#How on earth do you make shaking these things look SMOOTH

[stick-by-me]

Shake things up!

+ a really sketchy video of me shaking them xD

[Video ID: a very zoomed in version of the above sticker sheet, out of the packaging, being shaken. The contents of each lava lamp jiggle around rapidly. The audio consists mainly of a high pitched maraca-like sound, but there's also crickets in the background, and some kind of rhythmic thumping. End ID.]

[augustinewrites]

“pleeeease, shoko? as my best friend–”

“hold on,” shoko sputters, choking on her drink. “who said i was your best friend?”

“do you think i’d pay for lunch if you weren’t?”

the woman sets down her chopsticks, sending him an unimpressed look. “that’s what this is for? to bribe me into being your best friend so i can tell my actual best friend to go out with you?”

satoru leans forward in his seat, grinning from ear to ear. “i’m not asking you to tell anyone anything. i’m just saying, plant a few seeds here and there. maybe mention how devastated i was to get friend-zoned and that i’m way too hot to be strictly friendship material.”

“that’s way too unbelievable, coming from me. maybe you should ask nanami…”

“no, it has to be you. you think anyone would believe nanamin if he said i was a total smokeshow?” he asks, shaking his head.

“well, no one would believe him because it’s not true.”

“you’re being mean,” satoru pouts. “you’re supposed to be my best friend–”

“friendship isn’t how you’ll get me to do your bidding,” shoko interrupts. “i like whiskey.”

_____

“this is really good,” you hum in approval as you take another sip. it’s smooth, sweet, and strong. much better than any whiskey you and shoko have shared before. “how on earth did you afford this?”

“a friend bought a few bottles for me,” she waves off, settling herself into the opposite end of her couch. “so…how was your date on saturday? with that guy from the kyoto school?”

“it was okay. but i don’t think i’ll see him again,” you tell her honestly. “he just wasn’t…” 

“wasn’t gojo?” 

“what?” you ask. the idea that you didn’t enjoy your last date because he wasn’t gojo was downright ridiculous, but the quickened beat of your heart is trying to tell you otherwise. “why would you– you think i like gojo?” 

satoru gojo, whose second job seemed to be roping you into his nonsense back in your school days (and taking the fall when yaga eventually caught you). who showed off during missions and always yelled for you to watch (he has a small scar on his cheek from a failed infinity barrier projection). who now routinely showed up to your apartment uninvited to watch a film with you (and always left with a few rolls of your toilet paper).

“you don’t have to like him,” your best friend says, pulling you out of your thoughts. “you just have to sit on him.”

“ieiri!” you shout, horrified. “we’re friends. friends don’t sleep with friends.”

“what? i slept with him once - in a moment of complete weakness - and we’re still friends.”

“but now you no longer sleep with men,” you point out. 

she seems taken aback by that for a moment, but eventually shrugs it off. “true, but it’s different for you guys.”

“how?”

shoko fills the bottom of her glass with a heavy pour. “because he’s actually in love with you. he may be stupid and annoying, but maybe he does the things he does around you because he likes making you laugh, even if it’s at him.”

_____

satoru stumbles backwards into the wall, using his grip on your waist to pull you flush against him. you’d barged into his apartment, ignoring his questions and immediately pulling him in for a kiss.

“i thought–” he tries to get out between kisses. “–you didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

you draw back to look at him, smiling. “i have other friends.”

[rainyorca]

I'll swim down with you 𓇼 Kenji Sato X Reader

Content warnings: F!reader, Established relationship, childhood friends, kissing, fluff, a little bit of smut.

Words: 1,916

Notes: Rewatching Ultraman made me realize that Kenji does in fact have pools on his deck but I don't know if they're meant to be swam in, however, i really wanted to write something involving them soooo…..I am very deeply in love with this man and have seen this movie more times than I’ve seen my dad this summer.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

The setting sun casts beautiful rays of golden light on the Earth, blanketing everything in warmth. It’s mid-June, which means baseball season is at its all-time high right now. For Kenji, it’s rather exciting but for you, it’s a little upsetting. You don’t get to spend as much time with him anymore due to practice and his games, but you still attend his games, all of them in fact as long as your work schedule doesn't overlap. As well as his duties as Ultraman, sometimes you don't even get to have him in bed next to you. 

You sit in one of the pools on his wooden deck, bathing in sunlight. You like to sit in the water and watch the sunset over the ocean, the view is out of this world. It's one of the many things you like about living with him. Ken is currently at practice, which he has practically been at all day in your mind, then again you left for work early this morning so you haven't seen him at all today. You close your eyes, sinking further into the pool and letting your head rest on the edge. The wood is smooth beneath your head, but you slide your hands under your head for more cushion. There's music playing softly in the background, one of your favorite songs from your favorite playlist. This was your idea of relaxing after work, especially with such a hectic day you had. 

