#poor!reader

[aventurineswife]

Hiii, I'm not sure about this idea, but what about poor(?)reader who barely has money decided to make a handmade gift to Louch, Aventurine and Jiaoqiu? (⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠)

A Token of Devotion

Tags: Luocha x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Jiaoqiu x Reader, Fluff, Angst (Mild), Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn (for some), Established Feelings, Mutual Pining, Thoughtful Gestures, Emotional Depth, Gift-Giving, Poor!Reader, Handmade Gift, Soft Moments.

Warnings: Mentions of financial struggles (Reader being poor), Some emotional vulnerability from characters, Slight angst regarding self-worth and personal burdens, Mild past trauma mentions, Comforting moments and happy endings.

The Xianzhou Luofu was always bustling with life, but to you, the city’s markets only served as a reminder of your empty pockets. As an intergalactic traveler with barely enough money to buy a meal, extravagant gifts were out of the question. But when you thought about Luocha—the enigmatic merchant who had helped you time and time again—your heart ached to give him something in return.

So, you turned to the one thing you could offer: your hands.

You spent days carefully weaving a simple charm, using threads you scavenged from old fabrics. It wasn’t much—just a small green tassel, embroidered with a white flower. It was meant to resemble the ones on Luocha’s coat, a small token of appreciation for all he had done for you.

When the time came to give it to him, you hesitated. What if he found it childish? What if—

“Something on your mind?”

Luocha’s voice was gentle, pulling you from your thoughts. He stood beside you, his ever-present coffin resting on his back, his piercing eyes studying you with quiet curiosity.

You swallowed your nerves and held out the charm. “I… made this for you. It’s not much, but I wanted to thank you for everything.”

Luocha took the charm delicately, his fingers grazing yours. He examined it for a long moment, a small smile playing at his lips.

“A handmade gift,” he murmured, voice laced with something unreadable. “This must have taken you some time.”

You nodded, embarrassed. “I didn’t have money to buy anything nice, so I—”

“You misunderstand.” His eyes softened. “This is worth far more than any trinket I could buy.”

Your breath hitched as he carefully tied the charm to the handle of his coffin, letting it sway gently. His next words were quieter, almost as if they were meant for himself.

“A reminder that kindness does not always need to be repaid in coin.”

Luocha looked at you then, something warm and unreadable in his gaze. “Thank you. I will treasure it.”

Your heart stuttered. Maybe you weren’t as poor as you thought—because at that moment, Luocha made you feel richer than anyone in the stars.

You knew Aventurine was a man of luxury. Everything he owned was expensive—his suits, his accessories, even his dice were probably made of precious metals. Which meant buying him a gift was out of the question.

But you weren’t about to back down from the challenge.

So, you made something instead—a small deck of handmade playing cards. The designs were uneven, the paint smudged in places, but each card was made with care, featuring symbols inspired by his signature motifs: peacock feathers, gemstones, and spades.

When you presented it to him, Aventurine stared at the deck in silence, turning a card over in his gloved fingers. His eyes flickered with something unreadable.

“You made these?” he asked, a rare pause in his usual carefree demeanor.

You nodded, suddenly self-conscious. “I know it’s not much, but I—”

A chuckle escaped him, low and amused. “Not much? Sweetheart, do you have any idea how much effort this must’ve taken?”

You blinked, taken aback.

Aventurine shuffled the cards expertly, a mischievous glint in his gaze. “Handmade cards from you? I’d say that’s a one-of-a-kind treasure.” He twirled a card between his fingers before tucking the deck into his coat pocket. “A gift from the heart… Now that’s a gamble I’ll always bet on.”

His grin widened as he leaned in, voice dropping to a teasing whisper.

“Though I must warn you—I fully intend to make you play a round with me. And if I win…” He tapped your nose lightly, smirking. “You owe me another handmade surprise.”

You groaned, but the warmth in his expression made your heart flutter. Maybe, just maybe, you’d already won something far more valuable.

Jiaoqiu always gave so much to others. Whether it was his medical skills or his wisdom, he poured his heart into his work.

You wanted to return the favor—even if you had little to offer.

That’s how you found yourself carefully preparing a small, handmade snack using the most affordable ingredients you could find. It was a simple pastry, infused with herbs known for their calming properties—a recipe you had once seen Jiaoqiu mention in passing.

When you nervously handed it to him, Jiaoqiu blinked in surprise, his fox ears twitching slightly. “For me?”

You nodded, fidgeting. “It’s not much, but… I wanted to thank you.”

A slow smile spread across his lips, and for a moment, his irises shimmered with something soft. He took a careful bite, chewing thoughtfully.

Then, his expression melted into something fond.

“This… tastes like home,” he murmured.

Your breath caught.

Jiaoqiu looked at you then, eyes half-lidded but warm. “It’s been a long time since someone made something for me.” He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You have no idea how much this means.”

He reached out, gently patting your head before brushing a stray lock of hair aside. “Thank you. Truly.”

In that moment, you realized—maybe you didn’t need wealth to make a difference. Because in Jiaoqiu’s smile, in the quiet way he savored every bite, you knew your gift had found its place.

And that was more than enough.

[nats-w1fe]

Spoiling Me

Rich!Kate Bishop x Poor!Reader

Summary: ♫ Expired and rotten and long overdue. You left me to wilt without courage to shoot. 'Cause you're just kind enough to keep me in the loop. I have never met poison like you how, you're spoiling me. You're spoiling me ♫

Warnings: Angst, toxic relationship, poor!Reader, Kate being privileged, cheating, arguing, Kate being very out of character, Kate’s lwk heartless

Word count: 6.7k

A/n: I recommend listening to song ‘Spoiling me’ while reading this cause its based of that :P

~

Rummaging through your practically empty drawers, you hunted and searched for a nice outfit for tonight. Your heart was already racing in your chest. You had been dating Kate for about a month now and you still hadn’t met her parents, she’d met yours but whenever you brought up to her about meeting her parents, she turned you down. Till this morning. Kate finally agreed, but insisted you come round to her house and wear something nice. You struggled to even find a shirt that didn’t have at least one hole in it. you threw the shirts messily back into the drawer and went over to your closet, it didn’t take long to find the dress you were looking for as it was the only thing in there. You thought it might be a bit too fancy; you only wore it on very special occasions because of how expensive it was, you worried about it being ruined, but you had no other choice tonight. After changing into your dress you put on some light makeup and did your hair in a style you knew Kate liked.

A message pinged through your phone, you looked and smiled as Kate’s name popped up, you read the message which said ‘I’m here :)’  you eagerly typed back that you were coming then slid your phone into your purse and rushed down the stairs. You opened your door and saw Kate in her sleek black BMW, she saw you and quickly got out the car. Rushing to the passenger side, she opened the door for you. You chuckled and gave her a quick peck on the lips, followed by a thank you. Kate rounded to the other side of the car and got into the driver’s side.

She looked at you and smiled but that smile then faltered when she saw what you were wearing. You fidgeted with your hands, “Is something wrong?” you asked her. She scratched the back of her neck awkwardly and looked at the windshield then back at you.

“Well the dress is uh…I was just hoping you’d wear something…nicer?” she said, sounding unsure. You looked down at your outfit, Kate wasn’t a mean person, you knew she was just trying to be nice. You turned your head back to her, “This was all I had…”

“No no baby I don’t mean it in a mean way…it just looks a bit cheap is all” like that made it any better, “Look I had a feeling this might happen, so I got you something” she reached into the back seat and pulled out a black box. She placed it on your lap. Your brows knitted together as you carefully opened it. your jaw practically dropped at the sight of the gorgeous dress. It had to be over a hundred dollars. You noticed the price tag and looked at it ‘$920’.

Your jaw dropped. You quickly shook your head and closed the box. “No Kate I can’t take this” you tried to give the box to her but she just pushed it back into your lap. “At least wear it for tonight baby…you can change in my room when we get home” she explained.

As you looked up at the large house, you felt your jaw practically drop. How could anyone afford to live in such a grand home. Kate got out the car and helped you out, “My parents will be back home in like ten minutes, which should be enough time for you to get dressed” she explained with a smile.

Being in Kate’s room felt so humbling. Her richness practically oozed out of the room. She had a large bed made from polished spruce wood, which was a common theme throughout the room. Her bed was decorated with crimson silk bedding. “This is…damn” you muttered, looking around the room. She had an ensuite too and her very own balcony. You whistled and walked over to the sliding door, looking out at the beautiful view.

Kate chuckled and came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder. “Nice view, right?” she asked you; your jaw was hanging open still as you nodded. With another chuckle, Kate lifted her hand to your chin and shut your mouth for you, “come on get changed” she pulled away from you and gave you a small slap on the ass.

You blushed slightly but you’ve grown so used to her doing that, that it doesn’t affect you as much anymore. You went to her large mirror and started to change into the dress she got you. You tried your best to be as careful with it as you could. Once you had it on, and Kate had zipped up the back for you, she came back to you with a smaller box.

