Mostly cod writer but I am open to writing other game characters or stuff just let me know!!
I go by she/her pronouns but I dont care if you address me as something else
I write with automatically with ages 20 and higher in mind
I mostly write with a fem reader in mind and I usually try not to use physical body types but if I do its usually a chubby/slim reader in mind (I have no problem writing a request with a different body or gender)
đŽatoru begging for a little cockwarming, claiming itâs the only thing that'll help him drift off to sleepâŚ
1.2k words, quick read đđĄ. byf!toru ( +18 )
Satoru tossed and turned for the fifteenth time in ten minutes. The mattress groaned under him, and honestly, so did you.
"If you don't anchor your ass down in the next two seconds, Iâm sleeping on the couch," you muttered into your pillow, your voice thick with sleep and irritated as hell. Your acrylics clicked against your phone screen as you checked the time. 3:42 AM. Fantastic.
Satoru flopped onto his back, sighing like heâd just run a marathon instead of just lying in a climate-controlled room. He rolled over, propping his chin on your shoulder, his hair poking you right in the cheek.
"I can't sleep, babe. Itâs a medical emergency at this point," he whined, his voice doing that annoying, high-pitched drag he used whenever he wanted something. "My brain is literally frying. You gotta help me out."
"Go count sheep or something, Satoru. Or better yet, go do some push-ups in the living room till you pass out." You shoved his face away, but he just slid right back, wrapping a heavy arm around your waist and pulling you against him.
"Sheep are boring. Plus, I have a way better solution," he said, a slow, cocky grin spreading across his face even in the dark. He gave your hip a suggestive nudge, flipping effortlessly onto his back and dragging you right along with him until you were sprawled over his chest. "Come on. Just a quick cockwarm. Just climb up and park it so I can drift off. You don't even have to do any work. Just lay on me and look pretty."
You let out a long, exhausted groan, staring down at his stupidly handsome face. "Are you for real right now? It is almost four in the morning and youâre tryna use me like a heated blanket?"
"I mean, you are warm," he teased, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, guiding you up his torso. "And you love me. And Iâll literally buy you those shoes you were barking at on Instagram earlier. The ugly ones with the spikes."
"They are not ugly, they're archive fashion, you uncultured brain," you snapped, though your defense lacked any real venom because, honestly, the shoes were expensive. You sighed, rolling your eyes. "Fine. Whatever. But if you start doing too much and wake me up completely, Iâm biting you."
"Deal. Youâre the best, seriously, a literal angel," Satoru cheered, already shifting beneath you and tugging his sweatpants down with zero shame.
He didn't waste any time. His hands stayed firmly on your hips, helping you lift yourself just enough to line things up before his fingers hooked into the fabric of your panties, pushing the lace firmly to the side so he could slide smoothly inside you. The sudden fullness made you catch your breath for a second, your hands coming down to rest on his broad chest for balance. You slumped forward, letting your forehead rest right against his shoulder.
"Uuugh, fuck," Satoru muttered, his arms immediately wrapping around your back, locking you against him. He let out a long, shaky breath, all that restless energy heâd been carrying for the last hour suddenly evaporating the second you completely enclosed him. He didn't move, didn't try to lift his hips, he just stayed perfectly still, letting out a deep, contented sigh that vibrated right through your chest. "See? Perfect. I'm already curing my insomnia."
"Mmm.. wrap it up," you mumbled, adjusting your legs so you were comfortably straddling his thighs, completely deadweight on top of him. Your nails lightly scratched at the skin of his chest, mostly just out of habit to keep him settled. "If you start twitching or doing that weird leg-shake thing you do when you dream, Iâm getting off."
"I don't twitch," he mumbled, his voice already dropping an octave, thick with growing drowsiness. He tightened his hold around your waist, burying his face in your hair, his breathing already starting to slow down. One of his hands moved in a lazy, comforting circle on your lower back. "You're soft."
"I know that," you replied, closing your eyes and finally feeling the pull of sleep yourself now that he was anchored and quiet. "Don't forget the shoes."
"Mmm. Spiky shoes. Got it," he slurred.
Within five minutes, his breathing completely evened out, turning into heavy, rhythmic thuds beneath you. He was completely dead to the world, holding you secure against him while he snored softly into your neck. You gave a small, half-annoyed huff, melting completely into his chest, and finally fell asleep with his cock buried inside you.
