The glass hit the table hard enough to slosh bourbon over the rim, but you didn't care. You were three drinks past your limit and the Varia celebration was still grinding on, all the subordinates too terrified to actually enjoy themselves.
"Xanxus~"
No response. He sat in his chair like it was a throne, jaw tight, watching the room with those scarlet eyes.
"Xanxus, I want to go upstairs."
"Then go."
"With you." You leaned into his arm, pressing your cheek against the sleeve of his jacket. Your body leaned heavily against his side and you made absolutely no effort to move.
"Take me to bed... pleeeaaase?~"
"Tch." He didn't look at you but his hand came up and gripped the back of your neck. Whether it was due to loss of patience or habit, it was hard to tell.
"You're a pain when you drink." he grumbled.
"And you're mean even when you're sober, so we're even."
That got the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.
He stood without warning, hauling you up with him, and you stumbled into his chest with a surprised laugh. The room went dead silent seeing this, as every Varia officer suddenly found something fascinating to stare at on the far wall.
He walked and you kept up only because his hand hadn't left your neck, steering you through the corridor, up the stairs, all the way to the heavy oak door of your shared quarters before he shouldered it open.
You grabbed his tie before he could deposit you and turn around and yanked him forward, although he barely moved as his eyes dropped to your face.
"Stay~" you giggled.
"I wasn't leaving." he lied.
"You were going to go back down there and brood in your chair for another three hours." You pulled the tie again, walking backward, drawing him in. "I know you."
He kicked the door shut behind him and the lock clicked.
"Yeah." His voice was low, stripped of its usual bite. He looked at you standing there flushed and stubborn in the low light. "You do."
His mouth found yours before you could say another word.
TYL!Superbia Squalo
"VOOOIII! How many of those have you had?!"
You held up four fingers. Then reconsidered, and held up five.
"Oh, for fucks--sit down before you fall down!" Squalo grabbed your elbow as you swayed on the barstool, silver hair swinging as he whipped around to glare at the bartender. "Who kept serving her?!"
The bartender, a civilian contractor who clearly had not signed up for Varia-adjacent terror, went pale and backed into the liquor shelf.
"Squalo." You tugged on his sleeve. Then tugged harder. "Squalooooo."
"WHAT."
"You look really pretty tonight~♥" you curled a lock of his hair around your finger.
That shut him up for approximately one and a half seconds before he looked away from you to hide any evidence of a blush. "You're drunk."
"Drunk and correct." You leaned your full weight against him, arms looping around his waist, face buried in his chest. He stiffened, not because he minded, you'd been married long enough to know that, but because half the Varia was watching with open glee.
"Get off me. We're in public."
"No."
"That wasn't a request!"
"Carry me upstairs and maybe I'll let go." you grinned.
"I'm not--you can't just... dammit, FINE." He ducked down, got an arm under your knees, and swept you up like your weight wasn't a factor. You shrieked with delight as he stormed toward the staircase, face burning red, bellowing at anyone who so much as glanced their direction.
"EYES FORWARD OR I'LL CUT THEM OUT OF YOUR SKULLS."
He kicked open the bedroom door and set you on the bed with more care than his expression suggested. You kept your arms locked around his neck.
"Let go."
"Come here."
"I just carried you here, woman, what more do you--"
You kissed him. Messily and off-center, tasting like cheap prosecco. He made a strangled noise against your mouth and braced one knee on the mattress, his free hand fisting in the sheets beside your hip.
When you pulled back, he was breathing hard. That pretty face his flushed all the way to his ears.
"Door's still open," you whispered.
He walked back a few steps and slammed it so hard the frame cracked.
"Happy?"
"Getting there." You pulled him down again and he went down willingly this time.
TYL!Belphegor
"Ushishishi."
That laugh had been following you for the last twenty minutes. You sat at the end of the banquet table with your chin in your hand, cheeks hot, fourth cocktail mostly gone, and made a point of not looking at him.
"The princess is sulking."
"The princess wants to leave." You pushed the glass away and finally turned. Belphegor leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, crown tilted, grin already in place.
"Bel, I'm tired. Take me upstairs." you offered your hand towards his.
"Hmm. Ask properly."
You narrowed your eyes. "I'm your wife, dipshit."
"And I'm a prince." He tilted his head, blond hair shifting. "Rank supersedes marriage. Those are the rules." he shrugged.
"Those are your rules."
"Ushishi. Exactly."
You stood up, wobbled, and caught yourself on the table. His grin didn't waver, but he was beside you in two strides. A knife appeared between his fingers out of nowhere, flipping idly as he offered you his other arm.
"The prince will escort you. Since you're clearly incapable of walking in a straight line."
"How romantic."
"Royalty doesn't do romance. Royalty does obligation." But his hand settled on the curve of your waist as you walked, thumb tracing a slow circle against your hip through the fabric. The corridor stretched long and dim and his boots clicked an easy rhythm beside yours.
He opened the bedroom door and you turned, grabbing the front of his shirt, pulling him across the threshold.
His grin stretched wider. "Oh?"
"Get in here."
"The princess is bold tonight." He let himself be pulled, one step, two, until the door clicked shut and his back was against it. You pressed all of your weight against his lean frame and his chin dipped. Even behind that curtain of hair, you could feel his gaze on you.
"Tell me what you want." His voice dropped, the laugh finally absent from it. "Be specific."
"You. Now. Consider it another one your obligations."
He reached behind him and locked the door.
"Ushishi. Granted."
TYL!Dino Cavallone
You were leaning sideways on the couch when Dino found you, and his reaction was as predictable as the sunrise.
"Oh. Oh no, honey, how much did you--here, don't lean like that, you'll fall off the--ack!" He tripped over the coffee table reaching for you.
The head of the Cavallone family, beloved by many, undone by furniture yet again. Romario, standing by the doorway, pinched the bridge of his nose and looked away.
"Dino~" You reached for him as he caught himself on the armrest. "Dino, I want to go to bed."
"Yeah, okay, that's probably a good idea." He straightened up and pushed his hair back, that apologetic smile already forming. "Can you stand? Here, take my arm."
You took his arm. You also took the opportunity to lean your entire body into him, cheek against his shoulder, arms wrapping around his.
"Sorry," you mumbled into his jacket.
"For what? You're allowed to have fun." He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as he guided you toward the hallway. His stride slowed to match yours, patient with every uneven step as he looked back. "Romario, we're done for the night."
"Of course, Boss."
The walk upstairs took twice as long as it should have. You kept stopping to nuzzle into his neck, and he kept laughing though flustered, gently steering you forward.
He got the door open with one hand and walked you to the edge of the bed. "Okay, let me get you some water and--"
You grabbed his jacket and pulled causing him to stumble forward with a surprised yelp as he catched himself over you, one hand on the mattress, the other on your hip.
"Stay."
"I was just going to get you--
"Dino." You looked up at him, flushed, stubborn, still holding his collar. "I don't want water, I want you."
His ears went red and his smile became less composed. He exhaled, long and slow, and let his forehead rest against yours.
"You should really have some water..."
"I will, after we're done."
He sighed. "I suppose that's as close to a compromise as I can hope for."
TYL!Byakuran
He had been watching you all night as you finished your sixth marshmallow cocktail, which was his fault as he had them made specially, and the room was doing a gentle spin.
"Bya... kuran." you slurred.
"Hm?" He appeared beside you with half-eaten bag of marshmallows in his hand.
It was midnight at a Millefiore gala and the man was snacking on sugar.
"I'm calling it."
"Already? But the party is so fun." He popped another marshmallow into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "You haven't even tried the cake yet."
"If I try the cake, I will fall over."
"I'd catch you."
"Yeah, after my face falls into it... And after laughing on top of that." you murmured, smacking his shoulder lightly.
His smile widened a fraction. "Maybe. Maybe not. You'll never know unless you do it." He offered you a marshmallow and pouted when you pushed his hand away.
"Take me to our room. Please."
"Since you asked so nicely." He set down the bag, licked sugar off his thumb, and offered you his arm.
The hallways of the estate were empty. Your heels clicked unevenly and he matched your pace without comment, humming something tuneless as you leaned into him.
He opened the bedroom door and you stepped through, turned, grabbed the front of his shirt with both fists, and hauled him inside.
His eyebrows lifted. The smile stayed, but something behind it sharpened. "Oh my~"
"Shut the door."
