The Katsuki Bakugou Effect

this art will always make me want to bawl my eyes out because what do you mean we could have pro hero touya and health assistant toga only if they had decent parents??

(I hate mha society so much)

*taps mic*

denki likes making out with you in almost-public.

making out with you while he’s on the phone. he’s biting and sucking in the soft skin of your neck as you bite back whines aching to spill out your mouth while listening to sero rave about a boss he’s trying to beat in elden ring that denki is dodging a fade with in his own game. he pulls off, saying “yeah bro, you’re better than me i’m not even trynna bother that dude.” and his friend laughs in response, continuing his rant. he then goes on mute and immediately devours your lips, gripping your hips as you move your body in sync with his on his lap. when sero asks him a question he unmutes to answer, then goes back on mute until it’s his que to talk again. when sero eventually hangs up, he looks at you with a lovesick expression and shit eating grin.

straight up tongue kissing you in the unisex bathroom of the arcade you and your friends went out to a group. he got tired of trying to control himself for your sake. if it was up to him, he would’ve pulled you on his lap and made out with you right in front of everybody. but, he realizes he needs to have a little decorum. so he decided to do everyone a favor and sneak off with you to finally have you to himself. although, he does get a kick off you trying to pull yourself back together when he leads you back to everyone as if his tongue wasn’t just down your throat.

or even, pulling you into secret corners of the hallway to steal a quick make out session before class. his hands are placed on your waist at the hem of your skirt threatening to go too low, rhythmically sucking on your bottom lip like it’s candy. your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as he gets a taste of your lips before he has to sit in class and act like he doesn’t wanna kiss you again, sitting you on your desk and sucking at your neck like he’s a vampire out for blood. but again– decorum.

Needy - Obanai Iguro x Fem! Reader

In which Obanai makes you squirt for the first time.

"Oh?"

Warnings: squirting, rough sex, clit slap, overstimulation, crying, intense orgasm, mean obanai kind of??? sorry its short, saw him in the new season and couldn't get the idea out of my head of obanai and his needy princess. Word count: 0.8k NOT PROOF READ

You can feel the slick coating your inner thighs, can hear the squelch it makes as your lover pounds you into oblivion. The essence of your previous three orgasms makes you embarrassed and you're thankful for the pillow your heads dug into, muffling your dazed moans and whispers.

His hand travels along your back, looping under your stomach to come in contact with your aching clit. Your body jolts, he hasn't started rubbing yet but your clit has already been vigorously rubbed into your last two orgasms and can't take anymore. You try to push away when he starts the tantalising circles, the only thing that does is piss the serpent hashira off and force you into an even deeper, more punishing arch, causing his length to hit further inside of you.

You choke on air, hands fisting the pillow even tighter as you try not to scream into it. There's a coil inside of you, it's getting tighter and tighter and it's bordering on painful. It feels different. Your eyes are squeezed shut in concentration, droplets of sweat racing each other on your tense body. You've never needed to concentrate so hard before, your usual babbling was exchanged for silence, teeth biting down on your lips harshly, trapping the sounds. The pressure is making you lightheaded and dizzy and you're struggling to breathe.

Obanai was intrigued. He's never seen you so silent. So still. So obedient. "You okay?" He asks after studying you.

You turn your head to the side so you can breathe, gasping out an airy yeah between panicked breaths. This feeling is consuming you, it's taking over your body, a sensation you've never felt before. Your in conflict with yourself, your back is arching further, pushing yourself back as far as you can go to feel him hitting you deeper, but your hand moves like lightening to grab your lovers wrist, weakly trying to get him away from your poor clit.

Obanai tsks under his breath, clicking his tongue in disappointment after. He bats your hand away, reattaching himself back to your clit to circle it with more pressure. His other hand, that was on your hip, cages both of yours and forcefully pulls them behind your back, causing his body to hover over yours and his thrusts to become more bruising.

"Never do that again." He warns in a low voice, right next to your ear, finishing his statement with a harsh slap to your clit that has you choking on a sob.

"Ob-Obanai! Don't! I- I can't. Dunno what's happening — fuck!" Your voice sounds watery, like you're going to cry any second. Your body stiffens, a coursing flame travelling throughout you until you're completely alight. "G-god Obanai! I cantttt!"

Obanai's two toned eyes widen in interest when he feels a spray of liquid hit his thighs and coat the futon, dripping from your legs as the spray continued. "Oh?" He whispers in your ear, before dragging you up to hit the back of his chest. He splays four of his fingers against your clit, prolonging your orgasm and forcing spurts of cum from you with so much force that they push him and his seed out of you, all the whilst his other free hand settles on your throat, squeezing lightly.

You're crying now, you'd never been so overwhelmed before in your life. A few more weak spurts follow and then they stop and he cups your soaking heat after letting his thumb brush over your clit. A cry tears from your throat, salty tears cascading down your flushed face. Your shaking, convulsing, muscles spasming.

"You're okay, princess," he whispers, voice as smooth as silk, deep and inviting. His cold hands slither around your waist to turn you around in his hold, two toned eyes observing you with intensity. He watches how your hands eagerly wrap around his neck, your shaking body collapsing in his embrace whilst you snuggle into his neck. Needy. You're so needy for his comfort, for his praise, for him to bring you back to reality after the brutal, overstimulating sex you both had. You were needy and he loved it. Adored it even, because you needed him. Couldn't possibly be okay without him. You were his. Only his.

"O-Obi," you whimper into the crook of his neck, dampening his skin with your tears.

"What's wrong, princess?" He rasps, his hand instinctually rubbing soothing circles into the soft skin of your back.

"Dunnooo," you whine. "J-just need you, Obi."

He smirks in response, kissing your head as he comforts you, relishing in your neediness. Music to his ears.

One Piece Fic Recs

This is a list of incredible One Piece fanfics I have read either on Tumblr or Ao3 the majority of which are character x reader/oc.

📝 Ongoing/Unfinished

Long Works (>25,000 words)

It Comes in Waves by analogwriting Trafalgar Law x f!reader (71k)

The Bird & The Mermaid (Trafalgar Law x F!Reader) by BlackOrchid1004 (40k)

Small Changes by SweetScentences Platonic Law and Corazon fix it (37k)

The Daughter's Return by @cozage Portgas D. Ace x f!reader (126k)

Birds of a Feather by flyingfishgirl Marco the Phoenix x f!reader (74k)

Inked on Skin by Archaeological / @tackyink Trafalgar Law x OFC (385k)

📝 Home of the Sun by Nahella Portgas D. Ace x f!reader (167k)

📝 Free (Trafalgar Law/Reader) by ElenaMoon (153k)

📝 Throne by teroinreadsteroinwrites Shanks x OFC (41k)

📝 This is Us by Anonymous Portgas D. Ace x f!reader (90k)

📝 Card-Sharp by VintagexTypewriter Shanks x OFC (90k)

📝 Home Is Where the Hearts Are by brouhahas Trafalgar Law x f!reader (37k)

📝 Rare Whales, Shining Seas, and the One That Dreams of Them by NunTheWiser Platonic Whitebeard Pirates, Platonic Heart Pirates x OFC (339k)

📝 Bound by Silver by ToastedMilkBar Corazon x f!reader (46k)

📝 Immune To Your Charms by @grandline-fics Donquixote Doflamingo x f!reader (26k)

📝 Chaos in Their Bones by @eureka-its-zico OPLA Zoro x f!reader (148k)

📝 Determination! by @thesharktanksdriver Platonic multiple characters/crews x child!reader (69k)

Puzzled by @mynewblackdress OPLA Sanji x f!reader (35k)

Medium Works (10,000-24,999 words)

Epiphytism by Jarchetype Dracule Mihawk x f!reader (23k)

Little Blue Bird by MidNightWriter42 Marco the Phoenix x f!reader (12k)

📝 Affiliation by maybeitsdee Portgas D. Ace x f!reader (23k)

📝 The Beast and the Mouse by @simpleeindulge Eustass Kid x f!reader (12k)

📝 Little Game by @gingernut1314 Dracule Mihawk x f!reader (16k)

the blade daughter by @halfvalid OPLA Zoro x f!reader, Dracule Mihawk x daughter!reader (24k)

You Should Be Sad by @fanaticsnail Dracule Mihawk x f!reader (14k)

put my name at the top of your list by @ladadiida Sanji x f!reader (12k)

Through Shadow by @gingernut1314 OPLA Sanji x f!reader (10k)

Your Highness by @nanawritesit OPLA Sanji x f!reader (13k)

Come Sail Away by @sassenach-on-the-rocks OPLA Sanji x f!reader, OPLA Zoro x sister!reader (15k)

📝 Stowaway by @spitfire-of-the-sea Platonic Whitebeard Pirates x f!reader (10k)

i’m sorry but their backs do something to me. the fucking pose is just so attractive it’s actually unfair.

iv. ekko x gn!black!reader hcs

a/n: they got me yall.

sorry for whoever followed me for tlou content we'll be having a brief intermission i'll come back to them in a minute js let me get this out my system 😭🙏🏾

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no mention of reader's features (except for being black, but it's only in a few points 🤷🏾‍♀️ so it can be read otherwise), arcane s2 spoilers (minor), sfw and nsfw hcs, (oral sex, kinks, riding), in some au where everyone is happy and nothing bad ever happened 😊, never proofread we ball 🔥

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sfw:

- i feel like ekko is a bit shy (awkward shy though, not shy-shy...does that make sense) when you first get into a relationship with him, and it's just because he's shocked that he's managed to get with you. at first he's stumbling over words, playing off your compliments, desperately trying to keep eye contact with you but if he does he just keeps smiling because you look so good.

-one time, while riding past you on his hoverboard, you waved at him. he waved back, but even as you walked away his eyes kept following you. if it wasn't for scar warning him at the last second, he would've crashed straight into a wall.

- his cockiness comes later into your relationship, every successful action he does followed by a grin that you roll your eyes at.

-and did y'all see the way he looked at powder in ep. 7? his puppy dog eyes are LETHAL.

-he doesn't even know it either. every time he wants something, he just looks at you with those eyes and murmurs "please, ☆?" you fold so quick.

-(you've tried to learn to resist his eyes as they are what caused you to sprain your ankle in a hoverboarding accident since he begged you to race him. he just wanted to show off, too. he didn't stop apologizing for weeks.)

-he usually doesn't really like people touching his hair. he's fine with the kids doing it from time to time, but in general it's not his favorite thing in the world.

-you, however

-you get a pass because you get it. you know how it feels for your hair to just be like a petting zoo from time to time. you know exactly how to help him care for his hair, so much so that he's stopped doing his own retwists. (not like they stay in for very long, you immediately help him sweat it out 😊)

-he's made a lot of random little things for you, like a small chain necklace with an empty locket. he kind of sucks at wrapping gifts though, so he just handed it to you with a stupid smile while you two were perched at the top of the firelight tree.

-"ekko, this is so cute," you mutter, your bottom lip jutted out in adoration as you inspect the delicately crafted chain. small mistakes here and there, but you loved it.

-he also learned how to sew just so he could make you a bonnet/durag. he even sewed a crude little "e" in the corner of it, and made himself one with your initial in it as well.

-will randomly shadow box you out of no where. it's some form of cuteness aggression or something, because you'll be talking about your day while absent-mindedly twiddling with the hem of your shirt, and suddenly there are fists flying towards you that he knows to never let connect.

-"...ekko, the fuck are you doing?"

-he makes small noises that sound like "shoo" every time his fist flies, watching you stare at him with an unimpressed look.

-saw someone else say this but yeah ekko can't hoop. sorry

-he CANNOT hide his facial expressions. he may tell you one thing, but his face will never lie. if you're out eating and you feed him a bite of your food, you can watch his face contort into one of disgust, so much so that he almost looks offended. upon realizing that he doesn't want to yuck your yum, he'll fix his face into the fakest smile you've ever seen and nod.

-"...ekko, go spit it out."

-you've never seen him reach for a napkin any quicker.

-idk who the arcane universe's michael jackson is but, when he was younger he absolutely learned all the dances.

-probably the biggest softie the world has ever seen. he's very tough in public, but once he closes the door behind you two and climbs into bed with you, he's clinging onto you like a sloth.

-if you like painting your nails, he'll (hesitantly) allow you to paint his nails to match yours.

-(these next few ones are sliiightly for me 🤭)

-loves when you draw on his arms.

-until he can't get whatever marker you used off of his skin in the shower, so now he's walking around looking like a coloring book with little flowers, hearts, and signatures on his arms.

-he hangs up all the drawings you make of him up along his work space. sometimes he forgets one and leaves it on his desk, so it's a pleasant surprise to find a drawing of himself among scattered and disorganized papers while he was cleaning up.

-has gotten used to you randomly biting him. you'll come up behind him while he's working, and he already knows it's coming when you rest your chin on his exposed shoulder. 2 seconds later, your teeth are sinking into his skin. he just chuckles, but he does ask once.

-"why do you do that?"

-"oh, i dunno. i just like doing it. 's how you know i like you."

nsfw (very brief i'm sorry):

-praise kink. you couldn't tell me otherwise

-loves giving praise, loves receiving praise.

-when he's giving you head, he almost does it for his own pleasure. feeling your hand rub against his undercut while you whine and mutter "fuuuck, ekko, you're so good. don't stop please" is all he needs

-and i'm glad we've all agreed he's a thigh guy too 🙌🏾

-and IK we say this about every fictional man but HE WHIMPERS.

-he starts off with groans and grunts, but the closer he gets, the more his voice starts to shake and his words start to become whines.

-he looooves when you ride him holy shit

-looking up at you while your face contorts in pleasure is absolutely on his top 10.

-and if you stare into his eyes while you do it? his soul has left thanks!

-in general he loves eye contact. when you look up at him with his length between your lips, you can see his brain start to short-circuit.

-he's definitely the type to make sure you finish first before he even gets to think about his own pleasure.

-he's usually super sleepy afterwards too, but he refuses to lay down for a second until he makes sure you're all cleaned up and comfortable before he's out cold on your chest.

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like hear me out,, pro hero! bakugou gets in an argument with his wife and then gets so angry where he says: "if i hadn't married you i would be a top hero by now." 👀

A/N: you little angelic genius you, i hope you’re okay with a happy ending ♡ Sorry this took like two years, I didn’t know ANYBODY sent me anything in the years I’ve lurked!!

c/w: angst to fluff, established relationship, toxic relationship, mean bakugo, implied fem!reader, bakugo gets mildly violent, let me know if i missed something!

“…If I Hadn’t Married You!”

bakugo x fem!reader

You let out a sigh of relief. Wiping your hands on your apron, you stepped back to admire the work you had created on the dining room table. The table, which never occupied more than two chairs, was decorated with a spectacular dinner.

You had spent hours slow cooking, stirring, baking and chopping to make a large dinner for your Husband of an early year and a half. Though it’s very early into your forever, Bakugo had never shown any sign of regret in his decision to marry you. It took everybody by surprise, the way Bakugo had been sheepishly protective of you since you’d yelled at him for the first time when you’ve had enough of his teasing.

Your appreciation for bakugo was simple. He did nothing but come home and immediately cradle into your arms, slumping down and nestling into your neck when he was particularly tired and vulnerable - a side only you were familiar with. He would breath out slowly, feeling your fingernails softly drag along his scalp and make him feel drunk. But those moments would be brief, as your husband was quick to feel victim to his affectionate emotions and soon stand to do household chores that weren’t completed - even though he had been working all day, still covered in grime and resin from his explosions.

But just as his explosions save people, they also harm. And all it took was one glance at an old picture book from middle school. He had been helping you with your chores one day when he came across a yearbook from his middle school years.

One side of Katsuki’s lips curled up into a smirk as he was ready to relive all of his younger self’s dreams. His rough, calloused finger turn the front page. He flipped, his smirk growing smaller and smaller when a realization came to him.