ᥠkaliâs notes ⸝ Iâve been thinking about writing about cockwarming for a while now⌠Iâm just experimenting tbh guys, but yeah hope yâall enjoyed it ?? mwahh !
Š kÉlirÉees 2026. Éll works belong to me. do not trÉnslÉte, edit, repost, copy, or feed into generÉtive Éi.
âHeâs beautiful, isnât he?â You softly murmur to one of your sonâs nurses beside you as she bowed. âHe has your eyes, your highness.â She replied, her face wrinkling as she smiled in awe of how beautiful the kingâs wife is. Because of your busy schedule as Ryomen Sukunaâs queen, it wasnât often you even got time somewhat alone with your month old child, Yuji.
But when you did, your heart swelled just by looking at him. He was curled into your chest, lashes slowly blinking as his eyes got drowsy. Yuji cooed at your touch when you brought your hand to his chubby cheek.
As you watched your baby drift off into sleep, you kept holding him, softly rocking him as you paced around the vast nursery. Your husband had grumbled that the room was too childish for his son, yet had no room to say anything to how unpredictable your hormones were when you were pregnant and glowing.
You hummed a soft lullaby, and brushed Yujiâs pink hair that spiked everywhere, like his father. You heard the door slightly open. âYour majesty, the Lord requests your presence in his chambers immediately.â Urarume informs, bowing their head to you.
âI am with my child, he may wait.â You reply, unfazed how while everyone fears him, he fears you. âI do not want to argue, but heâs awaiting you. He requests you to spend the night in his wing.â âUrarume, do not worry.â You smiled at them and tended to your sleeping child. It was no doubt that the whole palace was aware you were in love with your baby. Who wouldnât?
He was a happy boy, with his gummy smile and tiny hands always finding your hair. Not long after Urarume left the door slightly open, you could hear your large husband stalking towards the wing, his footsteps heavy.
Though maids and servants cowered in fear, scurrying out of sight when they heard him, you kept your gaze onto Yuji.
âWife.â His voice boomed.
You turned to him and put a finger to your lips. âShh, your son is sleeping.â Clearly, not giving him the attention he secretly desired. âTch, a mere and Defenceless child is hogging all your attention. Did I not request you to return to my chambers?â
âHe isnât just any child, âkuna. Heâs ours.â
You smiled softly at your husbandâs jealousy with your back turned to him as you placed down the swaddled baby into his crib, before feeling his warm cheek again.
Sukuna sighed before walking towards you and placing his arms around your waist, and leaning into your hair to take in your scent. âCome, brat . Your king demands your presence.â He ordered, trying to stay assertive, but his voice just naturally softened around you, not that it was difficult to.
âIsnât he beautiful?â You murmured. Sukuna paused. âHe shall be my heir, to carry my legacy.â You paused before facing him with a satisfied expression and grabbed his hand. âLetâs head to your chambers, my lord.â
He wasted no time, once the large marble doors were shut, to hoist you up as he carried you towards his lavish bed and slightly untying your night gown from the back. He always complained that your maids did it far too tightly.
He crawled in beside you before wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You sighed into his warm touch, and leaned towards his broad chest. âTook you long enough, why wouldnât you just say you wanted to rest, foolish brat?â Sukuna grumbled. âI was coming soon, kuna. You mustnât be so restless. I will come at my leisure but I will always come.â You softly reassured him, one of your hands scratching his head.
His grip tightened on your shoulders. âI want you always with me. You married me, not my spawn.â He mumbled in your neck. You slightly smacked his head. âDonât call your child your spawn. Will he not carry your legacy?â You asked, repeating his words. He stayed quiet for a few moments before finally speaking.
âHe will. And I hope heâs a better king than his father.â You brought your husbandâs face to look at you before giving it a soft kiss.
uhh I didnât really care abt sukuna in this fic, but I still love my big baby. MY BABY YUJI AWWW I LOVE HIM
The marriage had been arranged long before either of you had a say in it.
The Kingdom of the North and the Empire of Ryomen had spent decades circling one another like wolves. To prevent war, the rulers made a decision:
You and Sukuna.
The most feared prince in all of China.
The wedding had been extravagant. Silk banners stretched across palace walls, nobles bowed as you walked by, and enough gold had been exchanged to feed entire villages for years.
Everyone thought the alliance was perfect.
Everyone except you.
And surprisingly⌠Sukuna.