"It's already shut. Didn't you notice?" He looked down at your hands on his shirt, then at your face. "You're flushed."
"I'm tipsy."
"You're also pretty."
That stalled you for a second. He used it and stepped forward, closing the gap until your back met the edge of the dresser.
"What do you want?" he asked, and for once the playfulness thinned out, leaving just the question and his eyes on you.
"You. Without the audience."
"Done." He kissed the corner of your mouth first, almost delicate, then caught your lips fully, and the taste of marshmallow dissolved into something much better.
TYL!Gamma
You glared at your empty glass for past ten minutes but Gamma had only noticed four minutes ago from across the room. You knew because he lit a fresh cigarette, which was what he did when he was deciding whether to intervene.
Intervention arrived in the form of a hand on your shoulder and a flat voice above your head.
"Okay, time to go."
"I'm fine." you insisted, swatting his hand off.
"You've been staring at that glass like it insulted you. You're done." He took it from your hand and set it on the bar without looking. "Up."
"You're so bossy."
"You married bossy. Let's move."
You stood, and the floor tilted. His arm came around your waist instantly, pulling you against his side. He didn't make a production of it, he just adjusted his grip and started walking.
The cigarette stayed between his lips as he navigated you through the thinning crowd. Stairs. Hallway. Door. He fished the key out with one hand, the other still anchored on you, and shouldered it open.
"Bed. Water on the nightstand. I'll be back after I finish--"
You grabbed his sleeve and he stopped. The cigarette bobbed.
"Come inside." you asked.
"I need to check the perimeter for--"
"Gamma." You pulled harder, stepping backward into the room. "The perimeter can wait."
He looked at you. Looked at the steel grip you had on him, took the cigarette from his mouth, crushed it in the hallway ashtray without breaking eye contact, and stepped inside.
The door closed and locked as he stood there, back straight, watching you closely.
"You planned this." he realized.
"I had four drinks and an impulse. That's not a plan."
The ghost of a smile appeared and vanished as he crossed the room and caught your jaw in one hand, tilting your face up.
"Impulse, huh." His voice was low and close. "Lucky me."
Reborn (Adult Form)
You switched from wine to whiskey an hour ago and that had been a tactical error on your part. The jazz club was winding down, smoke curling under low amber lights, and you were propped against the bar with your lower lip pushed out.
"That face isn't going to work on me."
You pushed it out further.
Reborn stood beside you in a black suit, espresso in hand even though it was midnight and regarded you with the calm appraisal of a man who had never once been outmaneuvered by anyone, least of all his own wife.
"I want to leave." you requested.
"Then leave."
"With you, Reborn."
"Ah." He took a sip. "You could have led with that."
"I could have--But I'm four whiskeys in which have compromised my communication skills"
He set the cup down and adjusted his fedora as his eyes traveled from your flushed face to the way your dress curved over your hips.
"Compromised," he repeated. "That's one word for it."
"Are you going to help me or just stand there being handsome and unhelpful?"
"I can do both." But he offered his arm, and when you took it, he pulled you close, hand resting on the full curve of your waist. He walked you out without a word to anyone.
The hotel corridor was quiet. He unlocked the door, held it open, and you grabbed the lapel of his suit jacket and yanked him through.
One eyebrow rose. The fedora tilted.
"Bold."
"You like bold."
"I like competent. Bold is a bonus." He pushed you against the now-closed door and leaned down with his mouth hovering just above yours, close enough that you could smell espresso and gunpowder.
"Hm, you're still pouting," he murmured.
"Fix that then."
The corner of his mouth curved. "Yes, ma'am."
Fon (Adult Form)
The tea house had been converted for the reception with paper lanterns strung between wooden beams and low tables crowded with guests.
You miscounted your cups of sake, which easy to do when they were so small and kept getting refilled, and now you sat with both hands around an empty cup, cheeks burning, quietly refusing to admit you overdid it.
Fon knelt beside you with a soft smile.
"You're rather flushed."
"It's the lanterns. They're very... warm-colored."
"The lanterns." He smiled fondly, not wanting to tease you intentionally. "Of course."
You turned the cup over in your hands. "I think... I'd like to go to bed, if that's okay."
"Of course, let us go then." He rose and offered both hands to help you stand.
You took them and he drew you upward, absorbing your unsteadiness like a current as you wobbled.
"Lean on me if you'd like."
"I... don't want to be an inconvenience." you hesitated.
"You are my wife." He said it as though that answered every possible objection. His arm came around your back and you pressed into him, your head finding the curve of his shoulder.
He guided you through the corridor with unhurried steps. The night air came through the open screens, cool against your skin as his thumb traced a slow line along your shoulder as you walked, rhythmic as breathing.
The bedroom door slid open under his hand and stepped aside to let you through. You took his hand and softly pulled him in with you.
He followed your lead without any resistance and slid the door shut behind him with his free hand while his other hand held yours tighter.
"You've been patient all evening," you said.
"I'm always patient."
"I know. But I'm not." You squeezed your hand lightly in his hold. "Please stay with me."
He studied your face for a long, quiet moment. Then he raised one hand and brushed the hair from your temple, fingertips trailing down to your jaw, tilting your chin up.
"I believe you may have missed it when I implied..." he trailed for a moment. "That I was coming with you, not simply dropping you off."
Colonnello (Adult Form)
The military fundraiser had free beer. That was their mistake. Your mistake was trying to keep pace with a man who spent years drinking with soldiers, which meant by your sixth bottle you were gone and he was merely cheerful.
"Kora! You look like you're about to slide off that chair."
"I am fine."
"Says the one who put the wrong name on the raffle ticket twenty minutes ago."
"...That was a stylistic choice, in case anyone else had the same name."
Colonnello laughed as he leaned back in his chair. His dress shirt was rolled to the elbows, with his blond hair pushed off his face, looking like the kind of man recruitment posters wished they could manufacture.
You set your bottle down with both hands and looked at him dead on. "Take me home Nello."
"We're staying upstairs. Hotel, remember?"
"Then take me upstairs." you corrected.
"Can you walk?"
"Colonnello."
"It's a real question, kora! Last time you said you could walk after drinking and you zigzagged into a coat rack and almost took out a waiter."
"That coat rack was in a stupid location."
He grinned, stood, and crouched with his back to you. "Hop on."
"You're not serious."
"Yep.--Hop on."
You climbed onto his back because you knew there was no point arguing at this point.
His hands hooked under your thighs and stood with ease as you locked your arms around his neck, and he carried you through the lobby at a stride that suggested he could do this up a mountain in full gear.
Which he had done to prove a point, hence your lack of arguing this time around.
"You good up there?"
"You smell like beer."
"So do you, kora. We match!"
He took the stairs even though the elevator was right there definitely to show off to you and shouldered open the hotel room door once the two of you reached it.
He bent to let you slide off onto the bed but you didn't release your arms.
"Kora, you gotta let go so I can--"
"Nope." You pulled, hard, and he toppled back onto the mattress with you. He let out a surprised bark of laughter, catching himself and rolling over to be above you and your legs hooked around his waist.
"Oh," he said, grin shifting into something more focused. "That's how it is."
"That's how it is." you repeated.
"Good. I was hoping you'd say that, kora."
He kissed you as though this was another point he intended to prove, and honestly, you were happy to let him.
Skull (Adult Form)
"Nobody at this table has said a single nice thing to me all night. Not one!" This complaint had been broadcasted approximately nine times in two hours.
The other guests, a scattered collection of underground figures who stopped registering his existence around complaint three, carried on without blinking.
You rubbed your temples. Six cocktails. You had six cocktails because listening to your husband campaign for acknowledgment required chemical reinforcement.
"Skull."
"I pulled off a triple backflip on a motorcycle last week. Triple! Do you know how many people can do that!? Me, I can! And did anyone here even--"
"Skull."
He turned, eyeliner smudged from an earlier dramatic episode you mercifully missed during a bathroom break, and his face toggled from grievance to full undivided attention in half a second.
"What's wrong? Are you okay? You look flushed. Are you sick? Do you need air? Should I get--"
"I want to go to our room. Now, before I dissolve into this chair."
Everything about him changed in that moment. His shoulders set back with his chin lifted. It was the posture he pulled out whenever he was handed a mission he could actually complete without getting drop-kicked across the venue by a former colleague.