He had abandoned his younger self. Baby Bakugo’s dreams. Baby Bakugo’s determination to be the number one. His smile completely wiped, Bakugo felt his teeth grit when he saw Deku. A shy boy, lingering in the back with a gentle smile on his face, no need for recognition.

That’s what began Bakugo’s emotional downfall. For as far as he’s come, he was certainly backtracking and the person who noticed it was none other than his darling wife.

Your little scribble next to his picture, Don’t miss me too much, Katsu kitty, made Bakugo close his eyes. He couldn’t believe he had done this to himself. So for days, he worked to improve himself. Even if that meant leaving her behind for a while to focus on succeeding in his career.

That’s why when Bakugo came in, and saw a grand gesture, he couldn’t help but grimace at the sight. You knew everything about him. From what he liked, his tips for plate presentation, to the already-clean kitchen paired with hot food. You had learned to clean as you cook. It angered him.

He stared at the dining room table, eyes bored and unamused. That’s when he heard the patter of feet against the hardwood, a girl barring in while tying the back of a nice cocktail dress. She grinned brightly at her husband when she saw him walk in, the faint marks left behind from his mask still on his face.

“Honey,” you giggled and walked to him, licking your thumb and reaching for his cheek. You were shocked to see him grab your wrist and dodge your hand. You pulled back a bit, confused as Bakugo just brushed past you. “Katsuki?” You picked up her feet to catch up with him, a hand touching his bicep to get his attention. Katsuki was quick to pull away.

“Fuck, WHAT?” He snapped, causing you to flinch and step back. A sour look was immediately on your face. Of course, he thought. She always stood her ground.

“Excuse me?” You matched his tone, arms raising and being thrown down in disbelief. She couldn’t believe he was acting this way.

“You! You’re fucking-“ Katsuki stopped for a second. He couldn’t look at her without seeing his failures. He just scoffed and motioned with his hand like he was shooing her off as he walked towards their shared bedroom.

“No! Don’t you walk off,” Your feet picked up the pace as you ran to confront him. You couldn’t believe he was acting so crude. Well, you could.

Fights between you and Bakugo weren’t irregular. But they never started without reason. Maybe he rolled his eyes at you suggesting a date night, or maybe he called you ‘woman’ in front of the cashier. But there was never nothing that agitated him without reason when it came to you.

The door immediately slammed in your face, causing a wave of anxiety to pile into your chest. You felt the push of the air as it was only inches from your nose. You didn’t know what to do in that moment. He’s never ever been that way to you. You’ve yelled, but (surprisingly) Bakugo was never physically violent when it came to you being the subject of his upset emotions.

But you knew you couldn’t just walk away now. After staring at the door for a few moments, you tried the handle and were relieved to find that at least he left it unlocked. Twisting the door and stepping inside swiftly, you saw Bakugo changing out of his hero costume, back to you.

“Are you going to tell me what is going on?” You said, mind inching back to the food growing cold on the table. But you refrained first, wanting to calm down your frustrated husband.

“I’m at a fucking stopping point in my life, Y/N,” Bakugo snapped over his shoulder as he slid on his pajama pants. He began to take his shirt off, and Y/N couldn’t believe he was performing normal duties in a situation like this. “You’re fucking EVERYWHERE!”

You scoffed and held your arms up. “Im supposed to be everywhere, I’m your wife, Katsuki!” You yelled at him, offending by his words. He was supposed to love that you’re everywhere. He was supposed to want you everywhere.

“WELL FUCK. My mistake!” He shouted, shirt long forgotten as he finally focused on the conversation- fight between the two of you. “What?” You gasped out in disbelief. “Your mistake?”

“Yeah. My fucking mistake.” He said with gritted teeth, eyes barely glancing to the yearbook. So subtly even you hadn’t noticed it. “I can’t work with you everywhere, breathing down my neck all the time.” You hated when Katsuki was angry. His raspy voice that you loved so much only grew deeper, more devilish. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t intimidate you.

“Why is that such a problem for you?” You said, anger rising to your chest. “If I wasn’t your wife you wouldn’t have someone waiting for you to come home—“ He interrupted, “—Thank GOD! I pray for that every goddamn day!” He shouted at you, yet you kept listing reasons why you were perfect for him. Reasons why he loved you in the first place. But it fell past deaf ears as he continued to argue with you.

“I have a hot meal sitting on the table, that you’re not even acknowledging because you’re—“ Again, he interrupts. “I DIDNT ASK YOU TO FUCKING DO THAT. Don’t ask for a thank you as if this was some sort of favor I made you do! God, just lay off of me,” Bakugo barks at you.

You’d about had it, the frustration causing your eyes to fill with salty tears. “Wow.” You said, mouth pursed into a line that struggled to hide a frown. “I didn’t realize marrying me actually is such a huge burden on your shoulders.” You said, voice barely trembling.

“If I hadn’t married you,” Bakugo leaned close to you, his eyes red and crazed with anger, “I’d be top hero. I’d be where I wanted to be my entire life.” A sick grin came to him. “And then you. You had to go and shake your ass for my attention every day. You knew what this meant to me.”

Your face turned to one of disgust. How could he be this mean to you? “Katsuki..” The tears fell. This wasn’t the man you had married. One tear, then the next down your cheek as you were at a loss for words. He was going through something, you told yourself. But you couldn’t bring yourself to find forgiveness in that moment. Your hand clasped over your trembling lips as you stepped away from his leaning form, watching as the hatred from his eyes started to vanish. He seemed to come to his senses, noticing the real effect of his words.

Bakugo wanted to fight his stubbornness. To pull her back and say he didn’t mean it. But his eyes fell back on the yearbook. Y/N traced his eyes to see his vision. She couldn’t believe this. Her tired, red and wet eyes looked back at Bakugo who looked at a loss for words.

“… If being the number one hero is so important to you,” You said, closing your eyes and turning your head. He swallowed thickly. What had he done? “I’ll accept your plea for me to leave you. I’ll come back early with the papers,” you said, you voice growing high pitched at the end as a sob left your lips.

You turned, heading towards the door when you felt a hand on the hem of the bottom of your dress. You jerked away quickly. “Don’t touch me,” You snarled at his apologetic stare. His soft arch of his eyebrows furrowed and he huffed heavy out of his nose, a clear indication of a pout.

“Y/N,” Bakugo growled and closed the door, louder than the first time, before you could walk out. You squealed and back away from the door, this side of Bakugo frightening you. But he didn’t look scary. No, when you saw his face he looked desperate. “Stop. Don’t do that yet.”

“YET?” You yelled, arms crossing defensively over your chest. “I don’t understand you, Katsuki!”

He leaned back against the door, hand frustratingly running through his hair. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that.” He sounded as if he were talking to him. “I shouldn’t— Y/N. Listen.” He said and looked at her in the eyes, all the mania gone and now a regretful and sorrowful look in his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’- FUCK.” He was really frustrated. “I’m not anywhere I need to be,” Bakugo said, fists clenched.

“That’s not my fault,” you whimpered, shame settling in you. But what if it was? He was breaking down in front of you, feeling like a complete failure. “It… It’s… Katsuki,” You mumbled, not even knowing what to say at this point as he buried his face into his hands frustratingly. That’s when you heard it, a slight hiss and a little choked sob.

He never cries. You stood there, watching him without knowing what to do. Where do his feelings actually lie with you, and how do you locate your own? Your head hung slowly. Before long, you felt your own tears start back up. They dropped, your mind replaying the confusing and hurtful words that had left your husband’s mouth only seconds before. Your hands raised, wiping aggressively at your cheeks.

Katsuki’s teeth were practically chattering from the immense amount of regret in his veins. He wanted so badly to reach out and apologize. He hated what he said, though he knew in the moment he meant it.

He looked at her through soaked eyelashes, seeing you basically crippled in distress at the intensity of the argument. You hugged yourself, crying and swaying to comfort yourself. Katsuki let the silence sit for a moment before he cautiously reached forward, taking a finger of yours softly and pulled you to the bed where he sat and pulled you between his legs.

You stood, too mentally beat to fight him at the moment. Everything was falling apart in front of you. “I’m so sorry,” Katsuki whispered, looking at you. Your sniffles halted for a moment. He doesn’t apologize. Your Katsuki doesn’t apologize. He makes you gifts or sends you to Paris, but he doesn’t apologize.

You felt a rough hand with a soft touch on your cheek, but instincts told you to pull away. Your head turned, but it was brought right back with a firmer grip. Katsuki saw you weren’t fighting him hard. He needed you to hear this.

“Baby, look at me. I’m begging you,” Katsuki said, the raspiness in his voice breaking slightly with each plea. “I was wrong. If I hadn’t married you, I wouldn’t be settled,” he started, pulled you a little closer and testing the waters by taking your hands slowly. “If I hadn’t married you, I w-wouldn’t have someone to come home too. You make me food, wash my clothes, and..” Bakugo buried his face into your stomach as you hugged him slowly, arms circling his head in hesitation. You knew what he was trying to say. You’re the only person who can see him in such a vulnerable state.

You knew just how much being the top hero meant to him. It was something you adored since the beginning. But over time, you assumed plans had changed. That he was willing to settle for trying his best with you by his side.

“I need you more than any top pro hero recognition,” he mumbled, finally accepting his true feelings. He knew better. As soon as he found his person, he would be gone. From the moment he picked up his first romance manga, Bakugo was hooked on the idea of finding romance of his own, even though it would stray him away from his dream career. You, on the other hand, heard what you needed. You pushed him back slightly, climbing next to him on the bed and pulling him close to you.

No words have to be exchanged.

If Katsuki hadn’t married you, he would never find a real taste of peace and satisfaction.

If Katsuki hadn’t married you, he would be nothing but a bomb bound to explode as soon as it was ignored.

If Katsuki hadn’t married you, he would be helpless.

This was fun 😬 I’m a new writer on Tumblr and this is a new experience for me! Please follow and send requests so I can begin my masterlist <3

raspberry leaves

pairing: poly!geto suguru x fem!reader x gojo satoru [jjk au]

warnings: jjk au! geto doesn't defect and everything is happy :)) cursing, periods, severe cramps, painkillers and mentions of taking more than you're supposed to (three instead of two), lots of talk of pain, mentions of vomiting, passing out, panic, mentions of death, mentions of burning yourself, probably ooc megumi but he's a kid here (probably gojo too but I can't not write him soft), family au!, megumi tsumiki and the twins are here!, probably taking liberties on how gojo's technique works but oops, this is for the girlies with severe period symptoms :'), major hurt/comfort

word count: 12.5k

a/n: drops this and yells "scatter!" and disappears back into seclusion. I did not proofread this :)

Gojo Satoru has never woken up so terrified in his life. 

It’s a horrifying thing; to wake up lurching from your sheets as the love of your life cries out in panic just a few hours past midnight. For a moment, Satoru thinks he’s dying – or that he should be – because as he rips his sheets away from his legs, racing to his feet with his pulse already roaring in his eardrums, he turns to find Geto Suguru crumbling to his knees. The dark-haired man is the one who shouted, his hands fumbling to grasp another figure, their body limp and hanging useless in Suguru’s arms.

It’s your frame, clutched tight in Suguru’s big hands, that steals the breath from Satoru’s lungs. Ripping any semblance of oxygen right from his chest, the Six Eyes user is left stumbling on his feet to reach his spouses as they crumble to the floor – you limp in Suguru’s grip as you fall unconscious. 

Suguru shouts, a desperate cry of your name as he finally sinks to the bathroom floor, urgently scrambling to cradle your weight against him and support your figure. When he’s settled on the ground, a hand carefully cradling your face, Suguru looks up at Satoru, panic in his features and his heart in his throat. For a tense second, neither man speaks, too terrified to properly ascertain the situation. Then, Satoru chokes out a desperate question as he stumbles into the doorframe, clutching the wood until he swears it could splinter beneath his hands. 

“What happened?” 

But let’s rewind a moment, shall we? 

It starts two hours after midnight – well, it starts long before that, but it’s that moment you finally decide to pull yourself from the sheets and stumble into the bathroom. That moment, the one of shortened breaths and a weak whimper, is the one to incite the inferno that will wake Gojo Satoru in an hour or so. 

You’ve been awake for hours. Sleep was a stubborn thing; an obstinate, pig-headed bastard that wouldn’t allow you the mercy of relief even hours after you’ve been awake clutching your stomach and trying desperately not to cry. 

It’s agony. Beginning in your left side and rippling through the entirety of your stomach and down your legs, the cramping sensation seizes you with another tight fist and squeezes. It’s agony, and it’s been keeping you awake for hours. 

Your period is merciless. 

You’ve always had terrible cramps. That was a notion you had grown used to when you were young. Painkillers could only do so much, and you hated to have to take as many as you did just to function near normally. The first day of shark week was always terrible, but this? This was pure agony, and you were nearing your breaking point. 

It festered for hours in your stomach, sending cramps through your form in catastrophic waves and pushing against your belly until you thought you were truly going to die. The urge to use the restroom is horrible, but each time you drag yourself to the ensuite bathroom, you sit there as another wave of agony nearly pulls you to your knees. You’re sweaty and tired, figure quivering as another rippling cramp seizes your legs, and you’ve never wanted anything more than the sweet relief of slumber. 

Nothing seems to help. 

A hot water bottle is pressed against your stomach, the liquid inside near boiling as you clutch it against your bare skin – a bad idea, you know, but the sensation of the burn is nowhere near as terrible as the cramps. You’ve downed three painkillers a few hours ago, probably another bad idea, but you’re desperate now. 

You don’t want to wake Suguru or Satoru. It’s a Sunday night, and you know they both have work early tomorrow morning. They have to get the kids to school too. The four of your children always pile into one of your husband’s nice cars just a few hours past dawn. The kids get dropped off at primary school on their way to work, since it’s just around the corner from Jujutsu High. 

You can’t tear their few precious hours of sleep away from them. 

Not for this. 

There’s nothing they can do – nothing you can do but sit and try to ride out the waves of crippling agony until they finally stop. 

You’ve done this before. These cramps aren’t new. You can deal with them on your own. 

Can’t you?

But as you repress a broken sob, pulling yourself away from the silk of your sheets and into the bathroom once more, you’re not quite sure. 

When you reach the ensuite bathroom, another cramp surges through you and the tears you’ve been desperately withholding finally burst forth. Pressing your weight into the wall as the door slides shut, you click the lock and finally allow yourself to crumple. Your head pushes into your knees as you sob, trying to keep your cries quiet and muffled against your hand as the other clutches the hot water bottle against the throb of your stomach. 

You’re tired. You’re tired and you’re in so much pain that your fingers tremble and your legs shake. It’s awful, and you just want to sleep. 

But your uterus must hate you, because your stomach lurches and you scramble to lean over the toilet as you dry heave. You’ve never vomited on your period, but it sure does feel like you will. 

Your skin itches. From the sweat or the general grime, you don’t know, but you hate it. Your chest shakes with another sob and your fists squeeze tight as you whine out a horrible sound of agony. It’s too much and you wish it would just stop. Leaning back against the wall, you sigh out a choked sound as you curl into yourself. 

“Stop,” you whine brokenly, too defeated to even understand who you’re pleading to. “Please stop.” 

Geto Suguru wakes up a few moments later. 

He doesn’t know what pulls him from slumber at first. His brow furrows as consciousness returns, a deep breath leaving his nose as he sighs and takes in the feeling of body weight pressed into his chest. It’s a muscular figure, long and tall, so it must be Satoru. He’s pressed into Suguru’s stomach, body curled small in a near comical way as he attempts to tuck himself beneath Suguru’s chin. The long-haired man nearly huffs a chuckle as he pries open his tired eyes to see his partner. 

