#what a reassuring sentiment...

[senku-ishigami-official]

@eallyrayadbay look below deck.

Happy birthday, mentalist.

[shiraishi--kanade]

To be completely honest I think the entire argument of "Ena and Akito basically have the same personality" is disingenuous at best and stupid at worst (if you're defending Ena by comparing her to the fandom's favourite and saying "they're basically the same person and have no defining traits that may make people prefer one over the other" are you really. Defending her? By calling her a carbon copy of her brother?) so I will not be participating in it. However I am annoyed at people just dismissing the hitting Touya thing.

I feel like there's two camps of people one of which is calling Akitoya's entire relationship abusive because they dared to have One Fight as overreacting dramatic teenagers & made up for it to each other a thousand times over and the other is closing their eyes to the entire thing happening in the first place. Which is equally dumb because I'm not here to police your media interests but I just think if you pretend to not see the way pre-Main Story Akitoya was at least a little bit dysfunctional in an interesting way that's just boring. That makes their story boring. Sorry.

[alexiroflife]

"tears"

fluff for the sukuna fans bc i've been in a soft sukuna mood

ryomen sukuna x reader

Synopsis: sukuna isn't a stranger to arguments with you, but when he catches you crying after a particularly harsh one, he finds himself scrambling to fix it... in his own way

to sum it up: sukuna is an asshole but he loves you, so he tries his best

WC: 3,296

Warning(s): a lil angst

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you first started a relationship with the infamous king of curses, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less when his tendency to be an asshole hurt your feelings. 

You know Sukuna isn’t a sentimental person who cares much for things like verbal reassurance, or consideration for the way the things he says can impact you, or anyone for that matter, but damn! Sometimes, he’s just too much of a jerk for you to handle, and Sukuna himself has no idea why your fragile human emotions sway you to be so affected by him. He doesn’t even think he’s said anything wrong the times in which you grow angry with him.

Now, Sukuna can handle your anger. Anger is good. Anger means that there is something he can react to, something he can tame or involve into your intimacies when he takes your mind off of silly arguments or subdues your attitude over what he deems to be small inconveniences. Anger is the only human emotion that he has felt himself in his many years of existence, so he knows what to expect. He understands it. He’s not, in the slightest, intimidated by it.

But what Sukuna finds he can not handle is the sound of your sniffles that resound from behind your door after you’ve just slammed it into his face. Sukuna angles his brows, pressing his ear to the door in confusion. Are you… cold? Coming down with a fever? What the hell are you sniffing your nose so much for?

Then he hears the meek gasps that intercept, the vocalization of pain that creeps into your weakened inhalations that accompany your damned sniffling. That’s when he realizes that you’re crying, and his pupils shrink slightly knowing that he has gone a little too far this time. 

Hell, how is he supposed to handle you crying? He can’t fuck your sadness away like he can with your irritation. He can’t mirror your sadness, since he has no clue what the hell it’s supposed to feel like. He can’t empathize with it either, for he has no idea what he could have done to bring tears to your eyes and empathy, well, it’s not in his vocabulary to begin with. It’s pathetic, he thinks, the way you have allowed him to bother you this much…

Yet it kills him to know that he’s the reason behind your tears.

He stands there for some time, unsure of what to do. Should he get Uraume to handle this? No, that may make things worse. You may want to be alone.

He turns to leave, but something stops him. He feels an ache in his chest, pressing his hand to his bicep. What the hell? What is this feeling?

He can still hear you crying, and somehow, it sounds like it’s getting worse, louder, or perhaps that is all in his head. He can no longer tell, but that sound you’re making is the only thing occupying his mind, and it’s ruining him. It’s making his chest tighten, his brow furrow, his lips press together tightly. He should leave, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to abandon you like this. 

Never once in his life has Sukuna felt remorse. Not even for all the times he has made you angry in the past when you two have had arguments. He is so quick to blame your reactions to things on your feeble human emotions. He is so quick to evade responsibility, or more so, refrain from guilting himself over the things he is responsible for. He is so quick to dismiss you, but it’s always fine because he has never witnessed you grow sad over his behavior, not until now.

Sukuna turns back to your door slowly. His hand flies to grab the handle to throw the door open, but he hesitates. He’s unsure of what’s happening to him, for he’s never hesitated before in his life. This, you crying, him second guessing himself, it’s all so new and he hates it. He needs to fix this immediately. 

What do you humans like when you are upset? There’s a word that’s slipping his mind, one he always hears you pester him for but turns down repeatedly. He had found the concept so irrelevant that he hadn’t even bothered to recall what it’s called.

He crosses his arms and stares ahead harshly in thought, then it comes to him. An apology! Yes, that’s what it is. But of course, you can’t expect him to verbalize such a thing. You must want something as a gift. A physical representation of his desire not to see you cry. He rushes off to locate Uraume for preparations.

About an hour later, you’re curled up on your bed and facing the wall with a blank stare. Your tears stopped a while ago, and since you hadn’t heard from Sukuna, you assumed he just didn’t care about your feelings. Like always.

“Oi,” a gruff voice through the door startles you. You jump and turn over, curling your brows in confusion at the sound of Sukuna’s voice. For a moment, you don’t believe he is speaking to you, so you wait some time to see if he will speak again. “I know you can hear me in there,” his voice sounds again, and you groan.

“Go away,” you tell him, flipping back over.

Sukuna, on the other side of the wall, clicks his tongue in agitation. “Quit your pouting and come open this door.”

“No. Until you learn how to treat me better, I don’t want to see you.”

Treat you better? Sukuna doesn’t understand this nonsense. You live in his large estate, you’re pampered by servants, showered with gifts and homemade meals, you sleep by his side every night, and he allows you to disrespect him far more often than he should. Not to mention, he has his arms full of presents at this very moment that are preventing him from opening the door himself. How can he possibly treat you any better than he’s already treating you?

He growls lowly and closes his eyes in irritation. “If you open the door, your mood will improve.”

“I don’t want anything other than what I just said.”

Sukuna’s eye twitches. Why are you so damn difficult? “What is your-”

“Go. Away.”

Oh. Alright, then. 

You sit up abruptly when Sukuna’s foot breaks in the door with a loud crash. You stare with wide eyes, the door, now off its hinge, creaking open weakly to reveal the king of curses with his arms full of several bouquets of flowers.

“What the fuck, Sukuna?!” you cry. He only stares frustratedly as he walks into the space univinted.

“This was going to go on for too long if I hadn’t done something,” he says, approaching the side of your bed.

“You can’t just- fuck! What is wrong with you?”

Okay… this is already going poorly. 

This is not the reaction he had desired from you, and perhaps he should have revisited the idea of kicking in the door, but he had been growing impatient. Despite his big talk, he doesn’t like when you speak to him in such a cold way. He doesn’t like being separated from you. He doesn’t like not being able to see your face, and after all the work he has just done to collect these plants for you, he can not tolerate being turned away. 

“Must you be so dramatic?” he tsks. “Do you not see what I have brought to you? Don’t you humans like these things?”

You stare at him incredulously, mouth agape. Sukuna can see the tear stains clear on your face, and his heart clenches again. God, why is that sight so abominable? 

He holds his arms out, presenting the flowers to you as if you could have possibly missed them. “They are yours. Take them and be done with this.”

“Be done with what, Sukuna?” you shake your head, face scrunched.

“With your tantrum- your tears, and the sniffles. Be done with them now. Here.”

You scoff. “Do you even know why you're giving these to me?”

Sukuna raises a brow. “To cease your tantrum. As I just said.”

“I can’t with you sometimes, Sukuna. Honestly.” 

“This is really the thanks that I get for bringing you these damn flowers? I thought you were supposed to like things like this. Why would you make me waste my time?”

“If you think it’s a fucking waste of time to bring me flowers, then there’s your problem right there,” you raise your voice, pointing at him accusingly. Sukuna’s face hardens. He thinks you’re getting angry again, but he can still see the sadness behind your eyes. You look almost… defeated. “And if you knew me at all, you’d know that I never cared about any of that stuff. I never cared about the flashiness or the gifts or whatever the fuck.”

Sukuna lowers his hands, letting the bouquets drop carelessly to the floor. “Now you are accusing me of not knowing you?” he seethes. “I’m not sure when you decided that it was acceptable for you to speak to me this way, but I will not tolerate it. I do nothing but dote on you, you ungrateful brat.”

“Yeah, sure, you dote on me, and then you turn around and berate me and call everything I feel stupid because you don’t care to even try to understand why some of the things you say are not okay!”

Sukuna walks closer to invade your personal space, leaning in to glare angrily at you as you do the same. This is what he knows. This is what he chooses to respond to. Not the curl in your brow, not the tremble of your lips, not the unsteadiness of your voice, but your anger. “Why should I care if all you do is whine,” he grumbles. 

You clamp your mouth shut as a lump forms in your throat. Sukuna watches you unravel before him, and while he tries to keep an unmoved expression, he is internally panicking when he sees your eyes gloss over again and your nose flare. 

Shit. He’s supposed to be making you feel better. How has he gone and made things worse again? Why is he incapable of understanding how to be what you want him to be?

You take in a trembling inhale as your hands clench and unclench at your sides. You don’t want him to see you cry. You don’t want him to call you weak, but you can’t help the tear that breaks past your lashes and dashes down your cheek, a physical display of your heartache. 

Sukuna’s crimson eyes fly to the tear, and his brows smooth out against his intent. 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You’re crying again, and it’s his fault. It’s always been his fault. What is this now that he’s feeling? Regret? Shame? Is that what is clawing at his chest and stripping him of his resolve? Making him wish to replay this entire interaction so that you do not appear before him with tears in your eyes once more? Is this what it is to fall? 

You rub angrily at your eyes and huff, turning away from him and plopping back down on your bed, back facing him. You shut yourself away, close yourself off, and deprive Sukuna of your pretty face for the second time today. “Just leave me alone. You’ve made it perfectly clear that you don’t give a fuck about me or anything, for that matter.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen slightly with the deepening of his frown. That ache he has felt in his chest spreads throughout his body, serving as tension in his back, head, and shoulders. You think he doesn’t care for you? What nonsense. You’re the only being on this planet who has made a millennia of existence worth living, and you think he doesn’t care?

Sukuna can not even pin the blame onto you this time around. He can not accuse you of overreacting, nor can he evade such a thing that is so clearly his doing. He has made you feel uncared for, and while his temper may get out of hand, and his inability to fully comprehend the plagues of the human mind gets in the way, and he never tells you that he loves you, making you feel unloved is the last thing he ever meant to do. 

“Hey,” he mumbles, but you do not move. You cling to yourself for comfort because you do not believe he can provide any for you. “Brat-” he starts, but rethinks. He reaches his hand out to you. “(Y/n). Enough of this.”

“I don’t want to see you right now, Sukuna. Can’t you respect at least that for once?” you croak. 

His hand freezes and he lets it fall. Respect. Understanding. That is what you want from him, and he has not been giving it to you. He has not been giving you anything that you request of him emotionally, for that matter. He has been neglecting your mental needs whilst overpowering you with the physical, and it’s drawn you away from him. 

He could force you to get up. He could drag you by your hair to his bedroom. He could make you look him in the eye, make you stay with him, make you stay silent about this from this point on and forever more. Sukuna has the power and the authority to do so…

But the idea is not appealing. Not in the slightest.

Sukuna wants you happy. He wants you to want to be with him willingly, and if he ignores your consent now of all times, it would be like throwing away the life he has built with you. Throwing away your desires, and Sukuna does not long for a world in which you are any more uncomfortable than you already are. 

He takes a step back, looking over the flowers that he has dropped, and accepts the will of the mortal he fell in love with. 

“I will be in my chambers if or whenever you wish to see me,” he says lowly, giving in. He moves to leave but stops himself once more. He never had stopped himself this much before. “...I apologize for making you cry. I will send someone to fix your door immediately.”

Sukuna is well on his way when he hears you shuffling behind him. He turns, admittedly hopeful for your reaction, and finds you peeking in confusion over your shoulder. “...What did you just say?” you whisper.

The king of curses stalls, looking directly into your eyes from across the room. He feels suddenly… weak. Vulnerable. For the first time, he has relented his power for you to take hold of, and it feels strange to say the very least. “Do you wish for me to repeat myself?”

You sit up slowly, turning around. You knuckle at your red nose, watching him suspiciously. “I do. I may have misheard you.”

He studies you for a moment until he realizes that you are being facetious. “You heard me the first time.”

“Maybe I just want you to say it again.”

Sukuna sighs heavily. “I did not intend to make you cry, nor did I intend to make you feel as though I do not care for you. That is a foolish thought, but I understand I do not convey the depth of my feelings for you the way you wish me to convey it.”

You look dumbfounded as you stare at him in silence. Sukuna clicks his tongue, unsure of how you are going to respond. 

“Quit staring at me and say something, woman.”

“I just… never thought…” you trail off, swallowing harshly. “I never thought you would ever say something like that to me.”

“You will only hear me say such things when you are- when I’ve made you unhappy,” he clarifies firmly. Your nose twitches, an involuntary movement that Sukuna catches and finds entirely too adorable. Your eyes are still damp, but your breathing has evened out. 

“That’s the first,” you quip.

“Enough.”

You press your lips together, glancing at the flowers Sukuna brought you. Just then, you notice that they are your favorite. 

You tell yourself you knew what you were getting into when you first started dating the king of curses, but at times you forget that Sukuna is in fact a demon, and a king at that. He does not believe in any better than what he is.

“You hurt my feelings, Sukuna,” you say softly. “Don’t you get what that means? At least for me?”

“No,” he responds honestly. “But I do see now that you have different needs. And I understand that I refuse to watch you cry if there is something I can do about it.”

You try to remain angry with him. You try to keep yourself distanced, but you can not help the way that you are softening, and Sukuna notices. A hint of a smirk curves at the corner of his lips. 

“Is that all I had to say to make this better?”

“Shut the hell up,” you hiss. “It wouldn’t have killed you to apologize for the hundreds of other times we’ve fought, you know.”

“You weren’t crying the other times, woman.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you roll your eyes. 

Sukuna tilts his head, placing a hand on his hip. “You’re not still upset, are you?”

“Yes,” you pout, and he catches on.

“What is it you want now, to be pampered like a spoiled brat?” 

He makes the suggestion as if to offend you, but the two of you both know that he is hardly making a joke. “What I want is for you to fuck off.”

A chuckle rumbles in Sukuna’s throat as he makes his way over to you. You immediately break and screech when he yanks you forward by your ankle and loops you up into his arms before sitting down on your bed and setting you in his lap. 

He looks you dead in the eye and lifts a rough thumb, swiping stubbornly at your tear stains and your damp lashes. “Crybaby,” he mutters, and you swat his hand away.

“Whatever, asshole.” You push at his chest with weak contempt and he looks at you boredly.

“You’re pitiful,” he grumbles, gripping your chin securely and guiding it to him. His blood red eyes seep into yours, gazing intently. “No more tears, do you understand?”

“Then don’t make me sad.”

“I won’t,” he tells you confidently.

A smile twitches on your lips as you look over him, completely unfamiliar with this side of the king of curses. “Can you do one more thing for me, and then I’ll maybe think about forgiving you?” you bite your lip, pressing your finger to his broad shoulder.

Sukuna grunts. “More demands, huh? I suppose you know how to take advantage of a situation. What more do you want?”

You wrap your arms over his neck. “Tell me how much you care about me,” you sing. 

“Did I not just do so?”

“No, I want you to spell it out. Tell me you love me.”

“I highly tolerate you.”

“Tell me you loveeee me.”

“You are the only human being I do not frown upon.”

“Sukuna.”

“Christ, woman, you’re mine. Isn’t that enough?” he grits his teeth and you snort, patting his cheek gently. 

“For now.”

“Such a pest, you know that?” he mumbles, pushing in swiftly to press his lips firmly to yours in a swift peck. “Don’t ever say I don’t care for you again. It is the most false and offensive thing I have ever heard."

[mwphisto]

LaDs: You have a Low Libido

~ inspired by anon’s ask! I hope I captured the idea okay! As someone with a typically high libido I tried to think from the perspective of when I’m on my period and not in the mood at all lol

~ all love interests included

Warning, this post contains: mentions of sex, mainly fluff.