“Ken is home,” Mina’s voice erupts softly from behind you, making you jump. You turn around to face the floating supercomputer. “I'm sorry, did not mean to startle you,” she says, her tone flat as usual. “It's okay,” you smile softly, “thank you for letting me know, Mina.” The floating circle gives you a nod before flying off to greet Kenji. You turn back to the sunset, waiting for Kenji to come by. You can hear him talking to Mina inside but it stops momentarily before starting up again. Kenji’s footsteps could be heard approaching you now, but you're too lost in thought to turn around or even notice.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks, you can practically hear the smile in his voice. You turn around, smiling when you see him. “I’d enjoy it a lot more if you joined me,” you respond, tilting your head at him. He shakes his head with a smile, “I know, that's why I put my swim trunks on.” You watch him lift his shirt over his head, the golden light hitting his toned body perfectly. He looks warm, and the light makes his skin look supple and soft. He dips his feet in the water, pulling back from the slightly coldness but slowly easing himself in. The water isn’t too deep, he can stand perfectly straight and it only goes to his waist. He rests his back against the edge just like your doing but he follows your movements when you turn around to face the sun. He squints a little, turning his head to look at you rather than the bright sun. “How was your day?” he asks, his voice as soft as silk. You peer into his big gray eyes, resting your head on your hands again. “Hetic,” you respond simply, “How was practice?”

He picks up on the simplicity of your answer quickly, dropping the subject knowing you don't want to go into detail. “Practice was good, but I was a little distracted today,” he responds, reaching up and brushing a water droplet off your face only to get more on you. “Why’s that?” you ask, giggling softly at his failed attempt. “Because I kept thinking about you,” he smiles, almost teasingly because he knows what you’re gonna say. “You’re so corny,” you scoff, smiling brightly, “why were you really distracted?” He shrugs, “I'm serious, I was thinking about you.” There's humor in his voice and his expression is rather playful. You roll your eyes, turning your head to face the sun again. 

His eyes linger on you for a moment, taking in the softness of your face and admiring how your eyes look in the sunlight. A few thoughts from the past show up in his mind, like how upset you were when you found out he had to move back to Japan, or the sweet moments in high school when you went to all the school dances with him. You have always been a special person in his life and for so long, he feels rather grateful that you're back in his life as his lover rather than just a friend. He snakes a hand around your waist, turning you around so you're facing him and not the sun. Your back is pressed up against the edge again and he's standing in front of you, staring down into your eyes. 

“You’re so warm,” he says softly, running his hands up your exposed torso. “I’ve been out here a while,” you respond, reaching up and resting your arms on his broad shoulders. “I can tell,” he hums, reaching up to cup your face with his large, wet hand. “You’re warm too,” you point out, tilting your head a bit so you can melt into his touch. He drops his hand, sneakily lifting you so he's carrying you. You wrap your legs around his waist, holding onto him as he backs up from the wall of the pool. He smiles, spinning you around slowly in the water. You close your eyes, throwing your head back and hanging off him a bit as he spins you. 

There's a mischievous look in his eye, but it all goes away when you dip underwater. He surfaces you quickly, laughing at your surprised expression. “Oh you asshole,” you splash him with water, wetting his hair and face. “I couldn't miss the opportunity, sorry,” he lets go of you, protecting himself from your splashes. You give him your best angry expression, but it doesn't last long. You can't resist his charms, and that award-winning smile always makes you smile. He swims up to you, reaching out to grab you again and pulling you into his chest before you can get away. “I won't do it again, I promise,” he says, shaking his hair and sending water flying. “If you do, we're going to have problems,” you respond, pressing your hands into his chest. 

His eyes glide over your face, his smile still plastered on his lips. He cups your face again, making you tilt your head upwards so he can have access to your lips. He tilts his head a little, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips. You kiss him back almost immediately, sliding your hands over his shoulders as you have done before. The soft, pillowy feeling of his lips is enough to send you into a trance, parting your lips for him. Your heart rate spikes a little when you feel him pull you in tighter, his brows furrowing and what seems to have started off as an innocent kiss was now becoming something more euphoric and titillating. He tilts his head a little more, deepening the kiss with a quiet grunt before moving you back to the edge of the pool. Your back hits the smooth edge, the coolness of it suddenly more noticeable. 