“What’s this?” you asked her, tilting your head a bit. She opened the box and your eyes widened as you were greeted with the sight of jewellery, some was silver and some was gold. It all looked so expensive. “I got you these to wear” she smiled, grabbing a bedazzled claw clip and putting it in your hair. “you’re spoiling me” you told Kate with a small smile. She smirked and kissed you on the back of the neck.

She then took out one of the necklaces, you could’ve sworn it had a diamond in it. A fucking diamond. She put it around your neck then placed a gentle kiss on your collarbone. “Beautiful” she muttered. She then reached for the bracelet that sat on your wrist, you never took it off. Not ever. It was a handmade beaded bracelet; the beads were cheap and it was held together by a small elastic string. She took it off of you, “It’s too tacky” she muttered. That stung.

You fidgeted with your hands, “Your parents don’t know, do they?” you suddenly asked her. Her brows furrowed, “Know what?”

“That I’m not as financially well off as you” you told her, turning around to face her. You could tell by the way her cheeks glowed a faint pink that you had caught her. “They..” she sighed, “they don’t even know you’re a girl, they think I have a boyfriend…if I show up with a girl that’s also poor they’ll throw a fit Y/n” your heart burned at that. Is that really how she saw you, as poor? Was she ashamed to be with you for that? “right…” was all you could say, in a quiet mutter.

Kate was about to speak till you both heard the sound of the front door open. Kate rushed to put a bracelet on you and a couple rings, treating you like a doll. She took a deep breath then snaked her arm around your waist.

You walked with her down the stairs. “Kate?” her mother called out, “Where’s the lucky-“ she was cut off when she saw the two of you, her eyes widened slightly but then was covered by a smile. “Lucky woman…what a lovely surprise” she chuckled. You shifted nervously, unsure if she was being sarcastic or not. You held out your hand for her, “Nice to meet you Miss Bishop, I’m Y/n” you smiled at her. She tilted her head, as if she was analysing you. You stood there for an awkward moment with your hand still held out.

You probably looked like such an idiot then she politely shook your hand, “Lovely to meet you too Y/n, I like your dress its gorgeous” she smiled, you thanked her then your attention was pulled away when a man walked into the room. Unlike Eleanor, he wasn’t dressed formally. He wore a pair of cargo shorts and had a polo holiday shirt on. You smiled at that.

“Well you’re not a man- or you are?” he joked, tilting his head a bit at you. You heard Kate outwardly groan at her father’s jokes. You giggled and shook your head, “Um no sir I’m not a man” you told him, to which he smiled. “Well that’s a relief, I’d be very surprised if Katie ever came home with someone that wasn’t a woman” he teased Kate, giving her a nudge with his elbow. He then suddenly pulled you into a welcoming hug. He gave you a tight squeeze before pulling away. He met Kate’s surprised expression and chuckled, “Katie it was obvious you were gay” he told her, patting her on the shoulder.

After speaking for a bit longer, you all went into the dining room. The chef’s had already laid out a large dinner on the table. Kate pulled out a chair for you and you thanked her as you sat. She took the seat next to you.

Overall, the dinner went really well. There were moments where you felt out of place whenever they mentioned money. Kate seemed to not notice your discomfort as she was the one starting those conversations the most.

You were sat on the couch, leaning against Kate who had her arm around your waist. Both her parents were stood up dancing together, Kate chuckled as she watched. A chill ran down your spine, as much as you loved the dress, it didn’t do a very good job at keeping you warm. Kate seemed to notice this as she grabbed her flannel that was on the back of the couch. You recognised it as the one she wore when the two of you were on call a few hours ago.

She put it around you, “oh thanks” you muttered, smiling at her. She mirrored your smile and gently kissed you on the lips. “No problem sweetheart” she murmured to you. You leaned further into her for a moment till she suddenly stood, holding out her hand. “Dance with me” she said, answering your confused expression for you.

“You know I always will” you answered before reaching out and taking her hand. She pulled you up to your feet and snaked her arms around your waist. You couldn’t help the giggled that slipped from your lips as the two of you danced together. You wrapped your over her shoulders and your head was tucked into her shoulder.

“Oh I got something for you” she said, breaking the silence that had been held for a few minutes as the two of you danced. You pulled your head out of her shoulder, “More? You’ve already gotten me so much” you chuckled. She shrugged and lowered her hands to your hips. “I know, but I like buying you things, come on” she took your hand and walked upstairs with you.

You went into her room with her, fidgeting with the sleeve of her flannel that you were still wearing. She went into her bedside table and took out a bouquet of flowers. They looked expensive, your brows furrowed as you smelt them. Lavender, you were allergic to lavender. You tried to cover up your surprise as you placed them back down on the side. “I love them babe, thank you” you smiled at her. She nodded, proud of herself. “Yeah, guess how much they were?” she asked you, leaning against the counter with a cocky grin.

You hated when she did this. When she flexed about the money she spent on something minuscule. You raised your eyebrows, feigning interest. “$59” she smirked. Your eyes widened and you looked at the flowers, they didn’t seem that special, “Made sure to find the most expensive ones for you” she stated.

She put more thought into spending as much money as she could rather than taking your allergies and favourites into account. You only hummed and sat down on the bed, taking your heels off. She looked confused, “What? You don’t like them?” when you didn’t answer she groaned, “Fuck I knew I should’ve just ordered the $600 ones…” she sighed and shook her head. “I don’t care about the price Kate, I never care about the price” you told her, she looked confused, unsure what to say, “I care when you put thought into what you’ve gotten me” you continued, taking the jewellery off. “I did put thought into it”

“Obviously not” you said, “I’m allergic to lavender Kate, you got me lavender flowers” you pointed towards the flowers that sat on the other side of the room. Her face dropped slightly, “Shit, baby I’m sorry” she went to you, standing in front of you.

“It’s fine, can you take me home? Please?” you asked her, putting your heels back on even though you had just taken them off. She seemed taken aback and hesitated, “You don’t wanna stay?” she asked you. You couldn’t stop your heart from aching at the kicked puppy look on her face. “Not tonight baby” you kissed her hand and stood up, “Another day, okay?”

That seemed to reassure her and she nodded. “Its raining, wear my coat” she went over to her coat rack and took a dark purple coat off. Your favourite one of her many, many coats. You put it on when she handed it to you.

She held your hand the whole way out to the car and opened the door for you. Right as you put your seatbelt on, you remembered something. It was yours and Kate’s fourth date but the memory lingered with you every time Kate bought you another meaningless item.

You sat in Kate’s car, wearing one of her hoodies and your own jeans that were quite old and some scuffed converse. She looked at you, it had been silent for a while. You turned to meet her gaze, “You okay?” you asked with a chuckle. She hummed and nodded, looking away, her knee was bouncing and you could tell she wanted to say something.

“Katie, what’s up?” you placed your hand on her knee, stilling it. She looked at you, hesitantly she reached into her pocket and took something out, a bracelet. Your brows knitted together. It was a handmade friendship bracelet type…thing. It seemed quite poorly made, but there were letters on it that read: “Kate x Y/n”.

“Uh I made this like when I was grounded for breaking that bell tower…my mum took my money so I couldn’t buy you anything then I found these beads stuff under my bed and so yeah I made this” a large smile grew on your lips, “I thought it was too stupid to give to you but yeah” she was blushing, clearly nervous to give this to you.

You lunged forward, cupping her face and kissing her passionately. Her cheeks flushed red and you smirked slightly when you pulled away, “I love it Katie, so much” you told her, taking it and putting it around your wrist.

You glanced down at your bare wrist. “Where’d you put the bracelet?” you asked her, she looked at you confused, “You took it off me earlier” you reminded her.

“Oh yeah that, I threw it away” your heart sank, she noticed the look on your face but couldn’t quite process what it meant, “It was just a stupid bracelet Y/n, come on I’ve bought you way nicer ones before and you rarely ever wear them” she scoffed, starting the car. You said nothing, only staring out the window in silence.

She threw it away.

--

It’d been a couple of days since you had seen Kate, you hadn’t even messaged her. You were mad, hurt mostly. How could she. That gift meant more to you than anything she had ever bought you before.

Then again, it wasn’t like you were ignoring her. She hadn’t even messaged you. usually she’d message when she got back home after dropping you off, with some cheesy comment. But she didn’t that time, now that you thought about it, she hadn’t done that in a while.

You sighed and got up from the couch, going over to the kitchen. “Y/n!” your mum yelled your name, you ran a hand through your hair, sighing once again. “Yeah mum?” you called back out to her. “Get me some chips out the cupboard!” she demanded. You begrudgingly grabbed the bag of chips and popped your head into the living room, throwing the back on her lap.

Then there was a knock at the door. With a loud groan you trudged over, you were wearing one of Kate’s hoodies that swamped you and a pair of short shorts. You opened the door to see Kate standing there, she was holding flowers. Your favourite flowers. Your head perked up and she shoved them into your hands before letting herself in.

She kicked her shoes off at the side with the others and made her own way up to your room. You smelt the flowers and hummed. They didn’t smell like cheap gas station flowers. You looked for a tag and found one, they were $38. Well, at least they were your favourites.

You ran up the stairs and went into your room. “I like the flowers” you said to her. She was laid on your bed, holding one of your stuffed animals in the air. She looked at you, putting the bear down. “Yeah? Not gonna complain this time?” she asked you, but you could tell by her smirk that she was just joking.