Xavier

⭐️He can control himself and his needs, if you’re not in the mood? Then neither is he. Cuddling is more than enough

⭐️Xavier knows that a low libido doesn’t mean no libido, so when you’re actually in the mood for once? He jumps on the opportunity and makes sure you enjoy it too.

⭐️Xavier loves being intimate with you in a variety of ways, and he knows his limits to his own restraint. He’ll always prioritize you and your needs before his own.

“We haven’t had sex in like a month.” You mumble the words sheepishly into his chest, eyes peering up at him as if you were bracing yourself. “Yeah, and that’s perfectly fine.” It’s a sleepy yawn of reassurance, his fingers toying with your hair as you pout. “You’re not… bothered by that? I feel bad…” that gets him, blue eyes zeroing in on where your head presses to his chest. “It doesn’t bother me in the slightest, you have no reason to feel bad. Why would you even feel bad about not being in the mood for sex?” That struck a cord in you, eyes widening slightly as you meekly offer. “Wouldn’t you prefer a partner who’s more in tune with your needs?” You knew for a fact that your boyfriend’s libido was high. “Don’t be ridiculous, there is a lot more to our relationship than sex. Sure when we do have it it’s great, but I don’t need it every day to know I love you.”

Rafayel

🎨Rafayel has a normal libido (save for ebb day) so when he learns your libido is a bit low? No problem!

🎨He loves showing his affection to you through other intimate means — hand holding, cuddling, taking a bath together, painting your portrait, and many more

🎨When you are in the mood, he’s sure to make it special. Candles, petals, nice music, he’ll go the full nine yards to make sure the experience is worth it for you

“Y’know, it means a lot that my low libido doesn’t bother you.” You confess it softly one night as you two share a bath. You’d been lingering on this for a while now, a bit envious of the fact that you didn’t get turned on as frequently as others did. “Course it doesn’t bother me, cutie. Sex is great but you being comfortable and having your needs met his much greater to me.” While you appreciated the sentiment, you wished you could crave your boyfriend on a deeper level. You did, of course, having a low libido didn’t mean you had none at all. You just wished for his sake that it was a little more… frequent? “Don’t you dare think like that.” Had you accidentally said it out loud? “It doesn’t bother me at all, cutie. We don’t need to have sex every day for me to know I love you more than words.”

Zayne

🩺Zayne doesn’t mind it at all, if anything, you having a low libido calms his nerves. Especially at the start of your relationship, he likes to take things slow!

🩺Zayne is a man of patience as well as a man of restraint. He knows when to hold back, if you are not in the mood when he is? It's totally fine, he'd never put that level of expectation on you.

🩺When you are in the mood though? Expect Zayne to be feral -- but within your comfort zone of course.

"Are you sure you're okay with this, Zayne?" You had been scrolling your period tracker, and from what you could see, the last time you had marked the day with a little red heart was… “Three weeks is not that much time, sweetheart. I’m pretty sure we’ve gone two months without seeing each other because of work.” But that answer didn’t really help you for some reason. “I just feel like… I’m failing you.” At that, Zayne’s book snapped shut and his attention fully focused on you. “Don’t you dare equate having a low sex drive to failing me as my partner. I have loved you far before I even knew what sex was. I would love you until my dying breath even if we never had sex once in the decades we have been together.” You didn’t think it was possible to love the man more than you already did.

Sylus

🍷Sylus being the consent king he is, has no issues when you confess to him that your libido is relatively low.

🍷He’s very in tune with his own body for that matter, if he attempts to make a move and you’re not reciprocating in a way that tells him you’re also in the mood? He doesn’t mind at all, he’ll take care of his needs later on.

🍷When you make the first moves signaling that you’re down? Expect this man to ask your consent once, twice, three times before he even touches you. He needs to be positive you're doing this because you want to, not because you feel obligated.

"I love you so much, Sy." The bedroom was quiet, your bodies bare and pressed together underneath silk sheets. Roughly twenty minutes prior you two had gotten out of the shower after having sex. It was the first time in about a month, and you were completely satisfied. "I love you too, kitten. More than anything." Even still, you couldn't help yourself from feeling a bit self conscious. Even after being so thoroughly loved by the man whose heart was thundering under your ear. "Promise me that you're really okay with me not having a wild sex drive..." You could feel him stiffen a little, a quiet huff slipping past his nose. "Kitten, I will say it every day until it is engraved in your head. You having a low sex drive does not stop us from being intimate in other ways. I love you as you are, I'd be upset if you ever changed. So please know that you are nothing less than perfect for me, I would never ask for anything more.”

Caleb

🪐Caleb struggles a little bit at first, his sex drive being relatively high most of the time. He craves you so damn often.

🪐Caleb is able to reign himself in, I mean he did so for how many years? If you don't have a high libido, he can figure out his own means to take care of himself if he is seriously in the mood. He'll never, ever, force you into anything!

🪐When you are in the mood? Caleb goes insane, he'll make sure you have the best time, your pleasure being his absolute focus. He'll genuinely fuck you like it's his last chance ever.

"Y-you know just because my libido is pretty low... doesn't mean we'll never have sex again." You can barely push yourself up, entire body trembling as Caleb pants beside you. "I know, Pips. I just can't help myself sometimes. Makes me go a little insane when you're needy." You feel your cheeks warm, hiding your face in the pillow below you . "I love you for never pushing my boundaries... I just wish I could help you out a little more often." His brows pinch together at that. One glance from the pillow and you see Caleb has rolled over to stare at you. "Pips, my love. You are perfect, an absolute angel sent to earth and I have the honor of loving you. I may be on the higher end of the libido spectrum..." He makes little air quotes and you find yourself cracking a smile. "...But sex is often the last thing on my mind when I get to hold and love you every day. We don't need to have sex every day, every week, hell even every month for me to know that I love you just as deeply as you love me."

[n1daehodefender]

Their reactions of you telling them you want to start trying for a baby!

Contains: Kang dae-ho, Nam gyu, thanos

A/N: This is inspired by @svetamillss post about their headcanons of you telling them you want a baby so creditis to them!!!

Warnings: Discussions about starting a family, emotional vulnerability, mentions of trauma, and varying reactions to the concept of having children.

Kang Dae-ho

Golden Retriever Boyfriend Energy: Kang Dae-ho is the type of boyfriend who radiates warmth, kindness, and endless patience. He grew up in a household with four sisters, so he’s very attuned to emotional cues and naturally supportive. He adores you, always making sure you feel loved and safe, and he frequently daydreams about your future together.

Initial Reaction to You Asking About a Baby: When you bring up the idea of starting a family, Dae-ho freezes mid-bite of his food (because you’re probably asking during a casual, comfortable moment at home). His first instinct is to make sure he heard you correctly.

“Wait… like a baby? As in… a mini-you or me running around the house?” His voice wavers slightly, caught between surprise and excitement.

Once he processes what you’re asking, his face lights up with a mixture of joy and nervousness. He’s wanted this, but he never wanted to pressure you.

Vulnerability and Deep Conversations: That evening, he sits you down for a heartfelt talk. Dae-ho takes the idea seriously, wanting to ensure that you’re both ready for the challenges and joys of parenthood.

“You know I’d love nothing more than to be a dad… but I need to know how you’re feeling about it. Are you scared? Excited? Both?” He wants to make sure you’ve thought about every angle, not because he doubts you, but because he cares so deeply.

He also opens up about his past, talking about how his sisters shaped his view of family. “Growing up, I always thought about what kind of parent I’d want to be. And my dad-,… I don’t ever want to be that kind of dad.”

Planning and Reassurance: Dae-ho is the type to throw himself wholeheartedly into the idea once he knows you’re on the same page. He starts researching baby books, looks into parenting classes, and even asks his sisters for advice.

He’s also incredibly tender and protective of you, ensuring you feel supported every step of the way. “You know I’m here, right? Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

Moments of Humor and Excitement: He’s already imagining what your child might look like, joking about how he hopes they get your eyes or your laugh. He gets especially sentimental at night, cuddling you close and whispering, “Can you imagine how much we’re going to love them?”

Nam Gyu

Nam Gyu is thoughtful and introspective, the kind of partner who expresses his love through actions more than words. He’s fiercely protective of you, always ensuring your needs are met, and though he isn’t outwardly affectionate, his love for you runs deep.

When you bring it up, Nam Gyu’s face remains stoic, but his hands clench slightly on the table. He’s taken aback—not because he doesn’t want children, but because the idea forces him to confront his own fears and insecurities.

“You want… a child? With me?” His voice is low, almost hesitant. He’s struggling to process what this means for both of you.

Nam Gyu worries about the world you’d bring a child into, especially given his experiences. He’s seen how cruel life can be, and the thought of exposing a child to that terrifies him.

“I don’t want them to grow up feeling… helpless,” he confesses later that night. “I’ve seen too much. What if I can’t protect them? What if I fail them?”

Despite his fears, he can’t help but picture a future where your child inherits your strength and his quiet resilience.

Nam Gyu takes time to process the idea, but he eventually comes to you with a clear decision.

“If this is what you want, I’ll do everything in my power to be the best father I can be. I just… need you to be patient with me.”

He’s cautious but willing, showing his commitment through small actions: building a crib, researching schools, and learning how to cook meals for a growing family.

Nam Gyu becomes even more attentive and protective of you, always keeping a hand on your back when you’re out together and ensuring you’re never overexerting yourself. His love deepens in ways he didn’t think were possible

Thanos (Su-bong)

Thanos is the life of the party, always cracking jokes and keeping the mood light. But beneath his humor is a man who has endured pain and loss, which makes him cherish you all the more. He’s your biggest cheerleader, constantly reminding you how amazing you are.

When you bring up the idea, Thanos immediately bursts into laughter—not because he’s mocking you, but because he’s genuinely shocked and unsure how to process his emotions.

“You’re serious? Like… you want a little Thanos running around? Or maybe a mini-you with your brains and my charm?”

Emotional Vulnerability: Later, when the reality sinks in, he becomes more serious. Thanos isn’t afraid to admit his fears, and he opens up about his past struggles.

“I’ve lost so much, you know? The idea of having something—someone—so precious… it scares the hell out of me. But you… you make me believe it’s possible.”

He confesses his deepest fear: losing you or the child. “I don’t know what I’d do if something went wrong, but if this is what you want… I’m in. No questions asked.”

Thanos approaches the idea of parenthood with his signature humor, making you laugh during otherwise emotional moments.

“Do you think they’ll inherit my good looks or your stubbornness? Or maybe both—poor kid’s doomed either way.”

He starts brainstorming ridiculous baby names and jokingly practices “dad jokes” to prepare for the role.

Beneath his playful exterior, Thanos shows a side of himself that’s deeply emotional and committed. He talks to your belly long before you’re even pregnant, promising the baby a life filled with love, laughter, and bad jokes.

“They’re going to have the best life because they’ll have you as a mom. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure they know how much they’re loved.”

[ddlydevotion]

THE MAN NEXT DOOR

Being the object of Remmick’s desires…

currently listening to: Man Next Door by Massive Attack

a/n: I deleted the last fic I wrote for him since I wasn’t too happy with it but I decided to give it another shot. Also, I’m not a Sinners blog so I won’t write for Remmick all of the time 💌. Also, these are headcanons!!

When it came time for Remmick to finally turn you, make you his for eternity, he cradled you as if you were a fragile lamb. He didn't hide the fact that the process would hurt, but he wanted to diminish the pain as much as he could. He swayed you back & forth in his arms, cooing at you and whispering words of reassurance, rubbing your back with a large hand. y'a did good, sweetheart. real good. It's over now his buttery voice whispered to your aching form.

It didn't take all that long for you to find out what Remmick truly was. He was your neighbor, he lived further down the dirt road but close enough that you'd still be considered neighbors of some kind. It was the coldest night of September when he first knocked on your door under the guise of just wanted to introduce myself! It'd be rude for me to live so close and for us to be strangers. It was a sweet sentiment, yet you couldn't help but notice the fact that your all-too-nice neighbor only ever came around when the moon decided to take over for the night.

now, why do you only ever come around when it's night out? Does work have you out all day? your smoky voice questioned him. Let's just say you got your answer by the end of the night.

Remmick put in the work to get to know you before he revealed his true intentions, I mean, you knew he was interested in you because of how obvious he made it, but you surely didn't know that his skin burned when he walked underneath the sunlight. He listened to every little thing that you told him and hung onto it, storing it for future reference. Anytime that you opened up to him about past trauma, familial issues, work stress, or life in general, he'd react as if he was the one being negatively affected.

Y'know those videos where people are poking fun at attentive listeners for their facial expressions? They're talking about Remmick.

At times you'd feel as if he was the only person who truly understood you. Who you were, who you wanted to be, what you wanted, why you wanted certain things. Something deep inside of his rotten soul wanted it to be that way. He not only wanted to convince you that he was the only one who understood you, but he wanted you to believe it.

The amount of eye contact this man makes is insane. He'll give you the most heartfelt compliment and keep direct eye contact with you the entire time. He wants to make sure that you heard him and are registering his words.

Well, aren't you pretty? You are, why are ya lookin' at me like ya don't believe me? Oh, c'mon, look at me. You can't get all shy now, it's too late for that.

you're a whole lotta woman, ain't ya, darlin'?

(nsfw) Remmick drools like a damn hound when he finally gets his hands on you. His crimson red eyes focus on the sight of your flushed pussy making a creamy mess on his fingers, the noises of your sensitive center sucking his fingers back in makes him groan and let out a guttural fuck look at you, baby. His strong, unforgiving hands grip your thighs, wrapping your quivering legs around his waist. The feeling of his bulbous tip teasing your aching clit makes you keen, a strong hand grabs your cheek, look at me, sweetheart, he orders. yeah, just like that, want'chu to look at me when you cum.

we already know this man was stalking you like it was his damn job before he stepped foot on your porch. Thanks to his invasive habit, he knew incredibly intimate details about you before he even uttered a word to you. He knew what you wore to bed, how you touched yourself to fall asleep easier (just me? okay so y'all hate me.), he's become familiar with the friends you have come around, the music you put on before cooking dinner/cleaning, he picks up on which dresses of yours are your favorite.

He knows far more about you than the so called "friends" he sees you bring around & hears you speak to over the phone.

When the two of you were just getting to know each other, he decided to do his usual nightly visit to your house. Unbeknownst to him, you'd just started your period that exact night. You were left curious and a bit upset when he scrambled out of the front door while hurriedly saying oh I just gotta go, sweetheart. I forgot to do somethin' back home. It didn't take long before you finally found out why he left in such a hurry that night.

[ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat]

pillow talk - spencer reid x fem!reader

a night well spent fizzles out into soft words exchanged in pink sheets.

genre: fluff wc: 1019 warnings: mentioned sex, their first time together, casual nudity, inexperienced reader, insecurities, reassurance

It was soft, comforting even. Of course intense because how else could your first time together be? It was him, after all. As you lay, heavy pants finally returning to normal, steady breaths, a hand comes up to smooth down your hair and a kiss is gently pressed to your head.

"How do you feel?" Spencer asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

It proves to be a difficult question. A response seems counterintuitive, like it would demean the moment into something that has to be assessed. An answer has to come, nonetheless.

"I don't know." And it's the truth.

He hums thoughtfully and nods, running a hand down your shoulder. "Good or bad?"

"Good... like my brain's empty. If that makes sense," you answer.

Your head, on Spencer's bare chest, does, in fact, feel foggy. Before today, you were both too scared of the intimacy. Something changed the moment you felt him move his grip from your hip to your waist, like he was worried that he might make you uncomfortable. You didn't want that. It happened only after convincing him that you wanted to go further than the usual groping and hand stuff. Now you're unsure how you feel. Having someone you've been seeing for a while suddenly inside you is bizarre and always will be. You also can't seem to shake that voice that sounds a lot like your friends, telling you that he'll leave after he gets what he wants. Your mind is simply a flurry of everything that anyone has ever told you about intimacy. With Spencer, it was different, though.

Your hand finds his and you mindlessly toy with his fingers as you murmur, "you've done this more than me, correct?"

"Correct."

"How do people usually feel?" you ask softly.

"Everybody's different. You don't need to feel good." He takes a breath and explains in a matter-of-fact tone, his hand lifting above your shoulder to gesture while he talks, "the rush of serotonin and dopamine into our system can leave some people feeling sad or tired once those neurotransmitters decrease."

You nod, finding yourself understanding. It has been a while since you've engaged in any form of intimacy.

"That makes sense."

