Name: Yasunari/Ioshi whatever man. Just call me whatever
Nah I’m bored too lazy to write. Go away if you don’t have any interesting questions or cases. I’m practically a wanderer you can find in any universe. Solving problems sticking my nose all over damn universe
I like music actually, I am indifferent, rude, flirty only when I wanna. I have INTP mbti so.., bear with me a little
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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✧ s: i was just thinking and stumbled upon the conclusion that giyu tomioka would 100% be the clingiest husband to exist. considering he's not the most open about his emotions in public, that would totally make him more likely to show them in private. and what if... his emotions came out as random bursts of obsessive physical touch?? hmmmm..
✧ t: fluff fluff and more fluff, giyu quite literally doesn't know how to keep his hands to himself, he's absolutely adorable, like tooth-rotting fluff, 0.0002 seconds of angst (if you squint and tilt your head at a 37° angle, giyu being a damn koala bear but it's okay bc he's so stinkin cute
✧ wc: 1.0k
✧ clingyhusband!giyutomioka x fem!reader
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚₊˚ ✧
Giyu Tomioka was not one to be loud about his affection.
He didn’t shower you with dramatic confessions or big grand gestures. He didn’t jump your bones in a way that drew attention, didn’t embarrass you in front of others, didn’t suddenly become someone he wasn’t.
But man, he was always there.
The first thing you noticed was his behavior in the mornings.
You’d wake up smothered by him, his arm heavy across your waist, fingers curled into the fabric of your sleepwear like you’d disappear if he loosened his grip even a little. If you tried to move, even slightly, his hold tightened instinctively.
“...Where are you going?” he murmured, voice laced with sleep.
“Giyu,” you whispered with a soft laugh, “I’m literally just rolling over.”
His eyes cracked open, dark lashes fluttering before fixing on you. There was a pause– just long enough for him to register that you were still there– before his grip relaxed a little.
“Oh.”
Then, quieter, “...Okay.”
He always pulled you back afterward anyway.
Giyu wasn’t clingy in the dramatic sense. He was clingy in a silent, adorably sincere way. The way that said he couldn’t imagine life without you and had no idea how he made it this far before having met you.
To be honest, his clinginess might just be the worst when he comes home from a mission.
That’s when it reaches an all-time high.
He never really announced when he returned. You’d simply feel it– his presence filling the space behind you, the soft rustle of his haori as he stepped closer. His arms wrap around you from behind, gentle and cautious, like he was asking for permission even after all this time.
His chin rested on top of your shoulder.
He didn’t speak right away. He just breathed.
You learned not to rush him.
“Welcome home,” you’d say softly.
“Thank you…” he’d reply, voice low. Then, after a beat, “I missed you.”
He always admitted it like he was letting out a risky confession.
When you turned in his arms, he’d hesitate– just for a second– before tightening his hold, forehead pressing to yours. His hands were warm.
Sometimes he’d close his eyes like he was committing the moment to memory.
On days when you tried to do chores alone, he followed.
He wasn't necessarily obvious with it.
Well… at least not at first.
You’d be folding laundry, only to realize he had sat beside you without a sound, shoulder pressed firmly against yours. You could be cooking, and suddenly he’d appear behind you again, arms slipping around your waist as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.
“Giyu,” you teased one afternoon, smiling as you stirred a pot of soup. “Are you supervising me?”
“No..” he said.
Then, after a couple seconds, “I just like being close.”
And that made your heart do something stupidly soft.
Even when he trained, Giyu lingered. If you had decided to sit nearby– as if he’d let you sit anywhere but– he’d finish his sets faster than usual, a towel in hand as he approached you immediately.
“Oh? You’re done already?” you asked him once.
He hummed something close to a response. “I didn’t want to be away for longer than necessary.”
What a greedy little Water Hashira.
You know what, scratch that bit about his clinginess being the worst after a mission.
At night, it was like he was a whole different person.
Giyu slept exactly like he fought– seriously and fully committed. Once he had you in his grasp, that was it. Legs tangled with yours, arms locked around your torso, fingertips dancing along your skin.
If you shifted, he followed.
If you sighed, he tightened his grip.
If you pulled away, even just an inch, his eyes shot open.
“Giyuuuu,” you’d say, voice rough with sleep. “I’m not going anywhere, alright? There's no need to worry so much.”
He believed you, obviously, but some part of him still needed to check.
There was one particular evening, after a dreadfully long mission, that his clinginess had reached new heights.