His grip on you tightens, his knee coming up to part your legs slowly before pressing into your clothed cunt. The sudden shift in demeanor, and movements, makes you gasp a little. He pulls away slowly, a new look in his lidded eyes. He leans down to kiss the line of your jaw and then your neck. “I haven't been able to give you much attention lately,” he says softly but sensually, “the attention you need and crave.” You tilt your head back just a little to give him more access to your neck. His breath is warm and it fans over your neck, the tickling sensation making goosebumps rise on your skin. His knee presses up against your cunt again, a little harder this time making you squeak in surprise. You lift a leg slightly, opening yourself up more. 

Ken moves his hand down, further and further until stopping at the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms. He slips his lithe fingers underneath the fabric, inching closer and closer to your cunt. His lips find yours again in another aggressive, hungry kiss as if he's trying to devour you through the kiss alone. One of his fingers brushes over your sensitive clit, causing you to startle, and a sharp gasp erupts from your throat. The sound is like music to his ears, the noises you make are just perfect to him. You brace yourself, one hand on the edge of the pool, the other digging into his shoulder while he holds you still. He rubs agonizingly slow circles on your clit, drinking in your expressive behavior, soft moans starting to slide off your sinful tongue. 

You were his weakness, just like he was yours. It was hard to resist him really, a struggle you’ve had since your younger years with him. In moments like these, it was even harder. The sun was still setting on the horizon, however only half of it was visible. The night sky started to pool in, blanketing the sky with specks of stars. He couldn't help himself, hearing your delightful and heavenly moans, he needed to hear more, to feel more. His fingers speed up, rubbing a little harder but oh so perfectly. You part from his lips with a rather pathetic gasp, your mouth staying slightly open as he continues to draw his fingers over your clit. 

He leans in, mouth open against your soft neck, tasting, feeling, the area with his mouth. “I wanna memorize every part of your body,” he hums, breath ragged, “I wanna touch you everywhere, make you mine.” He blabbers, his words digging deep into your core, making you squeeze around nothing. He lifts his head to look at you now, bumping noses as he continues his movements against your clit. His eyes bore into yours, lovingly but lustful. You keep your eyes open, or at least try to. You can't help but close them every time a shock of pleasure rushes up your spine. “I wasn't lying when I told you,” his lips curl into a smug smile, “that I was thinking about you. I’ve been thinking about this all day.” 

“Ken,” you breathe, your moans melodic and messy. “You seem more sensitive than usual,” he points out a little teasingly. That warm tingling feeling starts to build up in your stomach, pleasure shooting up your spine as your climax starts to work its way out of you. Just as you're about to release, Mina’s voice sounds from behind Kenji causing both of you to stop. 

“A phone call from your father, Ken,” she says monotone. Kenji sighs, looks back at Mina, and then back to you, his fingers still positioned on your clit. “Before you try to put it off, it's urgent,” Mina continued before Ken could even speak. He groans, clearly irritated, and then gives you an apologetic look. “I’ll be back,” he says, kissing your forehead before releasing you gently. Your body relaxes, and you catch your breath, watching him get out of the pool and follow Mina into the house. A sigh escapes your lips, irritated but otherwise calm. You decide to stay in the pool until the moon comes up.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

[princessbrunette]

all of a sudden, jj suddenly felt severely underdressed in his black muscle tank and cargo shorts. it’s not that he hadn’t been in a strip club before, he’d just never come to see pogue!bunny!reader at her place of work.

you’d left your shoes at the chateau after one of the many infamous pogue parties that you’d been invited to. if it were any other kind of cheap shoes, you’d probably just said forget about it. but for some bizarre reason, you’d worn some of your prettiest shoes that cost you an arm and a leg from the bills thrown your way at the club, so you’d been damned if you let those just get tossed in the trash because guys don’t know the value of things.

jj had actually used it as an excuse to slide into your instagram dms. shooting you a super casual ‘hey, left your shoes at the chateau. want em back?’ to which you responded ‘my hero!!!! <3’ and so on. anyway, the agreement was — he’d bring your shoes to you on your break.

it’s not as grimy on the inside as it is on the outside, but he doesn’t have much time to look around before he’s hearing the slapping of bare feet through the hallway — and suddenly a scantily dressed figure is throwing itself into his arms in the dimly lit space.

“holy— jesus christ.” he catches you anyway, though you can tell he doesn’t know where to put his hands, settling on the fat just beneath your ass. he swore you were put on this earth to tempt him.

“you came!” you smile in that melodic voice, unhardened by your surroundings. hell, he nearly did come.