He nods as his fingers drop to continue the irregular patterns on your arm. His chin rests on your head. "So? How do you feel?"

Again, there's no correct answer to his question. It's a complicated experience with complicated feelings attached. But one thing is for sure, "I'm happy."

"I'm glad. I am, too," he hums.

A smile floats over your lips before a thought occurs and you have an inkling as to how he'll choose to reply to it. Your head lifts and you turn so you're now partly on your side, giving you a perfect view of his face in the soft glow of the afternoon. With the curtains closed, his skin was basked in pale yellow light, the pink of your sheets contrasting the pink of his cheeks.

"Did I do good?" you grin.

He finds you gorgeous, your sickeningly sweet smile making him gaze down at you in pure awe. It's the complete and utter truth when he responds with, "very."

You can't help but tease, "best you've ever had?"

"Yes. I don't think you could've fumbled that badge of honour if you tried," he smiles, his hand gently cupping your cheek, a rough thumb wiping away invisible tears.

Something about the sentiment gets to you. After all, you're nothing but a hopeful romantic. But you're also just a girl.

"So, even if I was bad, you'd still lie and say I wasn't?" you raise your eyebrows and bat your eyelashes.

His eyes narrow but the smile on his face shows you that he's not really upset. "No... I meant that I think I like you too much to not enjoy everything you do."

"Oh," you flush. Why does he have to be so perfect?

The hand on your cheek moves up to brush some of your hair back. "Yeah, oh."

Spencer's different than the guys you've interacted with. He's everything that little girls everywhere dream of. He's Prince Charming. That's why when your lips meet his and the sheet falls back, his eyes never once glance down. Perhaps he's an agent and an individual with three PhDs but he's a gentleman above all else. He never once wants to make you feel like he's not here for you.

When your lips break apart with happy smiles on both of your faces, you take in just how silly he looks. His hair is messy from your fingers, his cheeks are flushed and—your favourite of all—he's covered up to his stomach in pink sheets. The giggle that leaves you is unnecessary and unasked for.

He can't help the smile that comes from hearing your laugh. "What?" he mutters, brows furrowed.

"You just look... so very silly in my bed," you explain, a lovesick grin on your face.

"Oh. Well, I can't help what you choose as interior design."

You sigh dramatically, shaking your head like a disappointed teacher, "I suppose you can't."

The smile on his lips only grows as you act your ass off to seem sad by his comment.

"Perhaps I should also purchase pink sheets?" he suggests jokingly, tucking yet another stray strand behind your ear.

"I really think you should. It would complement your room and it would make you think of me so that's a bonus," you nod. You're unable to stay serious, though, the corners of your mouth lifting despite your efforts.

Spencer nods back, his bottom lip pushing up as he hums decisively. "I'm sold, let's go to the store," he says with an impressively straight face.

You laugh hard, beaming up at him with nothing but pure joy. You find his commitment to the bit amusing and, honestly, endearing. He points his thumb towards the bedroom door with his eyebrows raised in a silent question. Playfully, your eyes roll and rest your face in the crook of his neck.

"I'll get pink sheets if you want me to," Spencer softly mutters.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Merry Christmas, Baby

Summary: You're not sure what to get Javi for Christmas, until he gives you an idea for a gift you can't put under the tree

Word Count: 3.3K (I wrote this in two hours, the thots do be thotin)

Paring: Husband!Javi x Wife!reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex (whoops), breeding kink (I'll say it once and I'll say it again, you KNOW this man deserves 17 kids) vaginal fingering, creampie (big time), family planning, Javi gets so excited about the idea of another baby he literally can't control himself, terrible, sexual Christmas puns, cute and sweet Christmas fluff bc I love this family more than life and you know they give their kids the most magical Christmases 🥺

A/N: I'll take Javier Peña with a big fat breeding kink for a thousand, please!!! I was feeling in a writing rut, until I read @notjustjavierpena Husband Javi Christmas fic last night, and lord have MERCY, consider me inspired 🫡 I'll never shut up about the fact that this man wants a football team, and every Christmas will ask to put another baby in you as his only Christmas gift BYEEEEEEE I need to be institutionalized at this point sorry this is poorly beta'd, it's me, I'm allergic to editing!!!

Forever and Always Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

“Javier Peña, there has to be something you want for Christmas.” 

“As long as all my girls are happy, that’s all I want.” 

“Unfortunately, I can’t wrap your sappy sentiment, Javi.” 

There was nothing more that you enjoyed than showering Javi with gifts for the holidays. There were few people on earth you could imagine being more deserving than your husband- you’d find a way to wrap the moon and top it with a bow, if that’s what he wanted. Unfortunately for you, Javi was so sweet, it made buying gifts for him nearly impossible, considering there was rarely ever a tangible item on his wishlist. 

“I don’t need anything, baby.” Javi smiled, reaching for the roll of bright pink and sparkly wrapping paper in front of him to start covering the new Barbie Dream House Lucy had been begging for all year long. “Toss me the tape.” 

“Well obviously I have things for you, but I always wanna make sure I’m getting you things that you want.” You sighed, gently throwing the roll of Scotch tape you had been using over the pile of gifts between you and Javi you were working on wrapping while your daughters were asleep. 

After six Christmases under your belts, you and Javi had learned from the one grave mistake of waiting until Christmas Eve to wrap all your daughter’s presents, now taking a few nights before the big day to wrap and assemble any gifts being left under the tree for your own sanity. 

Now that your girls, Lucy, Elliot and Harper, were six, four and two, it made Christmas even more magical, knowing that they were beginning to understand the concept of what the holiday meant, and all the joyous anticipation that led up to the 25th of December. 

It also meant that there were a lot more presents to wrap- 1, because Lucy and Elliot knew that they could ask for gifts they wanted, and 2, because Javi would say he’d be done buying presents and then show up the next day after work with another toy for his girls. 

“Honey, you get great gifts, for me, but especially for the girls, too. Fuck, I forgot this needs batteries…” Javi mumbled to himself, carefully undoing the wrapping paper he had started working on, “You make a very good Santa.” 

“I think the girls like your version of Santa better, since that’s how they end up with double the gifts under the tree.” You giggled, playfully rolling your eyes at Javi before reaching for the next toy in the pile, “I’m being serious, Javi. I love spoiling those girls just as much as you, but you also deserve to be spoiled too, ya know.” 

“You’re my wife, gave me three beautiful daughters, and tolerate me on a daily basis. Baby, that’s plenty fucking spoiled, if you ask me.” Javi grinned, giving you a reassuring nod and little shrug of his shoulders. 

“You’re much more than tolerable, you goof.” You laughed, cheeks pink at the warmth of your husband’s words, never failing to make you melt a little more each day. “Will you please just tell me one thing you want? Then I’ll let it go, I promise.” 

Javi sat quietly for a moment, fiddling with the edges of the wrapping paper he was working on before a boyish smile began to creep into the corners of his cheeks. 

“Uh oh.” You laughed to yourself, immediately recognizing the goofy grin Javi was trying to contain, “What is it, Peña?” 

“You’re not gonna like it.” Javi snickered to himself, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Jav, if it’s another dog, I told you, when the girls are older and-” 

“No, it’s not another dog.” He smirked, still softly laughing to himself as you tilted your head at him in confusion, trying to piece together what kind of gift Javi would want that would take any convincing from you, crossing your arms over your chest as you attempted to decipher the devious splayed across his face. 

It only took about two seconds and that look to figure out what Javi was in the market for.  

“Javi…” You sighed, your tone jokingly stern. 

“Osita?” He responded back, trying to downplay his giddiness now that you had figured out his gift suggestion. 

“Javi, four kids is a lot of kids. One more, and they’re doubling us in ranks.” 

You had always been on the fence about having a fourth baby. Not because you didn’t love having kids, or that you didn’t think you couldn’t handle it, mentally or financially, but because your brain worked in logistics- adding one more member to your family was getting you to the point where you’d have so many kids, you wouldn’t even all fit in Javi’s truck anymore, unless someone got demoted to the trunk, which, in all honesty, you were sure Elliot wouldn’t mind. 

For Javi, on the other hand, there was no need to worry about logistics- the two of you would figure it out sooner or later. The only logistics he was worried about was instigating the baby making process.  

“You asked what I wanted!” Javi replied, chuckling as he held his hands up in defense, “I think I’ve been a very good boy all year, if you ask me.” 

“What you’re asking for is definitely putting you on the naughty list.” You huffed, trying to distract yourself with finishing wrapping the present you were working on to hide the fact you were genuinely considering Javi’s present suggestion. “You really think we can handle four kids, Jav?” 

It took everything in you not to laugh at the way Javi instantly perked up when your first response to his gift idea wasn’t rejection, eyeing you up and down and gently biting down on his lower lip. 

“Mhmmm.” He nodded, slowly making his way around the pile of presents to scooch closer to you, “I’ll take care of everything, mi amor. You, the girls, the baby, I can ask for less hours at work so I can help around here, whatever you want, you know I’ll give it to you.” 

“You really want this baby, huh?” You giggled, smirking at Javi as he crawled next to you, hungry look in his eyes while he began to cage his body over yours, carefully laying you down on the floor beneath him. 

“Fuck, I wanna knock you up again so bad. You’re so fucking sexy when you’re pregnant.” Javi groaned, planking overtop you, his hot breath dancing across your skin in between his soft nips at your pulse point. “Let me fuck another baby into you, Osita. Please.” 

Any inhibitions you would have had in protest had completely flown out the window, arousal soaking the fabric of your underwear as Javi kissed up your neck and across your collarbone, softly palming at your breasts under one of his old sweatshirts you had thrown on. 

Truth be told, you and Javi had talked about baby number four enough that you were already leaning towards saying 'yes' anyways, but that wouldn’t stop you from having a little fun in seeing how badly Javi really wanted the Christmas gift he was asking you for. 

“Tell me how badly you want it, Javi. Tell me how much you wanna fuck another baby into me.” You devilishly whispered into his ear, smiling to yourself at the pathetic groan that rumbled from his chest in response. 

“Fuck me-” Javi moaned, hands feverishly groping your body, “Fuck, I want it so bad, quierda. Wanna fill you up ‘till it has no choice but to fucking take, fuck this pussy so full of me, let everyone know who it belongs to, watching you carry our baby. Please, Osita.” 

It was a good thing you were already prepared to be easily swayed, because even if you weren’t, listening to the way Javi was begging to put another baby in you would have easily been enough. 

“Okay. Merry Christmas, Papí.” 

Your green light was all Javi needed to spark something completely feral in him, practically ripping your clothes off you in the middle of the living room, sprawled out on the carpet. 

“Javi, we can go upstairs and-” 

“No. Fuck, I need to fuck you right now, just like this.” He grunted, shedding his clothes before his hand was cupping over your underwear, jaw going slack at how absolutely soaked the fabric was under the pads of his fingers. “Apparently you do too, huh, Momma? She’s so wet for me, isn’t she? Pretty pussy wants me to fill her up so bad.” 

Your stomach churned in arousal as Javi ripped your panties down your legs, revealing the puffy, glistening mess beneath. Javi had barely touched you, and you could already feel the way you’re dripping, admittedly just as turned on as him at the idea of letting him add another addition to your family. 

“Christ, baby.” Javi muttered, settling between your legs. Letting his hands run up the insides of your thighs, he took his thumbs and slid them between your folds, spreading you open to get a full view of the way your slick was coating your cunt. “Making a fucking mess for me already.” 

“I think I’m ovulating soon.” You sigh, doing some quick math in your head, trying to account for just how worked up you were, Javi’s eyes so going wide at the realization, you were worried they may just pop out of his skull. 

“Oh, fuck me.” Javi groaned, shaking his head in disbelief at his luck, “You’re right, Merry fuckin’ Christmas to me then.” 

Swirling the pads of his fingers against your clit, your back arched against the floor at the shockwaves the pleasure sent through your body, making you gasp so loud, you were worried you risked a real possibility of waking up your daughters. 

“F-Fuck, Javi-” You whimpered, already bucking your bottom half towards him as he sunk his two fingers into your cunt while the heel of his palm rubbed deliciously against your clit. Reaching up, your grasp wrapped around Javi’s bicep, muscles flexing with each pulse of his fingers as you left half-crescent moons in his skin. 

It took everything in you not to scream as a third finger joined the first two, stretching you out as he bumped against your g-spot, tension already beginning to build in your core. A sudden gasp escaped your chest, surprised by the newfound emptiness that had you clenching around nothing, looking up to see Javi reaching down to wrap his hand around his cock, stroking it a few times before lining it up with your entrance. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I need to fucking feel you, baby. Swear you’ve got me feeling like I’m about to bust like a fucking teenager.” Javi grunted, running his tip against your clit and down your cunt, collecting your arousal before thrusting himself inside you, filling you to the brim with every inch of him. 

Unless you were desperately pressed for time, Javi normally had a bare bones minimum of pulling at least one orgasm out of you before he fucked you, but seeing how worked up and needy he was to feel you wrapped around him, it was about as close to an orgasm you could get withtout actually having one. 

“Oh fuck, Javi!” you whined, feeling the tip of his head kiss your cervix as he began to thrust in and out of you, feeling dizzy from his fullness. You could tell he was trying to hold himself together, his hips slamming into you in deep, slow thrusts, breath hitching in the back of your throat every time he buries himself deeper inside you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking tight. Fuck, I can’t wait to fill her up, give you every last fucking drop. Taking me so fucking well.” Javi moaned through gritted teeth, already scrunching his face in concentration through his pussy drunk babbling.  

Running his hands up the back of your thighs, Javi pushed your knees to your chest, pinning your legs in place against your stomach to stretch you out even further, letting him sink himself even deeper to hit the spot he knew drove you just as crazy as it drove him. 

Despite how lost in pleasure the two of you were, Javi was at least conscious enough to realize how loud you had gotten, quickly reaching up cup your mouth, catching your muffled moans in the palm of his hand. 

“I know, hermosa. Fuck, I love hearing you, but we gotta keep quiet enough, baby.” Javi huffed, snaking the hand covering your mouth between your bodies, circling at your clit, almost as if he was putting you through some sort of cruel test to see how far he could push you before he had you screaming at the top of your lungs. 

“Fuck- fuck, I know. You feel so good, Javi.” You whined, hand pressed against his bare chest, his warmth and weight pinning your body below him. 

You feel the way Javi’s thrusts become quicker and harsher, filling himself as deep as he could as your cunt began to clench around his length, sucking him in with your warmth and wetness. Your eyes had been scrunched, so lost in your own pleasure that you hadn’t even noticed the nearly pained look on Javi’s face, furrowing his brow in deep concentration with each slap of his hips against yours. 

“You okay, Javi?” You asked, panting out each word as he pounded into you, circling your clit faster and faster as his grip tightened around your thighs, trying to keep himself grounded. 

“Yeah, I- Fuck- fuck me, I’m trying so hard not to finish before you do. Pussy feels so fucking good. Wanna cum so fucking deep inside you.” Javi moaned, the rhythm of his hips already starting to falter thinking about his endgame. 

If you weren’t so lost in your own ecstasy, you probably would have giggled at Javi’s admission, giving him shit about how he couldn’t hold it together for even just a few minutes, knowing he could finally try to get you pregnant again. But right now, you’re just shocked you can even get any words to form coherent thoughts to string together, let alone tease him. 

“Put a baby in me, Javi. Fuck, want you to cum so deep inside me, please, baby.” 

You could barely finish the whimpers of your sentence before Javi’s pace became sloppy and erratic, hips stuttering before his jaw went slack, letting a low, long groan escape from his chest. 

“Oh, f-fuck-” Javi stammered, flushing his hips against yours as you felt his warm spend coat your walls, pressed so deep inside you, you were convinced it’d have no choice but to stick, in a few weeks finding out baby number four would be on the way. 

Javi’s chest rose and fell, looking down at the way your bodies melted together beneath him, igniting something primal in him to see the mix of your arousal seeping around where the two of you met. His eyes darkened, looking down at you with a feral sort of smirk, not even giving you the chance to speak before his lips were crashing into yours again, hips slowly thrusting while his fingers rubbed at your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“J-Javi, what are you-” You muttered, cut off by the messy dancing of tongues and teeth in your mouths. 