⸝
âAnother gift from His Highness.â
Your servant entered carrying a carved jade box.
You stared at it.
Then at the seven other unopened boxes sitting in the corner of your chambers.
ââŚPut it with the others.â
The servant hesitated.
âMy lady, this one contains pearls from the southern sea.â
âWonderful.â
She left.
You sighed.
Pearls.
Yesterday had been jade bracelets.
The day before that had been embroidered silks.
Before that, gold hairpins.
And before that, a horse worth more than most noble estates.
It never ended.
A knock sounded at your door.
Without waiting for permission, Sukuna entered.
Tall.
Intimidating.
Dressed in dark crimson robes that probably cost a kingdomâs yearly taxes.
His eyes immediately landed on the untouched gift.
A frown appeared.
âYou didnât open it.â
You didnât even glance at the box.
âI assumed it was another expensive trinket.â
His eyebrow twitched.
âItâs pearls.â
âI was close.â
Silence.
Dangerous silence.
The kind that usually made generals tremble.
You simply continued reading your book.
Sukuna crossed his arms.
âYou dislike them.â
It wasnât a question.
âYes.â
âYou dislike pearls?â
âI dislike gifts.â
That got his attention.
The prince stared.
No one rejected gifts from him.
No one.
⸝
For the next week, the gifts doubled.
Flowers.
Jewelry.
Rare fabrics.
Paintings.
Even a white tiger cub.
You nearly screamed when it wandered into your room.
Each time, you thanked him politely and set the gifts aside.
Each time, Sukuna became more irritated.
Finally, one evening, he cornered you in the palace garden.
Moonlight spilled across stone pathways.
âYou are impossible.â
You looked up from pruning a flowering bush.
âGood evening to you too.â
âEvery woman Iâve met likes gifts.â
âThen perhaps you should have married one of them.â
His eye twitched.
Again.
You secretly considered it a victory.
Sukuna stepped closer.
âI spend fortunes on you.â
âAnd?â
âAnd you donât care.â
âI care.â
âYou clearly donât.â
You placed the shears down.
For the first time, your expression softened.
âSukuna.â
His name caught him off guard.
You rarely used it.
âI appreciate the thought.â
âThen whyââ
âBut anyone can throw money at a problem.â
His jaw tightened.
âWhat is that supposed to mean?â
You gestured toward the palace.
âYou send servants.â
His eyes narrowed.
âYou buy things.â
A pause.
âYou spend gold.â
Another pause.
âBut you never spend time.â
The garden became silent.
For onceâŚ
Sukuna had no response.
⸝
The next morning was strangely quiet.
No servants arrived.
No gifts appeared.
No boxes.
No jewels.
Nothing.
You were relieved.
Until you found Sukuna sitting outside your chambers.
Holding a fishing pole.
You blinked.
âWhat are you doing?â
âI was informed nobles enjoy hobbies.â
ââŚWho informed you of that?â
âAn old servant.â
âAnd?â
He looked annoyed.
âWeâre going fishing.â
You stared.
The mighty Prince Sukuna looked genuinely uncomfortable.
Which was somehow adorable.
You immediately buried that thought.
⸝
The trip was terrible.
Neither of you knew how to fish.
Sukuna fell into the river once.
You laughed so hard you nearly joined him.
He threatened to throw you in afterward.
By sunset, you had caught exactly one fish.
But for the first time since the marriageâŚ
You smiled.
A real smile.
And Sukuna noticed.
⸝
After that, things changed.
The gifts didnât stop completely.
Sukuna was still Sukuna.
But they became different.
A wooden comb he carved himself.
Poorly.
Very poorly.
One side was crooked.
You treasured it.
A hand-painted fan.
The painting looked like it had been done by a blind chicken.
You loved it.
A small rabbit figurine made from clay.
Its ears were uneven.
You kept it beside your bed.
One evening, Sukuna found you dusting the little clay rabbit.
His gaze lingered.
âYou kept that?â
âOf course.â
âIt looks terrible.â
âIt took you three days to make.â
A faint flush touched his ears.
You almost laughed.
The feared prince of China embarrassed over a clay rabbit.
How unbelievable.
⸝
Months later, a servant entered carrying a chest of jewels from a foreign kingdom.
âA gift for the princess.â
Before she could set it down, you spoke.
âPut it in storage.â
The servant bowed and left.
Sukuna watched.