“well, you called.” he shrugs, trying to be all nonchalant about it. he swings the shiny pink heels around his fingers and you squeal, taking them from him. “yeah— so, uh— if that’s all i could probably just see myself ou—” he juts a thumb towards the exit, going to stuff one hand in his pocket and missing all together as he backs away. he wasn’t sure why he was being so awkward, aside from the fact you were just stood infront of him wearing a tiny little triangle bra and a g string.

“stay!” your brows furrow adorably and it physically pains his chest, infact — he’s pretty sure he had a physical reaction, face screwing up with a wince. how does one tell the girl he’s attracted to that if he stays any longer he will pop a hard on? “s’the least i can do. come watch the show. i can hook you up with wings and some beers for free?” you bat your faux-lashes, the glitter on your cheekbone glowing in the low lighting as you tilt your head sweetly, putting on a show to convince him.

“wings, beer n’ boobs? you’re talkin’ my language young lady.” he smirks, unable to hide his usual ways and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“yay, follow me!” you grip his hand, long acrylics scratching against his wrist and he rolls his lips together, eyes practically following each jiggle of your ass cheek as you walk before he even realises he’s in the main section. you settle him in, a little booth that usually probably occupies pervy businessmen— which really makes the blonde feel out of place. he came alone, and now he was sat here — occupying a booth. what kind of creep comes to watch strippers alone?

he’s about to jump up and make up an excuse to leave in pure embarrassment, but you’re smoothing your hands along his shoulders, batting your lashes and telling him you wish you could stay and chat but you’ve gotta go dance, and that his wings and beer will be coming soon. he blinks at you, under a trance and settles into the worn and suspiciously sticky leather arm chair.

soon you’re up on that stage and he wants to sink into the fucking ground. you’re unbelievably hot, and now it’s like something out of a porno he made in his mind, watching you saunter around the pole, dropping down to the ground and arching your back, shaking the meat of your ass effortlessly as faceless men throw money your way. he had nothing to throw but some receipts and old nickels in his pockets and he didn’t think you’d appreciate that — which didn’t matter anyway, because he was somewhat stuck to his seat.

he lifts his hands to adjust his cap before realising he’s not wearing one, and just as he realises his dick is sitting hot, heavy and hard in his shorts— you’re off stage, bounding over with everything jiggling. lord help him.

he thinks he might die when you clamber confidently onto his lap, straddling him front on.

“so how was it jayj did you like it? i know it’s a lil’ weird seeing me up there, i’m your friend n’all but was the song choice good atleast?” you tilt your head like a befuddled puppy dog before wriggling around— crotch to cock. “oh, nevermind. i can feel that you’re like super hard so i take it that you liked the show!” you smile, like you’d just said the most innocent sentence in the world. jj blinks, lips agape.

“uh— y—no, yeah it was… well, y’know. the body doesn’t lie.” he bucks his hips lightly in gesture before immediately internally questioning why he’d do something so creepy. luckily, you giggle — but he’s not sure if it’s because you liked it or because you’re well trained.

“well, next time you get paid come get a lapdance i’ll fix that problem jayj, even give you a discount.” you let that giggle slip through again, but there’s a breathiness to your tone that feels all too real. his brows jump up, eyes flickering unashamedly to your tits as you lean forward to his ear. “or jus’ get me drunk again next weekend? will probably do it for free ‘cus i like you.” you admit, looking all nervous when you pull back. you just shook your ass on stage, yet jj maybank was making you flustered.

“for sure. yeah uh— can… can definitely do that. yep.” he plays it calm and collected, sees you out with another bone crushing hug against your tits before speed walking to his company truck that he drove over here. his shift was over, so he wasn’t rushing to get back to work. moreso to beat off in the parking lot thinking about pulling that g-string of yours to the side.

[leahsgf]

MAMMY'S GIRL - mcfoord

mcfoord x child!reader | a snippet of a chaotic travel day

“don’t run too fast now kid, stay with me.” your auntie teyah huffed, gripping onto the reins attached to your beloved ‘special’ backpack for dear life as you charged your way through the airport, with an alarming amount of strength for a just turned three year old - giggling as she visibly struggled to keep up with you.

bringing their toddler on an over twenty hour flight to the other side of the world for one football game was potentially the last thing on earth that your mothers had wanted to do.

however, with both of them being named in the squad for the friendly in australia, and your auntie ella barely being trusted to look after coopurr on her own - here they were.