“I’m not done yet, Momma. Not until I fuck myself so deep in there we know it fucking takes. Wanna keep you stuffed so fucking full of me.” Javi grunted, rubbing your clit faster at the way he could feel the walls of your pussy starting to flutter around him, determined to make sure he wasn’t the only one who finished. “Cum for me, baby. I know you’re close. Can feel how tight she’s getting for me.” 

You knew just as well as he did that the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine had slowly begun to flow to every inch of your body, building up through your legs and into your core, clenching down harder and harder around Javi’s cock, knowing there was no doubt the mess between your legs was surley just as wet as it sounded as he slid in and out of you. 

“Oh fuck, Javi, oh fuck- fuck, fuckfuckfuck- ah!” 

It didn't take long before your orgasm crashed through you, lighting up every inch of you in radiating pleasure, your cunt clamping down so hard around Javi’s cock, it made him let out a strangled gasp as he choked out curses under his breath. 

“Jesus, fuck. Gonna squeeze every last fucking drop outta me, huh? My greedy fuckin’ girl.” Javi smirked, planting a soft kiss on your lips before he slumped on top of you, your chests rising and falling as one as you finished coming down from your high. 

The two of you laid there for a moment, catching your breaths and basking in bliss before Javi was pulling out of you with a hiss, one hand wrapped around his softening cock, the other scooping up the mix of your spend pooling between your legs before it dripped to the floor, carefully pushing it back inside you. 

“Fuck,” Javi laughed to himself quietly, sitting back on his haunches, admiring the slick, shiny mess your pussy had become, “Jesus, I can’t remember the last time I came that hard.” 

“Looks like Christmas came early this year… and so did you.” You giggled, making Javi roll his eyes, playfully shaking one of the legs still pressed to your chest. 

“Shut up.” He sighed, shaking his head at you before laying back down beside you, shifting so that his chest was pressed to your back, spooning you in his grasp. “Gotta make sure Santa’s not the only thing coming down the chimney this year.” 

“Jesus Christ, Javi.” You can’t help but snort, ashamed of how easily amused you are by his stupid puns. 

“What? You let me get my gift early, least I can do is stuff your stocking for you.” 

“Oh my god, you are the worst.” 

The two of you giggled, basking in your laughter as you laid together on the floor, only spurred on by the fact you realized how ridiculous it was that the two of you were completely naked in the middle of your living room, surrounded by a sea of wrapping paper and presents. 

“Speaking of stocking stuffers, we should finish wrapping the rest of these gifts we have out before we go to bed. At least some of these presents should be wrapped, because the one you just gave me was most definitely not.” You teased, craning your neck to pepper ticklish kisses across Javi’s jaw. 

“It’s the gift that keeps on giving. I’ll give it to you tomorrow too, if you let me.” Javi grinned, giving you a playful wink before pressing a kiss into your messy hair and patting your hip, reaching over you to grab the pile of clothes the two of you had left next to you. “Seriously though, thank you. You and our girls are the best gift I could ever have, but adding one more would make me so fucking happy. I love you, Osita.” 

“I love you too, Javi. You guys are the best gift I could ask for, too. Although, I will say, your gift also selfishly works in my favor, too. Some presents are just better unwrapped.”

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[shadowbriar]

Bob Reynolds — Catalyst I

Pairing : Robert "Bob" Reynolds x (she/her) doctor!Reader Word Count : a lot, idk how many exactly cause I'm drafting this on my phone. Warning : Thunderbolts spoilers. Sets during Bob's Project Sentry era. Mentions of medical procedures. Not proofread cause I'm doing this on my phone. Synopsis : For once, he actually let himself grow comfortable in the gentleness of another. Notes : we love Bob, Bob deserves the world. I kinda want to make this a mini series but idk how the plot should go. I'm open for ideas if you have any suggestions! also, please donate to my kofi so I can get a new laptop and write properly cause drafting though phone is hell, i tell you.

"Breath in for me,"

Bob tries to control his breathing as her gloved hands sneak under his pyjamas. His eyes were everywhere, but her, trying to distract his mind from how the close proximity has made him able to get a whiff of her faint perfume, or see the pendant of her necklace dangling as she leans a little to put the stethoscope on his chest.

"Your heartbeat is peaking," she highlights as the heart monitor beeped a little louder "Are you feeling any pain?"

"No, I'm just startled from the cold metal," he lies through his teeth.

Her brows were still furrowed once she stepped away from him, making notes of his monitor on her pad, "It looks like you're having frequent rise of heartbeat, especially whenever I try to listen to your insides. Are you sure you're feeling okay, Bob?"

He nods, unable to say any word.

"No headaches? Heartburn? Pain anywhere?"

"No," he says in a tiny voice "I'm feeling great,"

"Okay, let me see your eyes then," she says before placing her hands to his jaws. Her thumbs pulling the skin under his eyes a little to see if there's any foul colour on it. Bob's fingers were now gripping the thin sheet of his bed tightly as he tried to calm his nerves. The heart monitor is once again betraying him as it beeps more frequently, erratic to the point that it worries her "Your heart is beating so fast, are you sure you're feeling okay, Bob?"

She places her hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart. Her face was filled with worry now, as the beads of sweat on Bob's forehead started to fall. Colour was starting to fade from his face, as well. He was turning pale.

"I'm nervous," he confessed shyly, taking a small gulp.

"Of what?"

You, he wanted to say, but he knew that it would be too inappropriate to utter. He was one of the many patients she's taking care of, one of the many test subjects for the project, and though he wants to believe that she's treating him a little kinder than the others for the same sentiment he hoards for her, he knew that at the end of the day, she was only doing her job and what matters for her was the drugs' progression, not him as a person.

"What if it doesn't work? Will you kick me out of the lab?" Bob asks instead.

The corners of her lips curled upwards, smiling to him as she takes a seat on the edge of his bed, "Do you mind if I sit here?"

Bob shakes his head.

"You're my friend, Bob. Where ever these drugs would lead us to, I will always take care of you, I can promise you that," she reassures, giving the most gentle squeeze on his arm as she continues "I will never, ever, let anything bad happen to you, okay? You're my favourite person in this whole lab and I would never let anything hurt you. But in order to do that, you need to help me out a little. You need to tell me if you feel any pain or anything strange, really, so I can help you and stop it from happening again,"

"I'm not feeling any pain," he says with eyes glued on hers "I promise,"

Her eyes scanned for any trace of lies on his face before nodding, smiling in understanding, "Okay, then, let's get back to those beautiful blue eyes of yours. Try to relax, okay?"

Bob nodded like an obedient little kid. This time the heart monitor didn't beep as frequently when she places her hands back to his face. The grip he has on the sheet have loosened, and his breathing has gone more at eased. For once, he actually let himself grow comfortable in the gentleness of another.

"Your pupils are a little dilated," she noticed as they stare into each other's eyes "Perhaps because of your nerves, but we'll still put that in the chart for future references, okay?"

Bob nods, "So, everything else is good?"

"Yup, so far so good," she answers with a nod, putting her pad down "I'm not supposed to share this, but you're our strongest subject and I'd like to think that it's because you and I are more than just doctor and patient. We're friends,"

His smile grows, still timid but it's brighter than she's ever seen before.

"You look really cute when you smile. You should do it more often," she compliments.

The rouge on his cheeks bloom. Bob looks away, trying his best to hide his bashful face from her. The long strands of his hair falls to his eyes, but he knew that it wouldn't be enough to hide just how red his whole face is.

Noticing his embarrassed self, she smiles to herself and stood from his bed, "Well, I'll leave you to rest then,"

"Wait," Bob calls before she could leave the room "How much longer do I have to stay here?"

"I'm not sure, Bob. We're still monitoring everyone and you still have that rising heartbeat issue that we need to take care of," she notes, placing her hands in the pocket of her coat "Why, do you have anywhere else you need to be?"

"No, I just— I'd like to see the city," he answers, that very uncertainty returning to his voice again "I was wondering if you could show me around, cause I didn't have much time to wander before admitting to the lab,"

"Oh," she notes, a little surprised to hear his vulnerable reasoning. With silent steps, she walks closer to him again, smiling as she proposes, "Well, I haven't done much wander myself because we have a lot of things to do here, but.. Why don't we try to get you back in shape as soon as possible, and then we can start our little adventure throughout the city?"

Bob's heart swells in his chest. He was never this happy, never this optimistic about life, and the promise of having something to look forward to. He flew himself to South-East Asia to try on new drugs without a care of how it might affect him because truly, no one ever cared. His mission was just to see this new drug and try it himself, bonus point if he doesn't die in the process. But now that he's met her, now that he's felt how good it is to have someone who cares for him, Bob wonders if he should let himself hope for tomorrow.

"Bob?" she calls softly, snapping him out of his thoughts "Would you like that?"

He nods eagerly, grinning, "I'd love that, yes,"

"Okay, well, it's a date, then,"

—-

Being a doctor for a human test laboratory is certainly different than working for hospitals. Most days, she finds it hard to still call herself "human" after all the experiment she's seen before her very eyes. People would go to extreme lengths just to prove something, disposing of other innocent souls as a cost they're willing to pay.

She's considered to free herself from such occupation. Rebuild a life that is more mundane and ordinary, perhaps to move back to her hometown and build a small clinic there, but if she wasn't here, who would fight for a humane treatment for these poor subjects? Who would spare their own personal time to do research for the new batches of the serums, making and taking more samples before actually injecting them to human beings, if not for her?

"We lost subject SE-37 this morning," Dr. Houston says as they have their morning meeting "It's such a shame, because she was showing great progress up until yesterday,"

"Her name was Grace," she seethe on her seat "Stop calling these people with their serum labels, they have names,"

The rest of the doctors remained quiet, watching her with conflicted expression.

"This is our seventh loss this week," she continues with a heavy sigh, rubbing her temples from the stress "We have more casualty than progress, we have to stop the research for now,"

"But Valentina—,"

"I don't care what Valentina says. She's not here, alright?! She doesn't see these patients wither and die before her own eyes. We're the ones who do, and as much as all of you hate to admit it, I know that it's taking a toll on us. It would be unwise to continue this without a clear and steady head, so we're putting a halt to this project,"

"Until when?" one of them asked.

"Until we know exactly what it is that is failing our patients and found a way to fix it,"

The rest of the doctors shuffled away from the room as they figured their meeting has come to a bitter end. This wouldn't be the first sour argument they witnessed between Dr. Houston and her. She might be the smartest and most brilliant doctor OXE Group has ever employed, but her benevolence often times came first before her duty to the company. That's why Valentina appointed Dr. Houston as her co-chief of research. Houston might not be as smart, but he's experienced and she respects him just enough to not jeopardise the research whenever things went south.

Exactly like how things are looking like right now.

"You're a bright kid," Houston starts when it was just the two of them left in the room "You and Valentina can do great things together, but this compassion.. It's misplaced, right now,"

"Yeah, and who am I supposed to feel more sympathy for? Valentina, because she's lost billions of dollars from this research?" she scoffs "I don't think it's my compassion that is misplaced here—it's your loyalty. You're a doctor, you're sworn to protect your patients,"

"I'm a citizen of this planet first before a doctor, and what we need most now is a protector," Houston argues, his face stern and unwavering "If Project Sentry fails, then we've failed everyone on this planet, not just those we've lost during this research,"

She remained quiet, looking back at him with the same resolute expression.

"We'll take a week of break from taking new patients. Let the doctors calm down as you said, and then we'll start a whole new batch,"

"But—,"

"No buts, I'm trying to save all of our heads here, Kid," Houston cuts in "Now go do your rounds, I'm sure your patients are waiting,"

"Patient, I only have one left," she corrected bitterly.

Dr. Houston kept his silence as she walked out of the room. It was a hard sight for him as well, to see the light dimming out of her this way. Had she worked for a hospital or some ordinary vaccine lab, she would've thrived and helped so many people by now, but OXE Group needs her. If Project Sentry was to ever success, it would need her wit and cleverness, or else they wouldn't even stand a chance on developing anything before the threat comes terrorising the Earth.

—-

"Good morning," Bob greets as she enters his room, his smile wide and blinding "I was wondering where you were,"

"I'm sorry, we had a late running meeting for the doctors," she apologises, sitting on the edge of his bed with a smile that never seemed to reach her eyes "How are we feeling this morning?"

"Great. I've finished my breakfast and I'm feeling real good today," he answers with a beaming smile.

She nods in acknowledgement, starting her assessment with him, "That's good to hear. No more fast heartbeat, yes?"

"Nope, all good,"

Smiling to his respond, she puts down her pad and looks at him closely, "Bob, I need you to promise me something, okay? If you feel anything strange, anything at all, you push that assistance button there and alert me, okay? I don't care if it's 2AM in the morning or if it only feels like a persisting scratch on your back, you tell me right away, okay?"

Bob frowns, trying to digest her insistent words.

"Please, promise me, Bob," she begs, taking his hand to hers and squeezing them gently "You don't have to feel bad if you're not sure about it or if the timing feels a little odd, just alert me at once, okay? And I'll come right back here in an instant, I promise you,"

Bob nods fast, blinking rapidly as he's still fazed from her urgency, but agreed nonetheless, "Of course, I promise,"

"Thank you," she whispers, putting her head down and placing the back of his hand to her forehead "Thank you, Bob,"

Bob watched as her head rests on his hand now. His other hand was itching to pat on her head, maybe run his fingers through the loose strands of her hair that falls out of the hair tie, but he was too scared of over stepping it. He doesn't know what it is that's making her this distraught or how to help her calm down. He's never had anyone to show him how, and the last thing he'd like to do is to make it even worse for her, so he just stayed there, eyes glued to the back of her head and let her have her moment to calm down.

With another squeeze, she finally puts his hand back down, "Alright, then, I'll let you back to rest,"

"I've done nothing but rest these past weeks, honestly," he answers bluntly "I don't think I can rest much more than I already did,"

She smiles, a soft chuckle escapes her lips and it felt like an earthquake to his heart. She looks down to her pad, scrolling through his charts and looking deep into it as if she's debating something in her head.

"You know what, you're right," she says as she puts the pad down "You've been in this bleak room for weeks without any sunlight. Why don't I try to talk with the other doctors to get you an hour or two permission outside of this room? Maybe we can stroll around the building? I hear there's this hawker place nearby that has really good food. Maybe we can go and try something there?"

Bob was unblinking now. Her proposal seems too good to be true, too fast to be offered. He's always thought about going out of this room, feeling the bustling road once again and seeing the people, but he didn't expect it to come this soon. He didn't expect that the date, though he knew it wouldn't be the kind of date he was hoping for, will happen in just mere days. Just how much luck has he scored eversince joining this drug test, honestly?

"I can't promise anything. I have to fight with the other doctors to give you this pass, but I will try," she continues "If you'd like, of course. If you think it's too fast—,"

"Please, I would love that," he says fast "I'd love to get out of this room with you,"

She smiles, this time a little more tender than the usual. She stares deeply into his eyes, looking at this bashful, yet charming man that has been the softest, most gentle soul she's ever come across. She watches as he fidgets a little from the gaze, undoubtedly feeling embarrassed again for no reason, yet she finds it hard to peel her eyes off of him. He was just too beautiful to not be admired at, too endearing for anyone to not fall in love with.

And Lord, she has fallen alright.

"Okay, I'll try and find Dr. Houston right away," she says softly.

Grabbing her pad and standing from her seat, she was about to walk away before Bob grabs her hand again, this time holding it gently and rubbing her skin with his thumb, "Thank you.. For everything,"

Turning her hand so that their fingers could interlock properly, she smiles at him and nods, "Thank you for everything too, Bob,"

—-

Having different style of work has made her and Houston have different labs on different floor of the building. She hardly ever visit his lab as she's the one who's done more progress and he's the one who needs to do the catching up, hence the more frequent visit of him to her lab, so tapping her ID to his now feels a little bizarre. She could still count with one hand the many times she's stepped foot on this floor over the years of them working in this building. She has never had any persisting matter to discuss with him until now, and seeing that the subject would certainly require a little back and forth argument, she reckons it would be best to just come to the old man's lab and bring the topic to his table.

Now that she's here, she observes the contrast difference of her lab compared to Houston's. Houston's lab is cleaned on the counter, stacked of papers placed neatly on the corners, while her's were more cluttered. The only messy part of the lab was Houston's work table, covered in leaves of papers and reports that she couldn't be more careless about.

Until one name caught her eyes: Robert Reynolds.

She picked up the report and began scanning the information. It looked similar to her reports, charts of his biometrics data, and progress through the experiment, but there's a strange folder on the back of this report, banded with a red clip.