"Done! I've got this, come on." He rounded the table and offered his hand with a flourish that was absurd yet completely sincere. You grabbed it, pulled yourself up, and leaned against him.
He stumbled a half-step but caught you properly on the second try.
"I've got you. Okay? Right here. Not going anywhere."
He steered you through the crowd with his arm locked around your waist, shooting looks at anyone who glanced your direction, expressions he clearly believed were threatening. They were not.
After a side quest of going to the wrong floor, and going down the wrong hallway, he finally got the two of you to your hotel room. He fumbled with the keycard twice before the green light clicked, and by then you were already fisting the collar of his jacket.
"Wait at least let me get the--"
"Inside. Now." You hauled him through the doorway and he yelped, tripping over the threshold, catching himself against you as the door swung shut behind him.
"You--right now? You actually want--"
"We are literally married Skull."
His face went red from the piercings down. All that restless bravado condensed into something more controlled.
"Y-Yeah." His voice cracked once. He steadied it. "Yeah. We are."
Then he kissed you like he still couldn't believe his luck, and you kissed him back until he believed it.
Byakuya did very few things without intention, but last night you made a sound when his teeth grazed your throat and his composure had simply… lapsed.
This morning he seen it in the light, a deep reddish-purple bloom against your skin. You reached for the high-collared kosode you usually wore as part of your uniform and his hand caught yours.
"Leave it," he said.
You looked at him, fingers still hovering over the fabric. "Byakuya, people are going to see."
He wasn't looking at you. He was looking at the mark. "Wear the one with the lower neckline."
You wore it to the division that morning and watched his reaction from the corner of your eye as you walked beside him through the main hall. Officers glanced at your throat and then immediately away, a few of them going red.
Byakuya's pace never changed, but when you passed Lieutenant Abarai, who noticed and choked on his tea, Byakuya's hand found the small of your back and stayed there.
"You're enjoying this," you murmured, keeping your eyes forward.
"I have no idea what you're referring to..." he said, his thumb tracing one slow proprietary circle against your spine.
At his office door, with three officers still in full view, he paused and adjusted the collar of your kosode, not to cover the mark but to frame it better, his fingertips lingering against the bruise.
"This suits you," he said, quiet enough that only you could hear. "I may need to be less careful in the future."
You exhaled. "Why do I get the feeling you're not joking when you say that?"
His mouth barely shifted, but his eyes said everything. Then he turned and walked into his office like he hadn't just branded you in front of his entire division.
Renji Abarai
You woke with three of them this time, a trail down the side of your neck like Renji had been mapping a path with his mouth, which was essentially what had happened.
You were standing in front of the mirror taking note of the damage when he appeared behind you, chin hooking over your shoulder, and whistled at his own handiwork.
"Damn," he said, sounding deeply impressed with himself. "The bottom one kinda looks like a butterfly."
You jabbed your elbow back into his ribs. "It does not."
He laughed and wrapped both arms around your middle, pulling your back against his chest, swaying you side to side like you were slow-dancing in the bathroom.
You reached for a scarf and his hand intercepted it, tossing it onto the futon behind you. "Nope. Absolutely not." He turned you around by the hips and examined your neck with the critical eye of an artist reviewing a canvas. "You're not covering those up. I worked hard on those."
You crossed your arms. "I have to report to the Eighth Division today, Renji. Captain Kyoraku is going to have a field day."
His grin only got bigger. "Good. Great. Perfect, actually. Tell him I said hello."
He pressed one more deliberate kiss right at the base of your throat, sucking lightly just long enough to deepen what was already there, then pulled back and admired the result.
"There. Now you're ready."
He caught your expression in the mirror which was half mortified, half grinning, and pressed his face into the crook of your neck, laughing against your skin. "You love it. Don't even try to front with me right now. You love it."
You bit your lip to keep from smiling. "You're the worst person I've ever met."
"Well, that hasn't made you get rid of me yet," he said, kissing the butterfly one more time.
Later that afternoon, an officer at the Eighth squinted at your neck and asked if you'd gotten hurt during training. Before you could answer, Renji--who just happened to be dropping off paperwork, called back over his shoulder without breaking stride, "That's my handiwork, actually!"
You were going to kill him.
Jushiro Ukitake
He found the mark before you did. You were lying with your head on his chest, half asleep in the late morning light, when his fingers drifted along your throat and paused.
"Oh," he said, very quietly, and something in his voice made you open your eyes.
He was staring at the curve of your neck, his thumb resting just beside a bruise that was already deepening in color. You reached up to touch it and he caught your hand, bringing it to his lips instead.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I'd been so--"
You cut him off. "Jushiro, don't you dare apologize."
He looked at you, surprised and you held his gaze. "I like it. I like that it's there."
His thumb traced the edge of the mark and his eyes went half-lidded in a way that told you the apology had been more reflex than regret.
Later that day you brought him tea wearing your usual kosode. You hadn't gone out of your way to show the mark off, but you hadn't hidden it either, and the neckline sat just low enough that when you leaned forward, there it was.
Kiyone spotted it first. A sharp inhale, then a hard elbow to Sentaro's ribs, followed by the crash of a dropped report stack.
"Captain Ukitake," Kiyone whispered, although not remotely quietly enough. "He looks like he's feeling better, don't you think?"
Sentaro caught on and broke into a grin. "Much better. His energy must really be coming back."
Kiyone clasped her hands together, eyes shining, and turned to you. "You're so good for him. Truly."
You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing. Ukitake's hand found yours under the tea tray, squeezing once.
"They're going to tell the entire division," he murmured, cheeks faintly pink.
"Probably," you said, making no effort to adjust your collar. "That okay with you?"
He looked at the mark, then at you, and his fingers came up to trace the edge of it.
"More than okay," he said quietly. "I just hope they don't overdo crediting you with my recovery."
You laughed, but from across the room, Kiyone wiped an actual tear. "She's saving our captain one night at a time."
Shunsui Kyoraku
Shunsui never just leave one mark. He left a constellation.
He spent half the night with his mouth on your throat, humming against your pulse, murmuring things that made your toes curl, and by morning you looked like you'd lost a fight with a very affectionate octopus.
You were examining them in the mirror when he appeared in the doorway, still half-dressed, hat absent, hair loose around his shoulders. He leaned against the frame and took a long, appreciative look.
"Now that," he said, "is a beautiful sight."
You turned and raised an eyebrow. "Shunsui, there's like eight of them."
"Eleven," he corrected, crossing the room and tilting your chin to inspect the tinier ones. "You miscounted the little ones."
You wrapped a bandage around your neck before heading to the Eighth Division, layering it carefully enough that it looked like a training injury rather than a night spent underneath your captain. It worked, mostly. A few officers gave you concerned glances while Nanao studied you over her glasses but said nothing.
Then midafternoon, Shunsui appeared beside your desk with a look of theatrical concern. "That dressing looks like it needs changing. Come on, let me take a look."
You stared at him. "It's fine."
"It could get infected," he said, absolutely shameless, already steering you by the elbow toward his office.
The door closed and he unwound the bandage slowly, each layer peeling away while his eyes stayed on your throat. The marks had deepened inro rich vivid blooms of violet and burgundy trailing from below your ear to your collarbone.
"Oh~" he breathed, tilting your head with one finger to trace the darkest one with his thumb. "These got prettier."
You swallowed. "The whole office thinks I'm injured."
He grinned, rewinding the bandage with infuriating tenderness, his knuckles brushing your skin with every pass. "Good, then I'll get to change your dressing again tomorrow."
He tucked the end in and kissed you right above the edge of it. "A thorough recovery takes time, sweetheart. Let's not rush it."
Kenpachi Zaraki
He didn't even realize he did it until you winced when your collar rubbed against your neck the next morning.
Kenpachi wasn't a man who kept track of the finer details of what his mouth did, he just knew that at some point last night he had his teeth on your throat and you grabbed his hair and pulled him closer, so he kept going.
Now you were sitting on the edge of the futon pressing your fingers to the spot gingerly, and he leaned over to look at it with the same casual interest he'd give a new scar after a good fight.
"Huh," he said. "That's a big one."
You shot him a look. "That's all you have to say?"
He shrugged, grinning. "Looks good on you."
You didn't bother covering it. There was no point, really, you'd learned early on that being with Kenpachi meant abandoning any pretense of subtlety about anything.