Suguru runs a loving hand over the mess of pale white strands that fall into Satoru’s eyes, his lips quirking upwards softly as he smiles. Satoru nuzzles closer in his sleep, letting out a happy sigh as Suguru runs his nails through the other’s undercut. Then Suguru shifts, turning over his shoulder slowly to find you as his hand reaches out to pull you closer.

But you’re not there. 

Suguru startles. Jolting silently as his heart skips a frightened beat, the sorcerer’s eyes rip open as they dilate. His hand finds an empty bed, the sheets cold and the imprint of your figure long lost. Suguru carefully untangles himself from his lover’s long limbs, his long, dark hair falling into his eyes as he sits upright. 

“Baby?” his deep, tired voice rumbles in question. Where are you? He nearly asks, heart pounding in his chest. Are the kids okay? 

Suguru knew it was weird you had chosen to sleep on the edge of the bed tonight. You’re usually more than happy to bury yourself in between them, cuddling close and nuzzling into their chests as you try to pull yourself even tighter into their embrace. 

But last night, you gently pushed Suguru into your place, offering him a wave of your hand and a lame excuse as to why you wanted to sleep on the outside. Something about not wanting to sleep yet, he remembers. 

He waits a moment, hoping you’ve just gotten up to use the restroom and you’ll return to them soon. The sound of Satoru’s quiet breaths echo through the space, and has to fill the long seconds by tracing his fingers over his lover’s back. Tracing gentle lines over the defined muscles, Suguru sighs softly and tries to calm his racing pulse. 

A minute passes. Then another. And one more – until Suguru isn’t sure how long he’s been waiting. 

Then Suguru cannot resist the swell of panic that ripples through his stomach. 

His heart lurches in his chest as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, too panicked to offer Satoru more than a hushed sound and a stroke over his back when he tiredly mumbles in protest. 

“‘M just gettin’ up for a sec,’” he mumbles quietly, swallowing back the lump in his throat when he sees the light in the bathroom on. “I’ll be back, love.” 

Satoru grumbles something else, but is soothed when Suguru presses a gentle kiss to his brow. 

“M’kay,” Satoru sighs, easily falling back asleep as he snuggles into the warmth Suguru left behind on the bed. If he wasn’t so worried, Suguru would smile, his heart clenching tight in his chest as he watches Satoru curl into his spot with a soft sound. 

When Suguru stands, adjusting his sweats as he quietly makes his way to the bathroom, he pulls his hair from his eyes. Brushing the strands over his bare shoulder, he sighs as he fiddles for a hair tie in his pocket. He doesn't find one, so he simply pushes the dark strands back from his brow, letting them fall behind him and settle against his bare back. 

You’ve always liked it when his hair is loose anyway. 

Suguru knocks on the bathroom door first. It’s quiet, but you should be able to hear it. When you don’t respond, Suguru frowns and tries again. Knocking gently once more, he swallows as another wave of panic curls in his stomach. 

“Sweetheart?” he tries quietly, voice still rumbling deeply from the slumber he was pulled from. “You’ve been in there a while, honey. Are you alright?” 

Still, you don’t respond. 

You want to. Of course you want to. It’s Suguru, and you don’t want to worry him. 

But the waves of agonizing cramps have stolen your voice. All you can do is sit still and breathe. You feel utterly useless. There’s nothing you can do but control the slow pace of your breaths in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the crippling sensation radiating from your stomach. 

You want to respond – tell him you’re alright, tell him something, but the agony seals your lips shut. It’s horrible and another wave of tears spill from your tired eyes. You hate it. You wish you would stop crying; it’s not helping and it only makes you feel weak. 

“Baby? I’m gettin’ worried.” 

All you can manage is a sad, weak sound in response. It leaves your lips in more a sob than a hum, and you muffle the tears that shiver through you after. 

“Honey!” Suguru murmurs worriedly, trying to twist the handle of the door, only to curse when he discovers it’s locked. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” 

He shifts on his feet, lifting a hand to pull on the strands on his hair to soothe some of his panic. The sound you manage in response is another broken hum, and it only worsens the thundering pulse of Suguru’s heart. His gut twists as he tries the knob again, as if a few seconds will have changed the status of the lock. 

You whine and Suguru swears his heart cracks. His head presses against the door as his eyes squeeze shut, fist still closed around the handle. 

“Can you open the door f’me, sweetheart?” he murmurs desperately. “‘M really worried about you.” 

Your eyes close, the watery burn rendering them useless as you sniffle. You huff around another breath of pain, pushing your head further into your knees. Trembling softly as your skin flushes, you battle against the waves of agony and the flash of heat that makes you feel sickly. Another wave of nausea ripples in your gut, and you remember how awful you must look. 

Your hair is plastered against your head and your neck and you must look a mess. Wearing a pair of oversized sweats and one of Suguru’s shirts, you feel utterly gross. More than anything you want to open the door and let Suguru take you in his arms. Cuddling into his firm chest and feeling his big arms wrap around you would probably feel nice, but you’re all too aware of how sickly you must look. 

You don’t want him to see you like this: sweaty, messy and sick as you curl in on yourself as you weep through another terrible cramp. You just want to sleep – you want it to stop, everything needs to stop. 

Suguru hums out another question, but you don’t really hear it. It’s not until you hear the lilt of panic in his voice and his voice fiddling with the handle of the door do you manage to find your voice. 

“Sugu…” 

He startles. Head darting up to the door in front of him, Suguru breathes a sigh of relief and chokes out your name. 

“Open the door, darling,” he whispers softly. “Please…” 

You shake your head even though you know he can’t see it. Frowning as you sniffle, you lick your lips to taste salt and the disgusting hint of snot. You’re a mess, and you don’t want him to see you. 

“No, Sugu,” you manage to mutter, head knocking back to rest against the wall as you continue to focus on breathing through your mouth. You visibly shiver through another cramp, this time seizing and whining as it echoes through your legs. 

Suguru bites down on his lip, feeling another sliver of his heart crack at the broken sound of your voice. It pains him, your defeated sigh. He desperately wants to comfort you, to bring you into his chest and kiss your tears away. His hands ache to touch your skin, to feel the warmth he knows by heart. Closing his eyes as he rests his forehead against the wood of the door, Suguru sighs and swallows as he speaks again. 

“Why not?” he murmurs worriedly, voice clipping words from fatigue pulling at his figure. “I need t’know you’re alright, my love.” 

“Don’t wan’ you t’see me.”

Suguru’s head tilts and the lump in his throat swells. Heart clenching sadly, one of his hands lifts to rest on the door, as if he can reach you on the other side if he tries hard enough. He knows he can get through this door if he really wanted. It would be too easy for him to splinter the frame with his strength alone, and he has more than one curse at his disposal that could pick a lock smoothly. 

It’s the sound of your voice that holds him back. 

You’re so… tired. You’re broken whisper echoes through the wooden door with a sad coo, and it makes Suguru’s chest ache. 

“My sweet girl…” Suguru whispers, fingers trailing across the wood like they’re desperate to stroke across your cheek. “Why don’t you want me to see you?” 

You frustratedly sigh, cursing the tears that continue to track down your cheeks. No matter what you do, they keep dripping over your skin in tiny rivulets, staining your face with tracks of dried salt. You wipe them away but they’re quickly replaced by another stream. 

You just want to sleep. 

“I don’t feel good, Sugu,” you sigh tiredly, voice quivering around tears. It’s pathetic – how watery you sound. You wish you were stronger. “I look bad and I don’t want wan’ t’keep you an’ Toru awake.” 

You don’t feel good? He nearly questions. Why didn’t you wake me? 

But all he does is sigh softly, fists clenching against the door. For a moment he contemplates waking Satoru, knowing you probably won’t be able to resist them both. Though, when he turns over his shoulder, Suguru sees the bags beneath his lover’s eyes and the tired slump of his form in their sheets. 

Satoru needs his sleep. It’s difficult enough for him to find slumber when the Six Eyes strains him dry. 

Suguru lets him rest. 

He murmurs your name again, his eyes closing as he continues to rest against the door. 

“I’m in love with you, you know?” Suguru sighs sweetly, his lips lifting slightly to reveal a fond smile. “You could never ‘look bad’ to me, my darling.” 

Shifting on his feet and looking up at the ceiling, his shoulders sag as he worries. What if you don’t open the door? He’s considering settling on the floor with his back against the door when he whispers again. 

“And you don’t need t’worry about keepin’ me awake, alright? I want you t’come to me when you’re not feeling good.” 

He pauses once, dropping his hand from the knob as he breathes. 

“I worry about you, honey,” he finishes. “I just need to know you’re okay.” 

You sniffle, feeling the cramp finally seep away to nothing. They’re not over, you can feel another wave rising from beneath the last, but at least they offer you a single moment to reach up and twist the lock. 

It’s too much for you to handle alone. 

You want to bury yourself in Suguru’s strong arms and weep as the pain shivers through you. If there’s nothing you can do to soothe the agony, then at least you won’t be alone. 

“Okay.”

Suguru hears the lock click. 

Gasping softly, he pulls himself upright and reaches down to grip the handle of the door with a skip of his heart. He was pondering waiting outside the door in the fading light of the moon when you whispered the tired word. His chest aches when he twists the knob, pulling the door open to reveal your figure.

You’re curled on the floor, calves crossed and legs pulled into your chest as you bury your head into your knees. Your arms wrap around yourself, one hand clutching the hot water bottle pressed tightly to your stomach. 

Suguru frowns, his heart thumping sadly as you weep out another broken sound. His entire body aches in a way he cannot describe, physically pained at the choked sounds of agony leaving your lips. He’s already on his knees at your side when you lift your head, looking up at him through your tears and your lip quivering in a way he knows you cannot control. 

He’s never seen you look so hurt. 

“Oh, sweetheart…” he coos quietly, putting the pieces together as you shiver through another wave of crippling cramps, hand squeezing tight around your leg – your period. “You’re not alright.” 

“No,” you weep, shaking your head with watery eyes leaking salty droplets down your cheeks, and you suck in a shaking breath as your fists clench. Your brow furrows as your eyelids squeeze shut, unable to mask the pain as it ripples through you. Suguru’s face softens into an expression of pain, frowning sadly. You have a high pain tolerance for your period cramps – he knows that. You’ve had painful periods your whole life, and he and Satoru have seen you conceal the agony in your features for years. 

This is a knife to his heart. 

You can’t conceal the sweat on your brow, nor the tremble of your fingers and the painful gasp of breath you suck in when the pain returns tenfold. 

“It hurts, Sugu…” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he whispers sadly, desperately wishing there’s something he can do to stall the agony. “C’mere, honey.”

Suguru’s mouth twists into an expression of pain, and he carefully wraps an arm around your shoulders. Pulling you away from the wall, the dark-haired man maneuvers you into his chest as he sits onto the floor. You twist into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his frame as you weep softly into his bare chest, caring little for the tears that stain his skin. Suguru could care less. He’s far too worried about the expression plastered onto your features and the shiver that trembles through you. 

“How long have you been up?” he whispers as he cradles you in his lap, hand stroking over your hair and strong arm wrapping around you. 

You shake your head and Suguru’s frown deepens – if it’s even possible. 

“Haven’t slept yet.” 

Suguru’s hair falls into his eyes as he leans down to press a gentle kiss between your brows. He stays there, breathing through his noses as he continues to lay tiny kisses to your forehead. His eyes screw shut, hand stroking over your cheek as you bury yourself deeper into his embrace. 

Your skin is warm, flushed with heat and your hair sticks to your forehead in a way Suguru knows must make you feel sickly. He carefully strokes the strands away and kisses the skin beneath with a soft sigh. 

“Have you been awake all night?” he finally whispers, voice deep and quietly sad. “With cramps like this?”

You nod into his chest, wincing again and closing your eyes as you sob through another agonizing cramp. Your legs shake as you tuck them into yourself together, trying desperately to push the hot water bottle deeper into your skin. 

“Oh, baby…” he sighs, leaning back to rest against the wall and pull you back into him. He strokes another hand across your face, thumbing the space between your brows when he sees the way they’re scrunched. “Why didn’t you wake me?” 

You sigh and breathe a few times to steady yourself, slowly loosening your fists when Suguru pries your fingers open to intertwine his own around yours. He pulls your hands into his chest, tucking them by his heart so you can feel the pulse of his heart. He hopes you don’t notice how quick it’s beating. He’s still worried. Suguru cannot help the way his heart lurches when you wince. As if each throb of agony is his own, Suguru buries his face closer to your own, clutching onto your hand and not faltering when you tighten your grip to counter the waves of pain echoing through you. 

“You’ve got work in the morning,” you pant quietly, voice still watery and weak. “And you an’ Toru gotta’ take the kids.” 

“Honey…” he sighs sweetly. “You’re in pain… I want you t’wake me if you’re in pain, sweetheart. No amount of sleep could soothe me if you’re hurt and alone.” 

You manage a hum in response, face still screwed shut and Suguru frowns when you muffle another sob as a cramp seizes you once more. 

“Okay, baby… Okay,” he whispers, rocking you into him a little in an attempt to distract you. Now is not the time for a lecture, he supposes.“You’re alright, darling. You’re gonna be alright.” 

He hates the sound of your tears. 

When you shudder through another agonizing sound, Suguru’s face crumples. He’s never felt so useless. You’re in agony, and he can do nothing to fix it. 

“You took your painkillers?” 

You nod again, weeping into his chest and squeezing his hand tight. 

“Three,” you mumble tiredly, focusing on the feeling of Suguru’s warm, bare chest pressed against your skin. It’s grounding and you don’t want to move. “They aren’t working.”

“How long ago?” 

He doesn't want to pester you with questions, but he’s desperately pulling at strings, hoping one will grant him the solution to your pain. 

“Midnight,” you manage. You wince again, and Suguru peppers kisses along your hairline, gently hushing you. You curl tighter into yourself, desperately huffing as the pain continues to swell higher. It feels like it will break at any moment, but it just… doesn’t. The agony continues to rise, as if there is no limit to its torment. The cramping sensation just comes back again and again, until you’re sure that there’s something wrong. How can a period be so painful? 

“It hurts so bad, Sugu,” you cry, reaching the end of your tether. You’re desperate for the ache to stop, but it feels like there’s no  point of end in sight. “I just want it to stop…” 

Suguru feels his stomach twist, heart crying out in a pattern of your name. He pulls you tighter, a wave of his own tears swelling behind his eyes. Your cries chip at his heart, pieces of his soul falling apart in your agony. He wishes he could do something – use some kind of technique to null the pain, to soothe you, anything. 

“I know, honey,” he soothes, cradling you closer and rubbing his finger over your cheek as he murmurs into your hairline. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything more. I’m sorry I can’t take this from you.” 

You shake your head, clutching him tight as you attempt to focus on your breaths again. Hand wrapped tightly around his own, you try to use his touch as a grounding sensation. Eventually, the lulling motion of his finger over your cheek and his lips at your hairline soothe some of the tension beneath your skin. You relax into his touch despite the continuous waves of cramps still panging through your stomach. 

“Just stay,” you weep, lifting your other hand from your stomach to clutch behind Suguru’s head. You hold onto his neck, burying your fingers in his soft hair and desperately inhale his familiar scent. Suguru is familiar – he’s safe. “Please…”

You don’t have to worry about anything as long as Suguru and Satoru are around. 

“Always, sweetheart,” he whispers against you, dropping the hand at your cheek to press your hot water bottle into your stomach for you. “Always. You don’t have t’ask.” 

 His large hand keeps your bottle in place, spreading across your stomach and rubbing soothing circles into your waist with his thumb. His hand is big enough to settle on your stomach and the fabric of your hot water bottle. 

Suguru hates this. He hates seeing you in pain. He hates that all he can do is sit and press delicate kisses to your hairline as you writhe in agony. It physically pains him to be unable to help – to have to watch as one of the loves of his life suffers. 