You barely had time to greet him before he was pulling you into his chest, face buried in your hair. His breathing was uneven. Not necessarily panicked, but heavy, like the weight of the world hadn’t quite left his shoulders yet.
“Giyu? What’s wrong…?” you whispered, hands coming up to rest against his chest.
He didn’t answer right away, a known habit of his.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire time,” he said finally. “It only made me want to come home sooner.”
Your throat tightened.
You guided him to sit, straddling his lap as his hands moved to your waist like a magnet to a fridge.
“Is that why you’re holding me so tight?” you murmured with a soft smile. “I’m not going to fade away, you know.”
“I know.”
Then, “But I like holding you.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. Then your cheek. Then your lips.
The kiss was slow, but so incredibly gentle it was almost impossible to describe in words. It was careful, as all things were with Giyu, but for him, it was his way of expressing the emotions he never really knew how to voice.
When you pulled back, a huge smile gracing your face, you teased, “You’re being very clingy today, Mr. Tomioka.”
He froze.
For a split second, you thought he might pull away from you– but instead, his grip tightened.
“Is that bad? Does it bother you?” he asked quietly.
Your heart shattered.
“No!” you answered immediately, hands raising to cup his face. “No baby, it’s sweet. I like it.”
His shoulders relaxed visibly.
“Oh.”
His hands moved lower on your back. “Good.”
He rested his forehead against yours again, thumb brushing your lower back with a tenderness that felt almost shy.
You let your fingers roam, allowing them to seek refuge in their favorite place, the soft, dark locs of his hair.
“I would never mind you doing this,” you whispered softly. “If it’s what you need, I’m happy to oblige.”
“I don’t need much else,” he admitted after a tiny beat of silence. “Just you like this.”
My gosh, what an adorable man he is.
a/n: HDJSBDJKDHSKDJ writing abt this man WILL be the death of me. just the concept of him going on a mission with a fellow hashira, barely uttering a word unless absolutely necessary, and then practically flying back home just to see his wife. what a man, what a man.
MORE! SOUL! EATER! AU!! This time it’s Lord Death and his Death Scythe…the mushiest married couple of all time who regularly go on honeymoons instead of looking after their school. Oops!
KSKB fill: Shinichi finding sex oddly meditative/relishes in the post-nut clarity. Like after a good run of fucking he finds his mind clearer and able to draw more coherent conclusion. This often leads to him ambushing Kaito, having his wicked way with him, then immediately going on to solve a case.
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Wow if your brother, Sherlock is now engaged~, when are you gonna have your own partner ? Hm~? Mr Holmes?
Unlike my brother (@artofdeductionbysholmes), I do not require a partner to legitimise my existence, nor do I consider matrimony a measure of personal success.
I am already in a long-term, all-consuming relationship: with the British Government.
Trust that she is terribly demanding, rarely appreciative, but alas… very much irreplaceable.
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Is there any so serious case you have solved with Sherlock that left a huge impression on you and Sherlock it may even changed something in him?
It’s always an accumulation of things that make us change, isn’t it? So, there are a few cases that have left their mark, but what really changed everything for both of us were The Reichenbach Fall, Magnussen and Mary's death.
When Sherlock 'died,' I was left with nothing, and it was the first time I truly had to face the emptiness without him. And I now know Sherlock had to face the same; an isolation formed by pushing everyone away he cared about.
When he returned, I had to deal with my grief—grief that no longer had a justification. He was not dead, after all. And in the years that followed, I watched Sherlock—a man who always hid behind logic—make illogical but empathic sacrifices.
I pushed Sherlock away when I lost my family. Or rather, my perceived beginning of a family. Welcoming the unending misery back as an old friend. I had to grieve again, and learned the hard way what happens when old, infected wounds are reopened.
My, I never intended this to get so damn deep— but it’s the truth. I must stop now, otherwise this will linger with me for the rest of this sunny Saturday.
Well dear me, it is rather inappropriate of me to ask such a question in this fine Saturday isn’t it? I must admit Dr. I owe you an apology for my rather unpleasant question that brought you back those feelings. I was just curious because my conflicting feelings is weighing down on me. Although must I ask, is human emotions and feelings important even in the context of logic and intelligence? I am having quite a dilemma about this lately. I guess even among the geniuses being alone with no one to share these are rather lonely..?
How can you determine if a person is interesting as you are?
As I am? I don't know if- maybe Eurus? Usually, it's just interesting on a fuckability scale. Never placed myself in the equation. Seems... unfair to the others.