So you walked through the Eleventh Division with the mark on full display, a dark angry bruise just above your collarbone, and watched the reactions ripple out like a shockwave. Officers stared, then immediately looked away. A few of the younger ones went red. Yumichika raised one perfect eyebrow and said nothing, which meant he was saving his commentary for later.
Then Kenpachi fell into step beside you, and you watched him clock the way every single person in the corridor glanced at your neck and then at him.
His hand landed on the back of your neck, heavy and possessive, his thumb resting directly on the bruise.
You hissed. "Ow--Fuck--That's tender, you know."
"Yeah," he said, not moving his hand. "I know."
He steered you through the barracks like that, his palm covering the mark like he was signing his name over it, and when Ikkaku opened his mouth to comment, Kenpachi stared at him until he closed it.
"You could be a little less obvious," you muttered.
He looked down at you, thumb still pressing into the bruise just enough to make your breath catch. "Why?"
Ikkaku Madarame
The mark wasn't subtle. He left it right on the front of your throat, dead center, like he had been trying to make a point.
You discovered it in the morning when you caught your reflection in the blade of his zanpakutō, which was propped against the wall, and let out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a laugh.
"Ikkaku."
He was doing push-ups on the floor behind you, shirtless and completely unbothered. "Yeah?"
You pointed at your throat. He looked up, looked at the mark, and his face split into a grin. "Nice."
"Nice?" You grabbed a scarf from the shelf and wound it around your neck before he could stop you. He watched from the floor, mid push-up, frowning.
"That's rude. You know that, right?"
You ignored him and tucked the ends in neatly, checking your reflection. Gone. Completely hidden. You felt his arms wrap around you from behind, his chin dropping onto your shoulder.
"You're really gonna do me like that?"
"I have dignity, Ikkaku."
"Overrated."
You made it all the way to training with the scarf intact, feeling pretty good about yourself, until Yumichika appeared at your side, looked at your neck, and tilted his head like a bird examining something mildly offensive.
"That scarf doesn't match your uniform," he said bluntly. "Take it off."
Your hand flew to your throat. "I'm cold today."
"It is not cold today. It is the middle of summer. Take it off or I will, because looking at that color combination is causing me physical pain."
You tightened the scarf and Yumichika reached over just as quickly and tugged one end loose with a single elegant pull, and the whole thing unraveled, and there it was. Dark and obvious.
Yumichika stared at it for exactly two seconds. Then he turned toward the training yard where Ikkaku was stretching and called out, "You are an animal and I am embarrassed to know you."
Ikkaku looked up, saw your bare neck, and pumped his fist in the air. "LET'S GO."
You buried your face in your hands. "I hate both of you."
Yumichika patted your shoulder. "The mark is ugly dear. He could have at least placed it somewhere aesthetic... You can cover it back up now."
From across the yard, Ikkaku shouted, "DON'T YOU DARE."
Yumichika Ayasegawa
The mark sat in the curve where your neck met your shoulder, placed exactly where the neckline of your kosode would frame it if you wore the one he liked.
You traced it with your fingers that morning and actually smiled before catching yourself.
Then you put on your high-collared kosode anyway, because walking around the Eleventh Division with a hickey felt like announcing something you weren't ready for. When you stepped out, Yumichika was waiting. His eyes went to your collar immediately and his mouth thinned.
"No," he said. Just that.
"No what?"
"That collar. You're not wearing that." He crossed to you and tugged the fabric down to expose the mark, studying it.
"I put that there on purpose. The angle, the placement, the way it sits against your skin tone. That is my best work and you covered it with the most unflattering neckline you own."
You felt your face heat. "Yumichika, it's a hickey, not a gallery piece."
"Everything I do is beautiful dear." He was already pulling out the kosode with the lower neckline. "Change. Now."
When you emerged wearing it, he cupped your jaw and tilted your head, his thumb grazing the bruise.
"There~ Now you look like someone who belongs to me."
He walked beside you through the division with his hand resting on the exact spot, fingers splayed to frame it. When Ikkaku squinted at your neck and opened his mouth, Yumichika didn't glance at him.
"Say one word and I'll tell everyone about that little kendo tornament in the world of the living."
Ikkaku's mouth snapped shut. You bit back a laugh.
"You're terrifying."
"Thank you," he said, and pressed his lips to your temple.
Mayuri Kurotsuchi
The mark Mayuri had left was not something you wanted to explain to Twelfth Division members who already looked at you with a mixture of confusion and pity for willingly sharing a bed with their captain.
You wrapped a bandage around your throat and practiced your "training accident" excuse in the mirror three times.
You'd nearly made it through the entire morning, before Mayuri summoned you to the lab.
He was bent over a microscope when you entered and didn't look up for thirty seconds. When he did, his golden eyes went straight to the bandage.
"What is that."
You touched your throat. "I hurt myself during--"
"You did not hurt yourself during anything. Remove it."
You unwound the bandage slowly and the mark came into view. It was vivid, almost chemical-looking and high on the side of your throat where his mouth had been last night.
He crossed to you, gripping your chin and turning your head. "Excellent pigmentation. The capillary disruption is more extensive than I estimated."
You stared at him. "You're not serious. This was part of an experiment?!"
"I am always serious. This is a perfect record of applied pressure and vascular response and you attempted to hide it under gauze like a common injury."
He pulled a small jar from his coat and you flinched.
"What is that?"
"A fixative. It will prevent the mark from fading for approximately seventy-two additional hours."
Your mouth fell open. "Mayuri, I am not letting you preserve a hickey like a lab sample."
"You are, because I have already applied it." His thumb had swiped across the bruise while holding your chin, and the skin tingled faintly.
You looked at him in disbelief. He looked back with zero remorse.
"You are mine. The data should reflect that. You may leave the bandage here. You will not be needing it."
Shuhei Hisagi
He was mortified at first. You watched it happen in real time--his eyes landing on the mark, his face cycling through recognition, pride, and immediate guilt in about two seconds.
"I'm sorry," he said, already reaching for your neck like he could rub it away. "I got carried away, I should've been more careful."
You caught his hand and kissed his knuckles. "Shuhei. Breathe. I bruise easy and I didn't stop you, which means I didn't want you to stop."
The guilt faded slowly, replaced by something cautious and searching as he studied the mark, a dark uneven bloom right below your jaw.
Your uniform covered it perfectly. High collar, no problems, and you made it through the entire day without a single incident. You honestly forgotten about it by evening, which was your mistake, because your evenings were spent drinking with Rangiku.
You were three cups in, warm and loose, and you tugged your collar open to cool down without thinking twice and Rangiku's eyes locked onto your neck like a heat-seeking missile.
You didn't even get a full breath in before she grabbed your chin, tilted your head, and announced to the entire table, "Oh my god!!!~ Hisagi marked you up girl!!!"
The bar went quiet. Kira choked on his drink. Ikkaku slammed his cup down and howled. You slapped her hand away, face on fire.
"Rangiku, I swear to--"
"Just look at it! That's not even subtle, someone was making a statement last night!~" She was beaming, absolutely delighted, already turning to find Hisagi in the crowd.
He was three seats down, frozen with his cup halfway to his mouth, the flush spreading so far past the 69 tattoo it looked like his whole face might combust.
"Hisagi!" Rangiku called, raising her cup. "I didn't know you had it in you!"
He set his drink down very carefully, stood up, walked over to you, and put his hand on the back of your neck. His voice was strained but steady.
"We're leaving."
You grabbed your cup and downed the rest. "Yep. Great idea."
Rangiku's laughter followed you both out the door, and halfway down the street you felt his grip loosen and heard him start laughing too, quiet and helpless, his forehead dropping against the top of your head.
"We're never going to hear the end of that."
You laced your fingers through his. "Nope. Never."
Izuru Kira
You woke up to the feeling of something cool and adhesive being pressed gently to your throat. Your eyes opened to find Izuru leaning over you, brow furrowed in concentration, carefully smoothing a bandage over the side of your neck.
There was a bruise underneath, you could feel the tenderness, and from the look on his face Izuru been awake long enough to find it, agonize over it, and devise a solution before you even stirred.
"Izuru," you murmured, voice thick with sleep. "What are you doing?"
He pressed the edge down with his thumb, not meeting your eyes. "It's visible. I don't want people to look at you differently because of something I did."
Your chest ached at his words and you reached up and covered his hand where it rested against the bandage, pressing his palm flat to your throat.
