good ass friend that gives him bracelets

He may fake that he doesn't care but we all know that's a lie

You'll catch him wearing it attached to the belt loop on his jeans

He never loses it somehow

He is always asking you if you're gonna make more

"For me? Nah, I just wanted to know. No, I don't want another! Why do you have one?"

After you gave it to him and walked away he has to take a minute before smiling to himself and just putting it on his jeans not to lose it

Gustav Schäfer

He is happy sm

When you gave it to him he was like

"Oh, what's this for?"

Also had to take a minute as you told him it was a friendship bracelet

He was looking between you and the bracelet so confused for a moment before it clicked

You meant him, him as in Gustav

He was asking over and over again if you were being serious before he finally accepted it

Does not take that bracelet off for his life

Always wearing it on stage, in interviews

If it ever broke he would be devastated and go to you to fix it

When people ask where he got it he is very open about it

Doesn't care if it's deemed girly and is just so happy

You're his best friend and he legit loves every single bead and string on that bracelet

He's asking for more for sure

[arabriddler]

The duality of a man

( origin under cut )

Tw ; still birth

Jervis Tetch was a toy maker who worked long hours. He was married to Sally Tetch who suffered from depression. He often tried to make her laugh and happy by mimicking the mad hatter from their favorite movie ‘ Alice In Wonderland. ‘. It used to work, but as the days go by, and the depression from living in Gotham sinks in… he could no longer make her smile as much.

That is until Alice. When they received the news that Sally was pregnant, they worried, neither of them were in a good state to parent, but Sally had a dream she was following Alice in the woods, and woke up with a little bit more hope, a little bit more glow. She wants to keep Alice, see where this would go. “what if she’s not a girl?” “ No. I know.”

and she knew, the tests came back and they knew for sure they’d have a beautiful baby girl called Alice.

work was still hard and long for Jervis, but when he came back home and he and Sally would talk about Alice, and he’d see that beautiful smile of hers… well it was just worth it. They prepared a room and bought so many toys, sometimes they’d even cut down on food. They were simply so excited.

unfortunately, because of Jervis’ job, Sally had to go to most of her appointments alone. He felt very sorry for not accompanying her, but she reassured him it’s alright. around Sally’s eighth month, Jervis was working when Joker attacked Gotham General and it almost collapsed. Sally had an appointment there, and even though Batman managed to save most of the people, even though Sally made it out alive…. Alice didn’t… she wasn’t even born yet and she was gone.

Sally left with only a single word ‘ Sorry.’ Life became harder after Sally. Jervis often hallucinated Alice talking to him, asking him to avenge her, to question the big bad bat about why he couldn’t save her. He tried to ignore it, even as the grief sunk in. The final straw was when the toy store closed down after The Penguin bought it. Sure, it didn’t pay well, and he had to work long hours, but Alice didn’t have to tell him what to do, he had already decided to take revenge from all who wronged him.

Jervis was a genius you see, especially when it comes to toys. He created a device connected to his mind that could control toys if he installs a special chip into them. He installed the chips into so many toys creating an army, and created a toy of a girl named Alice to help him in his revenge.