Suguru buries his nose into your hair and kisses you once more, whispering sweet words of encouragement and humming in an attempt to distract you. He loves you so much, and he hopes you know that. 

“You’re doing so well, my darling.”  

Eventually, the wave passes, and you limply release your intense grip on his fingers and relax into his hold. It’s a slow process. Finally succumbing to some brief glimpse of exhaustion, you slip loosely into Suguru’s hold and trust him to catch you. There will be another cramp soon, but at least this one is over. You breathe out a sigh and look up at Suguru with tears on your lashes. 

Strands of his dark hair fall into his eyes, and Suguru has never looked more beautiful to you. Sitting on the bathroom floor with you three hours past midnight, no shirt and a loose pair of sweats on his hips (ones he’s not sure are his own), and Suguru has never looked so endearing. The way he looks down at you, bangs dangling in front of his dark eyes and full lips leaning down to kiss your face gently; he’s princely. 

Your heart finally slows to an acceptable pace as Suguru leans down, and you close your eyes as he lays a soft kiss to one of your eyelids. His full lips peck sweetly against one, then he leans away to kiss the other. Your eyes well with tears again, but this time you think they’re for a different reason. 

“Hi,” he whispers sweetly, lips lifting to show you that tiny smile of his that makes your heart do funny things. You’re too tired to offer much more than a sigh and a quirk of your lips, but Suguru is grateful for the expression all the same. 

“Hi, Sugu.” 

“Are you feeling any better?” 

You shake your head, sighing quietly as you shift.

“Not really.”

Suguru frowns again, and you’re tempted to lift your thumbs to pull his lips upwards again. Suguru looks so much prettier when he smiles. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispers. “Do you wanna get off the floor, at least? The bed’s much more comfortable and Toru’s gonna start worrying soon.”

You figure now is the best time to try moving, so you nod. There’s probably only a few minutes between these waves of terrible cramps, so you’ll take the moment you have to get back into bed. 

“M’kay,” you sigh tiredly. Suguru's expression softens for a reason you don’t understand, but the sorcerer fondly smiles as he thinks of the same sound Satoru had made just minutes before. 

“Alright, love. Let’s get you up, alright?”

You nod again, allowing Suguru to unwind his limbs from yours. He softly chuckles when you whine as his fingers unlace from your own, but readjusts his grip to carefully pull you to stand. He holds his other hand out, tenderly helping you stand. 

“Careful…” he whispers. “Go slow, baby.” 

Your head spins as you stand and you lift a hand to press against your temple. The rolling tide of nausea in your stomach had quelled for the time being, but the tremble of your legs is still too apparent. You step forward shakily, reaching out to grasp Suguru’s outstretched hand with a grateful smile. He returns the look with soft eyes and nods sweetly as he allows you to step out of the bathroom first. 

When he’s certain you can stand on your own, Suguru turns over his shoulder to turn off the bathroom light and shut the door. 

But he only gets so far. 

Suddenly, you inhale sharply. Freezing in place, your body curls inwards on itself as a blinding swell of cramps overtakes your form. This one is sharp and crippling, radiating down your legs until even your calves feel weak. Your body is suddenly too hot, and the air is far too cold. Shivers trickle down your spine and you feel that all too familiar bolt of stifling panic strike through your chest. It runs through the entirety of your figure, sizzling beneath your skin and striking each nerve it passes. You feel that terrible curl of your stomach and the waves of oncoming panic filter through you.

You sway on your feet. 

Something’s wrong. And it’s making you panic. 

You open your mouth, lip quivering as you attempt to croak out a plea of Suguru’s name, but nothing comes. Some tired, broken whine leaves your lips instead – a desperate cry for help, for Suguru.

When Suguru turns around, head whipping over his shoulder sharply, he expects to see you headed towards his side of the bed. Instead, he’s met with your body swaying slightly as you pant and shiver. Suguru thinks his heart stops. 

Then your body stills, and you crumple. 

“Baby!” 

Suguru throws himself forward, just managing to grab your figure as it goes limp. He sways, shifting your weight into his arms and panicking as you continue to sink into the floor. Your body is dead weight in his hands, still shivering but cold and unmoving. 

He’s going to be sick. 

His stomach curls as bile spills onto the back of his tongue, and Suguru can hear his heart pound in his ears. The lump is back in his throat, swelling until he can barely suck in a desperate breath to calm his panicked heart. Fuck, he’s never been so scared. 

“Baby, oh fuck!” he cries, voice no longer quiet and delicate. Suguru openly shouts, desperately trying to carefully maneuver you to the floor, but his mind is screaming thousands of things at him at once. All he can hear is the roaring in his eardrums. His eyes scan over your limp figure and Suguru swears his heart cracks. He can feel it; deep within his chest, a splinter finally cleaves open. 

“Oh my god, okay,” Suguru chokes out, carefully cradling you as he sinks to his knees. “You’re alright, okay? I’ve got you, honey.”

He doesn’t know what to do. His heart is pounding and his soul is openly weeping. There are tears welling in his eyes and dragging down the pristine skin of his cheeks. 

Suguru doesn't know what to do. 

“Okay,” he whispers frightfully. “Okay…”

You’re laying on your back, facing the ceiling, and the way your blank expression stares back at him makes him nauseous. 

“Sweetheart?” he calls carefully, brushing a hand over your cheek to push hair away from your face. “Baby, c’mon…” 

You don’t respond. There’s not even a twitch in your brow or a flick of your fingers. You’re unconscious. Suguru’s heart accelerates again, pounding until he thinks it might burst from his bony rib cage. He turns over his shoulder with a broken cry, calling for the one person he so urgently needs. 

“Satoru!” 

His voice is panicked, shouted with a guttural cry and he thinks it might echo through the house, but Suguru vaguely hopes he doesn't wake the kids. 

“Satoru, wake up!”

But Satoru is already awake. 

Lurching forward in the bed, the Six Eyes user is already throwing the sheets away from his legs as he scans the room. His technique is activated, and Suguru can feel the familiar curtain of Infinity wrap around his body. 

“Suguru?” Satoru calls as he stands, his body tense and prepared to fight. “What happened? Are you alright?” 

Suguru doesn’t have the chance to respond, because Satoru steps forward and his crystalline eyes find his lover’s hunched figure crouched in the doorway of the bathroom, bent over the body of their wife. You’re limp on the floor, hair sprawled out beneath you as Suguru cradles your head and glances up at his partner with desperate, fearful eyes. 

Satoru thinks he’s dying. 

It’s the only possible explanation for the lack of oxygen in his lungs and the stuttered pulse of his heart. His legs wane at his knees, nearly propelling him into the floor, but Satoru manages to keep himself upright as he throws his hands forward to brace himself on the bathroom doorway. 

“What…?” Satoru whispers breathily, voice uncharacteristically quiet – uncharacteristically weak. “What happened?” 

His Six Eyes are activated, flickering over every crevice of your form. They’re urgent, desperate to find the source of your pain. When they find nothing, Satoru swallows back a sound of desperation. 

“She passed out,” Suguru whispers plainly, panic evident in the quiver of his voice. “She started her period early, Toru. She’s in so much pain…”

Satoru feels his knees wane again. His heart can’t take much more of this. She’s in pain? His soul cries. 

“She’s been laying on the bathroom floor crying,” his lover mumbles, stroking a hand over your cheekbone as a tear drips into his mouth. “I shouldn’t have asked her t’get up – she was weak and I didn’t think –”

“Suguru.” 

The dark-haired sorcerer stops. Lifting his head to stare up at Satoru, Suguru frowns. 

“This isn’t your fault, Suguru,” Satoru whispers, trying desperately to keep himself calm. His heart is in his throat and his pulse roars, but he cannot allow himself to weaken. Suguru needs him – you need him. 

“She’s not waking up…”

Satoru sucks in a breath, his hands curling into the doorframe and gripping the wood until he thinks it will splinter beneath his grip. And it might. Satoru has to be mindful of the strength he uses. 

‘She’s not waking up.’ The phrase echoes through his head until it’s the only thing he can process. You’re not waking up. His wife isn’t waking up. 

“Is she…” Satoru doesn't even know if he can say what he wants to know – what he needs to know. The words make him ill. “Is she breathing?” 

Suguru chokes out a desperate sound. He hadn’t even considered…

And he doesn't want to. 

His hand seizes one of yours, wrapping tightly around your fingers as he pulls it into his chest as he did before. He pleads for you to wake up and feel his heart pulse against your fingers again, just as you had minutes ago. He delicately thumbs over your pulse point, hand sliding down your neck where he cradles your cheek. 

Suguru openly weeps when the thumping beat of your heart races beneath his fingers in greeting. 

“Yeah…” he sobs out weakly, pushing his forehead into your chest. “Yeah, she’s breathing.” 

Satoru sags in relief.

“Okay,” he covers his mouth with one of his palms, trying to suppress the broken sound that nearly leaves him. “Okay, that’s good.” 

Before either man can ascertain what to do, there's rustling at the doorway. It’s a quiet sound, just a soft coo and the creak of the door as it slides open. Satoru’s head whips around, his fingers twitching to activate his technique when he falters. 

Because seven year old Fushiguro Megumi stands in the doorway: his son. 

Megumi’s clutching a plush dog, one that looks remarkably familiar to his Divine Dogs. The soft, dark fur is cradled in his hands as he hugs the stuffed animal to his chest. The plush nearly conceals him entirely, and his dark, spiky hair pokes out over the red mark on the dog’s forehead. It’s a matching toy – the dark one was a gift from Suguru while the white counterpart came from Satoru. They were presents (custom-made plushies) ordered by his fathers when Megumi successfully summoned his Divine Dogs for the first time. 

Satoru still whines when Megumi prefers the dark stuffed animal to the white one. But Satoru doesn't know that Megumi snuggles the alabaster-coated dog when he’s gone on long missions. The boy barely goes anywhere without it until his father comes home. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Megumi tiredly mumbles, one of his hands lifting to rub at his eyes as he yawns. His too big shirt, one of Satoru’s shirts from their youth, hangs over his frame and covers his knees. You were the one to tuck your son into bed last night, and Satoru doesn’t have the moment to fondly think of his boy asking to wear one of his dad’s shirts to bed. 

Satoru sucks in a quiet breath, quickly glancing over his shoulder at Suguru. His husband is still on the bathroom floor, bent over your unconscious figure, but he looks up at Satoru with a silent nod. He’s alright. You’re alright. 

Satoru sighs and turns back to Megumi, suddenly glad the ensuite bathroom is hidden from the doorway to their bedroom. He doesn't want Megumi to see his mother unconscious, or his fathers’ panic. He doesn’t want Megumi to see him scared. Satoru is his father – he needs to show his son that everything is going to be alright. 

Swallowing down his tempered fear, Satoru tries to conceal the quiver of his voice when he responds to his son. 

“It’s –” Satoru stops. He can’t say ‘it’s nothing.’ Because it’s not nothing; and he won’t lie to his son. “It’s alright, Megumi.”

That’s what he decides to say instead. Satoru breathes through his nose deeply as he tries not to turn back over his shoulder to check on you again. 

“Mama’s just having some cramps, she’ll be okay.” 

Megumi nods. He knows what Satoru means, because Geto Suguru would be damned before he raised a son that thinks menstruation was ‘gross.’ Megumi doesn’t know everything – he’s still a kid, afterall. He does know, however, that his mother is plagued with terrible pain once a month, and that it’s completely natural to talk about it. 

Megumi toddles on his feet, the fatigue of the early morning hour making him uncharacteristically soft. He’s usually quite stoic for a kid, exhibiting the same, blank sort of look impassively. But no matter how quiet, you and the boys are well-adept at deciphering your kid’s feelings by now. 

With sleep tugging at his eyes, Megumi paws at his tired lids and yawns sweetly. Shifting his balance again, the boy looks up at Satoru with a tiny, sweet frown.

“Mama’s hurting?” he pouts, bottom lip sticking out slightly. His fists tighten around his stuffed dog, eyes shifting around Satoru to try to get a glimpse of you. Fortunately, Suguru has already readjusted you in his arms and you’re both hidden in the ensuite bathroom. 

“Yeah…” Satoru coughs to conceal the tremor of his voice. “Yeah, Mama’s hurting a little. But she’s strong, remember? She’ll be alright, her cramps will go away soon.” 

He doesn’t know if his words are an attempt to convince Megumi or himself. 

 From behind Satoru, Suguru strokes another thumb over your cheekbone. He inhales a shaking breath as he feels the frightful warmth of your skin. 

“C’mon…” he whispers in the tiny space that separates you. “Wake up, sweetheart. Let me see those pretty eyes again.” 

Swallowing thickly, Suguru’s throat bobs as a tear begins to leak down his cheek. 

“Please.” 

He’s lost. Suguru doesn’t know what to do other than count the seconds since you’ve gone still in his arms. Each one feels longer than the last, but Suguru continues to count them. He doesn’t know why he does it. Perhaps some part of him thinks there is a certain point at which he’ll need to call for help. Is there a distinct period of time that has to pass before you need medical attention? 

Suguru curses himself for not paying enough attention to Shoko’s basic first-aid lessons. 

Satoru’s head flicks over his shoulder, crystalline-blue eyes finding your face as his heart clenches again. He’s conflicted. More than anything, he wants to drop to his knees at your side, just as Suguru has. He wants to clutch your remaining hand and feel the pulse of your heart as a reminder that you’re still there – still breathing. His heart hurts; torn between lingering at your side and comforting his son.

But then Satoru remembers the way you look at your kids. He recalls the fond crease of your eyes when you beam down at them, smiles shining and hands drawing them into you for an embrace. You love your kids more than anything, even though you’ve only had them for a few years now. Even though they’re not your biological kids, even though they’re not babies, and despite not even wanting children before them; they’re your pride and joy. 

Satoru finds the strength within him to smile fondly. He knows you would be pushing him in Megumi’s direction if you had any semblance of consciousness right now. 

Satoru tries not to frown at the reminder of your state. 

Turning on his feet, Satoru steps away from the door, even as his heart cries out for him to return to your side. The remainder of his heart calls for his son – his boy, who is beginning to worry about his mother. It’s evident in the way Megumi shifts on his feet, fiddling with the soft fur of his stuffed pup. 

When Satoru drops to his knees in front of Megumi, he spreads his arms wide in an invitation. He doesn’t expect Megumi to accept; he rarely does. Satoru is affectionate, it’s a sentiment clear as day, and Megumi usually prefers to avoid physical touch. He’s shy that way. 

So Satoru is fondly surprised when Megumi toddles tiredly on his feet as he leans into his father’s embrace. Wrapping his arms tight around his son, Satoru stands from the floor with his heart beginning to return to a normal pace. Having Megumi in his arms is a comfort that soothes some of his rampaging nerves. The knowledge that the rest of his family is safe is a notion that eases some of the tension in his shoulders. Satoru knows he won’t find sleep for the rest of the night if he doesn’t peek into the girl’s room later to ensure they’re sleeping peacefully. 

“It’s alright, Gumi,” Satoru whispers softly, stroking a hand through the spiky strands of the boy’s hair. Megumi rests his head on Satoru’s shoulder with a sigh. “Why did you wake up so early, bud?” 

Megumi wraps an arm around Satoru’s neck, the other still cradling his pup between them. He closes his eyes and sighs sleepily once more as he mumbles in response. 

“Heard Dad yell,” he tiredly whispers. He fiddles with a strand of Satoru’s white hair before he sheepishly continues. “I was scared…”

Satoru tries his hardest not to tease the boy. He knows it’s in his nature to make light of situations with humor, but Satoru also understands that this, perhaps, is not the time. Despite wanting to make Megumi feel better by laughing off the problem, Satoru also remembers the horrible strike of panic that had bolted through him when he heard Suguru yell. 