"Thank you," you said, and meant it.
He finally looked at you, surprised, like he'd been bracing for you to be upset with him. "You're not mad?"
"Mad? Izuru, you woke up before me just to make sure nobody would give me a hard time today. That's…" You squeezed his hand. "Was really thoughtful of you."
The tension in his shoulders released all at once and he exhaled. You pulled him down and kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth.
"You're a good man, you know that?"
His ears went pink. "I just didn't want anyone to--"
"I know. That's why it means so much."
You touched the edge of the bandage and smiled. "Keep being you, okay? I'll wear your little patch job with pride."
A quiet laugh escaped him and he pressed his lips to your forehead.
"I'll apply the next one better," he said. "That one folded a bit while I was putting it on."
TAG LIST [message if you would like to be added to any tag lists]: @disturbyakuya
a/n. heheheheh i felt way too devious while writing this because of the few peps I had in mind
warnings: angst to comfort, secret pregnancy, found family, Iroh's wisdom
The morning sun peeked through the ornate windows of the Fire Nation palace, but you didn’t feel its usual warmth. Instead, you felt that familiar, heavy churning in your stomach. It had been happening for weeks now—exhaustion, the sudden sensitivity to the smell of Zuko’s favorite spicy foods, and a strange, fluttering pressure deep in your abdomen.
You sat on the edge of the bed, watching Zuko sleep. At twenty-four, the Fire Lord looked older than his years when he was awake, burdened by the crown and endless meetings. But in sleep, his face smoothed out, looking more like the boy you had met all those years ago.
You pressed a hand to your stomach. You knew. You’d seen a healer in the lower plaza under a fake name, and the news had hit you like one of those boulders Toph would chuck at you during training sessions: four months. You were four months pregnant.
Bile rose in your throat. Five years was a long time to be dating, but Zuko hadn’t mentioned marriage. Not once. He talked about the future of the nation, about rebuilding, about his legacy—but never about a wedding. Did he even want kids? He was so focused on being a better man than his father that you worried he was scared to be a father at all.
For a week, you lived like a ghost in your own home. You ate dinner with him, kissed him goodbye before his council meetings, and practiced your firebending in the courtyard, all while your secret grew inside you. Every time he touched your waist or pulled you close, you flinched ever so slightly, terrified he would somehow feel the change in you.
By the seventh day, the pressure became too much. You couldn't tell him—not yet. You needed someone who knew Zuko better than anyone. You needed a person who lived outside the walls of duty and expectation.
Without a word or a note, you packed a small bag, slipped past the palace guards using the secret routes Zuko had once shown you, and boarded a ship heading for Ba Sing Se.
The Jasmine Dragon was quiet when you arrived. The scent of brewing leaves and steamed buns usually made you feel at home, but today, it just made you want to cry.
Uncle Iroh was wiping down a table when you stepped through the door. He didn't look surprised; he just smiled that soft, knowing smile and set his rag down.
"I believe I have just the blend for a weary traveler," he said, gesturing to a private booth in the back.
You sat down, and the moment the steam from the tea hit your face, the dam broke. You told him everything. You told him about the pregnancy, about the fear that Zuko wasn't ready, and about how much you hated yourself for running away.
"He’s Fire Lord, Iroh," you whispered, gripping your cup. "He has to think about heirs and tradition. What if he thinks I did this to trap him? What if he doesn't want a family because of... everything that happened with Ozai?"
Iroh reached across the table, his warm hand covering yours. "My nephew has spent his life learning how to love, my dear. He does not see you as a 'tradition' or a 'trap.' He sees you as his home. But I suspect he is currently making a very large scene back at the palace trying to find you."
"I just...needed a moment to breathe," you sighed, leaning back. "I feel like I'm carrying the weight of the whole world."
"You are carrying a life," Iroh corrected gently. "That is not a weight. It is a gift. Even if the timing feels like a storm, remember that flowers need rain to grow."
You spent the next few days helping Iroh in the shop. It was peaceful. You helped serve tea, you walked through the Middle Ring gardens, and for a moment, you felt like a normal girl again, not the secret girlfriend of the world’s most powerful firebender.
But peace never lasted long when the Avatar and his friends were involved.
It was a Tuesday afternoon. The shop was half-full when the front doors didn't just open—they flew off their hinges.
"Uncle! She isn't here! The guards at the harbor said a woman matching her description got on a ferry, but—"
Zuko’s voice cut through the air like a blade. He looked like a wreck. His hair was messy, his robes were wrinkled, and his eyes were bloodshot. Behind him stood Aang, Katara, Sokka, and Toph, all looking equally exhausted and worried.
Zuko stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes landed on you, sitting at a corner table with a plate of half-eaten dumplings.
For a second, nobody moved. Then, Zuko was across the room in three long strides. He didn't yell. He didn't demand answers. He simply crashed into you, wrapping his arms around you so tightly you could barely breathe. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, and you could feel him shaking.
"I thought someone took you," he choked out, his voice muffled by your hair. "I thought Ozai’s loyalists found a way into the palace. I thought I’d lost you forever."
"Zuko, I'm sorry," you whispered, hugging him back. "I just... I had to get away."
The rest of the group gathered around, a mix of relief and confusion on their faces. Sokka looked like he wanted to complain about the frantic trip, but Katara shushed him.
"We've been searching for a week," Aang said softly. "Zuko wouldn't eat or sleep. We had to fly Appa through a storm to get here."
Zuko pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands. His thumbs traced your cheekbones. "Why didn't you tell me? Whatever it is, whatever is wrong, we can fix it. If you’re unhappy in the palace, we’ll change things. Just don’t leave me again."
You looked at his face—the desperation, the raw love—and felt like the biggest idiot in the world. You had been so scared of his reaction that you’d ignored the man he actually was.
Toph, who had been standing back with her arms crossed, suddenly tilted her head. Her milky eyes focused somewhere around your midsection. She frowned, her feet shifting on the wooden floorboards.
"Uh, Sparky?" Toph said, interrupting the moment.
Zuko didn't look away from you. "Not now, Toph."
"No, seriously," she insisted, stepping closer. "I think I know why she ran away. Or at least, why she’s acting weird."
"Toph, give them some space," Katara whispered, reaching for the earthbender's arm.
"I’m just saying!" Toph shrugged her off. "I can hear it. It’s faint, but there’s definitely a second little pitter-patter in there. A really fast one."
The room went dead silent. Zuko’s hands froze on your cheeks. He looked down at your stomach, then back up at your eyes. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"Toph..." you breathed, your face turning bright red. "I was going to tell him."
"Wait," Sokka’s jaw dropped. "A second heartbeat? Like... a baby? Is there a baby in there?"
"Four months," you whispered, looking only at Zuko.
Zuko’s knees seemed to give out slightly. He dropped his hands to your waist, his fingers splaying across your stomach with a reverence you’d never seen. He looked terrified, but beneath the terror was a spark of something that looked a lot like wonder.
Uncle Iroh stepped forward, clapping his hands together. "Alright, everyone! I think the Jasmine Dragon is closed for a private tea ceremony. Aang, Sokka, why don't we go find some meat skewers down the street? Katara, Toph, I believe there is a beautiful sunset starting. Let's give these two some air."
With some grumbling from Sokka and a knowing wink from Iroh, the shop was cleared out. The broken door was pulled shut as best as it could be, leaving you and Zuko alone in the golden afternoon light.
Zuko still hadn't moved his hands. He was staring at your belly as if he expected it to start talking to him.
"Four months?" he finally asked.
"Yeah," you said, your voice trembling. "I’m sorry I ran. I was just... I was scared, Zuko. You haven't asked me to marry you, and you're so busy being Fire Lord, and I didn't know if you wanted this. I didn't want to be a burden."
Zuko let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. He pulled you into his lap, sitting on the bench and tucking your head under his chin.
"A burden?" he repeated. "I was going to propose on the anniversary of our first date next month. I’ve had the ring in my desk for half a year. I was just waiting for the perfect moment because I wanted everything to be right for you."
You pulled back, staring at him. "You have a ring?"
"Of course I have a ring," he said, a bit of his usual grumpiness returning to hide his emotion. "I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment you tried to out-firebend me in that training session three years ago."
He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. "As for being Fire Lord... my father didn't care about his family. He only cared about power. I want to be the opposite of him in every way. If that means I spend my days ruling and my nights rocking a cradle, then that’s the best life I can imagine."