You rolled your eyes playfully and carefully placed the flowers down on the side. You climbed onto your bed, laying on top of her with your head on her chest. She smiled and put her arms around you, “I missed you” she said, running her hand up and down your back. You hummed and only nodded, closing your eyes.

“Wanna watch something?” she asked, suddenly stopping to grab the tv remote. You sighed and rolled off of her. “We can’t” you told her, when she looked confused you answered, even though you didn’t want to, “My mum can’t afford the Netflix this month” you told her, fidgeting with the top of her shirt.

She sighed, as if this was such an inconvenience for her. She opened Netflix on your TV and logged out, signing into her own account. “Oh okay then” you said, rolling off of her to look at the tv. She grabbed your blanket, pulling it over herself. “Wanna rewatch Yellowjackets?” she asked you as she scrolled.

You shook your head, “No I cant watch anything if I know the end, other than that I don’t care what we watch” you told her, she hummed and put on a random show you hadn’t seen before. Game of Thrones. You knew she had watched this show numerous times. “This show is like crazy good” she promised you. “Oooh okay, don’t spoil it though” you warned her. You hated when people spoiled things, it just made you not want to watch it.

You had been watching it for a while, you were left absolutely speechless at episode ten. “This is so good, next episode! Next episode!” you said eagerly, playfully hitting Kate’s arm. She laughed and clicked on it, “Alright, alright, who’s your favourite so far then?” she asked you. You answered almost straight away. “Robb and Daenerys duh” you said simply. Kate then burst out laughing, “Ohhh don’t get too attached” she laughed. Your smile faltered and you asked, “What do you mean?”. She looked at you, “They both die” she shrugged, putting the next episode on. Your smile then completely dropped, “Kate what the fuck” you looked at her, annoyed.

Its an honest mistake, you guessed, but still. She knew how much you hated spoilers, and she knew how much you were enjoying this show. “You spoiled it for me” you murmured, looking at the screen. She only shrugged, “Oops”.

After watching a few more episodes she had fallen asleep. You got up. Carefully, you put the flowers in a vase, smiling at them, they were beautiful. Maybe one of your favourite gifts from Kate. You glanced over at her. You sighed. This wasn’t healthy, not anymore. You didn’t want to break up with her, you loved her, so much. You just needed space.

You gently shook her sleeping form, her brows knitted together and she opened her eyes. She looked at you in confusion, “What?” she asked. You sighed and sat on the bed, fidgeting with your hands. “Kate…I think, I need some space” you told her, “like, a break” you clarified, to be certain she wouldn’t get confused.

She stayed silent and stood up. “Kate?” you called to her, she didn’t respond. “You wanna break up?” she asked you, turning to face you. You quickly shook your head, standing up and going closer to her, “No, no, I don’t want that, I just need time to myself for a bit” you reasoned with her. Her jaw clenched and she abruptly stormed out the room.

You rushed after her, “Kate!”. She put her shoes on in a rush, “Hold on! Lets at least talk about it” you told her but she didn’t listen. She walked out the door and you watched as she got in her car, speeding off. You wiped tears from your eyes you didn’t even realise were there then stormed up to your room.

~

A week. It was a week until Kate spoke to you again. You had seen her Instagram posts, she was out partying and raving every night. Every. Damn. Night. Almost as if she was rubbing in the fact she didn’t care you were out of her life.

Then you got a letter. You’d never gotten mail before so it was quite exciting. You held the envelope in your hands, it felt quite heavy. Your brows knitted together and you went upstairs to your room. You flicked the light on then sat down on your bed, in a pile of blankets.

Grabbing a pair of scissors off the side, you cut the envelope open. You reached in and pulled out some pages. Seven pages to be specific. You looked at the first one. Handwritten, Kate’s handwriting. You took a deep breath and started to read. The further you read the more surprised you were, the whole thing was her expressing how much she loved you, how he wanted to buy you the whole world and how much she wanted to be with you.

All this she had to say, and all you could do was stare at it in silence. Maybe that meant you couldn’t do better. How could you, Kate cared about you enough to write it all into 7 pages. You took a deep breath before opening your phone and messaging her. ‘Can we go out for dinner?’ The only response she gave was liking the message.

She picked you up around half an hour later. You wore the dress she bought you when you went to her house to meet her parents. She was leaning against her car when you walked out, wearing a suit. With a grin you walked over to her, “Nice dress sweetheart” she told you, wrapping her hand around your waist and pulling your body flush against hers. “Thanks, it’s the one you got me” you grinned.

“Oh it is? Cool” she leaned in to kiss you and you eagerly returned the kiss, your lips moving in sync. You missed the feeling of her lips on yours, the feeling of her so close to you that you could feel her body heat warming you.

Kate pulled away and opened the door for you, “In you go, love” she smiled, you thanked her and got into the car. She shut the door behind you and you put your seatbelt on. You opened the glove compartment In front of you, its where you always stored your stuff. You were happy to see all your stuff was still there. You grabbed a pack of gum you had in there and put a piece into your mouth. Kate got into the drivers side and tossed you her phone. “You pick the music” she told you, starting up the car. You instantly clicked on the car playlist you made the last time you had her phone and Radiohead started playing first. You placed her phone down on your lap and looked out the window, Kate’s hand resting on your thigh the entire time.

When she pulled up at a restaurant she went around to your side of the car and opened the door for you. “Thanks Katie, damn this place is fancy” you told her, looking at the large building. She only chuckled, her hand resting on your lower back as she guided you inside.

Sorting out a seat wasn’t difficult; Kate booked a reservation for one of the best tables in the restaurant. You were surprised she could even get it in such short notice. The worker led you both to your table and you eagerly pulled out Kate’s chair for her, deciding it was your turn to be the gentlewoman. She laughed and sat down, “Thank you baby”

You sat opposite Kate, grabbing one of the menus. You propped it up so you could still peak over but still see Kate’s face. She could only see your eyes. She cocked a brow, “Why you hiding? Hm?” she leaned forward on her elbows. “I’m not hiding” you said, ducking your head down. She chuckled and rolled her eyes, “Whatever you say doll, now pick something” she told you.

“Umm…spaghetti and meatballs” you asked, it was the cheapest thing on the menu, but you didn’t notice that. You just really liked spaghetti and meatballs. She shook her head and took the menu away, making you frown. “No, no, you can do better than that…” she muttered, looking through the menu to pick for you. Your frown deepened and you leaned back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Don’t strop” she told you, not even needing to look up from the menu, “You can have the spaghetti then, but I’m getting you garlic bread too, and some fancy cheese” she insisted, placing the menu’s down. “Can I have orange juice too?” you asked, she couldn’t help her smile and she nodded. “Yeah doll sure”

When your food finally arrived you eagerly grabbed your fork, digging in straight away. Kate got herself some random meal you couldn’t even begin to name. You dipped a bit of your garlic bread into the marinara sauce then took a bite, humming.

“That good?” she asked, to which you nodded. You swallowed down your mouthful. “So good, probably better than whatever you got” you joked, pointing to her plate, but she didn’t laugh. “You’re not gonna make another comment about how I spend my money, right?” she asked, sounding quite pissed. You frowned a bit, “No…I was joking- but actually yeah, cause you paid what? $600 for a tiny plate of crap” you told her, pointing to the plate once again.

She scoffed, “It’s my money, if I wanna spend it on this then I will” she spat. You just shrugged at her, sticking your fork into the spaghetti. “Yeah whatever, just don’t complain to me when you’re hungry later” was all you said, that seemed to be enough for Kate as she pulled out her wallet, slamming down her card. She stood and stormed out of the restaurant. You watched her walk off; your eyes widened in shock. Numerous heads turned to look at you and you felt the blood rising to your head as you blushed.

You politely called the waitress over, holding back your tears as you (technically Kate),  paid for your dinner. When you walked out of the restaurant you saw her car was gone, you called yourself an uber. You had no choice but to use Kate’s card to pay for it. You did give her the courtesy of telling her you had to use her card for an uber to get home.

When you got home you went straight into the shower, crying your eyes out. You had such conflicting emotions. Sure she kind of blew up at you, but she paid for your dinner. Maybe that just meant you wound up the winner. Time after time you had taught yourself to just forgive her, because you knew you’d go crawling back either way. You just needed to give her time to calm down.

Kate clearly didn’t need a lot of time when she showed up at your window a few hours later, with flowers. You opened the window and let her in, “Why are you at my window?”  Kate climbed through, shrugging. “Decided to try something new” she said, putting the flowers on the side for you. “I’m sorry” you told her. She only hummed and laid on your bed. You took that as Kate’s form of forgiveness.

You went over to her, climbing onto the bed and laying on top of her. She wrapped her arms around you and kissed you on the head. “Comfy, doll?” she asked, running a hand down your back. “Yeah, very comfy” you hummed, satisfied.

~

That next morning, Kate was gone. She left you a message saying her mum wanted her home, which confused you slightly. Her parents left on holiday just the other day, why would she want Kate home? But you brushed it off, continuing your day as usual.