Waking up to Suguru crying out for you as you collapsed was horrifying, and Satoru can only imagine how frightening it was for Megumi. 

“Oh Gumi, I’m sorry,” Satoru whispers, rocking on his feet in an attempt to comfort the boy. Even though Megumi isn’t a baby, Satoru cannot help the instinctive sway of his feet as he runs a hand through his hair. “Dad didn’t mean to shout, pup. He was just worried about Mom.” 

Megumi nods softly, snuggling closer to Satoru’s chest in a way that makes the father’s heart ache. 

“Can I… Can I help?” Megumi quietly questions, words spoken only for his father to hear. “Mom always makes me feel better when I’m sick.” 

Megumi mumbles something else; something that sounds like ‘don’t wan’ mom t’feel bad,’ but it’s muffled into Satoru’s neck and he barely catches it. 

Satoru smiles despite the panic still roaring in his chest. The way Megumi calls you ‘mom’ and Suguru ‘dad’ has always made him a little emotional. It took more than a year for Megumi to truly grow comfortable in your makeshift family, but eventually the boy’s cautious exterior melted away into what he really was: a kid looking for a home – a family. He was abandoned for God’s sake, Satoru knows the kid was guarded when he found him. And he had every right to be. 

But in just a few short years, Megumi has begun to call Tsumiki and the twins his sisters and on rare occasions, he’ll call Satoru his father. However, he knows those nights will always end in Satoru smothering him with affections and playful teases so he refrains from doing it often. Satoru does not take offense; he knows Megumi is shy. 

“Yeah, she takes good care of us, huh?” Satoru murmurs fondly as he rubs a hand over his son’s back. 

Before Satoru can reassure Megumi further, he’s interrupted when Suguru lets out a relieved sound over his shoulder. It’s a strange sort of combination of a sob and a gasp, but Satoru hears it all the same. 

“Sweetheart…?” Satoru hears Suguru call, voice brighter but still wavering through the short syllables. 

There’s a muffled sound of shuffling, then a groan and a cough before Suguru is concealing his tears in your neck. 

Satoru exhales with relief, shoulders sagging as his eyes slide shut. He rubs a hand over Megumi’s back in the hopes the boy doesn’t see the fear slowly seeping from his father. 

Inside the bathroom, Suguru clutches your hand tight to his chest, squeezing it thankfully and burying his face in your neck as he bends over you. Blinking slowly, you huff a choked breath and shakily reach upwards to lay your palm over Suguru’s head. Tangling your fingers in the mess of loose, dark hair you sigh deeply through your mouth. It’s a relief to feel Suguru bent over you; his weight presses into your chest and grounds you as you come back to consciousness. Though you’re still dizzy and a bit panicked, the feeling is beginning to leech from your limbs like poison from a wound. 

Waking up was startling, and there’s a lingering sense of fear buzzing beneath your skin. It frightens you, and you clutch tightly onto Suguru with a tremble. The pain still twists in your stomach, but it’s nothing compared to how you felt before you passed out. 

“Suguru…” 

His name comes out in a sort of pleading cry, not unlike a frightened child, but you cannot help the way you long for his comfort. Tears leak from your eyes, another wave of salt that you find you cannot control. 

Suguru responds to your call with a sweet coo, pressing a wet kiss to the skin of your throat and rumbling deep within his chest to reassure you that he’s still there. Brushing your hair from your eyes, Suguru leans away to peck your temple and stare down at you with relief painted across his features. 

“You’re alright, honey. ‘S okay,” he whispers warmly, soothing the tension in your brow and brushing your tears away. When your eyes crack open, staring up at him with waning fear and confusion, Suguru huffs a laugh and smiles widely. “Hey, pretty girl.” 

 Your lips quiver upwards into a sort of sad smile, but Suguru is happy to see it despite the exhaustion in your features. Squeezing his hand, you look up at the dark-haired sorcerer as his hair falls into his eyes. 

“Wha’ happened?” 

Suguru looks over his shoulder, mouthing something you can’t hear, but you know he must be talking to Satoru. The muffled sound of his voice barely reaches your ears as you wade through the stream of your consciousness. You fight to keep Suguru in focus, and fortunately manage to cling to the waking world as sounds finally return to your senses. Something that sounds like “she’s alright, Toru,” rings through the bathroom, and then there’s the sound of Satoru replying but you can’t hear it. Your heart calls out for your other husband, and you squeeze Suguru’s hand in question. 

“You passed out, darling,” Suguru looks back down at you with a sad smile. He hushes you when you wiggle, trying to sit upright. “Careful, love, careful. You scared the shit out of me, you know?” 

Shooting him a sorry glance, you allow Suguru to gently lift you to a seated position every so slowly. He leans you against him, his thick thighs on either side of your hips as he lets you rest against his chest. You nod slowly as he delicately pulls your hair from your face and wraps his arms around you. 

“Sorry.”

Suguru shakes his head with a hum. 

“Don’t apologize, baby,” he whispers. “I’m just glad you’re awake. Are you feeling alright? How’s the pain?”

You slouch into his chest, wrapping your arms around your waist and nodding as your eyes slide shut. 

“‘S not so bad. Where’s Toru?”

Suguru’s heart clenches sweetly, feeling warmed by your desire for Satoru. He adores the two of you with his entire being, and watching both of you always strikes a fond chord within his chest.

“He’s taking care of Gumi,” Suguru murmurs, looking down at you with a lovesick expression you cannot see. When you sit up straighter, Suguru accommodates your position with a scooch of his hips and his arm falling into your lap. 

“Gumi’s awake?”

“Yeah,” your husband responds quietly. “I think he heard me shout when you fell. He came in a few minutes ago, and Satoru’s comforting him.”

Suguru sounds a little guilty when he mentions his outburst. He’s not embarrassed by any means; it was a cry shouted in overwhelming fear, so he feels no bashfulness for the tone of his voice. He does, however, feel guilty that he managed to wake his son in the process. 

“He’s worried about you, I think.”

We all are, he almost finishes. 

You sag into Suguru’s chest, weight sinking into the warmth of his bare skin as you slide your hand over the arm that is wrapped around you. Just as you begin to speak, Satoru peeks his head through the doorway. His body is twisted, obscuring Megumi’s view inside the bathroom. When he finds your gaze, Satoru visibly softens. 

“Hey, sweet girl,” Satoru rumbles, a fond smile spreading across his features. “You feeling alright?”

You nod tiredly, resting your head against Suguru’s clavicle.

“That’s good. We were really worried, honey.” 

Your sigh through your nose, trying to give him an apologetic look, but the fatigue is beginning to pull your eyelids downwards. Satoru’s gaze softens even further, if at all possible, and he continues. 

“Can Megumi come in? He’s worried about you,” Satoru reiterates his partner’s words, clearly holding the boy against his chest as he speaks. 

You’re about to nod, more than happy to cuddle with your son, when Suguru interrupts. Stroking a hand over your hip, the long-haired sorcerer hums. 

“Let us come out, love,” he responds, already beginning to shift you in his lap. “We can talk about this in bed. I think everyone’s a little tired right now.” 

You nod in agreement, feeling the ache of your muscles cry out for rest. Your arm trembles weakly when you lift your hand, and you frown at the lack of strength in your limbs. Suguru hushes you sweetly as he shifts you to sit upright as he stands. 

“You’re exhausted, baby. It’s normal.” 

Satoru murmurs his agreement on the other side of the doorway, already beginning to step away to set Megumi in the middle of your massive bed. He ensures the boy is comfortable as he stands upright, stretching his shoulders and turning to watch as Suguru hoists you up onto his hips slowly. Satoru figured he wasn’t going to let you walk after what happened the first time you tried. 

Suguru’s hand is carefully cradling your head and the other wraps beneath your hips, keeping you stable and pressed against his big frame. The sorcerer is incredibly strong from the years of exorcizing curses and teaching students, so carrying you to the bed, despite your muffled protests, is an easy venture. 

Setting you on the bed gently, you shift quickly to face Megumi as you lay back against the sheets. You nestle quickly into Suguru’s previous place in bed, already reaching out for your son as he nuzzles forward to latch onto your front. 

“Hey, hun,” you whisper kindly, brushing dark strands from Megumi’s eyes. “What’s going on, Gumi?”

The boy looks up at you, still clutching his Divine Dog plush, and frowns. Your head tilts in confusion, and you watch as Megumi makes himself comfortable in your arms, cuddling close to your stomach and closing his eyes. You don’t protest, heart warming sweetly as the boy snuggles close. He doesn’t usually cuddle like this, so you’ll take every opportunity to hug him as you can. 

“Dad said you’re feeling bad,” he mumbles into the stuffed dog now pressed between you. “‘M gonna make you feel better. Like you do when I’m sick.” 

You smile. Heart full, your eyes slide shut as you lean forward to press a gentle kiss to the tired boy’s forehead. He mumbles something else, but he’s fading fast. Soon he’s lost to slumber, and he snoozes peacefully in your embrace. 

“Thank you, Megumi,” you whisper as you press another soft kiss to your son’s forehead. Looking up at Satoru with tears brimming in your eyes, you find the white-haired sorcerer is already looking at you. There’s fondness spilling from his smile and a sweet gentleness in his expression, and he looks utterly lovesick. 

“Hey,” Satoru murmurs. 

“Hi.” 

The Six Eyes user steps away for a moment, nodding at Suguru who whispers that he’s going to step out to get you water and your medicine. Satoru knows he’s also going to check in on the girls, so he gives Suguru a smile and a peck on the cheek as he slides around the bed to your back. 

When Satoru climbs into the silken sheets, he immediately presses his bare chest into your back and wraps his strong arms around you and his son. Pressing his soft lips to the nape of your neck, he pulls you and Megumi into his chest as he relaxes. You feel the familiar tingle of Infinity wrap around you and smile tiredly. Satoru is always protecting you and your family. The technique easily wraps around you and Megumi in addition to Satoru, and you know the sorcerer will easily adapt it to cover Suguru soon too. 

That’s just Satoru; he’s always looking out for his family. 

When you sigh deeply and snuggle back into your husband, Satoru presses another gentle kiss to your neck and you feel him shake. 

“Toru?”

The man shivers again, and when you shift, turning slightly to see his face, your face crumples as you find tears leaking from Satoru’s eyes. He looks utterly relieved, but his mouth still twitches in a sad sort of way and his sky-blue eyes shimmer with salty tears. For all his silly teasing and childlike humor, Satoru rarely looks so… scared. He’s always so strong – the strongest. But there are truly rare circumstances in which Gojo Satoru is confronted with true fear. 

Circumstances in which he remembers how vulnerable his family can be. 

“Oh, Satoru…”

Satoru buries his face in your neck again, concealing his tears as he calms down. 

“I was so worried, baby. Oh my God,” he mutters into your skin. “I woke up and you were on the floor and Sugu was crying…” 

You pull his hands tighter around you, careful not to wake Megumi. Stroking gentle circles into the muscle of his forearms, you coo a soft sound to soothe him. 

“‘M alright now. Just a little bit of pain, it’s mostly gone.”

Satoru nods, clinging to your back as he finally grounds himself through the gentle touch of your fingers on his skin. He pulls you closer, seeming as though he’s trying to fuse his body to yours with how tight he binds himself to you. It’s the soft contact of your skin against his that soothes the beat of his heart and loosens the tension of his muscles. The tingly feeling that lingers on his skin where you press into him leaves trails of prickled nerves in their wake, as if physical contact between your bare skin incites a biological reaction beneath his flesh. 

With you in his arms, tightly wrapped in his embrace where he can feel the pulse of your heart against his chest, Satoru finds serenity. 

You’re here. And you’re safe. 

Satoru chews on his lip as he sighs. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, tucking his chin into your neck and dropping a hand to rub his palm over the side of your stomach. It’s uncanny, you think, that he already knows exactly where it hurts without you mentioning it. Satoru pays far more attention than people give him credit for. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything more to take it away.” 

You shake your head, fatigued eyes closing as you focus on the feeling of Satoru’s big hands and the gentle circles he massages into you. 

Satoru continues in a voice uncharacteristically weak for the Strongest. 

“You were… alone and in pain,” he mumbles, guilt seeping into his tone as he frowns. “And I didn’t even know – we didn’t.” 

Satoru carefully pulls your hair away from your neck to press a kiss to your bare shoulder and then one more against the skin of your throat. He inhales a wave of your familiar scent and flutters his eyes closed as he sinks into your back. 

“I don’t want you to suffer alone, my love.” 

You stroke a contemplative finger over his arm, humming quietly as you shift Megumi in your arms. 

“Okay, Toru,” you whisper as you find the mirth in your exhausted figure to tease him. “You want me to wake you up at the ass crack of dawn when I’ve got cramps?” 

Satoru muffles a small chuckle into your neck and you enjoy the feeling of his chest shaking with the feeling. 

“Yeah, baby. Even then. Especially then.” 

You huff a breath of laughter through your nose, only stopping when you swiftly inhale as another cramp seizes your abdomen. It’s strong, but nothing like the ones you were having earlier. You can manage these. Satoru leans up on his elbow when you stiffen, lifting his other hand to check the hot water bottle Suguru had returned to your stomach. 

When Satoru pulls the bottle away, his brow furrows and he hisses when he finds faint hints of inflamed skin where you’ve pressed it too tight to your belly. It’s too hot and too close, he realizes. It’s burning you. 

Satoru nearly sits upright quickly, his frame leaning over yours as he gasps faintly. 

“Honey…” He’s on the verge of scolding you, but he sees the way you wince through another cramp and decides against it. Satoru looks back down at the hot water bottle and the way you clutch it tightly to combat the waves of throbbing in your belly. 

“This is burning you,” he states it obviously. 

“Hmm,” you respond in agreement. “Feels nice.” 

Satory looks down at you with pain in his features, face twisted into a frown and his crystalline eyes a shade duller. 

“Baby, it’s hurting you – How can…?” 

Satoru trails off. He thinks about how terribly you must have been aching to continue pressing something that was burning you into your skin. How agonizing were your cramps that the pain of the burn was comforting? 

Satoru lays back down, a frown on his lips as he wraps his arm back around you and lays his palm over the hot water bottle. If you’re going to keep it pressed into your skin, then he can make sure it doesn’t get too warm by leaving his hand against it.

“My god, baby… I’m so sorry,” he whispers. He can’t even comprehend how agonizing this must be for you. Satoru kisses your nape again. He apologizes again, and you almost miss the silly Satoru who would typically be teasing you right now. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything.” 

You yawn, finally feeling exhaustion begin to drag you beneath the slow, rocking waves of slumber. Pushing yourself deeper into your husband’s embrace and squeezing your son tight once more, you sigh out a few more words before you finally sink into sleep’s warm hands. 

“You are doing something,” you murmur, pulling his hand up to your mouth to kiss it tiredly. “You’re here, Satoru. I don’t think I can do this alone anymore.” 

When Suguru climbs back into bed on Megumi’s other side, he kisses the fond smile on Satoru’s lips and teases his partner about the stars in his eyes. The crystalline-eyed sorcerer refutes Suguru’s quip by reaching out to gently slap his bicep, but it’s all in mirthful adoration. Suguru leans over to press a tender kiss to your sleeping brow and then one to his son’s, before he settles behind Megumi and sighs contentedly. 

“She’s sleeping?” Suguru whispers, voice barely carried through the quiet night. He stares down at your face, the peaceful expression on your lips far more comforting than the limp, placid look of unconsciousness he remembers. Satoru watches his husband watch you, adoration swelling in his heart like an ebbing tide. Unbound by all but the moon, Satoru swears his heart only grows fonder each time he truly takes in his partners. 

“She’s sleeping,” he confirms sleepily, still staring up at Suguru with warmth in his chest. 