âNot interested?â
You leaned against him.
âNo.â
His arm instinctively wrapped around your waist.
âWhat would you rather have?â
A smile tugged at your lips.
âYou promised to teach me archery.â
ââŚThatâs true.â
âYou also promised weâd visit the countryside.â
âI did.â
âAnd you still owe me another fishing trip.â
Sukuna groaned.
âWe almost died.â
âWe caught one fish.â
âWe suffered.â
You laughed.
The sound echoed through the room.
Sukuna stared for a moment before pulling you closer.
The empire could keep its gold.
Its pearls.
Its treasures.
Because somehow, the most valuable thing in the palace wasnât something money could buy.
I canât stand when your friends arenât comfortable with something youâre doing and instead of telling you they try to beat around the bush which ends up only making you feel like shit..this is so exhausting and putting such a toll on me and my emotions right now
Ë ŕź đźđŚšâď˝ĄË a pledge to keep series masterlist Ë ŕź đźđŚšâ･Ë
summary: getting knocked up by your older brotherâs fratbro wasn't exactly apart of your five year plan. least of all with notorious fuck boy ryomen sukuna.
pairing: frat!kuna x reader
content: everything in this series is considered 18+ so not minor friendly! contains mature content such as rough sex, breeding, spanking, spit play, lactation kink, descriptive child birth, postpartum depression, probably more
dividers by: @petalpxl | series moodboard | art by lorinmower
chapter one: how you met \ chapter two: of course it's yours, you fucking idiot!
chapter three: meeting the itadori's \ chapter four: hospitals and hot dad walks
chapter five: fratuncles \ chapter six: more than co-parents
chapter seven: graduation \ epilogue
series oneshots/drabbles:
1. stinky feet bandit â 2. late night feeds â 3. daddy's little poop monster â 4. baby carrier experiment â 5. yuji loves his baby cousin
The lake was quiet in the early morning, covered in a thin layer of mist that curled across the water like smoke. The only sounds were the soft creak of the wooden dock and the distant chirping of birds waking with the sunrise.
You sat near the edge of the boat, bundled in one of Priceâs hoodies that swallowed your hands whole. The air was cold enough to nip at your cheeks, but the warmth beside you made it bearable.
Price adjusted the brim of his hat before glancing over at you with a small grin.
âYouâre supposed to be fishinâ, love. Not starinâ at me.â
âI can multitask,â you mumbled, smiling sleepily.
He huffed out a laugh and handed you a steaming cup of coffee from the thermos he brought. Your fingers brushed his rougher ones for a moment, and the familiar warmth settled right into your chest.
This trip had been his idea after months of nonstop work and missions. No phones. No interruptions. Just the two of you and a tiny cabin hidden near the lake.
At first, you thought Price would spend the entire time focused on catching fish, but most of the morning had been him quietly watching you instead.
Every now and then heâd fix your scarf when it slipped loose or steady you whenever the boat rocked too hard. Small things. Gentle things.
You cast your line again with a dramatic sigh.
âI think the fish hate me.â
Price reeled his line in slowly. âMight be because you scared âem half to death earlier.â
âI slipped one time.â
âYou screamed loud enough to alert the entire lake.â
Your jaw dropped in fake offense while he chuckled low under his breath. The sound was warm and deep, blending perfectly with the calm water around you.
Then suddenly your fishing rod jerked violently.
âOh my godâPrice!â
He looked over instantly. âEasy, easy, donât yank it too hard.â
âIâm trying!â
You nearly lost your balance when the fish pulled again, but Price moved fast, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around yours to steady the rod.
âLean back a little,â he murmured near your ear. âThatâs it.â
His chest pressed against your back, solid and warm, while he guided your hands carefully. Together, you pulled the line in until a silver fish finally burst from the water.
You stared at it in shock.
âI actually caught one.â
âTold you,â Price said proudly. âJust needed proper supervision.â
You laughed so hard your stomach hurt.
The rest of the afternoon passed slowly after that. The sun climbed higher, warming the lake until you could dip your fingers into the water without shivering. Price taught you how to bait hooks properly, though he ended up doing most of it himself because he claimed you looked âtoo pretty to be dealing with worms.â
By evening, the two of you sat outside the cabin near a crackling fire. The fish Price cleaned earlier cooked over the flames while you rested against his side beneath a thick blanket.
The orange firelight softened the lines of his face, making him look calmer than youâd seen in months.