You sent messages throughout the day, it was around 7pm when you noticed she wasn’t messaging you back. You furrowed your brows but brushed it off, maybe she was busy. Then you checked Instagram. You were scrolling through peoples stories when you landed on one that caught your eye. Yelena Belova. Kate’s best friend.

It was a video of her at a rave with America and Kamala. Then at the back you saw something. Your eyes didn’t want to believe it. You zoomed in and you knew your eyes didn’t deceive you. Kate had her arms around two girls, dancing with them. They were both practically grinding on Kate as she grinned at them.

Your heart ached and you felt a small burning sensation In your eyes as tears pricked. You sniffled, liking the story to make sure Yelena knew you had seen it. You then turned your phone off, slamming it down on the counter. Kate had been ignoring you all day, and now she was dancing with random girls at a club. You took a deep breath, deciding not to let this get to you.

Maybe she was just too drink to realise what she was doing. You knew those girls wouldn’t mean anything to her, but it still stung. This was a worry you had from the start of the relationship. When the two of you were just dating and hooking up, Kate told you about her exes, how she got bored of them all eventually and left them. She got bored easily, and you were now scared she was starting to get bored of you.

~

You got a message from Kate a few days later, it was 8pm when the message lit up your phone. You picked up the phone, opening it to see your wallpaper. It was you and Kate, a simple mirror selfie, she had her arms around your waist and was kissing you on the cheek. You sighed and opened messages, checking what she said. ‘Wanna come out clubbing in a bit bby? xx’

You were hesitant to answer. Did she know you knew? Did she care? You chewed on your bottom lip, debating your response till, before you knew it, your thumbs were speedily typing a response. ‘I don’t have anything to wear’. You watched the typing bubble for a couple minutes till it disappeared. You sighed and sat on your bed, closing your phone.

Not even half an hour later, there was a knock at your window. Kate seemed to like climbing through your window last time as she climbed in once again. You sat up, slightly surprised, “Kate, I told you I have nothing to wear” you reminded her. She threw a bag onto your lap; you opened it to find a skimpy dark red dress. Your eyes widened slightly, it was quite revealing. “Oh, thanks”

You took your shirt off, “Take your bra off too” she randomly said, you looked confused, “check the bag” Kate nodded her head towards the bag. You went to it and pulled out a black lacy bra. Your eyes widened once again “Oh, wow” you murmured, unsure what else to say.

Kate grinned, “good, right?” she asked, leaning back in your bed. You gave a small nod and started to change, you were used to her seeing you naked so you weren’t too bothered by her eyes being on you the entire time you changed.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, honestly the dress looked good on you, but it truly was quite revealing. You felt exposed. Kate came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist. It reminded you of your wallpaper on your phone, reminding you of when you took that photo. Back when there were no problems in yours and Kate’s relationship.

“Alright” she said, pressing a kiss to your neck, “lets go” she took your hand and went downstairs with you. She took you to her car. As always, she opened the door for you. You finished up your makeup during the car ride.

The car came to a stop outside of a club, there were crowds of people and you could hear the music from outside. Once the two of you got out the car, Kate snaked her arm around your waist, holding you close to her.

The second you entered the club, the music blared even louder in your ears. A dank smell of alcohol, weed and for some reason smoke, filled your nose. You scrunched up your nose. Kate took you straight to the bar and you were met with her friend group. The familiar Russian blonde turned to you, her eyes widened slightly and she quickly looked away. She knew, she knew that you knew.

You sat down on one of the stools, in between Yelena and Kate. The raven-haired girl still had her arm around you as she ordered you both drinks. She looked at you with a smirk, “I got you the most expensive one, it’s the best, trust me” she insisted. You forced a smile on your lips and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks” you said into her ear so she could actually hear you over the music.

Once you had finished your drink, Kate was quick to pull you to your feet. She practically dragged you along to the dance floor. You danced with her to the music, your ass pressed against her front. She laid kisses along your neck as the two of you danced, leaving no room for Jesus.

America, Kamala and Yelena then came over to dance too. America smiled at you, “You look good!” she called out, over the music. You smiled back at her, about to say thank you till Kate responded for you. “I know right? I just bought her this dress, it was like $100” she flexed, holding you close to her. It was like she was showing you off as if you were some sort of trophy. You didn’t like how that made you feel.

“Y/n” Yelena suddenly called to you, “Can we talk?” she asked you, not waiting for a response before she grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you outside to the back of the club. The cold breeze made a chill go down your spine, you shivered.

“You saw the video” she stated, you awkwardly nodded. Your lips tight to a line. “So you saw Kate?” she asked you. You nodded once again, keeping your body movements stiff. You said nothing, waiting to see what she could’ve possibly had to say. “Good” Well that wasn’t what you expected.

“What?” you asked, uncrossing your arms, longer caring about the cold. She sighed and looked around as if to make sure Kate wasn’t eavesdropping, “I put it there on purpose Y/n, Kate’s been doing this for a while…she’s never hooked up with one of these girls before but she’ll flirt and dance with them all night” her words made your heart rate pick up, you stayed silent. “Whenever we ask her why, she says she’s gotten bored of you, but that’s obviously a lie because then she’ll go crying to us about you every time she gets a bit too drunk” her words ran through your mind a million miles a second.

“Yelena what the fuck” a sudden voice came in. You both looked to see Kate standing in the doorway, she slammed the metal door shut behind her. She walked over and you then noticed you were crying, you wondered when that happened. “Someone had to tell her, she deserved to know” Yelena answered bluntly with a shrug, “I’ll leave the two of you to talk” she walked off back inside the club.

The two of you stayed quiet for a moment and Kate was about to speak till you interrupted her, “I knew you stopped caring ages ago” you said, “when you stopped putting thought into things and just decided the more money you spend on me the happier I’d be” it felt good to get that fully off your chest. Kate seemed a bit shocked at your words, “I never stopped caring” she murmured.

“Then why did you change? Why did everything between us change? Why were you dancing with other girls like that!” you didn’t mean to start yelling but the overwhelming emotions had become too much for you as you flapped your hands around.

“I don’t know!” she yelled back, “I felt bad! You struggle so much with money and stuff, I thought you’d like if you could finally get expensive things…and when I first bought you something expensive you seemed so happy I thought you preferred that, I thought you preferred when I bought you stuff instead of making crappy shit like a stupid bracelet”

You clenched your jaw and looked away. She scoffed, “It’s not my fault, I thought you loved my money!” she exclaimed, “Fuck just-…just don’t be mad at me, here” you looked at her as she pulled out her wallet, taking out some cash. You quickly stopped her, “Kate enough!” she stilled.

“This” you pointed to her wallet, stepping close to her, “Isn’t what I loved you for” you then pointed to her heart, “This, this is what I loved you for” she took note of your words. “Loved?” she asked, “Not anymore?” her voice cracked as she spoke.

“Kate- you wanna know how you’ve made me feel? You’ve just made me feel like you bought me to rot on the shelves of your fridge and you keep me around 'til you're hungry enough” you rambled at her, “You love me one minute then the next you’re not talking to me for days and dancing with girls at clubs!” she didn’t even attempt to butt in. “And you just- you show no care about anything anymore; you disappear and I think we’re over but then you reel me back in cause you're just kind enough to keep me in the loop”

More and more tears built in your eyes as you poured your heart out to her, “I have never met poison like you, y-you’re spoiling me…you’ve fucked me up Kate” you sniffled, she reached a hand out. She too was crying now. But you pulled away, shaking your head. “I cant do this anymore Katie” you sighed. “Please, Y/n…I didn’t- I didn’t mean to make you feel this way, I swear I’ll change, I love you baby…I love you so much” she stepped closer again, placing her hands on your shoulders but you shrugged them off. “No Kate, its over- we’re over, I’ll return this dress to soon, and everything else you bought me” you didn’t even wait for her to say anything else before you stormed off.

You walked alone that night, it was cold, but luckily it didn’t rain. Your eyes were raining enough though. You choked out a sob. It was really over, things with Kate were actually over for good.

[ceilidho]

apocalypse au but it's Soap who's desperate for companionship and touch starved to the point of delusion

[sixeyesonathiel]

satoru absolutely baby talks you when you’re sick.

not in a mocking way. no. this is full-blown softie satoru, disgusting levels of wife guy activated, baby voice on max, coddling you like you’re the most precious, fragile little thing in the universe—and not because he thinks you’re weak, but because it’s the one time you let him get away with it without putting up your usual walls.

because you’re sick. hot forehead, flushed cheeks, big watery eyes that blink up at him like you’re seeing god—or worse, like you might actually cry if he leaves the room. like you need him. and honestly? that does something to him. wrecks him, even.

and you do need him. you’re fevered, shivering, curled up in bed in one of his oversized shirts, your hair a mess, nose stuffy, brain thoroughly fried. your fingers twitch like you want to reach for him but can’t be bothered to try, lips parted in a weak sigh as you breathe through your mouth. your usual bratty, mouthy, too-proud-for-help self? gone. obliterated. absolutely bulldozed by the flu. all that’s left is a miserable little lump of a wife who clings to his sleeve like a koala and mumbles, “’toru… i feel like a soggy towel…”

his whole body stills. there’s a twitch in his brow, like his heart has physically clenched. his lips part, just a little, before curling up in the softest grin. eyes soften behind pale lashes—just a hint of red at the corners from how tired he is too—but none of that matters. not when you’re looking up at him like that. the corner of his mouth tugs upward, not in amusement—but in something far gentler. reverent, even. and then god. he melts. instantly. his heart shatters into a million pieces and reforms just to explode again.