katie cackled as teyah accepted defeat against you after tripping over her feet one too many times, shaking her head and letting you be scooped up by no other than kyra, who repeatedly threw you in the air and proceeded to chase poor steph most of the way to the gate with you in tow, making you squeal with laughter, and caitlin wince ever so slightly - knowing that after katie flew back to ireland for international break she’d be stuck with this alone.

getting to the plane with everyone in one piece alone felt like a win in their eyes, even as you clambered all over vic and pulled at teyah’s compression leggings (copying exactly what kyra had told you to do) and then dropped alessia’s phone down the side of her seat beyond reach within the first five minutes.

steph had pretty much been following your every move for her little vlog that she was doing, knowing that the fans always loved seeing bits of you and the chaos that ensured, and also - that nobody not present would believe the stories of everything you got up to without video proof.

you toddled behind her as she made her way down the aisle, stopping as you reached your parents.

“c’mere then, my little monster. it’s sleep time for you”

you allowed katie to scoop you up into her arms with no fuss whatsoever, instantly being calmed as she held you to her chest.

and with your dummy being passed over by caitlin, and a featherlight stroke of your cheek - you were out like a light in seconds, bundled in your mother’s arms, and looking so peaceful that it was almost hard to believe how much carnage you'd been causing for the last few hours.

“how do you do it? she was just charging around like she’d never settle - you’re a miracle worker!” steph exclaimed, looking into the camera in complete disbelief at what she’d just witnessed.

“nah, she’s just a mammy’s girl through and through!” katie chuckled, smoothing the back of your mini arsenal jersey as you sprawled out on top of her, praying that the rest of the flight goes this smoothly.

-

this is what i like to call a random little blurb because i had no inspiration to finish it

in the process of setting up a masterlist finally

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Ghostwriter was really asking for soup time at this point.

He had apologized for his first Christmas truce before, last year he even convinced Clockwork to help him make a copy of the original work he had ruined.

So why in god’s gracious earth did he wake up to Amity Park being in a hallmark movie.

Danny glared as the people milled about the center of town like they haven’t since the portal opening.

It was unnerving, the only thing really missing from the equation was some out of town love interest or something.

“Hey, excuse me.”

Tall and built with black hair and blue eyes.

Oh you got to be-

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick tried to make himself look more charming as the guy he approached turned around.

When he heard that the justice league were getting concerning calls about a town In Illinois, he saw an out from the Christmas gala.

Sure Dick enjoyed the season, but the fact that he has to spend a large amount of the winter season putting up a front as the perfect firstborn was not something he wanted to do unless he had to.

That being said, the town was a bit unnerving. He hadn’t seen anything supernatural per say but the constant cheer is something he had only ever seen on the silver screen of his home. He had tried to approach several different people only to be met with seasons greetings and promptly ignored when as they ran off to do whatever small towns do for the holidays.

This guy at least wasn’t plastering a smile on his face.

“Hey, excuse me I’m new in town and looking around, my name is-“

“Let me guess, Rupert or Orlando or some shit.”

“What?”

“Well it has to be pompous and annoying. It’s kind of a trend and shit last time I checked.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about man I just wanted to ask-“

The man snorted as he left, throwing over his shoulder with a large amount of snark,

“For a tour around town? A place to stay? A friendly face? Sorry man, man but I’m not interested. The town square is full, ask someone else I have a date with a caffeine addiction.”

Dick watched a bit stupefied as the guy weaves into the ground and out of his eyesight.

“Well he seemed charming.”

Dick raised his phone to the earpiece and sighed,

“Yeah well, he’s the first person who didn’t sound like they weren’t on a script so far. I didn’t even know that midwesterners took Christmas so seriously. How long until you reach town Jay?”

I’m reaching midtown just about now. It looks like Santa took a shit on every-“

There was a sudden squeal of tires as the line cut.

Oh no.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jason gasped as he tried to calm his breath glancing at the guy he almost hit on his bike.

Jesus Christ that was close.

“Shit man are you alright?”

“Peachy. Always liked pancakes and all that.”

~~~~~~~

Danny felt a blush hit him as the behemoth of a guy let out a snort. It was embarrassing that he didn’t notice the guy until he almost became a smear, the dude was built like a tank and wearing a red helmet.

“I shouldn’t’ve taken that turn that quickly.. sometimes forget I’m not at home.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s home for you?”

“Gotham if you believe that.”

“Explains why you drive like you’re chased by death.”

“You have no idea..”

He took off his helmet with another snort and shake of the head. A white wisp in a sea of black shook out while mirthful blue eyes met his.

Crap..

“Name’s Jason. You are?”

“Nunya,”

The guy raised a brow mildly confused.

“Pardon?”

“Nunyabusinessbye!”

Danny took off before he was done with the sentence. He could feel eyes on his retreat for the second time today.

‘Jesus, smooth recovery Fenton.’