“Good.” 

Suguru’s response is sighed out thankfully, his shoulders deflating with the tension easing away from his muscle. He wraps his arms around Megumi and pulls himself closer to the boy, smiling when he easily cuddles into his father. Not often does Suguru have the opportunity to snuggle his son, so he eagerly grins as Megumi’s sleeping form curls near. 

“She’s early,” Satoru mentions plainly from across Suguru. “She wasn’t supposed to start until next week.”

The dark-haired sorcerer nods, recalling the date he marked in his phone. He and Satoru both kept track; it was easier that way. At this point, though, Suguru is certain he doesn't need his calendar to know these things. Your anniversary is ingrained in his memory, as is every one of your important dates. The three of you have spent more than a decade together, this kind of instinct was certain to develop at some point or another. 

“Yeah,” Suguru sighs. He twists slowly to glance tiredly at the clock on his bedside. “She took some painkillers at midnight, can you write that down? If she wakes again she can take some more.” 

Satoru nods, a hand already reaching for his phone on the nightstand behind him. It was second-nature to jot down the time you took medication. You always tried to keep track yourself, but sometimes noting the time slipped your mind, and you were left trying to recall the last time you took them. Satoru easily adds the time to his notes, and marks the date in his calendar to adjust your future schedule later. He checks that there’s still a bottle of your preferred painkiller in his nightstand drawer and a granola bar to eat when you take them. 

When he sets the phone down, he looks back over at Suguru, who sleepily stares down at your sleeping face. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but Satoru can see where Suguru has slid his around yours, pressing two of his fingers into the pulse point of your wrist. 

He’s counting your heartbeats – making sure you’re still breathing. Because Suguru remembers the way you crumpled all too clearly. 

Sighing a shaking breath as he familiarizes himself with the gentle thump of your lifeline, Satoru slides a hand around you and his son, and he lays it across his lover with a sad smile. Suguru looks up with tired eyes, the dark bags beneath his lashes barely visible in the night hour. They match the ones beneath your eyes and probably Satoru’s too. 

“Hey,” Satoru mumbles. “She’s alright, Sugu.” 

Suguru nods, finally sinking into the mattress and pressing a final kiss to Megumi’s hair as he makes himself comfortable. Satoru does the same, delicately squeezing the hand still wrapped around yours and cradled sweetly at your chest. 

“We’re alright,” Suguru confirms, eyes finally sinking closed as he falls back asleep with part of his family in his embrace. “We’re alright.” 

In the morning, you awake to two Divine Dogs guarding the foot of your bed. The white one sits with its side pressed against the dark one, and both face the bedroom door. You awake alone in bed, but you can hear distant voices quietly chatting in the hall. The little pups’ ears are perked upwards, diligently listening to the conversation outside. 

When you sit up, the white one flips his head over his shoulder, happily sticking his tongue out in a joyful expression. He pants and his tail thumps against the floor as you beckon him closer. 

“Good morning, pup,” you laugh as it wiggles excitedly when you scratch behind his ears. The dark-coated one quickly follows soon after, eagerly joining his brother for scratches. “What are you two doin’ here?” 

The pups tilt their heads with that silly, tongue-out expression, as if communicating their eagerness. You stifle your laughter and carefully stand from the sheets, making your way into the kitchen with the dogs on your heels. 

When you enter the living space, you find Suguru on the couch with the twins on either side of his lap. They’re eagerly leaning over one of Suguru’s books, excitedly murmuring amongst themselves as their father reads aloud. It’s one of his novels, and you chuckle knowing that the girls were probably the ones to pick it out for him to read. 

Tsumiki is at the table, leaning over some kind of puzzle, and her brother is at her side. She looks up as you come in, offering you a gentle smile and a nod before she goes back to her puzzle. Megumi sits on his knees in the chair, spiky hair unkempt as always and a look of concentration on his face. 

Before you can speak, Satoru is pressed against your back, greeting you with a gentle hum.

“G’morning, sweetheart,” he coos, pecking your cheek and sliding a croissant into your hands and holding a glass of water in his other. “Eat up. You can take some medicine when you’re done.” 

He always makes sure you eat before you take your medicine. Your heart thumps happily beneath your ribs, and you smile in return, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and thanking him. 

“Thanks, love.” 

Satoru hums and slides his free hand over your waist to squeeze your hip. He opens his mouth to say something, but the twins interrupt him. They gasp, standing from Suguru’s lap and eagerly racing over to greet you. 

Suguru chuckles, but still gently chides them as they race into the kitchen. 

“Careful!” 

Nanako and Mimiko crash into your hips with eager sounds, each grabbing you around the waist and crying out.

“Mama!” They cry worriedly, scrambling to hug you as they bury their faces in your legs. They start pushing you towards the couch with little hands, earnestly murmuring things you cannot make out. You look up at Satoru with a confused furrow of your brow, and your husband only chuckles and holds his hands up in a gesture of ‘i’ve got nothing to do with this.’ 

When you reach the couch, the girls scramble to make you sit beside Suguru, who is all too eager to wrap an arm around your shoulders to accommodate your arrival. 

“Good morning,” he hums as he pecks your temple. 

Nanako is already sliding a blanket into your lap as Mimiko climbs onto the couch, depositing herself at your side and snuggling into you. 

“Good morning,” you respond, watching with a fond smile as the girls make themselves comfortable in your lap. “What’s all this?” 

Suguru chuckles, reaching out to gently ruffle Nanako’s hair as she smiles. The girl looks up at her father with a beaming grin and snuggles closer to you when you wrap an arm around her to keep her stable. Your husband leans closer with a smile, murmuring quietly for only you to hear. 

“Megumi told them you were sick last night,” he fondly whispers. “I think it worried them.” 

Your head tilts in an expression of tenderness, and you give Suguru a knowing look before you lean down to kiss both your girls on the forehead. 

“Good morning, girls,” you rumble happily. “I’m alright, sweethearts. Megumi and your dads took very good care of me.”

Mimiko wiggles closer, snuggling into you and her sister with big, worried eyes. 

“Really?” her tiny voice murmurs. “Megumi-nii said you were hurting.” 

You can almost hear the pout in her voice without looking down at her. Giggling happily, you stroke a hand over her head and squeeze her close. 

“He even brought out his puppies!” Nanako quickly adds, squirming as he attempts to find the two Divine Dogs. “He said we couldn’t come in to see you because you needed to rest.” 

The two Shikigami have already returned to their owner, sitting on either side of Megumi’s chair with wagging tails and their tongues still sticking out. The boy is absentmindedly petting one while he focuses on the puzzle, shyly avoiding your gaze as if embarrassed. 

Your heart clenches sweetly again, and you turn to look at Satoru with a knowing smile. The sorcerer returns the look as he steps into the kitchen for your painkillers, ruffling Megumi’s hair as he goes. The boy lets out a muffled sound of discontent, but he doesn’t fix his messy strands. 

“Did he? That’s very sweet of him.” 

You and Suguru do not mention the faint pinkness of Megumi’s round cheeks. 

When you lean into Suguru’s side, the croissant in your hand warm like your lover’s body heat, you sigh happily. The cramps are a faint memory now, even though you know they’ll return soon. For now, you can savor the warmth of your family. 

“You’re taking the day off then, I suppose,” you look up at Suguru with an arched brow. Suguru smiles, leaning his head into yours to rest there. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, cuddling close to you and the twins. “We all are.” 

You suppose you can deal with the consequences of their unscheduled departure from work and school later… You’re far too warm and content now. When Satoru returns, sliding a glass of water into your empty hand and two painkillers into your other, he patiently waits as you take the pills. Then he sets the glass on the side table beside the mug of raspberry leaf tea he brewed for your cramps,  and then he eagerly dives into the limited space left on the couch. 

Scrambling into the twins’ space, Nanako and Mimiko giggle happily as Satoru presses kisses over their faces and squirms onto the couch. He plops Mimiko into his lap so he can sit at your side, laughing when the girls squeal happily. As you settle, you see Megumi look up from the table, shyly glancing away from his sister. Tsumiki gives him a knowing look as she climbs from her chair and eagerly walks over to Suguru. 

Suguru is too happy to allow her the tiny portion of space on his other side, and Tsumiki slides onto the couch, her side pressed tight to Suguru’s. She offers you a good morning and laughs when the twins attempt to squirm away from Satoru’s tickling fingers. 

Eventually Megumi stands from his place at the table, looking over at the couch as he debates something internally. A moment later, he stands in front of Suguru, shyly shifting on his feet as he looks at the only empty space on the couch. 

Megumi doesn’t need to say anything, because Suguru is already lifting the boy into his lap with a smile. Saving his son the embarrassment of shyly asking for the affection he usually avoids, Suguru chuckles as he deposits the last member of his family into his lap. 

“We could all use a day off,” he murmurs into your temple as he kisses you sweetly. 

You sigh happily, soaking in the warmth of the morning sun and the laughter of your family. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” 

The moment is only interrupted when Megumi’s Divine Dogs, only pups at this age, launch themselves onto the couch, eager to join the snuggles. The seven of you dissolve into laughter as you try to maneuver the excited puppies, and you can’t ask for anything else. 

“Megumi!” You laugh, trying to brush white dog hair from your face. “Control your summons!” 

The boy only laughs happily as the dark-coated puppy wiggles into his lap. 

No, he doesn’t think he will. 

bonus:

gojo, looking down at reader and geto: you're so cute and pretty

reader, sleepily: I could beat the shit out of you

geto, nodding along: she could

gojo, lovingly: I know

a/n: no I am not back to writing just yet :')) I wrote this in a pain induced haze while having some terrible cramps so if you have terrible periods like me, this one is for you! this is purely based on my experience with cramps, and everyone is different, but I just wanted to write something for me :") I've never passed out but I've felt like it and I know it's super scary so I hope this can provide some comfort for you if you need it <3

ALSO this was written as comfort for jjk 236 :'))) bc everyone in this fic deserved better and I refuse to acknowledge canon

⁀➷ OATH | BAKUGO & MIDORIYA

texts with your childhood best friends, bakugou and midoriya

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Dealt to a Devil (Dante x Reader)

Needed to write a little something something for this absolute babygirl...In this your Dante's arms dealer. Pretty sure he doesn't have Ebony and Ivory(his staple guns) in the show yet so this is grounds for some fun with an arms dealer he just can't seem to pay on time! Hope ya enjoy~ (This came out to be 8K and I'm already planning a smut scene soo...yay...)

You groan as you hoist the duffle bag you’re struggling with onto your shoulder more, the hefty weight making the strap of the bag dig into you roughly. You had to park further down the street than you would’ve liked and had to hoof it the rest of the way to Dante’s current residence. 

It’s not the nicest part of town but you’re unshaken as you take confident strides down the street. You’ve done business in far worse situations and way shaddier locations than this. And even if you hadn’t you’d fake it… Nobody wants to buy a gun from someone whose shoulders shake and knees weaken at the first sign of shit going down after all. 

 Besides, Dante is a repeat client by this point. Guy goes through guns and ammo like you’d never seen before and he’s usually good for it. Usually…You’ve brought weapons to him for a restock before and he’s been short, or completely broke, and you’ve let it slide…But it’s gotten more frequent the last few months. Him feigning innocence, chirping that you’re overcharging him while giving you a knowing smirk or just plain shrugging his shoulders and waving his hand at you while he examines the pistol you’ve brought him. 

Any attempt at a complaint has fallen on deaf ears, he sloppily scribbles down an IOU on a greasy napkin and shoves it into your hand or he says that you know damn well he’s good for it and that he’ll pay you for it after the fact. 

The last time you dropped off a request for him was the most infuriating though…You’d brought over a fresh supply of his preferred bullets and handgun model only for him to be A.) Flat broke and B.) Completely shirtless when he opened the door. 

He must’ve done that on purpose or saw the opportunity when he got a peek at the bright red flash across your cheeks and how quickly your eyes darted away from him.He got two fucking guns and a months worth of ammo completely free!! His reasoning?! 

“I’d say the sight I gave you makes this a fair trade.” 

You’re not gonna lie to yourself and say you didn’t enjoy what you saw…But still! You’re trying to run a business here! Not a completely legal business but a business none the less! He’s gotta get better about paying you for his guns-your guns! His equipment-your equipment! Fuck…The sight of his shirtless body was still burned into your brain…Plus that little smirk and wink didn’t help either…

Damn him…

You let out a grumbled sigh as you readjust the bag hanging off your arm and use your free hand to grab the handle on the actual bag, trying to alleviate some pressure on your shoulder. With your hands full, you settle on kicking the bottom of Dante’s door instead of knocking, hoping your annoyance might be conveyed in your kicks. Your brows furrow as you hear shuffling from beyond the door but are kept waiting. Foot tapping angrily as the seconds turn to minutes as the noises only grow, the sounds of furniture moving and loud thuds become more rapid and rhythmic. 

“Oh this mother fucker…” Your eye twitches and you swear you can feel a vein in your forehead throb as you glare at the door. Is he really getting it on with someone right now?! You got a rapid barrage of texts and phone calls from him telling you that he needed a restock before the next morning and now he’s keeping you waiting so he can get his dick wet?! Fuck no! Not when he still owes you money from your last few drop offs and had the audacity to fucking wreck your own night! Not that you had plans but it’s the principle ya know?

That’s it! If he’s gonna be this inconsiderate then so are you!

You drop the heavy duffle with a loud thud onto the ground and roll your shoulder a little, rubbing the now sore spot with your free hand before you turn your attention back to the door. You take a slight step back and plant your foot before you lift your right leg towards your chest and slam the heel of your boot firmly into the door, close to the handle but not right on it. The wood cracks and splinters the doorframe, the deadbolt still sticking out from the door and the now broken chain lock on the inside clatters onto the floor. 

You smile proudly to yourself, first time that’s worked on the first try, but you have to hide your grimace as you put your foot back on the ground. Already you can feel a sharp twinge of pain shoot from your heel as you lean back on it so you know it’s going to be an even worse injury in the morning but you bury that for now. With your eyes closed, you pick up the duffle bag and push your way inside the domicile.

You’ve got no intention of prolonging this meeting and you’re not leaving without the money he owes you. 

“Listen asshole, you’ve got three minutes to get dressed and pay me for this shit. I’m not pl-ahck!”

With your declaration interrupted, you’re tackled to the ground and all but pinned to the ground. When you finally open your eyes you see it’s none other than the deadbeat you were just demanding money from that tackled you. Before you can chew him out or even attempt to kick him off of you, your eyes land on a pair of wild eyes, focused and fierce while his mouth flashes a wicked fanged grin down at you.  

“Perfect timing, Doll.” 

In your confusion you’re temporarily stunned as your eyes struggle to focus on the man above you while he throws his attention back towards something else…something far more sinister lurking deeper in the room. Just as you go to prop yourself up on your elbows, you're forced back onto the floor, Dante’s strong frame pressing you down as you as his hand grabs the top of your head, almost like he’s trying to protect you from something. 

“Dante, wha-FUCK!” Your eyes just barely manage to catch sight of a bright blue and black tendril slamming into the wall right next to where the door was, a small crater forming in the wall as clumps of drywall, dust, and grit fall to the floor.Two more tendrils whiz passed the two of you. One going into the opposite side of the door and the other anchoring itself into the floor. In the excitement, you’d closed your eyes to try and protect them from the plume of debris and you barely notice Dante rolling off of you. 

Throwing himself between the tendrils, Dante slides to a stop as he rummages through the duffle bag you’d brought for him. Rolling over onto your stomach, you brace yourself up by your arms before you follow Dante’s unwavering gaze as he aims a gun towards something yet seen by you. 