“awww, my poor widdle baby,” he coos, already pressing a kiss to your damp forehead. his breath is warm, his nose brushing yours. “does my soggy towel need her soup? wanna be spoon-fed by the hottest nurse in the world?”

you don’t even roll your eyes. you nod. actually nod. sluggish, dazed. and then flop into his arms like dead weight, forehead nudging his neck, skin hot against his collarbone. you let him hold you like you’re made of glass.

he almost cries. really. because you’re letting yourself be coddled. cuddled. taken care of. no sass. no biting remarks. just tiny, pitiful sniffles and pouty faces and your arms wrapping around his waist like he’s your anchor. like you don’t want him to go anywhere. like you can’t function without him.

and satoru eats that up like it’s a feast.

“you want juice, angel? how about some water? apple slices? forehead kisses every ten minutes? medicine with a kiss as a chaser?”

“mmm… apple. but peeled…” you whisper, voice small and hoarse, eyes half-lidded and glossy.

“of course, peeled! only the finest fruits for my fevered little dumpling,” he gasps, hand dramatically on his chest like he’s been knighted for a sacred quest. there’s a shine in his eyes—something starry, something stupidly in love.

he tucks you in like a burrito, tugs the blankets up to your chin, and then scoops you onto his lap because apparently that’s where you sleep best. his fingers comb through your hair, slow and tender, while your cheek rests limp against his shirt. he puts on your comfort show, even though you barely keep your eyes open long enough to register the sound.

he hums something soft—tuneless and low—while cradling you like a fevered woodland creature. his tone dips lower when he leans in again.

“do you still love me even if i’m gross and sweaty and my nose is red?” you mumble, lips wobbling, brows pinched like the thought genuinely upsets you.

his hand smooths along your cheek. “i love you way more,” he says instantly. “you’re my sweaty, sniffly soulmate. cutest germ gremlin i’ve ever seen.”

“you’re lying…”

“baby, i would kiss your snotty nose right now if you asked.”

there’s something almost reverent in the way he says it—like it’s a vow. and he means it. he’d do it without hesitation, wouldn’t even flinch. because if it’s you, there’s no such thing as gross. not when he’s this stupidly in love. not when every part of you, even at your messiest, makes him want to wrap you up in his arms and never let go.

you groan into his shirt, muffled and pitiful, and he grins like you just serenaded him.

“who’s the most handsome man in the world?” he asks out of nowhere, fingers curling behind your ear, brushing tenderly as if coaxing the answer out. his voice dips low, honey-sweet and just a little smug. not because he expects the answer—no, he needs it. his entire self-worth depends on your silly little validation right now.

“you are,” you mumble, cheeks squished slightly against his chest, nuzzling closer without shame.

his fingers twitch where they cradle your skull. his whole face lights up like a sunrise. pale lashes flutter, and his pupils dilate like he’s just been told he won a lifetime supply of you.

“louder.”

“toruuuuu… it’s you…”

the pleased little noise he makes is downright sinful. his lashes flutter shut as he closes his eyes in smug bliss, and he tilts his head back like he’s soaking in the warmth of your praise. if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

“that’s right,” he beams, practically preening, fingers now stroking under your chin. “say it again. for my health.”

“you’re the handsomest… in the whole world… even when your hair’s stupid…”

he gasps, clutching his chest with a hand like you just shot cupid’s arrow straight through it. “rude and true. i’ll take it.”

his heart is doing somersaults. he’s convinced there’s never been a more fulfilling moment in his life. not the promotions, not the accolades, not even the recognition. just this—this feverish little version of you, croaky and honest and too tired to pretend you’re not as in love with him as he is with you.

he whispers the dumbest, softest shit while holding you against his chest like you’re something sacred. calls you every pet name in the book and then invents new ones on the spot: baby, sweetheart, princess, dumpling, snugglebug, fever bean, coughy cake, angel face mcsweats-a-lot.

you blink up at him between fits of sleep, lips parted like you want to say something else—but all that comes out is a pathetic little whimper. his hand smooths over your spine again, touch featherlight.

“what was that, baby?” he whispers.

“love you…” you murmur, eyes falling shut.

his heart flips. flips, spirals, and lands in a fucking somersault.

he kisses your temple and you go quiet.

and when you finally pass out, nose smooshed into his collarbone, snoring faintly like the most adorable little gremlin, he exhales like it’s the best moment of his life. like the universe aligned just for this. like his purpose has been fulfilled. his hand never stops moving—stroking your spine, combing your hair, tracing shapes into your shoulder blade beneath the fabric of his shirt.

he lives for clingy, soft, unguarded sick-you. because even though he adores the bratty, sharp-tongued, little menace version of you that picks fights and flicks him on the forehead and makes him earn every kiss—this version? this sleepy, dependent little furnace wrapped in blankets and his love? she needs him.

and satoru loves being needed. loves being the one you reach for, even when you’re half-delirious. especially when you’re half-delirious.

he leans down again, voice barely audible now.

“rest up, baby,” he whispers, brushing your hair from your clammy forehead. “you’ll feel better soon. and then i’ll go back to being emotionally bullied by my beloved wife.”

[simonbrain]

love the idea of reader just trying to fuck all her stress out with a random at the bar before returning back to her mundane life, and simon deciding he's going to keep her instead 🙂‍↕️

the prick doesn't budge when you try to kick him out; instead, he drags you back into bed and works his mouth to loosen you up again, and now you've forgotten why you were trying to haul his ass out of your home.

(you attempted to sound stern while telling him to get out of your house, but he merely chuckled, the sound so raspy and condescending that it stroked a heat within you that you thought was sated last night.

"this is our home. now get your arse back in bed, i'm fuckin' hungry.")

you had to really fist at his hair to pull him off of you, and that only turned him on if the deep groan rumbling out of him was anything to go by—you swear his tongue sunk deeper inside you. he only relented so he could fuck you dumb in the shower after, leaving you with trembling legs and feeling more dirty than clean (atta girl, don't you waste any of tha'—keep it all in).

you blink, and now suddenly you're seated as he spoon-feeds you a nice, hearty breakfast, huffing something like messy girl when toast crumbs get all over your face and the wooden table.

words can't express how flustered you are; you're too stunned to even continue telling the big man who's now feeding you scrambled eggs that he needs to leave. all you feel like you're capable of doing is opening your mouth to accept another spoonful, ignoring the ache you feel between your thighs when you catch his heavy stare and hear a low hum of approval.

then he's leaving (and it's not because of your nagging), muttering something about having to work those mutts to the bone today, all while you're trying to make sense of what's happening. he gives you a sloppy kiss to silence your questions and exasperation, one that makes you feel hot all over and almost melt into a puddle had it not been for the firm grip he had on your ass.

he licks his lips when he pulls back, eyes darting to where your shirt just barely covers where he'd rather be all day than having to go and train recruits. he stares for an uncomfortably long time and before you can speak up, face growing a little hot from the tension, he's turning around to finally leave.

before the door shuts, he says, "be a good girl, ay? see you tonight, birdie."

you're left with your thoughts and feelings of dread and anxiety. there definitely isn't any underlying interest or anything; the freak has fucked your brain out of your head, that's all. you're sure he didn't even mean it anyway. maybe. hopefully.

a drop of his come rolls down your thigh, and arousal shame burns through you. since when did you let one-night stands finish in you?

(your so-called one-night stand came home hungry and pissed, so worked up that he dragged you over to the nearest surface and played with you for a good hour. by the time you had half the mind to tell him about the dinner in the oven—your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at how much money he had sent you for groceries earlier, nevermind how he got ahold of your account details—he grunted and finally gave your poor pussy a break, scarred mug all slick and flushed.)

good luck when he takes you to meet his mates at the bar a week later, the same bar you brought him home from; the comments from them make you wish a hole in the ground would just swallow you right up.

"pretty thing ye caught, lt," johnny grins, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. he's a bit over the top, ogles your chest too hard, but overall he's... alright. you'd probably notice how perverted he really was if you actually looked at him longer than a few fleeting glances, but his stare is kind of unnerving.

kyle—perfection personified—hums in agreement, a warm smile on his face that puts you at ease. somehow you don't pick up on the ulterior motive behind his gaze running over your body, eyes roaming over your chest more discreetly than johnny but just as appreciative. "pretty indeed. you don't mind sharing, do you ghost?" kyle teases, pretty eyes glancing over at simon, who only huffs at that and shakes his head (much to your confusion).

who the fuck is ghost? you only know big guy and simon.

there's a deep chuckle and your focus flits over to the man seated in front of you, captain john price. if you thought simon was scary, john's a man who demands respect and attention just by being in his presence. "you chose the wrong dog to bring home," john hums, voice deep and gravelly and making you shamefully squeeze your thighs together.