~~~~~~~~

Tim rubbed his eyes as he listened to his older brothers bicker over the coms.

He couldn’t understand the issue with the surveillance! All the cameras and mics are properly functioning but for some reason everything is corrupted and it’s driving Tim up a wall!

A break, Tim needed a break from this Airbnb and something caffeinated.

~~~~~~~~

‘Just ten minutes, ten minutes and he could get his drink, he could rant to his friends on the group chat afterwards and wait out the story. ‘

And with as much bravo as any tired young adult, he entered the shop.

Danny almost left the cafe as he heard another unfamiliar voice bellow out.

“What do you mean you don’t have coffee, it’s a coffee shop!”

Blue eyes, black hair, surprisingly smaller than the first two and eye bags that could rival Danny some nights.

Danny was done.

Fuck the treaty this was war.

[1800classiccherries]

Spider-cat!

⚘ Miguel x fem!reader

⚘ fluff

⚘ I don’t think there are any warnings?

⚘ summary: Y/n spends all her time with Spidercat, causing Miguel to feel little jelous.

⚘ wc: 960

“Sorry, Miguel, Spider-cat is back from a mission. Gotta go!” Y/n states, giving Miguel a quick peck on the cheek before swigging off the monitor platform and out of the room.

Recently Y/n had made a new friend amongst the spider crowd, Spider-cat, and this cat had her wrapped around his furry paw. Miguel sighs, not wanting to admit to himself that his girlfriend is spending more time with a cat than him and that he is jealous.

As Y/n roams around looking for her furry friend, she spots him down the hall, and she quickens her pace. “My baby!” she calls out, holding her arms open for the cat to jump into, “how was the mission?” Y/n inquires, getting a content meow in response. “I’m glad to hear it,” she nods, setting down Spider-cat so he can walk beside her.

~

Y/n and Spider-cat step out of the orange portal, now on Y/n’s earth. In their downtime, the two would go for swings around their Earths for as long as they could before having to go on a mission. Today was no different.

“Ready to go?” Y/n asks, looking down at the cat, who replies with a happy meow.

With that, the two swing off the fire escape they were previously on and begin their swing around the city. They were showing off their tricks and finding interesting new locations around the city. A while into their adventure, Y/n notices a hologram of a certain someone show up on her watch, causing her to pull over to the roof of the nearest building. Spider-cat follows suit, making himself comfortable, and begins making biscuits on Y/n’s lap once she sits down.

“Yes, Miguel?” she prompts, not too happy about her time with Spider-cat getting cut short.

“Are you busy?” Miguel asks, knowing she’s probably with the cat.

“Kinda off...” Y/n trails off, holding Spider-cat up for him to see. 

“I-” he starts, almost at a loss for words, “I’ll just get someone else to do it.”

Before Y/n could even say anything, the hologram disappeared. With a sigh, she looks down at the cat, who’s looking back up at her. 

“I guess that’s my queue to leave,” she gets a disappointed meow in response.

“Yeah, I wanted to keep swinging too. But I have to spend some time with my boyfriend now,” she explains, standing up and opening a portal for her and Spider-cat to go back to headquarters.

~

Now back at headquarters, Y/n makes her way to Miguel’s locations thinking as to how she can smooth things over. It’ll be fine; she says to herself as she arrives at the room.

“Heyy, spider-bae~,” Y/n says, dragging out her words as she walks toward the (painfully) slowly descending platform.

Miguel raises an eyebrow as he turns around to face Y/n, clearly unamused. She opens her mouth to defend herself but promptly stops. She opens her mouth once more to try again, but she stops. ”I have nothing to say.”

“Typical,” he deadpans, shaking his head and returning to his work.

“Aww, don’t be like that,” she pouts, taking a little swing onto the platform to stand next to him.

Y/n tunnels her way under Miguel’s arm so that his arm is over her shoulder. She leans into him, looking up with apologetic eyes, hoping he looks down at her. 

“Y’know you my boo thang, right, Miguel?” she says with a slowly spreading smile.

“Boo thang?” Miguel repeats, slightly amused, looking at Y/n.

“You heard me.”

Y/n moves from under his arm to in front of him, taking hold of his hand and leaning slightly against the control panel under the monitors. Looking up at him with a look that says, ‘I’m sorry.’

“I’ve missed you, mi amor,” Miguel voices, resting a hand on the side of Y/n’s face.

Leaning into his touch, the corner of her lips turns up slightly, “I’m sorry about ditching you for spider-cat.”

Miguel shakes his head a bit, chuckling softly, “It’s not your fault; he is pretty cute.”

“Yeah, but you’re cuter,” Y/n flirts tilting her head.

“I don’t know how I feel about getting called cute...”

Thanks for reading!

[megumimania]

THINKING BOUT YOU— gojo satoru

synopsis: whilst in a meeting about megumi’s conduct, gojo’s mind seems to be focused on one thing, you.

warnings: dad!gojo, gojo satoru x fem!reader, megumi having to put up with gojo’s bs, fluff, gojo being a shameless flirt, gojo attempting to be a concerned parent