Eyes trailing, you squint only briefly before a large blue and black swirling mass somehow lets out an anguished roar and launches itself closer towards the now wide open door. You scramble to your feet and throw yourself towards a nearby wall as you watch in horror while Dante looks like he’s having the time of his life. Though that’s short lived.

His aim is true as far as you could tell. One knee to the ground with his other leg kicked out to the side, both arms straight out as he aims towards the creature fast approaching him. A quick huff of air blows from him before he curls his lips into a nearly snarling grin before he squeezes the triggers on the dual pistols you’d brought in your goody bag for him. 

Dumbass…

He knows you don’t keep hot weapons like that in your duffle…Fucking idiot…

His smirk drops when he hears that all too familiar *click* in unison come from the guns in his hands. Just barely managing to dodge out of the way, Dante ducks to the side only for the swirling beast to wrap a barbed appendage around his legs before it slams him into the ground. Normally you’d scold him for dry firing your merchandise but that’s very, very, very low on your totem pole of things to worry about at the moment. 

Throwing the long tail of his red coat out of the way as he swings his arm backwards, Dante pulls out a large serrated knife, throwing it blade first into the still approaching creature. Unseen claws digging into the wooden floor as it screeches to a halt,an unholy guttural shriek leaving a half formed mouth as it recoils in on itself where the blade is dug in. A slimy looking maelstrom appearing on the surface as the weapon slowly sinks into the …flesh? 

Having only a moment to grab his composure as the tendrils weaken, Dante rips his leg from the loosening hold the creature had on him and rushes back towards the duffle bag you barged in with. 

“WHY THE HELL DID YOU HAND ME AN UNLOADED GUN?!” 

His words are laced with disdain as he quickly loads his weapons, not so much as taking a second to even look in your direction as he yells. 

 The reprieve from the fight is short lived as the monster roars back to life, a metallic wail emitting from the intruder, and just as Dante turns to aim towards the beast, he hears a quick succession of gunshots…all coming from your direction. 

“I didn’t hand you shit! You grabbed two unloaded guns from my bag!” 

A flailing tendril flies through the air and trashes wildly. It finds the couch and all but launches it across the room back in Dante’s direction, the attacks seemingly random and without reason. The strong appendages struggle to regain their composure as they slam back into the ground, a newly armed Dante laying into the creature with his own new toys. The casing scattering the floor as he shoots, his boots kicking them out of the way as he closes in on the beast…though the bullets do little to stun it. 

You’ve only got one bullet left when you start to run back to your bag, it’s not far from you but you’d have to run out from behind the small cover you’ve made for yourself behind a tipped over coffee table and run behind Dante to retrieve any extra ammo. 

Throwing yourself from behind the cover, you get half way to Dante before a large tendril slams right infront of your path. Planting your feet, you stop before you hit the arm and trace your eyes to the monster before you. 

The swirling beast slinks back further, its surface still warbling from the bullets entering its body as parts of the flesh slowly split apart…a pair of eyes slowly prying themselves open. First looking in opposite directions, the pure white pupils juxtaposed to the deep crimson scleral, only to then snap into unison as it focused. New sinister eyes landing on your frame as it lets out a deep groan…

Your breath hitches and you can feel your chest tighten. While the creature doesn’t move any closer you can feel the presence growing. A second pair of eyes forming, then a third…then another. Every eye formed has its gaze fixed solely on you. 

 All the while you’re frozen in your stance. Your knees locked as your grip tightens around your gun. For the first time in your adult life your hands are shaking in fear, your heart is racing, and there’s a choking lump in the back of your throat. 

You’re a deer in headlights.

But you’ll be damned if you're anything’s prey…

Steeling your nerves, you raise your gun to aim at your ‘admirer’ but a strong arm forces down your weapon.

Your eyes snap up to Dante who is simply watching the creature, his eyes scanning before he slowly drags a hand up your arm to the back of your shirt. You struggle in his grasp for a second as you glare up at the tall man, your lips curled in a snarl as you practically bark at him. 

“Don’t fucking touch me like that! Let go, Dante!” 

“Shh-”

“Do NOT shush me right now!” 

You’re not yelling, but you are hissing up at him as he tightens the hold he has of you. You can feel his fingers curl into the fabric on the back of your shirt, holding you in place as you struggle against him, having to split your attention between the 6 whatever foot guy holding you and the slimy creature that’s slowly inching forward towards the pair of you. 

“Dante, what the hell are you doing?! That thing clearly doesn’t want to play nice!” 

“Just trust me…Don’t move…” His voice, trailing off with a seriousness you’ve never heard from him. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Dante’s right hand still clutched around one of the pistols you brought over for him, his finger resting lazily on the trigger as he sizes up your attacker.

 A bit of dirt and dust smeared across his cheek, Dante’s eyes are focused on the enemy ahead of him. His finger carefully adjusting then readjusting as he has it wrapped around the trigger, his eyes flicker quickly down to you before he winks at you…Like he doesn’t know you’re on the outside of an inside joke. 

“Want her?” 

“Wait what?!” 

Dante forces your smaller frame towards the creature, his focus trained on the first set of eyes that appeared. Eyes narrowing slightly as another part starts to split apart, this time instead of a horizontal tear, this time it's a tall vertical one that cuts the spaces between the rows of eyes. 

Slowly the flesh splits, the slime spread across the surface pulling apart with stringed bits still clinging to the opposite side before they snap apart. The grotesque display and sickeningly wet audio accompaniments send a shiver up your spine as you turn round to glare at Dante. Your eyes fierce and wide, the little bit of admiration you once held for the man quickly turning to contempt as he offers you on a silver platter to this thing.

The man still has a vice grip hold on the back of your shirt and before you can curse him you feel a cold, mucusuy wetness wrap around your left arm. Your panicked recoil only ends with Dante shoving you closer to the creature, your hair falling infront of your face as you struggle. 

“Go on, take her. She’s right there. Easy meal”

“You fucking traitor!!” 

You practically spit venom at Dante as you reel from the monster. There’s a dull pulsing coming from the tongue as it slowly wraps its way up your arm more, tugging you closer as it opens its new mouth more. Rows of sharp lined teeth just barely visible as the newly formed lips curl outward, a sickeningly sour smell hitting your nostrils and it brings a few tears to your eyes. 

Your feet dragging across the floor, you don’t want to look towards the creature’s mouth as you’re almost certain it’ll be the last thing you see before you die. Instead, you’ve rescinded yourself to taking out the piece of shit who got you into this mess in the first place. 

“DANTE!!” 

With the last bit of strength you can muster, you jerk your head back over your shoulder to look at him, your eye twitching in annoyance before you manage to rip your right arm free of the slimy hold. Your gun is gripped tightly in your hand as you raise it, your eyes glaring at Dante as your sight focuses on him. Your finger curled around the trigger and you would’ve squeezed without hesitation…if you hadn’t been met with Dante aiming his weapon directly back at you. 

Before you can finish him off, Dante flashes you a quick grin before giving you another wink. His aim shifting just a hair to the left, he fires a singular bullet into the mouth of the creature that still has its long tongue wrapped around you, the appendage having made its way clear up to your neckline right before he fires. 

Whizzing right passed you, the bullet strikes right where Dante had been aiming the entire time. Deep in the gullet of the beast was a singular weakpoint, a mound of exposed nerves that typically would never see the light of day, or in this case the light of his dimly lit living room. He wasn’t certain what he was up against until he saw the mouth form on the creature. 

That particular kind of demon is difficult to kill once it grows to that size, the only way to do so is by striking that spot directly. Best way to get a clean shot off? Feed the damn thing, gets it’s guard down and has that weak point exposed. 

Once he saw that the creature had set its eyes on you, well…who was he to pass up an easy win? Man doesn’t usually get those, so he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. And it’s not like he was going to let it actually eat you! He had everything under control…

Or so he’d claim. 

Once the bullet lodges itself deep in the nerves of the foe, another shrill yowl fills the otherwise quiet room. The tendrils strewn about Dante’s living room recoiling and colliding back into the body while the beast quivers and quakes in discomfort and pain. Flesh shaking and shivering around you, you try in vain to rip your body from the deathgrip ensnaring you to no avail. 

“Hold on, Hold on!” 

The sound of a near cackle and heavy bootsteps find their way to your ears, your left arm grabbed by Dante, the man you were aiming a gun at just a mere 30 seconds ago, is now your only life line out of this collapsing heap of slime and unholy flesh. 

 With two strong hands wrapped around your wrist, you flinch at the pure strength behind the hold he has on you. One pull is all he needs to free you from that prison, the slime and mucus from your slowly collapsing enemy still clinging to your shirt and any exposed skin it touched, but it seemed like the worst was over. 

With a shaky and hesitant first step, you pull your foot from the ever growing glob of slime on the floor, kicking your leg to try and get any left over strands of it off of you before doing the same to the other. Wincing as you plant your right leg, you hiss in discomfort as you shift your weight. In the madness of everything, you’d actually forgotten about the heel injury you sustained while kicking in the man’s door earlier. 

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in, your shoulders shaking and your chest heaving as your mind swirls. In the chaos you hadn’t had time to think or question Dante on everything that was going on, you’d simply had enough time to act and react. No thoughts. Just pure survivalist instinct…But despite your indefatigable efforts to maintain some sliver of independence, here you are still clinging to Dante’s arm as he overlooks your attacker. 

A firm hand on your shoulder gently forces you behind him as he steps forward, your hand — for some reason— instinctively reaches out towards his back, but you parish the thought of grabbing hold of him and recoil your hand. Leaning to the side to look around, you’re met with a ghastly sight to your eyes as Dante leans down and pokes the slowly dissolving carcass with his bare hand.

Clicking his tongue in annoyance and wiping his now slimed finger on an already dirted patch of fabric that was ripped off some random upholstered fixture in his home, Dante stands and rests his hand on his hip as he looks over his shoulder. His seemingly softer eyes landing back on your still very slimed—and rather unappealing in this moment—modèle.  

“You good?” 

Whatever care or worry he might’ve been trying to convey is swiftly undercut by the grin on his face and the snicker threatening to slip from his lips at any moment. Before that instance, you might’ve forgotten that the tall muscular man you’d just been rescued by was the very reason you were in that hellish scenario to begin with. The charming and mischievous glint in his eyes nearly chases away pang of rang deep within you…Nearly.

“You absolute jackass!” Ignoring the pain that radiates from your heel, you lunge forward and punch him square in the chest, your balled fist connecting with toned muscles as you seethe. 

He tanks the hit, only offering up a low grunt in response as he watches your almost pathetic display. You’ve seen him fight before now, you know very well what he’s capable of, and you know you’re only doing this because he’s letting you. 

“I can’t believe you! Of all the shitty, low-down, rotten fucking things!” WIth each line comes another rough smack to his chest. After a few more, he’s decided you’ve had your fun and grabs your wrist in his hand again, stopping your blow before it can connect. 

“Alright, alright…You’ve made your point…”

“Oh, have I now?!” Your incensed tone highlighted by your furrowed brow and your pursed lips. 

“Yeah, you have! I didn’t mean to use you as bait but it just sorta worked out that way! I just needed you to drop off some gear for the morning! I was supposed to go deal with this thing then but it sorta found its way to me instead.” In his exposition, Dante drops your hand from his hold and feigns an annoyed glare your way. 

With your arms crossed over your chest, your shoulders shake as you let out a gruff huff that intentionally puffed out your cheeks, a few stringy remnants of the slime still slicked onto your face, but you’re currently none the wiser. Favoring your right foot, you shift your weight to the front of that foot to try and take some of the pressure off your heel. 

“Atleast you admit that you used me as bait…But you’re fucking paying for all the ammo you used tonight, you ass!” 

His gaze fixed to the odd movement of your foot, your typical stance completely out the window as you shifted where you stood, though that could just be due to the whirlwind that was your entrance. 

Typically he would’ve just opened the door to you, you walk in, complain that it’s messier than the last time you were here, drop off the stuff he asked for, and then leave without making him pay the full price. But that’s not what happened here, not by a longshot. So he tries to brush your more casual body language off. 

Wait-did you say pay?! For all that?! No way! Nuh-uh. 

“Huh? Woah woah woah, slow your roll there! I didn’t even ask you to bring that stuff!”

“Oh you fucking lying cheapskate!” You grumble to yourself as you pull out your phone, ignoring the newly formed cracks in the screen as you tap your way through your messages. Holding the device up to his face, he flinches from the sheer brightness of your screen before he looks at it, a new scowl spreading across his features. 

There in plain letters is him saying that he needs a restock before daybreak the next morning, well now it’s this morning, but you get the point! Clearly, he told you to bring a restock kit over and that’s how all this started! At least, your involvement in it that is.

“Boom! Pay up! I’m sick of you stiffing me all the time, man! I do have bills to pay!”  

He pushes the phone in your hands further away, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as he thinks. He was hoping you’d just accept another IOU or maybe even let him off the hook like last time…Wait…Last time! 

Rolling his shoulders back, Dante straightens his posture as he looks down at your small frame, your foot tapping in annoyance and your lips formed into a near pout as you glare at him. A soft grin slowly creeps onto his face as he leans down, just enough to remove some of the distance between the two of you. 

“About that…”

Before he can muster another word you’ve got the palm of your hand against his face and force him to look to the side. He got lucky last time! That’s not happening again. No flirting or any other nonsense is gonna keep you from the money he owes you. There’s no way in hell you’re leaving his place and going home empty handed, not after all the BS you put up with tonight. No way. 

“Can it! Look, I’m not leaving here without you paying me at least some of the money you owe me! You’ve got a damn tab, Dante! A TAB! Do you know any other weapons dealer that’s gonna let someone run up a tab!?” 

A low grumble can just barely be heard but that’s not what pulls your attention to him. Nope, it's the fact that when you tried to pull your hand away you couldn’t. A clump of that slime still clinging to your hand and keeps the contact between the two of you. 

“Oh gross!!” You roughly tug your hand back, Dante recoiling and lifting himself back to his full height. 

“Fuck! That hurt!” He all but pouts as he rubs the side of his face, the smallest red mark forming from the abrasion.

“Well it serves you right! This is all your fault! Oh god…this is so disgusting…My whole arm is covered in it!” 

You’d finally noticed the drenched state your left arm is in, the now yellowing slime coating the sleeve of your jacket. It’s so bad that you can even feel the refuse on the side of your neck, and with a cautious hand you reach up to gingerly touch the side of your face…where even more of that gunk is still clinging to your skin. 

“Took ya long enough…”

“You cocksucker! You knew and didn’t tell me?!” 

Another solid punch to his chest leaves him with a splattering of slime on his shirt, he’d managed to avoid such a tragedy up until this point but such is life…

“Oh come on! You had to get it on me?!” 

“Serves you right! Dragging me here in the middle of the night, making me bring more guns and ammo for you that you’ve no intention of paying for, and then to top it all off! You nearly get me eaten by a giant gross slime monster that, by the way, you still have yet to explain to me!” 

With each damning word he’d earned a jab to the chest by your finger, each harder than the last and your voice laced with venom as you speak. Every vowel dripping with hate and every consonant with spite. 

“Ok ok! Point made! Point made!” He has to step back because every time he poke his chest, you step forward, closing the gap between the pair of you. He’s not sure if it’s intentional or otherwise, but you’re doing it anyway and he’s not really in the mood for you to blame him for anything else tonight. 

“Enough with the jabbies, damn…” He rubs his chest softly as you back down, rolling your eyes at his antics because you know for a fact that didn’t hurt him. 

You go to say something else but you’re cut off by the sound of Dante’s stomach growling, your eyes only narrowing when he laughs as sheepishly as he can manage…

“Don’t you dare…” 

“What?! I didn’t even say anything!”

“Oh but you thought something! I am not, NOT, buying you another pizza! You can’t even pay me for the shit you owe me for! I’m not floating you for pizza too!” 