"but that's alright, sweetheart. you have three others now, yeah?" the purr that comes out of his mouth is sinful, and when you nod and stammer out a yes, sir as if you were one of his soldiers and not the sweet girl that simon has brought to his captain, looking for approval of his newest toy, he only smiles.

simon's hand squeezes your thigh underneath the table, trailing upwards, and you're slowly understanding what it is that you've gotten yourself into.

[specsthesecond]

Werewolf boyfriend who tries to be dominant with you but fails every time.

He wants to be the growling primal Dom he thinks you want but he just can't because every time he's pounding into you his brain short-circuits and he just becomes a good obedient puppy for you.

He's trying so hard to keep his dominance while he fucks you and then you just have to look up at him with your beautiful fucked out eyes and moan,

"Ah~ so good, such a good boy."

And he crumbles instantly, whining into your neck as you giggle and scratch behind his ear. He knows your little "Awww" isn't supposed to be condescending but it still makes his cock twitch and his pace quicken. He whines and cries as he frantically pounds your addictive pussy. You hold him so close to you, breathlessly panting out praises as your climax approaches.

"That's it", "So good for me", "Making me feel so good, baby"

He hates the way his growls always trail off into whines when he's about to cum. His stupid tail wagging and his tongue lapping at your throat like the dumb dog he is. He hates that he cums before you, he thinks it's weak, even though he always keeps pounding until you cum around his knot no matter how overstimulated he gets.

He hates the way you control him even when you're getting fucked dumb on his cock, and you don't even know it! You don't even know how much he loves it when you cuddle him close, kiss his face and say things like,

"Thank you, thank you baby." "Love you s'much" "Treat me so well"

The way you sing these praises and don't even notice the effects it has on him makes him so mad. It makes him want to fuck you even harder, makes him want to assert dominance and put you in your place. But he knows that if he tried he would just end up being a whining drooling mess, mindlessly bucking into your pussy like the needy puppy he is.

🦴υ´• ﻌ •`υ

[irishmammonagenda]

Sometimes you forget just how immensely powerful Diavolo is. Which is why you should be careful with your words.

Not in the way that other demons are, when they tremble in front of his regal form.

No; you need to be careful with your words because mentioning in casual conversation that you need to get a Netflix subscription again (because you'd cancelled it the first time you were transported into the Devildom) had ended in the Demon Prince buying the whole fucking company.

God forbid you even look at a piece of jewellery or clothing for more than a split second, or else it'd end up on your windowsill the next morning.

You don't need to fear the Demon Prince like the others do, you do however, need to visit him later and thank him for the necklace that'd shown up on your windowsill today.

[snail-day]

Rahhh I feel like a broken record saying this, but I just, ugh. Satoru is just such a yearner. Masks himself with smiles, pretending there’s nothing behind those pretty eyes. But really, he craves love. Craves it so deeply that the very act of being loved repulses him. It’s too much. He simply doesn't know what to do with it.

I just think Satoru in love is a mess, not in the way people expect. He’s not stammering over his words, not showing up at your door with hundreds of roses. He doesn’t have time for grand gestures like that.

He’s the type to stare at his phone longer than he should, the screen time stacking up in seconds. Just scrolling through your Instagram, pausing on that photo you always say you’re going to delete. He really wishes you wouldn’t because while you see imperfection, he sees someone who might as well have hung up the stars.

He’s the type to hover over his keyboard, those slender fingers typing and deleting the same message five times, wondering what would be too much. Would a heart emoji scare you off? Do you actually care about what he ate today?

Kicking his feet under the blankets, a few roll-arounds, when you text him “Goodnight” or “Good morning.” He bites down on a smile when you call first, just to tell him about a report or how your students are doing.

The Satoru with a crush: waking up earlier than necessary, neglecting the sleep his body begs for just to see if you’re online. If that typing bubble will pop up. If maybe - just maybe - you’re retyping too. If you crave him, even a fraction of the way he yearns for you.

He’s brushing his teeth at 7 a.m., frustrated, because you still haven’t texted. It’s only been two hours but it feels like forever. A foamy grin takes over his face when he sees the typing bubble. He checks, read receipts off. Just in case. He can't be caught looking desperate. Can't break down that wall just yet. Using his ego as a barrier to the real him.

Then the chime. Your message. Choking on toothpaste. Satoru has to pace his apartment like an idiot to calm down. A little circle around the coffee table, just to burn off the nerves. The soft patter of his giddy footsteps. Then he finally types back, “Good morning :)", though what he wants to say is “Did you sleep well?” or “Did you dream of me?”

And then, his smile falters. Do you think of him as Satoru, or as Gojo Satoru? Because there’s a difference. To mask the loneliness, swallowing the negative thoughts, he imagines you still curled up in bed, cheek smooshed into your pillow. Wonders how warm you’d be. If he were there, would you two stay wrapped up for an extra hour? Would you press a sleepy kiss to his cheek? Would you peck his face as many times as he would to yours?

When the silly little crush turns into something more - when it becomes a relationship.

Your mug sits next to his in the cabinet now. You brush your teeth together in the mornings. A playful nudge here and there. Giggling when he tries (and fails) to perfect an omelet. He makes character bentos for you on his day off, baby-blues crinkling with every smile.

And still - Satoru tries to play it cool. He wants to love you like a dog loves its favorite person, unconditionally, shamelessly, wholly. He wants to claim you as his and forget the rest of the world.

But he’s scared.

Scared that if he reaches too far, you won’t be there in the morning. That he’ll lose the luxury of placing his toothbrush next to yours. That there won’t be any more grocery trips where you both pause in the sweets aisle for far too long.

Scared you’ll pull away the second he starts reaching for miles instead of inches.

So he smiles. He jokes. Keeps the Gojo Satoru mask on. Because love is terrifying. It’s carving out your heart and handing it to someone, hoping they don’t drop it.

The first argument starts over something stupid. Most do. But it spirals. You don’t understand why he’s distant. Why he won’t let you all the way in. And he doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s terrified.

Because loving you means showing you the sharpest parts of himself. The ones buried behind smug grins and careless jokes. And he’s not sure you’ll still love him once you see them.

So he says something awful.

“Let’s break up.”

The words leave him in shards, clawing their way out of his throat. Words he doesn’t mean. A defense mechanism that works too well.

You freeze. He sees it in your eyes, shock, then hurt, then that dreadful look like you’re already pulling away.

And maybe… maybe that’s what he wants.

Because if he ends it now, if he’s the one who walks away, then he doesn’t have to know what it feels like to lose you for real. Doesn’t have to picture your body in a morgue because he couldn’t save you. Doesn’t have to imagine the world moving on without you in it.

It’s easier this way. That’s what he keeps telling himself.

Even as he stares at that imperfect photo of you still sitting on your Instagram while all the imperfect ones of you together are long gone. Scrubbed clean, no more cheeky smiles. No more subtle photos of you both on dates. As if pretending you never happened will make it hurt less. But it doesn’t. He’s left behind with nothing but the silence. And the tears that fall quietly onto the screen, threatening to like that photo from ages ago.

You forgot your toothbrush. But you left your house key.

His bed is still cold.

And god, he wishes you’d just send one more text.

[salarymanwaka]

[ophelieverse]

when my girl talks,you listen to her!

[shotmrmiller]

size difference where the one afraid to fuck you is simon. he thinks you soft. which is what you are. soft. fragile. small.

you're not like him. nothing like the guys. battle-scarred. muscles carved by relentless missions, scars that speak of duty.

your skin divots under his fingers, yielding to his weathered touch and if he squeezes hard enough, you'll have marks by morning. (he needs to be careful, he can't hurt you, won't—)

and so simon watches you touch yourself in the beginning, clever fingers swirling over your slippery clit with practiced movements even though his cock is straining against his trousers painfully. he can hear you mewl his name through bitten lips and it takes all of his self control to not tug his jeans off, slot himself between your spread, inviting thighs and push— stretch open your fluttering walls, so hot and slick, until he meets resistance, until he can push no more but—

he can't. you'd hurt. and he'd hurt because he hurt you. he won't.

after, when your eyes are heavy lidded, mouth slightly parted in exertion, you remind him that you aren't made of glass. that you won't break. you'll shatter— in the way you do when his tongue replaces your fingers— but not break.

"not a virgin either, for christ's sake," you groan.

maybe he's thinking too hard about it. he knows your teeth have edges, knows your bite is swift when deserved. but all he's truly good at is making things give. biology made it so with his bulky frame and raw mass.

his eyes trace the contour of your collarbone. delicate. then it darts to the pulse on your wrist. vital. his hands, the size of dinner plates don't coax. they demand. he'd snap you like a twig, leaving nothing but splintered remains in his wake.

you don't seem to mind, however. it slightly alarms him. where's your self-preservation? do you enjoy pain? is this some masochistic thing?

he looks at you, all glassy eyed and dewy skinned (ethereal; you're practically glowing under the soft light of the full moon that paints the room silver) and he thinks of how it's going to take work to make it work. his cock is large (he's seen the guys' eyes pop out of their heads in the showers once they caught a glimpse of what's between his legs) but you're persistent in the end. one too many nights of having him without having him.

he understands. simon knows better than most what it's like to yearn. to want and not have. he'd cause you pain by not giving in, and cause pain by giving in. damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.

so he caves. promises to go slow. careful.