You tilted your head against his shoulder. âYou happy?â
Price looked out over the dark lake for a long moment before squeezing your hand gently.
âGot you beside me, no one botherinâ us, and a full stomach on the way.â His gaze shifted down to you, soft and impossibly fond. âDonât get much better than this, sweetheart.â
The fire crackled quietly between you both while the stars reflected across the water
Ill be taking a one or two week hiatus due to my medical issues right now but i have something in plan for when i do return, feel free to still fill my inbox and make requests during this time thanks.
The kettle had been screaming for a solid minute before John Price finally took it off the stove.
He did not rush. Even at home, with no mission clock ticking, everything about him moved with steady control. The kind that made people listen when he spoke and wait when he did not.
âTeaâs gone bitter,â you called from the couch, not looking up from your book.
A pause. Then, dry as ever, âThatâs because you let it scream at me instead of getting it yourself.â
You smiled faintly. âI like watching you do things.â
âThat so?â He poured the water slowly, careful like it mattered. âAnd what exactly am I doing thatâs so entertaining?â
âDomesticity,â you said, glancing over. âItâs rare.â
He let out a quiet breath that almost passed for a laugh and carried the mugs over. He handed yours to you, his fingers brushing against yours for just a moment longer than needed. Warm. Grounding.
That was how he showed it most of the time. Small things. Quiet things.
You shifted to make space and he sat beside you, sinking into the couch like he had not rested properly in weeks. Maybe he had not. You did not ask yet.
Instead, you leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder.
The silence that followed was easy.
After a while, he spoke, voice lower. âMissed this.â
You tilted your head slightly. âTea?â
âHome.â A brief pause. âYou.â
That made you look at him. His eyes stayed forward, focused on nothing, but his hand found yours again, this time more certain. His fingers laced with yours like he needed the contact.
âYou do not have to say things like that just because you have been gone,â you murmured.
âI know.â His thumb moved slowly over your knuckles. âStill mean it.â
There was weight in it. Not heavy, not overwhelming. Just honest.
You squeezed his hand. âThen stay a little longer this time.â
He went quiet again. You were used to that.
Then he turned just enough to press a firm, brief kiss to your temple. âI will try.â
So when the alarms stop and the hallway outside your containment room goes still, your body locks up instead of relaxing. Your ears twitch at every tiny sound, your breathing shallow as you press yourself into the far corner.
Something changed.
Something is wrong.
Footsteps.
Not rushed. Not panicked.
Measured.
Thatâs new.
You bare your teeth before you even see them.
The door slides open with a harsh metallic sound, and light floods in. You flinch hard, a low, warning sound slipping from your throat before you can stop it.
Four figures.
Big. Armed. Unknown.
Threat.
Your instincts spike immediately. You scramble back even though thereâs nowhere left to go, claws scraping uselessly against the floor. Your heart is pounding so loud it drowns everything else out.
âEasy,â one of them says, voice low, steady.
You donât understand the word fully, but the tone⌠itâs different.
Not sharp. Not cold.
Still, you snap at the air between you, a desperate attempt to keep distance.
âBloody hell,â another mutters, quieter. âWhat did they do to youâŚâ
The tallest one steps forward slightly.
Authority. You can feel it.
You hiss.
He stops immediately.
Good.
He crouches instead, lowering himself so he doesnât tower over you as much. His hands stay visible, weapon lowered but still within reach.
âYouâre safe,â he says.
Safe.
The word feels foreign. Useless.
You donât believe him.
Youâve heard calm voices before. They always came right before something hurt.
Your body trembles, torn between bolting and freezing. Thereâs nowhere to run. There never is.
Behind him, one of the others shifts.
You react instantly, lunging forward just enough to make them flinch back. A warning. Stay away.
âAlright,â the one in front says quickly. âNo sudden moves.â
Heâs watching you closely. Not like the others did. Not like youâre something to poke and prod.
Thereâs no softer word for it, no hidden kindness tucked away for the world to discover. He rules with sharp eyes and sharper patience, the kind that snaps without warning. Servants tremble when he walks past. Guards lower their heads, careful not to meet his gaze. Even curses hesitate, instinct screaming at them to stay small, stay quiet, stay alive.
He does not tolerate incompetence.
He does not tolerate noise.
He does not tolerate anyone.
Except you.
And even then, âtolerateâ isnât the right word.