You felt a massive weight lift off your shoulders. You reached up, running your fingers through his hair. "So you're not mad?"
"I’m furious that you ran away," he admitted, his eyes darkening for a second. "I was scared to death. But about the baby?" He let out a long breath, a small, genuine smile breaking across his face. "I think I'm going to be the happiest man in the world. Even if Toph found out before I did."
"She does have a way of ruining surprises," you joked, leaning into him.
Zuko kissed you then—a long, slow kiss that tasted like home and jasmine tea. For the first time in weeks, the churning in your stomach stopped. You weren't alone in this anymore.
"We should probably go tell them we're okay," you said after a while, though you didn't move.
"In a minute," Zuko whispered, his hand still resting gently over your heart and the tiny life growing beneath it. "Let's just stay here for a minute."
Outside, you could hear Sokka arguing with Iroh about whether sea-prunes belonged in tea, and Toph laughing loudly at a joke Aang made. But inside the shop, it was quiet, warm, and finally, perfectly right.
(Core) M!JJK x Chubby Fem!Reader: You ask them if they're only with you because they "settled."
themes: established relationship, mild angst, emotional vulnerability, insecurity, reassurance, possessiveness, mild body praise
a/n: Okay time to soft launch this blog! Thanks again to everyone on my video-game reactions blog who supported this new addition. I hope you enjoy!
Satoru Gojo
His usual teasing grin falters the moment the question leaves your lips. There's a long pause, which is unusual for someone who always seems to have a comeback ready. "Do you think I settle for anything in this life?" he says, gaze sharper than what you're used to. He steps closer, taking your face in his hands, "I could have anything, and I chose you. Not because you're the safest option, or because I gave up, but because you make the world feel less... cruel."
Gojo pulls you into his chest, arms wrapping around you tight. His breath warms the top of your head. "You make me laugh when nothing's funny. You make me feel when the world wants me numb. And your body? Don't get me started! I'd give up my life just to feel you." He pulls back, grinning now, but it's softer. "So no, I didn't settle. I lucked out. You're the one who's way out of my league."
Suguru Geto
He doesn't answer right away, which only makes the silence stretch heavier between you. You watch the way his brow creases, thumb absently rolling over the beads of his bracelet. "If that question came from anyone else, I'd think they were insulting me," he finally murmurs. "But coming from you... it just hurts." He sets down his tea with a quiet clink and levels you with a gaze more devastating than any curse. "I'm not the kind of man who settles. I take what aligns with my soul. And everything about you aligns just so."
Geto stands, crossing the room until he's in front of you, "I don't love you despite your size. I don't overlook it. I adore it. Your softness, your curves, the way you take up space beside me. I've burned too many bridges to waste time on anything less than the love I have for you." He kisses the inside of your palm, "So don't mistake my quiet for uncertainty. I never settled, not with you."
Ryomen Sukuna
He snorts, and you almost regret asking until you see the way his eyes narrow in insult. "Settled? You think I would lower myself for anyone?" His tone is laced with contempt not aimed at you, but at the idea itself. Sukuna stalks forward, before grabbing your chin between two fingers. "I took one look at you and thought, mine. Not because I couldn't do better, but because no one else could survive me and still look at me like you do."
His grip softens, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "You've seen me, known me, and still stayed. You think I'd give that up for some brat with no spine who I could snap by accident?" A dark grin spreads. "You're the only one strong enough to love me and soft enough to make it feel like pleasure, not punishment." His lips ghost your jaw, voice a whisper now. "So no, I didn't settle. I claimed. And you..." his hand presses to your plush hip, possessive, "are about to learn the difference."
Choso Kamo
He blinks at you slowly, like he doesn't understand the question at first. Then his shoulders slump, like he's just been hit with something too heavy to carry. "I would never think of you like that," he says, "You... you were the first person to hold me without fear. The first to see me as something other than a weapon." He moves carefully, like you might slip away if he breathes wrong, settling beside you and cupping your waist. "You think this body, is something I had to settle for? No, it's everything I crave."
Choso presses his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering closed. "I didn't even know what love felt like until you. So don't talk like you're some second-best version of what I could've had." His fingers dig into the plush curve of your side, "I choose you every day. And I'll keep choosing you. Not in spite of your body. But because everything about you tells me I'm loved. And I don't think I've ever had that before."
Kento Nanami
He exhales through his nose, slow and steady, adjusting his tie like he needs the motion to think. "That word, settle, implies I stopped reaching for something better. That I compromised." His eyes meet yours, "But I know what mediocrity looks like. I spent years drowning in it in an office. And you are not that." Nanami walks over, placing a hand against your back, "I didn't settle, dear. I merely found someone better than I knew I deserved."
He smooths a palm over your hip, letting his hand rest there without shame or hesitation. "There's a difference between choosing comfort and choosing complacency. You bring me peace without dulling my edge. You give generosity to a man who's lived with nothing but sharp corners." He dips down, brushing a kiss just behind your ear. "Thank you for being who you are."
Toji Fushiguro
He lets out a low, humourless laugh, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Tch. You think I give a damn about what people expect me to want?" He leans back in his chair, gaze dragging over your figure with a hunger that's never dulled since the first time you let him touch you. "I've taken what I wanted my whole life. You think I'd waste my effort on something that doesn't excite me?" His grin is lazy but doesn't mask the seriousness under it.
Toji stands, crowding your space until your back hits the counter, his calloused hand reaches to grip your ass with firm affection. "All I did was claw my way to someone who makes me forget how fucked up I am." He kisses you hard before pulling back just enough to mutter, "You've got a body that drives me mad, a mouth that talks back, and a heart I'd kill to protect. Don't ever insult what we've got like that again."
(Varia/Arcobaleno/Millefiore) M!KHR x Chubby Fem!Reader: You give them the cold shoulder after a misunderstanding.
themes: established relationship, wife!reader, mild crack, humor, established relationship, jealousy, resolving misunderstandings, arguing/banter
a/n: This idea has been rotting in my brain since I started the Vongola reaction, so I hope you enjoy! Also I'm so happy to know there's a few of ya'll out there wanting more KHR 🥲
TYL!Xanxus
He was in his office for hours with one of the Vongola's external advisors, and you caught sight of her leaning close, chest pressed against his arm and whispering something in his ear. Afterwards, you were sitting on the far end of the bedroom sofa, scrolling your phone with complete disregard. Xanxus dropped beside you. "Oi." No response. "I'm talking to you, woman." "That's nice." He snatched the phone from your hand. "The hell is your problem?" You looked at him, expression blank. "Go back to your meeting. That advisor of yours seemed very attentive."
"That woman's been advising the Alliance for six years. She's sixty-two." he exclaimed in disbelief. Your resolve wavered, "Well…She didn't look sixty-two--" "She's had work done, fuck if I care," he snapped, but his hand was already gripping the soft curve of your thigh, dragging you toward him. "Look, she's handsy with everyone. Squalo nearly broke her wrist last quarter." His arm wrapping around your waist. "There's no one else. Don't piss me off by thinking otherwise." When your hand curled into his shirt, he exhaled hard. "You're so fucking annoying sometimes." "You're still mean." "Yeah. And you're still mine."
TYL!Superbia Squalo
The mission debrief had run late, and when you'd tracked him down, he was backed against the corridor wall by a younger Varia recruit. She was pretty, slim, her hands fisted in his coat and was looking up at him through her lashes. You'd turned on your heel immediately. Sometime later Squalo stood in the kitchen doorway, hair damp from a shower, watching you cut aggressively vegetables. "VOOOI, you gonna tell me what's wrong or what!?" You set the knife down. "Why don't you ask your little recruit? The one with her hands all over you."
His voice hit a decibel that made you wince. "THAT BRAT? She grabbed me to beg for a squad transfer! I was about to throw her through the wall before you decided to up and leave!" "She didn't look scared." "Because you left before that part!" He closed the distance, catching your wrist gently. His voice was still loud by anyone's standards, but for Squalo, it was basically a whisper. "I married you. You think some recruit changes that? I'd sooner let Xanxus throw a wine bottle at me again."