"Confidential?" she whispers to herself, wondering why her reports were lacking of this document.

And that's how she found out. How none of the patients could survive the drug. How her samples, despite each success of previous tests, kept on failing on human subjects. How everyone seemed to be reaching their peak before succumbing the very next day with no prior symptoms.

Her serums were altered.

"I'm sorry, Kid," Houston says as he sneaked behind her and knocked her unconscious with a syringe of tranquilliser.

—-

"Good morn— You're not my doctor,"

The man steps closer to Bob's bed. His hand shoved deep in his coat pockets as he introduced himself, "My name is Dr. Houston, I will be taking care of you from now on, Robert,"

"Where is she?" Bob asks for her, calling her name "I don't want a new doctor, I want her,"

"She's.. Unavailable right now, but worry not, she's entrusted me to take care of you," Dr. Houston replies with a small smile "You have nothing to worry about, Robert. You will hardly feel her absence,"

Bob's brows furrow, obviously not welcoming this man, especially with his last words, but he has no other choice but to keep quiet this time, "When will she be back?"

Dr. Houston who was looking at his pad for Bob's charts stopped a little to look away, not meeting Bob's eyes as if he's trying to find the right answer before looking up with another smile, "Your charts are looking very great, Robert—"

"Bob," he cuts in "Just call me, Bob,"

"Bob," Dr. Houston repeats as if he's trying to see how the word lands on his tongue "You're looking very healthy from these charts, Bob. Are you ready for the next step?"

Bob raised an eyebrow, confused, "Next step? What next step?"

"Your exercises," Dr. Houston explains "We've stabilised you for the past weeks from the drug, and it looks like you're ready for our exercises,"

"What kind of exercises?"

"Well, you know, just basic physical exercises, like running, cycling, just the basic cardio for now. We don't want to push you too much, you're our most precious patient,"

Bob could hardly hear the next words Dr. Houston speaks of. The bitterness in his chest grew. He has so many questions, so much confusion as to why she would just leave him without a word, especially after promising to get him that pass to leave the building. He thought that she wanted to escape this room with him, even for just an hour or two. Whatever happened to that promise?

"Tomorrow, the nurse will help you to get to the gym. We'll monitor you throughout the exercise and after that, we'll do some blood test. We haven't done that in a while with you, have we?"

"No," Bob answers "Can I— Can I get out of the room after the blood test? She promised me she'd talk to the other doctors to give me some pass to go outside of this room, has there been any decision for that?"

"Oh, I didn't know we have that discussion, she didn't tell me anything," Dr. Houston says, making Bob's disappointment to grow even bigger "But let me see if I can do anything about that. For now, we just have to make sure that you'll pass the physical exercise tomorrow,"

Bob nods to himself, but his mind is evidently elsewhere. He stared at the wall as Dr. Houston excused himself. The voices in his head were loud now, much louder than they ever did before. The room suddenly feels more chilly, like it was void of life, and the gloomy storm was hovering above his head. He was drowning deeper and deeper into this dread until the glass of water by his side table suddenly broke, shattered to the ground with water pooling the floor.

He reached for the assistance bell. His thumb hesitated to press the button, wondering if he should just wait for the nurse to check in on the next hour to tell about the broken glass, or if he should just press and get it over with. See if she would really come running to him like she promised just the other day.

Everything was just fine, perfect, in fact, yesterday. One minute, she was here, holding his hands and making him feel like he mattered for once, and the next, she disappeared without a goodbye. A little voice in his heart told him that she must have a good reason for this abrupt farewell, but he's lived his whole life being left alone with no closure, no explanation as to why no one ever paid him any regard.

And so he closed his eyes and pressed the button. He kept his eyes shut until someone entered the room, hoping that when he opened them, he would see her standing by his bed and ease his mind like she always would.

"Yes, Bob?" Dr. Houston asked as he peeked in the room through the door "Anything wrong?"

"I— I broke the glass,"

"Ah," Dr. Houston says as he looked at the floor "We'll get someone to clean that up,"

Bob slumps back to his bed as Dr. Houston shuts the door. He pulled his knees close to his chest, hugging them as he felt the loneliness creeping right back up. The last few weeks with her have been so lovely, so full of warmth and love that he forgot how painful it is to be left alone once again. Or perhaps it was the fact that he never knew how it feels like to hope and be let down. He never had the privilege to hold any fraction of faith before. No one ever gave him a reason to have one until she came. Until she gave him the very desire to see the sun rise tomorrow. Until she gave him the very desire to leave this place alive. Until she gave him the very desire to have something more permanent in life.

And yet once again, Bob was left all alone.

↠ Part II

[my-castles-crumbling]

seven - may 7 - jegulus - cw: walburga and orion, mentions of animal death - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 412

Regulus Black had said ‘I love you’ to a total of seven people before Him.

To his Mother first, when he was too young to remember. And though she did return the sentiment, it was with a cold sort of finality. Even as a child, he knew no emotion clung to the words. For years, he wondered…what did she really mean?

To his Father second, shortly after. But that was never returned, not even once. At least he never had to guess with him.

To his brother third, after Sirius had already been telling him for years. He knew the older boy meant it, that his love was unconditional and safe. It was the first love Regulus had ever felt that felt warm.

Kearcher was fourth, though Mother and Father would have had heart attacks if they knew. The response was a simple, ‘You are loved, Master Regulus.’ And the reassurance of that love was something he’d never felt before.

His fifth time saying ‘I love you’ was to his pet songbird that he received for his eighth birthday. It was the first love that was all his, that was doting and adoring. It was also his first heartbreak, as it took a week for his Mother to blast the bird into a puff of feathers for being too loud.

The sixth time was to Pandora Rosier. She was the first person to show him friendship, and that friendship should also be love. So after years of her making him deeply uncomfortable with her own casual declarations of affection, he finally returned the phrase. It felt comforting. Sweet.

Seventh was Barty Crouch, and thought Regulus loved him, he realized it wasn’t how he thought. Their relationship was full of heat and passion, sure. But their love was different. It was ‘I love you, but…’ it was ‘I love you only…’ it wasn’t ‘I love you forever.’ It turned into ‘I love you as a friend.’

So by that point, Regulus thought he knew love.

But James Potter? James Potter was everything he’d experienced and nothing at the same time. He was ‘I love you’ safely and ‘I love you’ warmly and ‘I love you’ passionately and ‘I love you’ sweetly. His love was unconditional and comforting but full of heat and hunger. But he never made Regulus question, or cracked his heart in two.

So James Potter wasn’t Regulus’s eighth ‘I love you.’

He was his first ‘I’m in love with you.’

[lemonlover1110]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 13] With Great Pain

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Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

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The topic of Kyoko never comes up again. It’s an understanding that she’s gone. You never outright ask if the blood that was cleaned up was her own, or if Sukuna simply sent her away. She’s no longer someone that you have to worry about, he reassures you about it. 

To be frank, Kyoko becomes the least of your problems. You forget about her existence, or lack thereof as spring rapidly approaches. Your due date not only nears, but it’s eminently present. You can do nothing on your own anymore, you can barely sit up. Having Sukuna constantly breathing down your neck is actually useful for once. 

“Calm down, Sukuna. The twins are…” You’re cut off by a moan, the twins causing a commotion. It seems that your body has gotten too small for them, they’ll come out any time soon.

Sukuna helps you bathe, putting you on top of him in the water and being as gentle as he can possibly be with you. He’s gentle, yet he keeps pressing on your stomach, hoping to get a reaction from his twins, something that they’ll happily provide.

“You don’t tell me what to do, woman.” He scolds you though he can’t bring himself to use a stern voice. It’s rare when Sukuna brings himself to pity a human, but it seems that his sentiments have changed when it comes to his wife– His very pregnant wife dare he mention. 

“Sukuna, stop.” You tell him, moving his hands from your stomach. Sukuna won’t contradict you, even if you give him an attitude. No one else would dare speak to him in that manner, but he guesses you can do it. It’s actually kind of cute when it comes from you.

“What is it with you? Can’t even touch you without a complaint anymore.” He groans, keeping his to himself. If they go to your breasts, you’ll say they’re tender; if they go to your arms, you’ll say you feel trapped. He can’t put them on your stomach, legs, and not to mention you’ll argue with him for putting his wet hands on your dry hair.

“These babies are ready to come out. It’s unbearable to even breathe.” You respond, and Sukuna fights back a smirk. His boys are strong.

“Want me to carry you out?” He offers, and you sigh. It feels like all your ailments become lighter in the water, and the moment you get out, they’ll come back even worse.

“Can you reach inside of me and pull them out?” You look back at him with a spark in your eyes, and Sukuna would almost grant your wish if it weren’t so ridiculous. He doesn’t answer, instead he stands up, picking you up and carrying you out of the water.

His hand caresses your cheek as he puts you down to dry you off. He reassures you in the best way he knows how to, “They’ll be out any time now.”

A sigh escapes your lips as Sukuna dresses you up. His words serve no comfort. You want this nightmare to be over now. 

“I won’t tell, you know. Just shove your hand in and pull them out. It’ll be their first scolding.” You try to convince him, earning a chuckle from him. He won’t need to. You’re due any day now. This will soon be a distant memory.

“You carry heirs to a king, cherish the moment.” He responds, picking you back up and carrying you back to your room. Servants pass by, their heads lowered during these sensitive days. Sukuna might kill anyone that walks a little too weird, therefore the whole palace attempts to play it safe.

“Will you rub my feet?” You ask, and he rolls his eyes. He’s scolded you for asking the question in public, but he’ll save his breath. He simply hums in response, knowing that he can’t shake that task off to anyone else. 

These last weeks are definitely putting a strain on him as well, luckily, his burden is not as heavy as yours.

Sukuna absolutely hates the fact that he’s given into your whims, because he’s forced to deal with them now when you’re too unwell to do it on your own. The servants can’t do it, you insist that it’s him. It’s his duty as the baby’s adoptive father. And of course, he foolishly gives into it. 

“Shut up, brat.” Sukuna mutters, hoping to stop Yuuji’s crying before the baby wakes you up. It’s hard to get you to sleep lately, the twins keep you up at every hour of the day– And just when you’re shutting your eyes, Yuuji begins a crying fit. 

With Yuuji in his arms, Sukuna nearly darts out of the room and bounces the baby in hopes to soothe him quickly. Sukuna likes to keep his eye on you, now more than ever. However, keeping his eye on you is particularly difficult while he tries to calm down the brat.

“What is it with you? You just love attention don’t you?” Sukuna scolds the brat as the baby cries his little heart out. You fed him and changed him, therefore his issues don’t root in lack of care. Perhaps in lack of love, but that’s not Sukuna is willing to give, especially to a brat that doesn’t carry his own blood. 

“I should eat you.” Sukuna scoffs, bouncing the baby before bringing Yuuji up to his chest. Sukuna slaps the little back as gently as he can, and within a second, he hears a burp and a fart. “Disgusting.”

Sukuna is grossed out, but he continues burping the baby to see if that’s the cause of the wails. To think that you’ll probably force him to do this with the twins. His hands will be full; it’s a good thing he possesses four. As much as he doesn’t like the brat, Yuuji is good practice for when his sons come around.

As Sukuna helps Yuuji with his little issue, he can’t help but roll his eyes. Babies are so stupid. They scream bloody murder over the simplest issue because their bodies can’t solve the issue by itself. He’s never understood why humans find that adorable.

“My king.” Sukuna stops burping the baby when Uraume joins him. Sukuna doesn’t even answer, his eyes simply land on Uraume and he waits for them to speak again. “Your wife woke up with great pain.”

“Order that servant to help with her ailments again.” Sukuna answers, but Uraume shakes their head.

“It’s not that.” They respond which makes Sukuna frown. “It’s time.”

“What are you talking about?” Sukuna questions, until it clicks. Sukuna hands the baby to Uraume without a second thought, rushing over to your side. And in the room where he left you so peacefully sleeping, you’re now taking deep breaths with tears streaming down your eyes. It’s unlike any other pain.

“Sukuna…” You call out to him, watching as he kneels down beside you to wipe away the tears. He doesn’t need to investigate it further, it’s clear that this is it. His hand lands on your stomach, and he fights back the wicked smile on his lips. He’s a good husband, he won’t smile at your misery. 

“They want to come out.” You force out, and he hums in response. One of his hands goes to your stomach and he caresses it as if it’ll help in any way.

You’re sure that this pain is one that no other human has experienced before. It’s almost as if they’re trying to shred your insides to find a way out. He helps you lay back down, hand going to your lower abdomen before he begins to chant something.

You want to push Sukuna away, feeling a growing sense of irritation with whatever he does, but you feel that intense pain fade away with each passing second. When Sukuna takes his hand off you, the pain completely subsides.

“Hina and Uraume will take care of you.” He informs you, and you grab his hand.

“Please, stay. Do that again.” You look at him with tearful eyes, and Sukuna thinks of how to comfort you. He isn’t great at comforting humans, and while he’s become better at the task, by no means is he an expert.

“Uraume will help you.” He responds, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“Sukuna, please.” You beg, and he shakes his head.

“I’ll be taking care of Yuuji.” He tells you. “I’ll be just down the hall.”

And even though you want him by your side, hearing that he’ll be taking care of Yuuji calms you down. Sukuna looks around, watching for any wandering ears before turning his attention to you. A surprisingly comforting look. 

“I know if you’ll need anything, and I’ll help you.” He tells you, his subtle way of telling you that he won’t be by your side as you deliver the twins. Though you expected it. 

“Okay–” You’re cut off by a cry of pain. Whatever Sukuna helped you with didn’t last long, his twins are too strong that they defeat it. Though you don’t cry about it this time, instead you glare at Sukuna, his sign to leave.

“Uraume.” Sukuna calls out, exiting the room to leave you with your pain. He won’t mess around with his cursed technique and the twins again, in case of any unspoken risks. “Worst comes to worst, kill them.”

“I beg your pardon, my king?” Uraume furrows their brows, looking at Sukuna with a look of concern.

Sukuna absolutely hates the fact that he has to repeat himself, but he won’t waste time with a useless scolding. He repeats himself, speaking as clearly as ever so Uraume doesn’t ask again, “If it comes to it, kill the twins.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you please do some headcanons of a reader who was dating Ford before he went into the portal and after stayed at gravity falls to help Stanley with the portal. Mabel calls reader their great aunt/uncle. Basically how they would interact with the twins and Stan! (And a little reunion with Ford if you feel up to it 🤭)

Watching helplessly as Ford got sucked into the portal hurt but what hurt more was thinking that you’ll never see the man you first met way back in college again, that he was lost to wherever that portal lead towards. That and the utter desperation on Stan’s face as he tried to pulling and pushing the heavy lever, looking back at the portal in hopes that it did something; it didn’t the portal remained dead.

You felt as though the wind was knocked out of you when you saw him vanish before your eyes, unable to do anything to stop it due to the distance between the two of you. You thought you had heard your heart break that day also when you felt the first string of tears fall from your eyes as you collapsed on the floor of the disheveled lab, only to be pulled into Stan’s arms as he too cried for the loss of his brother.

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, we’ll get him back I promise you.’ He said again your shoulder as you both wept in the other’s arms. All you could think about was Ford and your memories with him.

Ford was gone and both you and Stan were left wishing this was all a bad dream before banding together in order to bring Ford back, the pain of loosing him was enough to give you and Stan a reason to stay in Gravity Falls, even when everything reminded you of Ford’s hard work and exploration into the unknown.

Even when you held his journals against your chest tight while looking for a place to hide them forever as per Ford’s instruction, only to settle to hide one in a secret compartment on Ford’s workbench. Going so far as to scattering the third one deep in the woods and the second journal god knows where in the hope that no one, not a single soul ever comes across them, all the while you and Stan spent a large chunk of your lives trying to withhold the biggest secret in known history.

Your relationship with Stan was not the greatest to begin with but after a brief moment on the rooftop of the shack, where he’d ask you what his brother was like, seeing as how at this point you knew his brother on a more intimate level then he did after so long with no contact with one another.

‘He’s like an enigma, a complex equation that couldn’t be easily solved, so complex yet simple that it made figuring him out all the more harder but it was made worth it in the end.’ You tell him with a smile on your face.

‘Sounds like Stanford alright.’ Stan muses as memories of his childhood with Ford flooded his mind. You hummed in agreement before looking up at the stars before noticing a familiar constellation. ‘Orion.’ You then said out of the blue.