“this is stupid.” huffed a 13 year old megumi.

megumi wasn’t here on his own volition of course as this was the doing of his annoying guardian gojo satoru. ever since he found out you were megumi’s teacher he’d been bribing megumi to get into trouble at school so he’d have a reason to come and see you.

“oh megumi this isn’t stupid, remember what i promised if you played your part?” he asked with a mischievous look in his eyes.

megumi knew that gojo had him hook line and sinker. he cursed himself for showing a semblance of a smile when they walked past the pet store last week.

“fine but don’t get in a mood when she turns you down.” he replied with a sass that gojo dismissed as typical teenage angst, something he was all too familiar with.

megumi politely knocked on your classroom door sparing no time for gojo to prepare his little act. “megumi, come take a seat.” you beckoned him in noticing the little scratch on his cheek that made you slightly concerned.

his tall white haired guardian followed in shortly after, taking the seat opposite you. “i’m really glad you could make it today gojo-san.” you addressed him politely, reaching over to shake his hand as you’d do with any other parent.

his hand lingered on yours for a second longer as he gazed into your eyes with such an intensity it made megumi sick. he was really pulling out all the stops for you wasn’t he?

“there’s no need for the formalities when we’re practically the same age.” he pointed out with a charming smile, letting your hand go in the process.

your cheeks were practically aflame as you tried to retain some sense of self control. “oh right…um. megumi.” you nodded at megumi who looked like he’d rather the ground swallow him whole than watch this interaction play out.

you expressed your concern over megumi’s behaviour and something about a report. gojo was half listening, half not. he was more preoccupied with staring at you with not a single ounce of shame. even behind those spectacles his gaze was intense making you lose focus at some points.

“…this is megumi’s third fight in the last two weeks.”

a sharp kick from under the desk by megumi jolted him back to earth. gojo winced in pain as megumi looked on as if nothing happened. he made a mental note to embarrass the hell out of megumi later.

you were unaffected by the silent altercation going on in front of you. despite megumi’s disdain towards his guardian it seemed like he rubbed off on him a little bit. their mannerisms were eerily similar that if it wasn’t for the physical differences, they could’ve easily passed for siblings.

“if this was any other student this would be an immediate suspension but megumi is a stellar student and we don’t think he would benefit from that at all.”

gojo let out a sigh of relief.

as much as he loved being around megumi, he could admit that he did not have the time nor the facilities to teach him whilst he was at home. in his defence he was too busy carrying the jujutsu world on his back, which was a gruelling task in of itself.

he slapped his knee an indicator that he was ready to grab megumi and go home. he ushered megumi outside, telling him to wait for him in the car to which a disgruntled megumi surprisingly did. as soon as he left, gojo jumped on your desk.

his sapphire blue eyes trained on you, watching you mark your students essays with a furrow in your brow that he desperately wanted to smooth away.

ah how he knew the pains of marking essays all too well, with panda's and toge's essays being the ones he usually offloaded to other staff when they wasn't looking.

“how did i do?” gojo asked, his voice like honey to your ears.

the classroom was now tinted with a pinkish orange hue as the sun started to set, casting shadows in the classroom. “megumi’s a smart kid, he probably knows now with how obvious you were.” you responded, trying to not loose this mgroove you were in

“i wasn’t being that obvious.” gojo grumbled to himself. he knew damn well he was being obvious as hell but didn’t want to admit it, the irony of his remark making you scoff.

"seriously?" you gave him a deadpan stare. gojo's whole existence was the epitome of obviousness: his striking looks, his cursed technique, his lineage, hell even his personality was far from discreet. however he still maintained his defense.

"megumi is a smart kid but at the end of the day he's still a kid. he probably thinks I was just being a bit too full on." he drummed his fingers against the desk and you laughed at his delusion.

in the short time you knew megumi, you already established that he was an incredibly smart and perceptive kid, even for someone his age.

“stop doubting him.” and that was a tough pill for gojo to swallow, it was easier to pretend that megumi was like every kid in the world than accept the fact that soon he’ll have his childhood robbed from him.

that he would be forced to grow up and become essentially a child soldier for an invisible group of elders and clan leaders, fighting battles that will scar him for life. being a sorcerer was a thankless job but thank god the pay was decent.