TYL!Belphegor
You had found the earring on his nightstand, a pearl drop, gold clasp and clearly not yours. When you'd held it up, Bel had just grinned like the Cheshire grin and said nothing before walking away. Now you sat with a book which you hadn't turned a page for in over forty minutes. "The princess is sulking~" Nothing. "Ushishi, the princess is annoyed is she?--" You cut him off, "I'm reading, Bel." "You've been on that page since I got here." You didn't respond, causing his grin to fade a fraction. "You're actually upset." You sighed and turned the page, "No, like I said... I'm reading."
He walked behind you and plucked the book away. "That earring's yours." You blinked, waiting for him to explain. "The prince bought it yesterday, it was supposed to be a surprise buuut the princess decided to have a crisis instead~" His gloved hand found the soft curve of your jaw, making your face heat up. "…You could have just said that early!" He shrugged, laughing. "Ushishi, and miss watching you pretend you weren't jealous?" But his thumb traced your cheek gently. "There's no one else stupid enough to hold a prince's attention. Only you."
TYL!Dino Cavallone
You'd come early to surprise him at his office, only to catch the tail end of a phone call through the cracked door, his voice low and warm, "I miss you. I think about you all the time... I'll see you soon, I promise." You left without a sound and sat on the window sill to watch the rain. An hour later, Dino found you. "There you are! Romario said you came by-- hey, what's wrong?" You wiped your eyes quickly. "Nothing." He paused, taking in your expression. "You've been crying." You decided to be direct. "Who were you talking to on the phone, Dino?" Your voice cracked on his name.
"Oh. Oh. No no no!!--" He fumbled for his phone and turned the screen to you. A contact labeled Mamma. "She's been sick. She called to guilt trip me for not visiting." Your throat tightened. "Why did you say 'I think about you all the time'?" "Because she tells me I forget her if I don't call regularly! She's Italian, it's emotional warfare!" He knelt, arms circling the soft rounds of your knees. "You're my whole world, you have to know that by now." Your fingers found his hair. "You really were talking to your mom huh?" He nodded frantically, "She asked if we were eating enough. Twice. And then asked about grandkids again."
TYL!Byakuran
You found the small velvet jewlry box in his closet, and inside was a ring sized far too small for your fingers. Sometime later, you moved through the kitchen while Byakuran watched closely from the couch. "Hmm, you're stress-baking, what's wrong" You slammed the tray down harder than intended, "I don't always have to be stressed to bake brownies you know!" He chuckled to himself, "Because you're clearly so calm now," he teased. You continued baking in silence until the brownies were in the oven and you spun on your heel. "Okay fine, I'm stressed...Who's that ring for, Byakuran?" The playful tilt of his head stilled.
"Hm?...Oh that--It's for you, silly. Your birthday is in three weeks, I had it custom made to stack with your wedding band. They just got the initial sizing too small." Heat crawled up your neck, "For...me?" He shrugged playfully and got up. "Who else?" He made his way behind you, hugging you from behind. "You could have hidden it better." you murmured. He smiled, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Well I didn't think my wife would be snooping through my closet like a little spy~" You elbowed him and he laughed against your neck, holding you tighter.
TYL!Gamma
It had been a quiet night until you overheard him talking to someone on the phone while he was outside. "She's nothing like Aria..." You didn't stick around after that, going to bed with your back to the door. When Gamma slid in beside you, he noticed your coldness immediately. "You're awake." You grumbled, "I'm not." Causing him to sigh in response. "You breathe slower when you're actually asleep..." His hand reached for your hip and you shifted away and whisper. "I heard you... saying I'm nothing like Aria."
"You're not." He didn't hesitant. "Aria was everything to me. Losing her nearly killed me. I won't pretend otherwise." He sat up. "But I got asked if you reminded me of her. I said no, because you don't. Because you're not a replacement." His palm found the curve of your waist. "I loved Aria. I always will... But what I have with you isn't borrowed from her memory, it's yours." He laid down and brought you close to him. "I don't need you to be like her. I just need you to be here." Your hand found his. "You could have led with that." He hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Sorry, didn't think I had to."
Reborn (Adult Form)
You'd walked into the cafe where you were meeting him and found him in the corner booth with a stunning woman leaning forward laughing at something he'd said. You watched him lift his cup to her, then left. A few hours had passed and you were sitting on the couch, coat still on. Reborn came through the door, eyes scanning you. "You didn't come." You avoided his gaze. "You looked... occupied." He set his fedora on the table, "Tell me what you think you saw."
After a few minutes of explaining, he sighed. "That was Bianchi, she wanted to discuss a complication. Threatened to poison my barista if I didn't entertain her." He crouched before you, catching your chin, tilting your face up. "Listen, I don't risk what I have, you least of all." Your lip trembled as his thumb traced your jaw. "I chose you with full knowledge of every alternative, never think otherwise." Your hand gripped his wrist. "You could have at least warned me." His mouth pressed against your forehead, "I didn't want to put you in danger, I'll introduce you two properly next time."
Fon (Adult Form)
Everything had gone wrong. The mission was a mess, contacts fell through, six hours in the rain for nothing, and when you'd come home soaked and fuming, Fon had looked up from his tea and said, "You're home. Good." Then gone back to reading. You sighed and walked past him to the bedroom without a word. Minutes later he appeared in the doorway. "You're upset." "I'm not." "You slammed the door harder than usual." You groaned, covering yourself with a blanket. "Maybe I'm tired of coming home to someone reacts the same way whether I've had the worst day of my life or a fine one... Do you even care?"
He knelt next to your blanket lump, and for the first time his composure looked frayed. "I could feel your frustration before you opened the door. I didn't come to you because you usually want space before talking." His fingers found yours under the blanket and held them softly. "I made you tea. Your favorite blend. It's on the counter." You blinked. You hadn't noticed. His voice went quiet. "My calm is not absence, I apologize if it came across like that... I simply love you in quieter ways." Your throat tightened but no words left. He brought your hand out from the blanket and pressed his lips to your knuckles. "I always pay attention to you, even when it doesn't look like it."
Colonello (Adult Form)
You'd overheard him on the phone with Lal Mirch, which was nothing unusual, but it was how he'd said it. "Nobody pushes me like you do, Lal. Never have, never will, kora." You moved to sit down on the back steps, and Colonello dropped down beside you shortly after. "Hey. You're quiet, kora." You hummed, "Yeah, just thinking is all...Do you ever wish things had gone differently? With Lal I mean?" His hand stilled.
"Where's this coming from?" he questioned, eyebrows pinching together. "I heard you. Nobody pushes you like her. Never will. I can't compete with that." you laughed hollowely. A confused noise left him, "Huh, compete? You think this is a competition?" "Colonello--" He cut you off. "Lal is my combat partner. She trained me, kicked my ass and made me the soldier I am." His hand found your knee, "But she's not who I want beside me when the fighting's done, kora. What I have with Lal is war. What I have with you is what I fought for." Your vision blurred as your hands moved up to wipe your eyes. "You really mean that?" He pulled you into him, arm tight around your shoulders, lips pressed hard against your temple. "I asked you to marry me didn't I?"
Skull (Adult Form)
You saw a fan video of Skull at a stunt show, he was winking, blowing a kiss at a screaming woman in the front row. The comments flooded all with similar themes on how cute and flirty he is. You doom scrolled through the comments until Skull came in grinning. "Babe! The show was insane--" He stopped. "Oh no did something happen to Wisp?" "No, Wisp is fine but..." He tilted his head, "Buuuut what?" You showed him the video and the comments. "Care to explain?"
His eyes went panicked. "I-I-I--That's my thing! I'm a crowd pleaser--I didn't even see her face, the helmet was half on!" You believed him now, but kept going. "Sure looks like you saw her." He pointed at your phone. "You're trusting internet people over your husband?!" He dropped to his knees, pressing your hand against his hammering chest. "Feel that? You being upset is scarier than anything today, and I jumped a motorcycle through fire." Your resolve cracked as he began pleading. "I'll get 'I love my wife' embroidered on the back of my jacket. Big letters. Rhinestones." You slapped his arm with a smile "Don't you dare."
a/n: Yes Wisp the cat from tiktok, my emotional wellbeing was tethering to their condition for a hot second.
(Soul Society) M!Bleach x Chubby Fem!Reader: You tell them you're scared they'll stop finding you attractive.
themes/content warnings (18+ Only - Minors DNI): established relationship, mild angst, fear of abandonment, self-doubt, body image issues, affirmation/comfort, emotional vulnerability, verbal affection, mild suggestive dialogue
a/n: Watching the Olympic while editing this on my phone, apologies if there's any missed errors! Hope you enjoy!