Youâre sitting by the open window, arms crossed tightly over your chest, expression permanently annoyed. The late afternoon air drifts in, but it does nothing to cool your mood. Everything irritates you lately. The heat, the weight of your body, the way your clothes fit wrong, the constant attention.
Especially the attention.
A servant steps too close.
âI broughtââ
âLeave it,â you snap, not even looking at them.
They flinch and immediately retreat, nearly tripping over themselves in their rush to escape. You donât feel bad. Youâre too uncomfortable to feel bad.
A presence fills the room moments later.
Heavy. Certain.
Annoyingly familiar.
âWhy are they running,â Sukuna asks, voice low and edged with amusement, âlike youâre about to devour them.â
You donât turn. âMaybe I am.â
Thereâs a pause, and then a quiet, almost pleased hum.
He moves closer, stopping just behind you. You can feel him there without looking. Always looming, always watching.
âYouâve been irritable all day,â he notes.
âNo,â you mutter. âReally?â
His hand comes to rest against your side, firm and warm. Not asking. Never asking.
You immediately grab his wrist and shove it away.
âDonât.â
The word comes out sharper than you intended, but you donât take it back.
For a split second, the room goes still.
Somewhere outside, a guard inhales too loudly.
Sukuna doesnât move.
Anyone else would be dead already.
Instead, he exhales slowly through his nose, something unreadable passing across his expression.
ââŚYouâre in a worse mood than usual,â he says.
You glare at the floor. âEverything hurts.â
Thereâs no bite in your voice this time. Just frustration. Exhaustion.
That changes something.
He crouches slightly so heâs more level with you, his presence still overwhelming, but his attention⌠focused. Sharpened.
âWhere.â
Itâs not really a question. More like a demand for information.
You hesitate, then gesture vaguely. âEverywhere. My back, my sides⌠I canât get comfortable. And everyone keeps hovering like Iâll break if they breathe wrong.â
âYou might,â he says flatly.
You shoot him a look. âThatâs not helping.â
A pause.
ââŚNoted.â
Itâs stiff. Awkward, even. Sukuna is many things, but comforting is not one of them.
Still, he reaches out again, slower this time. His hand settles against your lower back, careful in a way no one would ever believe if they saw it. Thereâs pressure there, steady and grounding.
You tense at first.
Then⌠donât pull away.
ââŚThat?â he asks.
You huff. âItâs fine.â
Which, coming from you, means it helps.
He stays like that, hand firm against you, the other resting on the arm of your chair like he owns the space around you. Because he does.
Silence settles, but itâs not as sharp anymore.
After a moment, you mutter, âYouâre still insufferable, you know.â
âAnd youâre still insubordinate,â he replies.
You glance at him. âYou going to punish me?â
Thereâs a flicker of something in his eyes, something dangerous and amused.
ââŚNo.â
The answer is immediate.
Certain.
You blink, caught off guard.
He doesnât elaborate.
Instead, his hand shifts slightly, easing the tension in your back again, more deliberate now that he knows what helps.
Outside, someone drops something.
Sukunaâs gaze snaps toward the sound, expression instantly darkening.
âUseless,â he mutters, voice laced with quiet threat.
The poor servant scrambles out of sight.
You roll your eyes. âYouâre going to scare everyone away.â
âGood.â
ââŚThen whoâs going to deal with everything?â
âTheyâll learn,â he says simply. âOr they wonât be here long enough to matter.â
You sigh, leaning back slightly despite yourself. âYouâre impossible.â
âAnd yet,â he murmurs, almost thoughtful, âyou remain.â
You donât respond to that.
But you donât move away either.
His hand stays where it is, steady and grounding, a quiet contradiction to the chaos he is everywhere else. The King of Curses, feared by all, reduced to sitting beside his grumpy, aching wife, adjusting his touch when she shifts, paying attention when she huffs in discomfort.
No one would believe it.
If they saw the way he looks at you now, theyâd think it was a trick.
It isnât.
Itâs just his version of care.
Rough. Possessive. Unyielding.
But real.
And for now, with the world kept at a distance and his presence solid at your side, itâs enough.
Youâre quieter than usual, movements slower, like everything costs more effort than it should. Thereâs a tension in your shoulders, a faint ache in the way you sit, and something heavier underneath it all that has nothing to do with your body.
He approaches carefully, not wanting to overwhelm you.
âCan I sit with you?â he asks.