"i can take it," you bravely say but he's barely pressing himself to your entrance and you're already making noises that tug at his pathetic little heart. the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip-- you look so pretty, how'd a twisted creature like him get someone like you to come home to-- as his cock fills you has him feeling lightheaded. it takes every ounce of self control to not sink into your heat, to hook your legs around his thick waist and let gravity do the rest.

an unsteady hand weaves its way down to your stuffed cunt, fingers splitting into a vee, feeling how he splits your puffy lips, and the view makes him buck his hips involuntarily.

his hands tighten around your calves when you keen, a high pitched noise that swells the lust he feels burning white hot at the base of his spine, tips of his fingers, deep within his loins. he feels ready to burst.

and he's only halfway in.

your voice cuts through the ringing in his ears. "m-more, simon, c'mon," the n is low and drawn out.

his fingers bite into your flesh as he pushes slow, oh so slowly, until your vise-like cunt envelops him completely. the sibilant hiss you let out makes his hair stand on end. (shame pricks at his nerves like a thousand tiny needles when his cock twitches at the sound of your slightly pained moans)

simon doesn't move, feeling your swollen walls around his cock ripple, tighten and slacken, like it's got a pulse of its own. he could be here, in you, cock deep in paradise for the rest of time.

"fuck me," you warble out, hand rubbing your swollen clit to well up the pleasure that's being smothered by the searing pang of discomfort.

when simon cants his hips back, he watches his cock come out of you, glistening with slick. his jaw aches from how hard he's clenching it. control. got to keep it slow, gentle. slow, simon, slow, slow--

"harder."

he feels the sudden sharp sting of your nails and jerks forward in surprise, filling you completely in one fast movement.

your moan this time is needy, thick with want, arousal dripping from your voice as it does your pussy, coating him in creamy white, a frothy ring at the root.

simon can see the barest of bumps below your navel, or maybe he's seeing things, your hot cunt putting him in a state of delirium but the way you take all of his cock and continue to beg for more, beg him to fuck you like he means it even though he's twice if not thrice your size well...

you'll just have to forgive him on the finger-shaped bruises they're going to be on your body after.

(you'd looked so cheeky before he flipped you onto your knees, grabbing onto your delicate neck like a lifeline as he pulled your hips to meet his. you'd taken him easier here, cunt sodden with slick but the angle had him reaching a devastating depth no one else could ever dream of reaching and even though it'd sprung tears to the corners of your eyes at the pinch, "mama ain't raise no bitch.")

[sparklykaminarii]

PATCH UP DUTY! ༉‧₊˚.

synopsis: your shinobi boyfriend got hurt on a mission, and luckily for them their trusty girlfriend is here to help! (mentions of wounds and blood, SFW) FT. Gaara, Naruto, Sasuke, and Shikamaru

a/n: finally im back!! missed writing more than I expected lol also sorry naruto fans I didn't know what to do with him really!! (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠)

☆ SILENCE. (FT. GAARA)☆

"You don't have to do this, (Y/N)." Gaara murmurs, resting his arm on the table. You ignore his comment, unraveling a roll of gauze. Sitting there patiently, he watches as you carefully formulate your supplies with precision.

Grabbing a chair next to him, you begin to treat his wound. A large slash down his forearm, yet shallow enough to not cause any substantial issues. But the bleeding alone was enough to make you pout.

Meticulously dabbing a cloth over his wound, not a single word escapes from either one of you. Steady breathing fills the empty silence, a comforting phenomenon that always came along with Gaara. He wasnt the type to speak unless he had to, even then his sentences remained short and meaningful.

Picking up a swab coated in sterile saline, then patting it along the gash, You glance up to check Gaara for any signs of discomfort, an instinct that came along with treating injuries.

Suddenly, your rhythmic movements halt abruptly.

Your eyes meet.

For a moment neither of you move. His cold teal eyes grasp yours, indecipherable but fierce. Almost like he was studying you, memorizing the way your eyebrows furrowed with concentration, the way your eyes squint slightly as you focus. There's no falter nor embarrassed look away—only fixed tranquility.

He still doesn't look away.

Gaara isn't the type of person to shy away when he's caught staring, especially if it's something he's infatuated by. Instead his gaze intensifies, as if he's trying to understand something—himself. Why does he feel this odd warmth in his chest every time he's around your vicinity? Why does his heart slow but his breathing quicken as soon as he feels your delicate touch? It's all so new to him.

You catch a glimpse of something that crosses his face. Although hard to catch, you still caught it. A rare tenderness he rarely allowed himself to show.

"...Does it hurt?" You ask gently.

Immediately, his lips part, like he wants to say something. But instead, he simply shakes his head "No. It's fine."

However, his eyes still haven't let you go. At least not yet. Not until you look away first, flustered by his silent potency. And even then, he's still watching, his thoughts unsolvable, his heart struggling to make sense of feelings he's never felt before.

☆ BIG BABY! (FT. NARUTO) ☆

"Ow, ow, OW— (Y/N), you're killing me!" Naruto whines throwing his head back like he's just been stabbed in the chest.

You glare at him, pressing the antiseptic soaked rag against the scrape on his cheek. "It's just a tiny scratch, you big baby."

"A tiny scratch?... Do you see the SIZE of this thing? I was fighting for my life out there!" He puffs, pointing at the scrape. You sigh loudly, muttering about how ridiculous he is, Naruto crossing his arms childishly at the comment.

Tossing the rag aside, you grab a glass bottle filled with ointment. "You literally get punched through walls, but this is where you draw the line?" You retort, leaning in closer to spread the ointment more precisely

But unknowingly, you closed in the last bit of space between you two, the lack of air making Naruto's brain go fuzzy. Actually, he was completely frozen. Too stunned to speak. His usual goofy demeanour falters for just a moment, his breath pausing as heat rises to his face. He's blinking rapidly, unsure of where to look. He's lost in the way your fingers gently grasp his jaw, tilting his head slightly backwards. And he's fixated on the pacing of your breathing too, feeling the warm air against his cheek.

Fuck. You were way too close. He swallows hard, "Uh..." He scrambles to find his words, for the first time, the Ultimate Knucklehead Ninja is speechless.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence as if the close proximity wasn't a part of your plan. "What? You were just talking a mile a minute, and now you're quiet?" You spit, lips curled slightly as you spread the thick medication across his cheek.

Naruto quickly averts his gaze, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "N-Nothing... Just... uh... you must be really focused, huh?" He lets out a nervous chuckle, trying to slow down the sudden pounding in his chest.

Rolling your eyes, you twist the cap back onto the bottle. Adjusting himself on the couch, Naruto tries to retrieve his cool, as if his face weren't a bright tomato red. You continue patching Naruto up, still bickering back and forth with him. Only this time, he seemed to be a bit more jittery and shaky with his responses.

But later, when you're finished and packing away your supplies, you swear you hear him mumble something under his breath. Something that makes you smile not matter how much you stifle it back.

"Man... I think I just feel for you even harder..."

☆ STUBBORNESS (FT. SASUKE) ☆

"I'm fine."

You exhale sharply, ignoring Sasuke's regular resistance. Placing a cloth over the gash and then applying mild pressure, you attempt to stop the bleeding from his neck. "You're bleeding, Sasuke."

He doesn't flinch, nor does he wince. Instead he's just sitting there, stuff but compliant. His arms are crossed, like this whole situation was just some minor inconvenience. Of course. It wasn't unusual for Sasuke to act so detached, always pretending to be unaffected yet his body always said the opposite.

You shake your head, "Just let me help, okay?"

Sasuke sighs through his nose, but doesn't dispute with you any further. That was the most compliance you'll ever get out of him.

The wound on his neck wasn't deep, simply messy. Dried blood strips near the opening, and despite his bluffed collectiveness, you could tell he's exhausted. It wasn't uncommon to see Sasuke injured, oftentimes training tirelessly, or engaging with enemies he underestimated way too much. But this time, you could tell he wasn't just worn out physically.

Too lost in your thoughts, you accidentally prod the cloth a bit too harshly, making him tense up for a moment. Not a flinch, but you swore you heard his breath quietly hitch.

"Sorry," you murmur.

Sasuke though, doesn't say anything. But as you continue, grabbing other materials, you treat his wounds with extra care. Fingers grazing his skin with gentleless, you begin to notice something. His breathing slows. His once taut shoulders are now relaxed under your touch.

He isn't just tolerating this, but he's allowing it.

There's something strangely intimate about this silence. Perhaps it's the way, you're the only one he lets close like this.

Then you feel it. His gaze locked on you.

Holding the gauze in your hand, you pause.

"Sasuke?"

But still, no answer.

You peek up at him, expecting his eyes to rush away like they always do, but he doesn't. His distant black eyes are now fixated on you, unreadable, steady, yet softer than usual. They lacked their usual sharpness, but instead grew of quiet observation.

The sight sends your heart into your throat.