Byakuya Kuchiki
He didn't respond right away, not out of coldness, but to process your concern. You had spoken quietly, but the confession rang heavily in his mind. Then, the book he'd been holding was set down, "What you fear," he said before pausing, "...is impossible. My attraction to you is not so fragile." He crossed the distance between you without haste, as if to emphasize his point.
His hand came to rest at your waist, thumb brushing slow arcs against the fabric of your robe. "You are not a passing interest. Not something to be admired only in fleeting moments of perfection." He tilted your chin just enough for you to meet his gaze, "Even if you do not always see your beauty, I do. I always will." There was no flourish to his delivery, but when he kissed you, it wasn't to convince you of his words, but to affirm them.
Renji Abarai
Renji's eyes widened like you'd slapped him. "What!?" He blinked, leaned back as if trying to process where that even came from, then leaned forward with a frown tugging at his brow. "Wait, hold on--Where'd you even get that idea?" You saw the way his hands twitched like he wanted to grab you but didn't know where to start. Eventually, he settled for gently tugging you closer by your hips, a slight scowl still on his face. "Babe, I stare at you like I'm trying to burn the image into my retinas. Ask Rukia, she says it's disgusting."
He tilted his head, looking at with you sincerity. "Listen, you've got a body that drives me outta my damn mind, but it's not just that. I love the way you look when you're laughing, when you're grumpy in the mornings, and when you're in those ugly socks you think I don't know about." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, lingering there a little longer than needed. "I'm not gonna stop wanting you. So don't go telling yourself that crap, alright?"
Jushiro Ukitake
He paused mid-sentence, fingers still curled around the edge of the tea tray he'd been preparing, expression softening with concern. "What was that, my love?" he asked, though he'd heard you perfectly. Setting the tray down with care, he walked over with quiet steps and reached for your hands, thumbs brushing over your knuckles. "You're scared I'll stop finding you attractive?" he repeated gently, brows furrowing like it pained him to even say the words. "Why would such a thought ever cross your mind?"
Jushiro drew you closer, guiding your hands to rest against his chest where his heart beat steadily beneath your palms. "I have admired many things in my life, the moonlight on water, the first plum blossoms in spring, but none hold a candle to the way you simply exist," he murmured, smiling faintly. "I treasure every part of you. Not just in the moments you feel beautiful, but especially in the ones you don't. That's when you need my gaze the most, and I'll never withhold that from you."
Shunsui Kyoraku
He chuckled at first, until he realized you weren't joking. The way your gaze dropped, the hesitation in your tone, it wasn't a tease. Shunsui's entire demeanour shifted. His smile faded into something far more serious as he stepped closer, lifting his hat and setting it aside. "Ah, cariño [dear]," he murmured, reaching out to tip your chin up. "Do you really think my heart's that shallow? That my desire for you is skin-deep and fleeting?"
He wrapped his arms around you then, not lazily like he sometimes did, but with purpose, like he was holding something precious. "You're not some passing summer romance. You're the one I want in every season, in every mood, in every shade of light." His voice lowered, lips brushing against the curve of your jaw as he spoke. "I don't just find you attractive. I crave you. Every inch of you, every day. And if I haven't made that clear, then shame on me." He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, the smirk returning as he winked, "But don't worry. I can be veeeery convincing, if you need reminding."
Toshiro Hitsugaya
Toshiro froze, hand still mid-turn from closing the door behind him, and his brows pulled together in a tight line. "What did you say?" His words weren't sharp but they were clearly tense with disbelief. When you didn't answer right away, his eyes narrowed, "That's... ridiculous," he muttered, stepping forward until he was close enough to reach for your hand. His grip was firm, cool fingers wrapping around yours, "I don't say things I don't mean. If I said I find you beautiful, it's because I do."
He let out a sigh, more frustrated with himself than with you. "I'm not good with this stuff," he admitted, keeping your hand in his, "but you're not just attractive to me. You're you. And that includes your heart, your voice, your stubbornness, your laugh, all of it. I didn't fall for a shape. I fell for everything that makes you, you." His thumb grazed your knuckles again before he pulled you into a rare but tight embrace, resting his chin gently against your shoulder. "Next time that thought creeps in, ignore it, because it's not true."
Kenpachi Zaraki
You barely got the words out before he was squinting at you like you'd started speaking another language. "Huh? What the hell are you talkin' about?" Kenpachi asked, arms crossing. He wasn't good at emotional stuff, you knew that, but even he could recognize something's been on your mind for a while, and this was it. "You scared I'll stop thinkin' you're hot?" he repeated slowly. "Heh, you're lucky I don't drag you into bed every time you walk past. You ever see what you look like when you're pissed off? It's goddamn gorgeous."
He scratched the back of his neck, clearly irritated with the idea that you'd ever think something so off-base. "I don't do fake. If I didn't want you, I wouldn't be here." He stepped in and hooked an arm around your waist, pulling you roughly against him. "You're thick in all the ways I like, you fight me when you're grumpy, and you call me out on my bullshit without flinching an inch." He smirked, teeth flashing. "Ain't nothin' about you I'm gettin' tired of. Don't believe me? I'll just prove it to you in other ways."
Ikkaku Madarame
He blinked like he hadn't heard you right, then scoffed. "The hell?" Ikkaku rubbed the back of his neck, "You seriously think I'd stop wanting you?" He stepped closer, eyes narrowing just a bit. "You think I pick just anyone to patch me up after a fight, to stick around when things get messy?" He tapped your forehead gently with two fingers. "You're not just anyone. You're mine."
He grinned then grabbed your hand and guided it to his chest. "Feel that? That heartbeat's been goin' crazy for you since day one." His voice dipped just enough to get your stomach flipping. "You've got curves that make my blood boil and a mouth that drives me nuts in all the best ways." He leaned in close, nose brushing yours, "The only way I'm quittin' you is if someone manages to kill me first."
Mayuri Kurotsuchi
He stared at you with eerie stillness, golden eyes unblinking. "That is a staggeringly inefficient line of thought," he said at last, voice clipped with distain. "You think attraction is some volatile element that fades with time? How pedestrian." He tilted his head, studying you the way he did his research, meticulously, obsessively. "If I had lost interest, you would know. I do not entertain experiments with failing data." His lips twitched upward, clearly amused. "And thus why you're still here with me."
He walked a slow circle around you, fingertips brushing along your shoulder as he passed. "Your form, your proportions, your expression... They're all fascinating constants I have no intention of discarding." His hand settled lightly at your hip, "You are not a temporary indulgence. You are an unpredictable variable in my otherwise predictable world. And I find your physicality..." He paused, "...exquisitely suited to my preferences." The smirk he gave you was enough to send chills down your spine. "So stop wasting time on baseless fears."
Shuhei Hisagi
He was quiet for a long moment, the silence stretching as he set down the cloth he'd been using to polish his blade. His gaze didn't immediately meet yours, as he opted for the table instead, "You know I don't say things I don't mean... That doesn't just change because you're having a bad day with yourself." It was clear he wasn't frustrated with you, but with the voice in your head that made you doubt both yourself and him.
He walked over to you before pausing. Then, his hands slowly settled on your hips, "I'm not good at romantic speeches, so I won't pretend I have the right words to chase this fear off forever," he admitted. "But if you think I'm going to wake up one day and stop wanting you, then you don't know how long I've already been wanting you. Through the good days, the rough ones and everything in between." He didn't kiss you right then. He just stayed close, letting his presence do the talking.
Izuru Kira
A slow, quiet sadness that settled behind his eyes, like he'd always been waiting for the day you'd ask. "That's what you think I'll do?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Lose interest? Drift away? Look at you and feel nothing?" His gaze didn't leave yours, but his shoulders lowered like the thought physically weighed on him. "You wouldn't be the first person to think that about me. But you'd be the first who mattered."
He sighed softly as his gaze shifted down to the floor, "I don't fall in love easily. And when I do, it stays. Even when it hurts. Even when I think I don't deserve it." He reached for your hand and held it gently between both of his, his gaze moving to meet yours once more. "You think I'll stop finding you attractive someday. But what scares me more is that you'll stop believing I ever meant it." His thumb brushed against your skin, tentatively, "I love you, so... so much."
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