‘What?’ Stan replied, confused as he searched the sky for the constellation you were on about.

‘One of Ford’s favourite constellations is Orion alongside the Ursa Major constellation.’ You explained to him before feeling a sense of melancholy filled your chest upon realising that Ford wasn’t here to gush over the multiple fact he knew about the infamous constellation.

‘Oh.’ Was all Stan said as he finally managed to spot the constellation you were talking about with fondness. You looked over to him and gave him a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder. ‘I’m sorry you lost your brother again.’ You say softly as Stan tries to hide his emotions by waving you off.

‘I’m sorry you lost your boyfriend.’ He echoed the sentiment as you both went back to watching the Orion constellation in comfortable peace, both hoping that wherever Ford was he was seeing his favourite constellation too in a desperate attempt to feel some connection to him again. From then on you and Stanley became somewhat friends that acted like siblings more often then not with the rough housing, the pranks and the occasional want to punch a shitty little teenager, he would often times call you his in-law on some occasions when it was just you and him in the shack.

‘I wish Ford would’ve married you.’ Stan tells you on the anniversary of the day Ford went through the portal. ‘Then you could’ve been my in law for real but I guess that doesn’t matter because I already see you as my annoying in law already, my family.’ He admits and you playfully punch his shoulder while feeling sentimental over his causal declaration.

‘Shut up you big goof ball.’ You said with a chuckle as you wiped away your tears. ‘You’re my family too and have been for a long while.’ You added.

You were there with Stan when Mason (Dipper) and Mable were born, you both loved the kids so much that you tried to leg it with them once because neither of you wanted to put them down for a single second. This had soon became a story you loved to retell the twins when they came to stay with you and Stan in Gravity Falls.

‘Grunkle/ great aunt y/n!’ Mabel cried as she dropped her bags before quickly running to you as you bend down to hold her close.

‘My little shooting star!’ You greeted her with equal excitement, pressing kisses to her forehead as she chuckled. ‘How have you been? Done anything fun and fabulous recently?’

‘Only bedazzle dippers face when he was sleeping once.’ Mabel stared proudly as you saw Dipper pout and his cheeks grow red from embarrassment. ‘Don’t tell grunkle/ great aunt y/n that! I spent a week trying to get those plastic rhinestones off of my face.’ He grumbled as he rubbed his cheek as though he was still trying to get the fake Rhinestones off of his face.

You chuckled at them and can’t help but be reminded of the stories Stan told you of him and Ford when they were younger, dipper and Mabel were more alike to their grunkles then they’ll ever know but you’d like to say you even saw bits of yourself in them also.

‘Well I’m sure we’re going to do a whole lot more bedazzling but just not on people’s faces.’ You said while pinching Mabel’s cheeks, causing her to laugh and swat her hands at you. ‘That tickles.’ She cries as you stop pinching and poking her cheeks to hold her hand as you both walk over to Dipper, just to lift his hat and ruffle his hair playfully. ‘And how’s my Little smart Dipper doing.’ You greeted as Dipper’s eyes light up as he told you about how he had beaten Mabel at chess, showed you his most recent doodles he had hastily shoved into his backpack.

One of his drawings was of the Orion constellation and the Ursa Major constellation respectively. ‘I know how much you liked these constellations from the last time we came to visit.’ He said as he handed you the drawing, a little embarrassed but you couldn’t help but feel a smile grow across your face as you held the drawing close to your chest. ‘Thank you dip and dots.’ You said softly as you pressed a kiss to the top of his hat. ‘I love it very, very much I shall treasure it forever my little genius.’

You loved Dipper and Mabel as though they were your own and you often spoilt the pair however you could by doing arts and crafts with Mabel one day while playing paranormal detective with Dipper as you kept him safe from harming himself the next. You encouraged them to be themselves no matter how many people might ridicule them for going outside of the norm, you wanted them to be happy as they are and feel not a single need to change for others.

You’d happily wear the sweaters and jewellery Mabel made with pride as your jumper said in loud and colourful colours; ‘proud Grunkle/Great aunt of a shooting star and a Dipper’ it made no sense to people outside of your family but it just felt right to you to wear regardless. That and it was your favourite thing to wear other than Stanford’s turtlenecks.

‘You’d love them Stanford, you’d love them as much as me and Stanley do.’ You said to no one in particular as you fell asleep on Ford’s bed that night, cuddling his pillow with an aching heart. ‘Please come back home in one piece…haven’t I suffered enough with your long absence from my life?’

They helped you enjoy life but that happiness and peace was then disturbed when the portal reopened and Stanford came out looking a lot hardened and rugged. it felt as though a being of a higher power had answered your prayer for your beloveds safe return home.

‘Stanford?’ You said in disbelief from beside Stan who looked equally in disbelief.

‘Stanford?’ Dipper asked as he looked between you and this mystery figure who picked up the first journal and pocketed it in his trench coat.

Stanford looked up at the sound of your voice and he felt like he was that giddy college student again seeing the most perfect person in his life. It had been far too long for Stanford’s liking as he noticed how you’ve aged beautifully since the last time he saw you in this very room it gave him a sense of Deja vu.

‘Y/n?’ He calls as you could only start to cry while smiling.

‘Yeah it’s me. I look a little grey here and there but-‘ you attempted to joke about your old age but Stanford had quickened his pace towards you before enveloping you in his arms, holding you close and you clung onto him just as tightly. ‘You came home.’ You whispered into his shoulder, burying yourself further into his chest in hopes of telling yourself that he was in front of you, and how this wasn’t a dream. Ford had come home.

‘Yes I’m home now my dear, I’m right here there’s no need to doubt that.’ Ford said as he rubbed up and down your back, resting his head against yours as he familiarised himself with you and your warmth and your scent once again after having been devoid of it during his time in the multiverse. ‘I’m right here.’ He repeats as he felt you grip onto him tighter while you wept into his turtleneck. He has so much to tell you about but decided to keep you in his arms instead.

You both needed this as he too had been looking at the Orion constellation, wishing that you were looking at it too with a smile on your face, after all it was your favourite constellation as a couple.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Beneath the constellations

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky x Scared of needles!Reader

Summary: You are a needle-phobic but somehow agree to get a small, meaningful friendship tattoo with your best friends Darcy and Jane.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Needle phobia; mild panic; anxiety; physical discomfort; descriptions of a tattoo needle; nervous rambling; comfort

Author’s Note: This again is a request from one of my sweetest mutuals! I adore you, my dear and I hope you like what I did with your interesting and so creative idea ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

Your knee is bouncing. Your heart is racing. The design is folded up in your hands - a little tattoo that is so simple, tiny, meaningful - but your palms are sweaty and you can’t stop assaulting the inside of your cheek with your teeth.

The walls of the tattoo parlor are soft with shadows. Dark navy paint. There is low music humming along but it’s not soothing anything inside you. Sterilization hangs in the air and there’s also ink and something smoky - cedarwood or sage. It stays at the back of your throat like a ghost you swallowed by accident.

The waiting room is actually pretty aesthetically pleasant but you feel like choking on your own spit.

The cold vinyl bench beneath you vibrates with your leg rapidly moving up and down and up and down.

“I can’t do this,” you mutter lowly. “Oh my god. I’m gonna pass out.”

Darcy, sitting on your left, gives you a smile that doesn’t ease you at all. “You’re not getting open-heart surgery, babe. You’ve got to chill your beans.”

Jane, sitting on your right, grabs your leg to still its movement. She probably got annoyed at being shaken with the whole bench. “It’s so small, I’m sure you will barely feel it,” she tries to reassure you.

Darcy nudges you. “And it will stay on your body forever.”

“This is not helping at all, Darc,” you half whine, half grumble. “Can’t we just make this temporary, or something? Like, I don’t know, draw it on with a sharpie?”

“Hell nah,” Darcy complains. “This is for life,” she goes on, pointing wildly at all of you three. “We are going to seal the deal. Make it forever, officially.”

You want to laugh. Or scream. Or run. Or disappear.

A part of you thought this would be fine. That you could sit here like a normal adult with a normal nervous system and be needled with grace and honor. That the tattoo you promised you’d get with your best friends - the tiny one, the subtle one, the one you talked about under a summer sky, lying on your backs in a parking lot eating cold fries - would somehow feel like a small ceremony. Like something important.

Instead, your palms are damp and your stomach is a washing machine of dread and iced coffee. It turns round and round and round in circles, making you instinctively look for a nearby trash bin.

The door creaks open.

And then he walks in.

Bucky Barnes, according to the framed certifications on the wall. Also according to Darcy, who not-so-subtly whispered oh my god he’s hot when you walked in earlier and now leans in to your ear, to whisper “oh my god, he’s even hotter in person.”

He’s broad-shouldered and tall. Black tee, black jeans. Arms inked to the wrists in clean, complex lines. Geometric patterns like armor. You spot a white wolf curled around a blooming branch. A forget-me-not. The tattoo work is detailed. Almost luminous. An artwork of constellations on his skin, coiling like a secret he’s allowing the world to glimpse.

He looks at you.

You stop breathing.

“You ready?” he asks, voice a low rasp.

You make a sound that might be English. Might be a prayer. Might be a dying animal.

He blinks, then smiles. Just a little tug at the corner of his lip.

“Maybe one of you should go first,” you say to your friends quietly, voice barely hanging on.

“It’s not the gallows, babe,” Darcy muses, nudging you again.

“I know, but I-”

Jane cuts you a dry look, interrupting. “You made us matching Google Calenders for this.”

“I was drunk on sentiment and pinterest,” you argue but it’s useless.

“No stalling. You can’t back out now.“

“I’m not backing out,” you grumble. “I’m delegating the trauma.”

But they’re not moving. Not budging.

You indignantly get up. Slowly. Darcy leans over and smiles sharply, mischievously. “Hey, just ask if you can hold his hand during the act.”

You choke. On air. On dignity. On the sudden imagine of his fingers wrapped around yours. And you’re up, throwing her a last glare that lacks all the heat.

You turn to Bucky and he is full-on smirking now. Though his voice is not mocking.

“We can take our time,” he says gently, and gestures toward the door that will, as you can imagine, lead you to the torture chamber. Yes, that’s dramatic. Yes, you don’t care. Yes, you are spiraling.

After sending your friends a panicked look and them not that supportively giving you thumbs up in return while grinning brightly, you follow him as if you’re approaching your own funeral.

You walk like you’re made of wires and wet paper. Trailing behind him into the back room, your chest beating out the morse code for panic.

The chair is deceptively comfortable. Everything is clean and neat and doesn’t smell scary but your heart is beating so loud, you think it’s bruising your ribs.

He sits down on a stool, brings it closer to you with one hand, and adjusts his gloves. He moves slowly, most definitely for your sake.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. “I’m being ridiculous.”

“You’re not,” he says, soft and even. “You’d be surprised how many people get nervous.”

You inhale. Exhale. Fail.

“I’m Bucky,” he says easily, glancing at you with eyes the color of melted steel and winter storms. You give him your name and he smiles. “What are we doing today?”

You fumble with the paper in your hands, clumsy movements lifting it to show him.

It’s stupid, honestly. Three tiny constellations in a delicate arc. Only a little bigger than a thumbnail. Barely enough to be called a tattoo.

He leans closer to look. His knee brushes yours and you hold your breath.

“I know it’s small. It’s dumb. I mean, not dumb, like-”

Bucky waits.

Silent. Patient. The corner of his mouth tilts up.

“It’s three constellations.” The words tumble out of you, messy and fast. As if trying to explain your favorite dream to a stranger who wasn’t there. “Mine, Jane’s, and Darcy’s. We got stranded once during a road trip, out in the middle of nowhere, and the car battery died. So we laid on the hood, freezing our asses off, and waited for a tow truck under this crazy clear sky. Jane started pointing out stars and we found our constellations. And we just talked. About everything. So we-”

You stop.

Because you’re talking too much. Because your face is hot. Because he’s watching you as if he’s listening.

And Bucky only smiles. Just this small, warm curve of his mouth that feels like praise.

You blink too hard. Look down at your hands.

“It’s silly.” You just can’t help explaining yourself. “I know it’s barely anything. And it’s not even a real design, really. I’m not even supposed to be here, I mean-”

You stop again. Press your lips together.

He’s still looking at you. Calm. Not judging. Not laughing.

“You were saying?” he asks, voice quiet.

You breathe in a shaky breath.

“I’m scared of needles,” you admit embarrassed. “Like. Deeply, irrationally scared. I had to get a flu shot once and almost took out the poor nurse with my bag.”

Bucky huffs out a short and amused laugh, but his eyes are genuine and sympathetic. He nods like that’s the most normal thing anyone’s ever said.

“It’s not dumb, sweetheart. Nor is it silly.” You’d be on the floor if you were standing up. “I like it,” he says earnestly. “Three stars. Three best friends. Kind of poetic.”

“Yeah, it’s-” you stammer. “It means a lot to us.”

“That’s nice to hear.” His eyes rake over you so intensely, so sincere. “Some of the best tattoos I've done were barely the size of a freckle.”

You don’t know if he’s saying this to make you feel better, but either way, you are not sure it helps.

You feel like your skin is trying to slip off your body.

He opens the packaging with quiet and sure movements that still seem to be a little slower than he would probably be normally.

“I tattoo six-foot-tall dudes who pass out cold,” he starts soothingly. “You’re sittin’ here, scared, and still doing it. That’s brave.” He says it so simply.

You stare at him. Try to believe it.

“May I?” he asks, looking up at you, and gesturing toward your arm.

You nod. Too fast.

He reaches out carefully like you’re glass and holy.

His fingers are warm. Gentle. He adjusts your wrist, turning it slightly toward the light. It feels like gravity has shifted. Like the earth tipped a little, just to watch this happen.

His thumb brushes against the inside of your forearm, where your pulse is having a complete existential crisis. His touch might be absentminded but it sparks something that goes way too deep. A tremor. A stormcloud. A sigh under your skin.

“Right here okay?” he asks, voice low.

You swallow. “Yeah. That’s good. That’s perfect.”

The needle glints in the light like a tiny sword ready to tear apart your skin.

“You sure?”

“No,” you say honestly, voice a little unstable. “But I’m doing it anyway.”

He chuckles under his breath and his smile changes, gets softer, younger.

You let out a breath. Try to remember the sky that night, the way the stars felt close enough to kiss. But there’s something else you’d rather kiss right no-

“I’ll go slow. And I’ll be gentle. Promise,” he says, almost under his breath. “Just breathe.”

You nod. Let him see the fear. Let him see you choose it away.

He turns on the machine. Your hand is shaking. The buzz rings in your ears.

He touches your arm again. Carefully. Steadying you. Taking in an exaggerated breath for you to follow.

“Tell me if you need a break,” he states softly, but there is something else in his tone. “Or, you know. If you want to hold my hand.”

You freeze. Not sure if you heard that right. Your brain is a flock of birds flapping around your skull.

“I- What?”

He smiles. Not teasing. Not smug. It’s soft. It’s kind.

“Some people do better with a distraction,” he says like it’s no big deal. So casual, but his undertone makes you promise yourself to punch Darcy Lewis later on.

You stare at him for a second too long, not sure if he is even serious. You feel like you’ve been thrown into a different body. One that’s nervous and melting and acutely aware of every square inch of air between you.

His palm lays open as an invitation. Looking so soft and callous at the same time.

“Can you even do this with one hand?” you ask cautiously.

He smirks. “You bet I can, darling.”

After a patient moment, you reach out, fingers finding his, and he shifts just enough to meet you halfway. His grip is loose and open, letting you decide how much to hold on.

And you do. Not tight. But not soft either.

It’s safe.

He starts.

The needle meets your skin sharp and sudden, but it doesn’t feel unbearable. You’re too focused on the fact that you’re literally holding hands with the hottest guy you’ve seen in a long while. Maybe ever. His thumb has started tracing circles on the back of yours.

You’re not sure how much time passes. Minutes stretch and snap and vanish but then it’s over.

The buzz stops. The silence blooms around you.

You blink down at your wrist, skin warm and reddened and wrapped in something tiny and starborn. Three constellations, nestled close.

He wipes it gently, thumb brushing away excess ink with a kind of care that makes you want to cry.

“It’s beautiful,” he says. Quiet. Like it’s just for you.