"...What?" You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

He blinks, laggard and calculated. His lips part ever so slightly, like he's about to speak but he doesn't. Instead, after a moment, he exhales and mutters, "Nothing."

Taking in his answer, you continue on with patching him up. But his gaze lingers, still focused on you. Even after you finish patching him up. Because as he stands to leave, his lips part open again, like there's something on his chest that's dying to come out.

And then, he turns away, his voice—low and nearly inaudible.

"...You don't have to worry about me so much."

☆ GENTLE (FT. SHIKAMARU) ☆

"This is such a drag..."

Shikamaru groans, resting his head against the wall as you kneel beside him, tending to the slash across his chest. He's always complaining and always acting like everything takes up so much of his precious energy. But he hasn't moved an inch since you've started.

"You say that like I'm the one who got you hurt," you mutter, blotting a rag over his wound.

A long and slow breathe escapes his lungs, "Tch. Guess that's fair."

His voice is low and sluggish, like sitting here was simply exhausting. Despite having a fresh injury, he seems to be half asleep. Typical. You should've expected him to act like this was more tiring than the actual fight.

"Hold still," you say, pressing a bandage against his skin tightly.

Shikamaru doesn't even flinch. Doesn't really react at all, really—except for the way his eyes flicker downwards watching the way your fingers dance over his chest, you brows knitting together in silent concentration.

You don't notice at first, only until the silence begins to grow way too suspicious.

You glance up, only for him to be looking back at you.

You waver, gripping the roll of bandage.

"What?"

But, he only blinks at you, hushed but calculated, unbothered at the fact you just caught him staring. In his eyes, there's no sign of embarrassment nor instant divergence. Just quiet deliberate eyes, like he's studying a foreign topic.

"You're being weird," you comment, focusing your attention to bandaging him up.

Shikamaru's lips twitch into a lazy smirk. "Nah. Just thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

He pauses, and so do you. His eyes dart towards something—not away but lower, to where your hands are still resting on his chest, rising up and down as he breathes.

"You're pretty gentle," he murmurs.

Your breath catches to the back of your throat. But before you can respond, he leans his head back again, shutting his eyes like he's done speaking.

Shaking off the unexpected heat in your cheeks, you huff "You say that like you expected me to be rough."

"Didn't say that," He mutters, eyes still shut.

"Then?"

He exhales a small tired sigh. And then without opening his eyes:

"I think I could get used to this"

Your hands still for half a second, but he doesn't say anything else. Instead he lets the silence between you two settle, as if it were meant to be there.

And when you finally pull back, he doesn't move right away.

Like he's in no rush to leave your touch.

[ceilidho]

Ghost going to masseuse!reader because his back is beyond destroyed from years of manual labour, and not bothering to muffle his groans and grunts at all during the massage. full on groaning like he's balls deep in pussy. like even reader, who's used to people making involuntary sounds when they've never gotten a massage before, is uncomfortable not even twenty minutes into their session. and god forbid she try to move on after finding a spot that really makes him light up, he'll snatch her wrist and glare up at her until she gets back to it.

[witherby]

For the littlest Wayne series, imagine y/n having the habit of biting Bruce specifically 👀

Alfred, the batboys and the justice League members can hold y/n as long as possible without getting bit but whenever Bruce holds y/n he always ends up with tiny bite marks

Hey this made me laugh for like 15 minutes. I love u

The Littlest Wayne: Teething

Bruce is fine. His sons will tell you he's pouting but he's not, okay.

It's just that you obviously love your brothers more than him. Anybody would be upset by that. But he's not pouting.

"Bruce, get up."

"Can't. I'm injured."

Dick levels a flat look at him. "Up."

Bruce lifts his bare arm, showing off the miniscule little tooth mark you left on his bicep.

"I think it's fatal. I'm sorry, Dick, I know I promised I'd stick around as long as I could, but —"

"Oh my god."

"This may come as a shock, and you're going to need time to grieve, but I've left you a substantial amount of money in the will."

"Bruce, they're just teething, please stop."

"I can feel the life draining out of me. I'll finally see my parents again."

"Whoa."

"Too much?"

"Too much. Dial it back."

Bruce sits up and sighs, running a hand through his hair. He gestures to you as you relax in your brother's arms. "They don't even have a binky in their mouth right now, and they're just sitting there so politely."

Dick rolls his eyes, bouncing you lightly. You look at your big brother for a moment, then direct your gaze to Bruce and stare at him like the tastiest cookie on the planet.

"What's the problem? It's not like anything bad is happening. You're just the person they wanna chew on."

"Chum. It's gotten to the point where they will spit out their teething rings to crawl to me, find the first available patch of skin, and bite down." He lifts up the pant leg of his sweats and points to his ankle. "Eight times. They found me and bit my ankle eight times today. Then I picked them up ten minutes ago and they got my arm. These are targeted attacks."

"They're not targeted," Dick insists, trying not to laugh. He turns to you and tickles your tummy. You squeal and squirm. "They're not targeted, are they? Huh? No, they're not! Bruce is being paranoid again! He's so silly."

"Put them down."

Dick smirks. "Bruce. They just ate. They're not going to —"

"Put them down."

He rolls his eyes, but Dick complies and gently sets you on the floor. You stare up at him a moment, then face Bruce, then crawl up to him and open your mouth, nearly headbutting his ankle in your haste to chomp on it.

"Oh my god," says Dick, "like a heat-seeking missile."

"Like a heat-seeking missile," Bruce echoes, pouting.

[a11eya]

“Who did this to you?”

Bakugou’s voice is low, dangerous. His eyes are sharp as they stare at you.

“What?” You blink rapidly at him.

After a year of being friends with Bakugou, you’re used to him frequently being at some level of pissed off or annoyed.

But you’ve never seen him look so angry. Like he could tear the world apart.

“This.”

You’re not prepared when Bakugou reaches up to angle your chin towards him, your breath catching as his calloused fingertips grip against your skin. He brushes his thumb, feather-light, against your cheekbone. It’s then you remember the bruise there.

“Oh! I had a practice bout with one of the new kids at our gym. He got in a lucky punch but hit me a little too hard. He’s still learning,” you say.

You smile at Bakugou and raise your hand to pat his, the one cupped against your cheek.

“Don’t worry, Bakugou. It looks worse than it actually is.”

Bakugou grunts. You expect him to step back, let go.

But he’s still, gaze locked on your face, thumb brushing back and forth against your skin like it doesn’t send shivers through your entire body, like it doesn’t make your face feel like the surface of the sun.

Nervous about his intense attention, you bite your bottom lip. Bakugou’s eyes drop to track the movement and stick there.

You can’t breathe. Is he…?

The sound of distant footsteps drawing nearer pops the bubble you’re in.

Bakugou pulls away. He doesn’t go too far, though, and because you’re so close, you can see that the tips of his ears are red, despite his neutral expression.

“Don’t box with that kid again,” he says, voice raspy, a little husky.

You swallow and nod before his words can process. Bakugou nods back, satisfied, before turning to walk away.

He’s halfway down the hallway before you come to your senses. Wait. You make a face.

“You’re not the boss of me!” you call at his retreating back.

He stops. Turns.

“What’d you say?” he asks, eyes narrowed at you, handsome face skewed into a scowl.

You know you should be intimidated, but. You think about the look in his eyes when he touched you. The heat of his palm.

So you just smile at him.

“You heard me.”

[tsuutarr]

You’re not sure how long you’ve been trapped in the water god’s temple, the presence of sunlight absent in the depths of the sea. The only light source comes from the bioluminescent algae, plankton, and animals that decorate the halls.

It’s all very pretty, but… it’s hard to get used to being stripped away from everything you’ve known and loved so suddenly. Not to mention the fact that the water god is adamant about making his presence known to you at every second. He never leaves you alone, constantly having his large hands on you as he carries you around like a trophy.

You’re honestly exhausted, your sense of autonomy fading away as your only sources of comfort are the water god and the aquatic animals that roam the temple’s halls. If it were any other situation, you’d have found the talking turtles and dolphins very cute, but you don’t find much wonder in anything nowadays.

After all, how can you have a sense of wonder when you don’t belong to yourself anymore?

Resigned to your fate, you sit on the water god’s lap as he feeds you your dinner as always. 

“Pretty pet,” he hums as he forces you to chew, his large hand on your jaw. “Are you enjoying your meal?”

The silver lining is that the food here is pretty good. He surprisingly has a variety of fruits and other things you wouldn’t expect to find in the sea, but you’re not going to ask any questions. You don’t think you’ll like his answers.

Instead, you nod as best as you can while his grip is on you.

Pleased, he gives you a toothy grin, his teeth sharp and edged. “Good. Eat up, pet. This meal is my gift to you, after all.”

You blink up at him, confused.

Lowly, he chuckles, before nuzzling your hair. “I’m sure you’re aware of what they say about mermaid meat, no?”

The food in your mouth suddenly feels heavy and stale, too sour for your tongue.

“It’s a great gift, isn’t it? Now, you and I will be together forever.”

If his hand wasn’t on your jaw, you’d have thrown up. But, with him pressed so close to you, you have no choice but to swallow down his unorthodox gift.