“Well, it wouldn’t really be you floating me if you ate it too, now would it?” 

“Wha-”

“Then it would just be you covering for tonight. And I would get it next time. Maybe…”

“I am not doing this, Dante. I’m not!” You slam your foot on the ground to try and force your point across but that was the worst idea you’ve had all night…yeah, even worse than coming over here in the first place…

The second you slam your foot into the hard surface of his living room floor, a quick yelp leaves your lips and you’re retracting your right foot from the ground. With all your weight balancing on your left leg, you can barely bend down enough to grab at your foot as you force off the boot you were wearing. Clearly you breaking Dante’s door in with that kick did way more of a number on you than you thought…

Hissing in pain, a few small tears prick in your eyes as you carefully rub your hand over the throbbing pain center. Your fingers just barely grazing your heel is enough to force another weak cry from you. You would’ve lost your balance and collided with the floor or that knocked over table, but before you could falter you feel an arm wrap around your waist to support you. 

If the strong arm around your back and the firm hand planted on your hip weren’t enough to turn your cheeks rosie, the way Dante has his head bent down to look towards your ankle will definitely do the trick. He’s wrapped himself around your left side, his hand grabbing onto your right hip like it’s the most casual thing in the world. 

With his head dipped down to try and get a better look, your faces aren’t that far apart anymore. You can see the bags under his blue eyes, the bits of soot and dirt speckling his otherwise pristine white hair, but the most heart throbbing of all is how his lips are just barely parted, a small cut across the corner of his mouth as he look over your wound. 

“Da-Dante?” 

You don’t even realize you're speaking, let alone saying his name in a honestly pathetic voice, until he turns to face you. You must’ve been closer than he thought —or you subconsciously leaned in more—because when he turns to you his nose brushes against yours roughly. 

The blush of your cheeks deepen and you swear you can feel the tips of your ears get hotter, he smells like gunpowder and cheap liquor but somehow that’s the most exhilarating scent combination to you. 

You both pull away as much as you can. You quickly throw your head to the opposite side and he straightens his posture out again, clearing his throat as he brushes off the unintended close contact. 

Dante silently tugs you over to where the couch currently resides and gently, or as gently as he can, drops you down. You thud against the well worn piece of furniture but make no mention of his rough-ish gesture. In his haste to grab you, he’d pressed himself against the worst side of your sill slime soaked fashion ware. 

You peak over your shoulder to look in his direction as he walks away. He’s already resided to removing his coat and his now messied shirt from his body, draping the coat over a chair while tossing the shirt off into the distance, only to be remembered on the rare occasion of Dante doing laundry. 

“You’ll probably have to stay the night. Don’t think you can drive home with your foot all mangled like that.” He isn’t looking at you when he speaks. It would concern you if you’d even noticed…

Leaning into the back of the couch, you stretch out your legs and try to point your toes. No problem with the left foot, but the second you even try with the right another sharp hiss echoes from you and hits Dante’s ears. 

“G-guess Ah-fuck…Guess so…” 

Running a gloved hand through the back of his hair, he sighs as he stares at the nonexistent front door, trying to distract himself. In the excitement, after you’d kicked it open, it had gotten smashed. The split pieces of wood scattering across the floor, his boot kicking a stray piece out of the way as he looked around. 

Seeing as how you’re the one who kicked in his door, you can’t help but feel a little responsible for his new problem...Granted! It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been called over in a hurry! But at the same time, it’s not like he knew things would get that out of hand that quickly…

“With your weight now supported on the couch, you slowly peel off the slime caked jacket and simply drop it to the floor. The residual gunk still plastered on your left leg, neck and partially on your hair. You grimace and nearly gag at the memory, still in the dark about what exactly you walked into. There’s a time and a place for that sort of talk, and while it’s definitely the place, it’s not the time…Not with a mass of slime stuck to your neck and clumping in your hair….Yuck. 

“Hey, Dante…” Your voice is low and trails off at the end, almost like you're embarrassed at having to ask what you’re about to. 

From the distance alone, Dante is pretty sure you can’t see the slight blush on his face. And he’s even more confident that it’s hidden within the shadows of his home. Sure, he’s not opposed to having you stay the night at his place, he just thought it’d be a bit different than this… Maybe have a few drinks at a bar, then you come back to his place, and you both make some bad choices together…Not this whole, you show up for a business thing then get attacked by a demon that tries to eat you and you’re hurt and that’s the reason you stay…

Yeah, he envisioned this a bit differently in his head.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Trying to play it cool, he turns back to face you. He’s met with your body leaned against the side of the couch, your right leg hovering above the ground, and your face cast to the side, like you’re too embarrassed to look him dead on. He somehow hadn’t heard you get up and when he sees your struggling form, he’s already making his way back over to you. 

“I-I just wanted to ask to use your shower…I feel straight up disgusting…” Forcing a laugh, you have to remind yourself that Dante is just a client when you feel him shift your weight. He’s so strong and charming…And he’s easy on the eyes too…With that type of smile you can just see yourself getting lost in…

FUCK!

Shaking your head roughly, you struggle to force all those mushy romantic thoughts away as you lean against him. You don’t actually hear his answer but you do find yourself heading towards where you think his bathroom is. 

Wrong. 

You move past what you were almost certain was the bathroom and instead make your way into his bedroom…

Your eyes dart from the path ahead of you back up to Dante in shock, your pupils wide and your mouth suddenly dry as you enter his room. 

“D-Dante, what are you-”

“Shower is in this bathroom. One down the hall just has a toilet.” 

He doesn’t even let you finish the question, like he knew you’d ask it and already had the answer primed. Sure, he wanted you in his bedroom. But again! These were very different circumstances! 

He sits you on the bed and walks into the bathroom. Trying to amuse and distract yourself, you run your hands over the blanket and sheets and look around the room. The bedding having just been thrown back onto the bed, Dante having not bothered to make the bed this morning…or whenever it was the last time he slept in here. Despite his rather eclectic tastes, the bedroom is surprisingly bare by comparison to the rest of the dwelling. 

He’s from reappearing from the bathroom door, Dante pauses in his tracks while looking over you. In either your boredom or your exhaustion, you’ve laid yourself down at the edge of the bed. Your legs dangle over as your back and arms are stretched out onto the bed. 

Your peace is cut short a slightly fluffy towel landing on your face, jolting up in shock, you look over and see a now, mostly, naked Dante. The only clothes he’s wearing are a pair of light green colored briefs that leave little to the imagination, his white hair still slightly wet and clinging to his forehead and the side of his face as he lazily dries it with a towel. 

You would be blushing like a mad man, but there’s just something about the fact that this man infornt of you is wearing bright green briefs like it’s the most casual thing in the world! 

“Jesus fuck, Dante!” You turn your head to the side and choke out a laugh, the towel in your hands being brought up to your mouth to try and stifle any laughter that dare slip from you. 

With the towel draped over his shoulders, Dante smirks over at you as you laugh. He doesn’t care that it’s directed at him. Usually? Yeah, he might care. But not now. Not this time. Tonight was the first time he’d seen you shaken. 

The first time he’s seen you scared. 

The first time he had to be worried about you. 

So it’s nice to see you slip back into your typical you. 

The you that will yell at him over not paying for the bullets and guns you give him, the you that’ll chew him out over his unpaid bills or the piling up chores. Hell, he’s been bitched out by you over him sleeping off a hangover too long.

 Granted, when you came over it was three in the afternoon and you were supposed to be meeting him to hand over some weapons…but still. The theme of the tongue lashing was his drinking and hangover, not the blatant disregard for your time. 

All in all, he was happy to see the inklings of your true self coming back into view. 

Meanwhile, your ass is laughing so hard you start seeing stars. There’s just something about this fairly jacked, muscular dude you know, where bright green briefs while coming out of the shower. It’s just something so ridiculous that if you weren’t seeing it with your own eyes, you’d never believe it. You were expecting black or red, hell, maybe even a dark blue! Not bright green! 

Slowly turning your head to look at him, you try to get your giggles under control as he watches you with a cocked eyebrow, weight just shifted enough so that it looks like he’s trying to pose. 

“What? Like what ya see?” 

Another choked laugh leaves you while you wave your hand in front of your face, trying to shoo him away or at the very least get him to change positions. 

“I-tech-I just didn’t think you’d be wearing, like, a bright green while we were fighting that thing.”

“Well I wasn’t. Jokes on you cause I went commando during that fight!”

Another cackle leaves you while you look to with wide eyes, an expression of pure disbelief splayed across your face. 

“You did fucking not…”

“Yeee-up!” Sauntering across the bedroom, Dante has his eyes closed as he holds the towel ends over his shoulders, making sure to swing his hips just a little, tiny but more, than he would when he normally walks. Trying to see if he can pull any incriminating or guilty noises from you as he passes by. 

“You are unbelievable…” You shake your head, only just now connecting the dots. “Wait a second! Did you take a shower?!” You snap your head in his direction, your eyes landing on his back…Gaze trailing up as he’s rifling through his closet for something to wear. 

A low hmm in response is all you get though the sculpted muscles of Dante’s back is enough to keep your attention but once you realize how wrong it would be if the roles were reversed, you turn your head away before you start talking. 

“What a gentleman…Really, ya know it’s polite to let the lady go first?” You scoff and shake your head playfully, a few loose strands of hair falling in front of your face. Your hand reaches up to push it back into place only for your hand to brush against another. A strong, slightly damp, warm to the touch hand that makes you jump as you look back to your right. 

You hadn’t heard him cross the room, the sudden closeness intoxicating and the palpable tension only growing by the second. 

Dante’s bold frame leaning against the edge of his bed, his outstretched arm reaching towards you as he tucks those loose strands of hair back behind your ear. A finger just barely grazing your cheek, staying perfectly still so he can continue as you watch him wide eyed. Your breath hitching for the second time tonight, you swallow a lump in the back of your throat as you watch him carefully. 

“Dante?” 

His eyes flicker before they refocus on you, it’s like he’d been acting on pure instinct or desire the whole time. Like he’d been in a daze until the moment you broke him from that trance. Pulling his hand back, he clicks his tongue before looking away from you. He shoves two things into your hands before he fully stands back up. 

“What’re these…?” Your gaze jumps between his partially retreating form and the fabric folded, well balled, into your hands. The first is a grey tee shirt that while looks like it’d be huge on you, seems like it would fit him snuggly and the second is a part of shorts, ones you know you’ll have to pull the drawstring on but otherwise might not be too oversized on you. 

“You’d need something…for after your shower.” 

“Oh, thank-thank you, Dante. That’s sweet of you.” 

“Well it…it is sort of the least I could do. Seeing as how I did kinda offer you up as bait for that demon.” His voice nonchalant as he speaks, like he’s hoping that if he doesn’t make a big deal out of it that you won’t either at least not right off the bat. 

“De-Demon huh? That…That’s new…” Shuddering as you speak, your fingers dig into the borrowed clothing as you replay the more sinister moments of your night over in your head. 

“Hey, don’t do that.” An callous tone rips you from what’s sure to be a core memory for years. Thinking he was talking about the grip you had on his clothes, you instantly unclench your fists and drop the clothes into your lap as you look up to meet Dante’s eyes. 

“Not the fucking clothes…That…shit.” Nodding his head towards the living room, back towards where the still decaying remains of the demon lay, softly smoldering into the floor as the two of you share this moment.  

Hardly a second passes before you feel one of Dante’s hands press onto yours as he looks down at you. His body bends down just enough to gaze into your eyes before he speaks. 

“Don’t let that shit get to you like that, alright? Just…just don’t, ok?” 

“Yeah. I won’t, D…I won’t.” 

He says nothing but nods his head in a small silent display. He reaches out to you, offering his arm to help you balance as you stand before he assists you to the bathroom. His upper body still bare, you press yourself into him as you walk with your right arm gingerly wrapped around his arm. 

“So…what’re you gonna do about the door?” 

“The hall closet one might fit, just as a shitty place holder till I get a proper one.” Shrugging his shoulders as he walks you, he doesn’t miss the chance to steal a glance down at you. 

It’s not far to the bathroom, stopping just before the threshold of the door,  Dante holds his arm out further to give you a last little bit of support before he leaves you. You limp into the bathroom and before he turns around you reach out, the tips of your fingers just barely brushing against his arm is enough for him to look back over his shoulder. 

The softest smile you can manage etched onto your face as Dante fully turns to look at you again. Standing on your tiptoes, you lean up and press a small kiss to his cheek before you carefully drop back down. 

Taking a hesitant step back, you give another muted smile up at him before you lean against the door as your body sways slightly with it. 

“What was that-”

“You’re sweet Dante, in your own way. When you wanna be…” 

“I’m guessing that doesn’t include when I’m using you as bait, huh?” A teasing gibe as he smirks to you, the corner of his mouth ticking upward with a fang just barely visible beyond his lips. 

A dissatisfied murmur leaves your throat as you close your eyes, your head tilted with pursed lips as you remember the whole ‘hey, eat this chick I know’ bit he pulled earlier, which truth be told, you’re not too keen to let slide that easily. 

“Yeah, that? Not your best moment. Not by a long shot, man.”

“Can’t we be even? Ya know, for the whole you kicking my door down?” 

“Ohhh. I get it. We’re keeping score now are we?” You nod your head up and down like you’re considering his point but you swiftly counter. “You know, you still technically owe me for the whole bank rolling your arsenal for the last like 3 months…” 

“Can’t we call it even for me saving your life? Call it a hero’s gratitude? A bonus if you will? Free guns and bullets if I’m using them to save a pretty girl?”

You shake your head and scoff, your eyes briefly cast down as you bite your bottom lip.

“You are unbelievable, Dante…”

Fearing he soured the mood, Dante ducks his head in a quick, almost apologetic motion, before he turns tail. He doesn’t even get two full strides away from you before you promptly abate his concerns. 

“Hey Dante” The bubbly tone and that mischievous, borderline flirtatious, uptick in your voice as you say his name makes his heart skip a beat. 

Almost too excitedly, Dante throws his head over his shoulder to look at you. His eyes darting up and down over you before landing on your face and he doesn’t miss the quick scan you give his body either. 

“My wallet’s in the duffle, second pouch to the left. Combination for the lock is 4113. Go ahead and order that pizza. We’ll want the energy for later…”

Emboldened by your words, Dante’s eyes light up and a glint of excitement shines in them. Licking his bottom lip expectantly, Dante nods in your direction before he halfway turns back to face you. 

“So, does this mean I get to…” Dante trails off but his eyes dart behind you towards his bathroom, like he’s asking for permission to join in. You quickly cut him off, your hand being held up as you force a glare at the white haired man. 

“Ah ah. Not chance in hell, Dante. Not in the shower, anyway…I wanna get clean before we-”

“Get dirty again?” 

It’s his turn to cut you off, his sharp gaze looking down at you from above as his arm rests against the door frame. His fingers curled around the upper casing, the tips of his fingers roughly rubbing against the wall as he leans forward. 

He slowly goes in for a kiss, his body bending down towards you only for his lips to be met with your finger gently pressing against them instead. 

“That depends….”

“Depends on what exactly?” 

“On how you behave.”

A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he watches you carefully before he nods, pushing himself off the door and its frame, Dante turns his back to you once again to finally give some privacy. 

“I’ll behave then…for now.” And with that, he steps away from the door and makes his way to his closet in search of clothes for himself this time. 

You curse yourself for the low giggle that escapes but you can’t really help it. Not with those playful eyes and that damn charismatic smile he always has manages to perfectly play you with…

Once the door is closed and there's a minimal degree of separation between the two of you, you lean with your back against the door and let out a shuttered yet enthused sigh. 

“Fuck, he is so hot…” 

The second he hears the door click shut, Dante looks over his shoulder to ensure that he’s properly alone with his thoughts. 

“Tonight might not be such a waste afterall…”