You don’t even realize he’s still holding your hand until he gives it a squeeze and pulls away to grab a mirror.

You almost say wait.

He places the mirror in your hand.

Your breath is lost somewhere deep when you look down at your inked skin. It’s so small. So perfect. Exactly what you hoped for, only softer now. As if it’s always been there. Meant to stay forever.

You glance up at him.

His eyes are warm. Curious. “Took it like a champ,” he says.

You shrug, a little shyly. “I didn’t faint. So that’s a win.”

He lets out a low chuckle. The sound does things to you.

“I’ve seen people pass out from paper cuts. You’re fine,” he assures.

You don’t know what to do with that or the heat pooling at your neck, so you look down again. Tracing the constellations with your eyes like you’re learning to read a new kind of language.

“Thank you,” you offer, and it’s not just for the ink. It’s for the kindness. The patience. The hand-holding. The compassion. “I love it.”

“No need to thank me, darling.”

He takes a few more moments studying you before peeling off his gloves and standing up.

You stand too. Your legs wobble a little, traitorous and unsure, and his hand hovers near your back.

You don’t say anything.

But you feel it.

All of it.

The warmth.

The hush.

The stars, still burning softly beneath your skin.

[kxsagi]

hihihi!!! i was wondering if you could do a pt 2 of the bride's polaroid's but with rin, yukimiya, and any other characters u would like!! thank u mwa mwa :33

“𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐”

a/n: i'm glad that people are liking pt. 1! ofc i had to deliver pt. 2 and thank you for being patient 🤍

ft. itoshi rin, yukimiya kenyu, shidou ryusei

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐫𝐢𝐧

he’s suspicious the second your maid of honor walks up to him with a sly smile and an envelope tucked behind her back. “she told me to give this to you before the ceremony,” she says, and rin takes it reluctantly, side-eyeing the bridesmaids giggling in the corner like this is a setup. 

because he knows you. and he knows that when you’re nervous, you get impulsive. he can already feel something unholy waiting inside that envelope, so he opens it slowly, heart thudding. 

the first thing he sees is skin. a lot of it. his entire body jerks like he’s been electrocuted. 

“what the fu–” he whispers, snapping the envelope shut like the polaroids personally insulted his blood pressure. he blinks at the floor, stunned, trying to reboot his brain. then he checks again, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. nope. you’re definitely wearing that lace thing he told you he liked in passing once. only that lace thing. maybe less. 

he flips to the next photo and feels his soul leave his body. 

now his hands are shaking. he glances around, panicking. no one can see this. no one should see this. it’s a sin. he’s already planning to burn it and also guard it with his life. rin tucks the envelope inside his suit jacket with such urgency, you’d think it was a state secret. 

someone asks what it was and he glares, cheeks red. “mind your business.” 

later, when he sees you walking down the aisle, veil soft around your face, looking all angelic and innocent, he narrows his eyes. 

you are a menace, he thinks, heart racing. but also, you're his menace. 

and someone help him, he’s never been more in love. 

𝐲𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐮

when he’s handed the envelope, yukimiya thinks it’s a letter. a sentimental note. something poetic and sweet. so he opens it with this soft smile, already rehearsing the romantic things he’ll say to you after reading it. 

then he pulls out the first polaroid. 

and promptly forgets how to breathe. 

his eyebrows shoot up, lips parting in genuine awe. oh. oh, you didn’t write anything, you posed. posed in that lingerie set he half-jokingly sent you a link to two months ago. except now it’s not a joke, it’s very real, and he is officially the luckiest man alive. 

“my goodness,” he whispers, blinking at the photo like it’s the eighth wonder of the world. 

he’s quiet for a while. just taking his time with each polaroid. handling them like they’re priceless artwork. he’s not even thinking indecent thoughts, he’s just floored by you. by how beautiful you are. how confident, how thoughtful. it’s the most intimate kind of present. and it’s for him. 

when he finally looks up, his cheeks are flushed and there’s a dreamy glint in his eyes. “she really did this for me,” he says, to no one in particular, sounding absolutely smitten. 

one of the groomsmen teases him and he just laughs, all flustered. “i’m marrying the most stunning woman on the planet. i’m allowed to gloat.” 

he tucks the envelope into the inside pocket of his suit like it’s sacred and keeps checking it every few minutes, like he needs to reassure himself that it’s real. later, he pulls you into a quiet corner after the ceremony and leans in, voice low and warm. 

“those photos were dangerous,” he murmurs against your ear, brushing his lips over your cheek. “you’re not sleeping on our wedding night, you know that, right?” 

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐲𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐢

the moment one of your bridesmaids slips him the envelope, shidou’s grinning like he’s just been handed a lottery ticket. “what’s this, huh?” he drawls, already shaking it next to his ear like it’ll talk back. “a secret mission from my sexy bride?” 

he doesn’t wait. he never waits. just rips it open right there with zero shame, surrounded by his groomsmen, a few cousins, and, unfortunately, your grandma. 

he pulls out the first photo. his jaw drops. 

“OH HELL YEAH,” he shouts, holding it up like it’s his new prized possession. “SHE’S TRYNA END ME BEFORE THE CEREMONY EVEN STARTS!” 

the room goes silent for a second. then erupts into chaos. people laugh, someone gasps, and your grandma clutches her pearls. but shidou? he’s thriving. flips through the photos like a guy watching a fireworks show. each new picture gets a new reaction – whistles, groans, straight up kneeling on the floor at one point. 

“this woman is gonna be the death of me,” he mutters dramatically, lying on his back like he’s been slain. “what a way to go though.” 

he clutches the envelope to his chest and looks up at the ceiling. “i love her,” he sighs. “she’s a freak and she’s all mine.” 

some poor relative tries to walk past and accidentally glimpses a photo, and shidou just shrugs. “don’t look if you can’t handle greatness.” 

he pockets the polaroids like a dragon hoarding treasure and proudly announces, “these are coming on the honeymoon. framed. maybe laminated.” 

and when you finally see him at the altar, he winks at you like you just told him a dirty secret. 

“you’re in so much trouble later,” he mouths. 

and he absolutely means it. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[writeriguess]

hi~ this is going to be too specific but i wanted to request a Bakugou x reader. He is a pro-hero and a widower, he has a little baby of 2 or 3 years old. (∩˃ ᵕ ˂∩) One night the reader (his current girlfriend) stays overnight and comforts the little baby in the early morning. I want a soft kats seeing his sweet girlfriend carrying and cradling their baby so as not to wake him up.

tysm ❤️

Safe in Your Arms

The quiet hum of the city outside barely seeped through the apartment walls, leaving only the soft rustling of fabric and the occasional sleepy sigh to fill the dimly lit bedroom. It was early—too early for anyone to be awake—but the little bundle in your arms had different plans.

Katsuki’s two-year-old son had stirred from his sleep, his tiny whimpers breaking the peaceful silence. Without hesitation, you had slipped out of bed, carefully scooping the little boy into your embrace before his cries could wake his father.

Now, in the dim glow of the hallway nightlight, you gently rocked the baby in your arms, whispering soft reassurances as you traced comforting circles along his back. His little fingers clung to the fabric of your shirt, his body relaxing as he nuzzled against your chest.

From the doorway, Katsuki stood silently, watching.

His heart clenched at the sight—his son, nestled safely in your embrace, soothed by your warmth and presence. You held him with such ease, such care, as if he had always belonged in your arms. And maybe, in some way, he had.

Katsuki wasn’t one for sentimental thoughts, but in that moment, he swore he had never loved you more.

Stepping closer, he placed a warm hand on your back, his voice a husky murmur.

“You’re amazing, y’know that?”

You looked up at him, smiling softly. “He just needed some comfort.”

Katsuki’s gaze dropped to his son—his little boy who had finally drifted back to sleep in your arms. He exhaled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before brushing his knuckles against the baby’s chubby cheek.

“…Thank you.”

And though he didn’t say it often, you knew what he meant. For loving them. For staying. For making a house feel like home again.

Carefully, Katsuki took his son from your arms, holding him close before tucking him back into bed. When he turned back to you, his crimson eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them.

“C’mon,” he muttered, taking your hand in his. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

And as he pulled you back into the warmth of his bed, he made a silent promise—one he swore he’d keep for the rest of his life.

He would never let you go.

[dumbkiri]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒

χα∂єη яισяѕση χ ƒ! мαιяι! яєα∂єя

ρℓσт: second year at basgaith did not start out the way you wanted. xaden left you behind breaking his promise to you. luckily for you, some memories can be erased.

αηgѕт

ησтє: I changed up the timeline of events to fit this prompt. This is a reader insert, but you do have blue eyes. Just wanted to warn ya, but I need you to somewhat resemble Liam/Sloane. And yes, Sgaeyl enjoys your company :) Lenin is the offspring of Sgaeyl/Tairn cuz y not? and you have a cool ass signet...obviously this is made for fun! apologies for typos in names and shiii not proofread!

“I will never leave you behind.” 

That is what he promised you the year before Violet Sorrengail came into his life. Xaden Riorson hadn’t broken a commitment and you never thought he could. He trained you, made you stronger in the year you first joined Basgaith College. Then there were moments you two shared behind closed doors, moments you believed you could only have between each other. 

Then second year came around and you could not believe how fickle his resolution could become. His declaration of loyalty melted in the palm of her hands like she held onto him the entire time. Like she knew him all these years of creating the rebellion and rebuilding his home, your home. It didn’t matter that his life was tied to hers. No, that was an excuse. He got close to her and now people wouldn’t stop talking about how he ditched you for Violet. 

You did your best to laugh about the teasing remarks or smile at the reassurances your friends made. But they hurt more than anything because the truth lies within their words. 

With their pitiful looks, it felt like they told you, ‘Read between the lines, [Name]. He dropped you for silver. Time to move on.’

And to make matters worse? Xaden made your brother act as her bodyguard. You couldn’t even spend time with Liam because he was wrapped up in his duty of being Violet’s friend and protector. You’d hope that you would have time with Liam to catch up between all the letters you sent to him. Yet every time you tried to catch his attention, he would hug you with a grin then say ‘I’m sorry, but I’ll be back. I promise.’ He left you to go follow Violet like a puppy. 

Not only that, your best friend is also training her! You hadn’t had her by your side in what felt like forever. You usually wake up early to spar with Imogen, instead you have to deal with Garrick and his huge body. God, you felt so alone in your stupid room reminding you of their presence. Xaden’s shirts, Liam’s wooden figurine of Lenin and Imogen’s stupid training dummy. 

Everyone that spent time with you is now focused on Violet Sorrengail. 

“You are not alone, Dagger,” Lenin said, his voice washing over you like ocean waves, “You have me and I think this is the time to push further with your signet.” 

He is right, you have better things to focus on. You pushed yourself off your bed and sat yourself in the middle of the room. You closed your eyes and felt yourself leaving your dorm room. Turns out your signet isn’t really cloaking, it’s manipulating matter and energy. Cloaking works because you manipulate the speed of light to slow it down allowing you to force it around your body or other subjects. So when an outsider looks at you or the tested objects, they would have no idea of your presence. 

“You still have no idea how it works, do you?” The dagger on your nightstand vibrated with pure power waiting for you to tap into it. 

“I’m working on the explanation, okay,” You laughed in your old bedroom. Pushing yourself up from the carpeted floor, you walked over to the night stand and picked up the vibrating dagger. You wonder how your friends tap into their bond. How they picture their dragons. 

Lenin called you Dagger the moment he accepted you as his rider. It was a nice sentiment and better than most nicknames others receive. 

“It fits you,” Lenin hummed, “You killed that group with only a dagger and now you are unstoppable in any challenge you face. You give that oaf a run for his money.”

“Lenin, his name is Garrick and he’s a nice guy! An oaf is a crazy way to describe someone you met once!” You barked out, a giggle shaking your body with happiness.The dagger grew warmer in your hold and you gripped it tight. This is when your signet proved to be at its best, when you were happy. And Lenin knew this. 

“Try cloaking yourself then moving some objects around you, one at a time,” Lenin growled in warning, “We do not want you chucking me out the window again.” 

“Hey! That was by accident, besides Liam made another figurine of you! Can you imagine if the one of Sgaeyl was thrown out? Yeesh, you think she’d forget about me too?” 

 You sat back down in your previous spot and allowed yourself to focus on your breathing. Lenin hummed in your head, filling it with memories of your first flight with him. Honestly the best feeling after a storm is being reborn in the evening light with a dragon to call your protector. 

“My mother enjoys our flights out together, it’s a shame Shadow is preoccupied with whatever he does in the dark.” 

“Oh, I know! We can invite your mom to fly with us. We can go early tomorrow that way Xaden doesn’t know! What do you say to that?” 

The way Lenin hummed in satisfaction knew you made him happy with that suggestion. “She would love that, Dagger.” 

……

“Hey, [N.Name], you in here?” 

Imogen knocked twice on your bedroom door then waited for your response. Five beats of silence went by and she looked over her shoulder at the group with a raised eyebrow. 

“Seems like she’s out,” She removed her hand from the door knob and took one step back until Xaden’s gruff voice stopped her. 

“Open the door and we’ll see if she’s actually gone.” 

Imogen rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, “Alright, look. No offense to Violet, but [Name] will not be interested in training her. Especially when we…” The pink haired female moved her hand around lazily, hoping for Xaden and Liam to get the point without having to explain it right in front of Violet. 

“When you guys what?” Violet questioned looking at the three of them, confusion stapled onto her face. 

Xaden shook his head and said, “Doesn’t matter, right now Violet needs her help. Liam is here to convince her and you’re here to open her door.” 

Imogen never liked this idea in the first place. Talk about violating one’s privacy for another’s benefit. She just hoped you would forgive her when they all walked into your room uninvited. Imogen placed her hand on the handle and opened it up while holding her breath. 

She hadn’t seen you in awhile. Only briefly in classes then she had to go training with Violet. Yet her training wasn’t enough, Violet needed to get better with daggers. Xaden had the bright idea of asking the expert, Cloak and Dagger, to teach the silver-haired girl. Damn it, if only Imogen was a better teacher you wouldn’t have to be dealing with a pain like this. 

Watching your crush hover over another girl. 

Even Sgaeyl disapproved of Xaden’s choice. The blue dragon always had a liking for you and she would lean over you if someone got too close in the field. Now the female dragon has to deal with Violet Sorrengail and her weak nature. 

“I’m working on the explanation, okay?” 

Your bubbly laugh hit Imogen in the heart with a pang of guilt. She kind of forgot your laugh, but she couldn’t admit that to you. Imogen slowly walked in and watched you sit in the middle of the room with the dagger you earned from Garrick floating a foot just above your lap. 

Your eyes were closed which allowed her and the rest to walk into your room. Someone closed the door behind her, but Imogen’s eyes were glued onto you. How can you not get any cooler than this? 

The floating dagger spun a few times and you laughed again, “Lenin, his name is Garrick and he’s a nice guy! An oaf is a crazy way to describe someone you met once!” 

Liam coughed out a laugh and everyone turned their heads at him. He shrugged his shoulders and whispered, “I don’t think she can hear us. She explained before that when she taps into the bond with Lenin, a cloak is automatically draped over the both of them. Think of mega-shields.” 

“Hey!” You suddenly shouted making everyone freeze, then you said, “That was by accident, besides Liam made another figurine of you! Can you imagine if the one of Sgaeyl was thrown out? Yeesh, you think she’d forget about me too?” 

Imogen sighed out in relief, letting the breath she was holding out. Then anger flared her system up. Your words sunk in and she looked at Liam and Xaden, “This is exactly what I meant by what we did. We dropped her because of you.” She pointed at Xaden then moving her glare towards Violet, “I get it, you guys have mated dragons, but I don’t know what is going on with [Name]. She’s my best friend and ever since I’ve been stuck on training duty, I haven't known for a while what's going on and the only one who really keeps in contact with her is Garrick and Bodhi.” 

“[Name] knows that isn’t the truth,” Liam’s smile fell and he stepped up to Imogen, “She also knows how important it is to keep Violet alive. If she dies, Xaden dies. Do you know how important that is?” 

Imogen squared Liam up, ready to defend her best friend, you, “I do, but Violet’s survival relies on her now. A friend we all dropped since Violet bonded with Sgaeyl’s mate. How would you react if your friends, who forgot about you, barged into your room uninvited then asked for your help in training that girl? I don’t think you understand that your sister has feelings. Or did you forget about that too?” 