You nod, barely lifting your head.
The moment heâs close, itâs clearer. Your scent is off, strained and tangled with discomfort. Your body is going through something difficult, and whateverâs happening with your family is only making it worse.
He doesnât ask too many questions right away. He just sits beside you, close enough that you can lean into him if you want, but not forcing it.
âYou donât look okay,â he says gently.
You let out a small, shaky breath. âIâm not.â
Silence stretches for a second, and then it spills out before you can stop it.
âMy familyâs just⌠a mess right now,â you murmur, voice tight. âEveryoneâs arguing, everything feels tense, and I already feel awful and I just⌠I canât handle both at the same time.â
Your hands curl into your sleeves, frustration building behind your eyes. âItâs too much.â
Choso doesnât hesitate.
He turns slightly and opens his arms, giving you the choice.
You take it immediately.
The second you lean into him, he wraps you up gently, one arm around your shoulders, the other resting steady against your back. Itâs firm enough to ground you, soft enough not to overwhelm.
âIâve got you,â he murmurs.
You shake your head against him. âI feel so weak right now.â
âYouâre not weak,â he says, calm and certain. âYouâre dealing with a lot at once.â
Your body aches, your emotions are all over the place, and everything outside of you feels unstable too. Itâs exhausting.
He adjusts slightly, pulling a blanket over you both without letting go. His hand moves slowly through your hair, a steady, soothing rhythm.
âYou donât have to deal with everything tonight,â he continues. âJust focus on getting through this moment.â
âWhat if it doesnât get better?â you whisper.
Heâs quiet for a second, not dismissing the fear.
âThen we take it one step at a time,â he says. âAnd I stay with you through it.â
The simplicity of it makes your chest tighten.
You shift closer without thinking, seeking warmth, something steady. He notices immediately, adjusting so youâre more comfortable, letting you rest against him fully.
âAre you hurting?â he asks softly.
You nod.
His hand moves carefully, resting warm against your lower back, easing some of the tension there. He doesnât make a big deal out of it, just quiet support, like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
âTry to relax,â he murmurs.
âI canât really sleep.â
âThatâs okay,â he says. âYou donât have to. Just stay here.â
So you do.
Time passes slowly, but the sharp edge of everything begins to dull. Your breathing evens out, your body gradually loosens, even if just a little.
âChoso?â you whisper after a while.
âYeah?â
ââŚthank you for staying.â
His hold on you tightens just slightly, protective but gentle.
âIâm not going anywhere,â he says.
And this time, with his steady presence around you, the world doesnât feel quite as overwhelming.
The first thing people noticed about Captain Price was how steady he wasâunshakable, rough around the edges, the kind of man who carried storms in his voice and calm in his decisions.
But at home, none of that mattered.
At home, he was soft.
Heâd come through the door late, boots heavy against the floor, the scent of smoke and cold air still clinging to him. And without fail, his shoulders would drop the second he saw her, like the world had finally loosened its grip.
âYouâre up,â heâd murmur, voice quieter than anyone else ever got to hear.
She always was.
Waiting on the couch, blanket draped over her legs, something warm in her hands, tea gone half-cold because sheâd been too busy listening for the door. Sheâd smile, sleepy and gentle, and that was it. That was all it took.
Price, the man who faced down chaos without blinking, would melt.
Heâd cross the room in a few long steps, crouch in front of her, and rest his forehead against hers for just a moment. No words. Just breathing her in, grounding himself in something real, something safe.
âYou alright?â sheâd ask, brushing her fingers through his hair, softer than the world ever allowed itself to be with him.
âBetter now,â heâd answer every time.
Later, when the house was quiet and the world felt far away, heâd lie beside her, one arm wrapped firmly around her waist like he needed to make sure she was still there. His thumb would trace absent patterns against her skin, slow and careful, like memorizing her.
He wasnât a man of many gentle habits, but with her, he learned.
He learned to linger in the kitchen just to steal a kiss.
To press his lips to her temple when she passed by.
To listen to the small, ordinary details of her day like they were the most important intel heâd ever received.
And sometimes, when sleep refused to come and old memories pressed too close, heâd pull her closer without a word. She never asked. Just tucked herself into him, hand over his heart, steady and warm.
Grounding him again.
In those quiet moments, Captain Price didnât exist.
Just a man, tired and human, holding the one thing in his life that made everything else worth it.