“Oh, I know! We can invite your mom to fly with us. We can go early tomorrow that way Xaden doesn’t know! What do you say to that?” You chirped and the dagger spun faster this time and you disappeared in a blink of an eye. Then small items around your dorm began floating one at a time. First it was Sgaeyl’s figurine on top of a shelf that floated, disappeared, reappeared then placed gently back in its place. Next it was one of Xaden’s shirts then your notebook. 

“Sgaeyl likes [Name]?” Violet piped up with genuine surprise. Yet the tense atmosphere flicked on like a light and the spinning dagger stopped moving. In a second, Violet swore, the dagger’s edge was pointed in her direction and it shot towards her. 

“Violet!” Andarna shouted.

“Silver One, get down!” Tairn ordered. 

Time slowed down and Violet forced herself to drop towards the floor. When she did, time resumed and the dagger embedded itself into the wall behind Violet meanwhile a wall of shadows rose up too late to protect her. 

“What. The. Hell!” You shouted, uncloaking yourself, and glaring at the people in your room. Your blue eyes flashing dangerously as you stood up and briskly walked over to the wall to retrieve your dagger. “I could have killed her! Killed you!” You spat while pulling the dagger out of the wall with ease. 

“What are you guys doing in my room?” You asked, frustrated that everyone is left stupified by what happened. 

“We,” Liam began looking at the hole made in the wall. You really could have ended four lives in one second. A second that Xaden reacted too late to save Violet. Liam helped Violet up and continued on, “We wanted to ask for your help. Violet needs expertise in challenges and she likes using daggers. I suggested that-” 

“Did you suggest or did Xaden tell you?” You asked, putting the dagger into the sheath at your hip. When Liam hesitated to answer you moved your attention to Imogen, “And you, you used your privilege to allow them into my room? I almost killed Violet, Imogen!” 

“[Name],” Imogen called out softly and she put her hand on your arm to calm you down, “I’m sorry, but Liam is right. Violet needs your help and I tried all that I could. You’re more skilled and patient than I am. Also yes, Xaden did tell us to do this.”

You closed your eyes and leveled out your breathing. 

“Lenin, they could have died. Your parents,” You reached out to him and he didn’t hesitate to reach back. 

“It’s okay, Dagger,” Lenin hummed, “Andarna saved Violet, you need not worry.” 

You opened up your eyes and sighed. You couldn’t forgive yourself if Lenin came to hate you. The only reason why you weren’t alone was because he stuck by your side. “I’m not interested in training duties. As you can tell, I’m busy working on my signet. It obviously needs work.” 

You turned your back on them and waved a dismissive hand at them, “You can walk yoruselves out.” They mumbled behind you and then the door closed right after. Yet you still felt his demanding authority. 

“Your signet isn’t cloaking, is it?” 

“Obviously not, Xaden,” You answered back, gathering some of his shirts in your arms. This was the perfect moment to return them since he spared some time to talk to you. For her. He was only here for her, you grimly reminded yourself. 

“I found out at the beginning of this year, you would have known if you asked how I was doing,” You were not at all ready to face him. Knowing that this could be your goodbye to him. He may have let you go, but you wanted to hold onto him a little longer. 

“I can manipulate light and matter,” You explained, keeping your eyes glued to the floor, clutching onto his shirts like a lifeline, “I can cloak multiple items and even Lenin despite his size. Right now, I’m messing around with the space surrounding objects to lift them up. I wanted to learn how to cloak other dragons like Sgaeyl or Deigh or Glane. But you guys are too busy. So I’m focusing on the levitating part of my signet.” 

“That’s incredible,” He said with unfeigned amazement.  

You couldn’t help, but agree with him. The smile on your face bringing back the dazzle in your blue eyes, “Right? I mean if I can cloak multiple dragons at once, imagine how any battle will go. Our enemies won’t know we’re coming and-” 

“I miss this girl,” Sgaeyl interrupted you and Xaden felt her pride rise, “Leninach knows exactly how to choose a strong rider. And I wouldn't mind flying with them again either.”

“Then tell your son to convince her to train Violet,” Xaden said, “You do that then we will fly with them.” 

“I’ll fly with them with or without you,” She growled. 

“-and I want to apologize for almost killing Violet. I didn’t recognize her voice.” You finished and looked into his dark eyes. 

Xaden tilted his head in a slight angle, “Liam did mention that you are blocked out from the world when you channel. But the moment Violet spoke, you threw the dagger her way. Tell me that wasn’t intentional.” 

You rolled your eyes and tossed his shirts at him which he caught effortlessly. “I told you I didn’t recognize her voice. And Liam is half-correct. When I channel, I feel this cold washing over my body like ocean waves. That’s the whole cloaking bit. He calls it mega-shields, leave it to my brother to come up with something corny.” 

You walked over to your bed and sat on the cushion of it. You brushed the ripples on your sheets away and said, “Regular shields block out anyone, friend or foe. Mega-shields block out my friends because when I channel I know I’m safe around them. So when I channel to use the levitating part of my signet, I’m left vulnerable. Which means I’m more perceptive of foes or people I don’t trust. Violet isn’t an enemy, but she certainly isn’t my friend either.” 

“You’d like her,” Xaden cut in, “She’s smart like you and she’s dealing with a group that is targeting her because she’s the general’s daughter and Tairn is her dragon.” He said it because he knew you’d relate to her. During your first year, a group targeted you because you were very close to Xaden and your dragon was the third largest dragon known. Yet unlike you, she didn’t kill the people that went after her. Not yet. 

You vividly remember the year of your Threshing. The way the fog clouded your vision, the rain washed the blood off your clothes. The first time you heard Lenin speak to you with pride. You killed six people with the dagger you earned from Garrick during challenges. But the seventh was saved for Lenin.

“She’s nothing like me,” Your bite was cold with truth, “I killed those that came for me during my Threshing. She let Jack Barlowe run away. I broke my opponents bones and sliced them up with my dagger in challenges, she poisoned them. I can mount my dragon despite his huge size and hold onto him while flying. I don’t need Lenin to hold me down with lesser magic.”

Xaden grabbed the chair at your desk and sat on it. He rested his forearms on his knees and leaned in with heavy shoulders. Yeah, you were right. Violet couldn’t even hold a candle to you, but his convincing needed…convincing. 

Xaden looked into your blue eyes in what felt like forever and his demeanor softened up. He remembered how well you tore down his walls even when you glared at him like that. You always had that effect on him and he missed it. He hadn’t been able to relax ever since Violet bonded with Tairn. Couldn’t walk past you without Sgaeyl snarling at him for his indifference. 

“[Name], please I don’t want to argue with you. I need you to do this. You’re the only one that can help her.”

“Wow, you got him to beg,” Lenin chuffed. 

You rolled your eyes and mulled about the idea of training Violet. Is it possible to train a fragile girl like her? The only thing she’s got going for her is her intelligence. So what? All you had to do was get her to manage her dagger skills as well or even better than you. 

“I’ll give her a week to pick up my technique,” You stood up from the bed and walked over to your door, “If she doesn’t learn at least some of it, she’s a lost cause, got it?” 

“A week,” Xaden agreed and he pushed himself off your chair. Then he stood right in front of you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You reeled back from the action and said, “It was good to see you, Xaden.” 

You opened the door for him and gently pushed him out of your room. He nodded his head silently and let you lead him out. He missed the feeling of your hands on him and missed when you smiled at him. Xaden will admit his thoughts have been clouded by Violet for many reasons. 

I don’t think you understand that your sister has feelings.

Imogen’s shout at Liam from earlier echoed in his head. She was right, [Name] had every right to refuse them. Xaden neglected her feelings for him while also pushing his feelings for her away in the back of his mind. Now that his life was tethered to Violet’s he couldn't afford not to protect her with all he could. 

He expended his friends and family’s time to revolve around Violet. Now he was making you swallow a heavy pill by having you instructing the girl that took him from you. 

“So how did it go?” Liam asked when you closed your door on them, not even saying goodbye to him or Imogen. The action hurt Liam and Imogen, yet they did not try to argue with you. 

Xaden sighed and said, “Violet has one week to learn [Name]’s technique. If she doesn’t catch on to any of it, consider Violet a lost cause. Her words, not mine.” 

“Great,” Violet mumbled, not at all confident in her skill. 

……

When night came, Imogen struggled to fall asleep in her bed. Not even Glane’s words of reassurance helped her to get a wink of sleep. Instead Imogen spent her time glaring holes into her ceiling thinking about today’s events. 

The hurt and anger in your face plagued her mind. 

BAM! BAM!

Two heavy knocks rattled Imogen’s door and she shot up in her bed in alarm. She jumped out of her sheets when she heard Garrick on the other side of the door, voices rushed and drowned out on the other side. 

Imogen jogged over to her door and opened it up to spot Garrick and Bodhi looking at her worriedly. Then Garrick said, “You need to open [Name]’s door again. It’s an emergency.” 

The pink-haired girl followed her friends and asked, “What is going on? Is she okay?” 

Garrick shook his head, “Well if what she’s being accused of is true, then no. She will be in trouble.” 

Imogen looked down the dark hall and spotted Xaden pacing in front of your door with bloodied knuckles and shadows twisting haphazardly around the halls. She needed to know what happened. “Xaden, what is going on?” 

Xaden stopped pacing and pointed at your door, “Open it now.” 

Imogen didn’t hesitate this time, the fury in his voice moved her and she opened her friend’s bedroom door. Inside it was dark and when the mage light flicked on, your bed was empty and made. 

“She’s not here,” Imogen told the boys and she glared at them, “Now can one of you tell me what’s going on? Why the hell am I being woken up at the crack ass of dawn?” 

Xaden, obviously pissed, zoned out and everyone knew he was reaching out to Sgaeyl. 

Bodhi stepped up to speak and said, “Violet was attacked by the unbonded riders. She said that the one who wasn’t caught left the hallway like a shimmer. Like [Name]’s cloaked shimmer.” He looked at Imogen with nervousness like he sensed her anger. 

Imogen couldn’t believe it. She dragged the males into your warded room one by one. Then she closed the door behind her and yelled at them, full on shouting at their stupidity, “You have got to be kidding me! You guys really believe [Name] would let unbonded riders attack Violet? She just agreed to train her! You cannot be this fucking stupid!” 

Then she had to hit the nail on the coffin. Your cloak doesn’t shimmer anymore. It did when you first developed your signet, but when Xaden encouraged you to get rid of that shimmer you achieved that goal in two months. How could the guys forget this? It’s like after all this distance they put between them and you made them forget how your signet works!

“Her cloak doesn’t shimmer, dumbasses!” 

But Xaden was out the door already, his hands clenched up in his frustration. 

“Where are you going?” Garrick called out to him. 

“To the flight field,” Xaden responded, his steps heavy with determination to get your truth. 

……

You stretched your limbs after dismounting Lenin with a smile on your face, looking at the two dragons before you. Your bright blue eyes landed on the blue dragon and you bowed your head, “Thank you Sgaeyl for joining us. I know that after Xaden stopped hanging out with me, we don’t go on our flights anymore.” 

Sgaeyl leaned down and huffed into your face, a sign of acceptance. 

“She says ‘I look forward to early flights with you now’,” Lenin chuffed. 

You reached your hand out to the blue dragon and avoided eye contact with her. You waited for her to boop your palm with her snout and after a few seconds she indulged in your request. The grin on your face washed away the moment you heard Xaden shout at you. 

“Back the hell away from Sgaeyl!” 

In surprise you turned around and watched Xaden in his flight jacket and uniform make his way towards you. Angry didn’t even begin to describe Xaden, he was beyond pissed and it was directed at you. Was he seriously mad that you went out flying with Sgaeyl and Lenin? 

“Lenin, what happened?” You asked your dragon, taking one step backwards into his warm chest. 

“The Silver One was attacked,” Lenin answered. 

He snarled and leaned his neck down, guarding you from Xaden’s line of sight. 

“You are agitating Lenin,” Sgaeyl warned Xaden. 

Xaden stopped a few feet away from the pair of dragons and took a deep breath in. Upsetting a blue dragon is not on his bucket list. Neither was threatening a black dragon’s rider. 

So he started off slowly, “Did you let unbonded riders in Violet’s room?” 

You owlishly blinked behind Lenin’s cover and scoffed. You just came back from flying and he’s asking you about such a thing. An action like this is damaging for your reputation, to your friends and squad. Walking away from Lenin’s protection, you made your way to Xaden to stand in front of him. “You seriously asking me that question? Why would I let unbonded riders into her room? The only way they can bond to Tairn is if she dies, but newsflash Xaden, Tairn and Sgaeyl will die if she does!”

“She said that one got away and that they left with a shimmer, only your cloak shimmers,” He growled out. Then he grabbed you by your shoulders, his fingers digging into your flesh, “Don’t tell me that your jealousy got the best of you that you had to kill Violet. Tell me you aren’t that petty to kill her, us, or me!” 

Did he truly believe that jealousy could be your motive to kill Violet Sorrengail? Hell if it was, you would have done so long ago. But you weren’t that shallow. You ignored Violet like the plague, didn’t bother to get to know her because it physically hurt you. The girl that captured Xaden’s attention in one second undid all the work you did in years to get him to notice you. 

Finally when it was happening, when he called you yours, Violet came in like the storm she was. Uprooting your friends and family. 

“My cloak doesn't shimmer anymore, Xaden,” You said dejectedly, you didn’t have the energy to fight him right now. To explain that your cloak stopped shimmering two months after your signet popped up. “I may be jealous of her, but I’m not the one who broke a promise. I may hate her for stealing my friends and family, but I wouldn’t kill her out of spite. I just told you yesterday that I was willing to put my differences aside and train her. 

“Then why did she describe your cloak?” His hands fell away from your arms, the warmth gone in a breeze. 

You shoved your goggles in your flight jacket and shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know, but I was flying out with Sgaeyl and Lenin. They can vouch for me, we’ve been flying out for hours. 

“It’s true, we were gone long before the girl was attacked,” Sgaeyl confirmed. 

“I hope you find the true culprit,” You walked past him and to the direction of the college. Your shoulders are heavy with the realization that he will always choose her over you. Whether it stems from his growing need for her or keeping her alive, it didn’t matter anymore. He broke the promise and left you behind.  

“[Name], where are you going? I’m not done asking questions,” Xaden turned around, but you kept on walking. 

“I’m going to forget this conversation ever happened,” You declared with certainty. And one person can help you with that, you just hope she’s awake. 

……

When you walked into your room, mentally drained from the conversation with Xaden, you were caught off guard by Imogen’s presence. Her right leg bobbed up and down as if she was waiting for you to arrive. This made the trip to her way easier, the walk of shame was going to be very painful if you did walk towards her room. 

“Imogen?” Your soft voice awoke her from her trance and she jumped up from your chair with a sigh of relief. 

“Finally, you’re back,” She jogged over to you and embraced you in a tight hug. Okay, Imogen rarely hugs you and this one felt like she needed it. “I was so worried when everyone started pointing fingers at you for letting unbonded riders into Violet’s room. But I knew it wasn’t you, your cloak doesn’t shimmer anymore.” 

You huffed out with a grimace, “I’m glad one of my friends remembers that it doesn’t. Anyways can I ask you for a favor?” 

“Anything,” Imogen breathed out and pulled back with a smile. 

You nodded your head and said, “Erase my memories. I need to forget that Xaden just accused me of endangering his girlfriend.” Not that they are dating just yet, but it wouldn’t take long for them to develop feelings for one another. 

“But if I do that-” 

“If he wants me to train Violet, I need to forget this morning,” You pleaded with her, grabbing her hand and forcing her palm to touch your cold forehead, “Imogen, please. I cannot look at Violet knowing she accused me of something so horrid then Xaden blaming me for it. Do this for me.” 

“Okay,” Imogen reluctantly agreed. She watched your tears fall down your face and you smiled at her hopefully. 

“Thank you.”  

You wished Imogen could erase more than the conversation. You wanted her to erase all your feelings for Xaden Riorson. 

Forget his hands roaming your body and the kisses he left in his wake. Forget the way he said your name with adoration and the way he stared into your eyes with longing. 

Because you could train Violet with ease if you held no feelings for Xaden. But hey, not everyone can have what they want. This is a lesson for you and hopefully Xaden will finally remember how much you mean to him. 

Soon, it will happen. A feeling so deep in the pit of your stomach made you believe that.