gojo decides that he’s not going to bore you with his late night worries about megumi, after all they were his own worries sto bear.

“i’ll think about it more once you’ve given me a kiss.” he teases, his eyebrows wiggling as he closes his eyes and puckers up. you snort at his childish behaviour as you eventually cave in, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

you pull away as a camera clicks from behind you, a blinding white flash, forcing you to blink away the light. megumi looked smug as hell, finally enjoying the first time he’s successfully managed to one up gojo. the childlike glee in his typical sullen expression being the one that gojo desperately wanted to protect.

“you little…” gojo took off after that not bothering to finish his sentence, busy chasing megumi down the hallway outside into the car park where your back window conviently faced.

gojo now had megumi in a headlock much to the dismay of their driver, who honestly looked so worn out and so over their nonsense. gojo’s long arms desperately tries to reach for the camera in megumi’s hands but to no avail as the camera is already in the air before he can react.

in a move no one saw coming, megumi manages to shake off the invincible gojo by biting his finger. the white haired man winces in pain looking at his slightly reddening finger with minimal concern, as the camera lands in the driver’s hands.

after a few minutes of roughhousing gojo surrenders, warily draping his arm lazily over megumi’s shoulder as they make their way back to the car. your heart warms as the love and admiration they have for eachother is clearly shared in their own weird ways.

with the playful display of bravado over with now, you peel your eyes away from the window, closing the lights, blinds and whiteboard, grabbing your jacket before locking your classroom door shut.

your walk home is nothing short of uneventful but even as the music blares in your headphones, you can’t get over the sound of megumi and gojo battling it out in the school car park, the thought of that bringing a smile to your face.

he truly did love him.

[heedeungism]

prompt: “confessing in the heat of the moment, leading to a kiss” w/ bridgerton!sunghoon includes: kissing, arguments?, branding(in the poetic sense), fem!reader, lowercase

“i do not understand.” you say, voice soft and unsure.

sunghoon huffs out a sigh of frustration, “i do not know how i can make myself clearer.”

he runs a hand through his messy hair, a look unfit for a duke but ever so alluring on him. it was only moments ago that he tossed stones at your window, beckoning you to join him outside, panting like he had run from the danbury estate he had been staying at during his visit all the way here just to speak to you.

your concerns were well placed, he looked rather underdressed for a night out, his coat left behind and with it his sense. seriously, if scandal does not follow this night you are unsure if lady whistledown truly is as all-knowing as she claims.

“do you love me?” he had questioned the moment you had asked what on earth he was thinking, visiting you at such an hour, covering yourself with the soft pink robe your dear sister had gifted you for your birthday. it was indecent but he had regrettably seen you in much less over the years of friendship. though, the childish sleepovers stopped occurring after your 17th, when it finally started sinking in that both of you had duties to your family.

“why are you—“ you nearly ask, instead shaking your head and saying, “you’re flushed, your grace.”

“answer me.” he says—no, he orders. “do you love me?”

“i cannot.” you say, visibly recoiling back into yourself as he steps forward. “you cannot ask me such things, your grace.”

“why do you call me that?” he questions so softly, and when you look up from where you had averted your gaze, you find his centered on you with an emotion foreign to your mind but so familiar to your heart. 

a shaking hand smooths down your dress, and you swallow the nerves down your throat, “it is your title, is it not?”

“you…” he trails off, and you swear you see his jaw shift in the darkness, only illuminated by the far lamps lining the gardens. “apologies for waking you, i will take my leave.”

his change in tone strikes you, “you are cross.”

“i am not.” he denies with a click of his tongue.

shaking your head you step closer, knowing him well enough to know the sound he makes is telling of his lies, “yes, you are. why are you angry?”

“because i burn for you, and you cannot say the same.” he buries his face in his hands the moment the words leave his lips with such unrestrained passion and heartbreak that your chest aches.

you watch him with little control of your breathing, how he runs a hand down his face and shakes his head, the other dropping to his side limply, until finally you find your breath, “you burn…for me?”

he looks at you, and you assume the years of knowing each other, learning feelings from expressions and easing pain through body language, that he sees exactly how you feel about his confession. he continues, stepping close with every word, “there is not a word in this world that can truly express my feelings, but you are the torch that brands my heart.”

“sunghoon.” you exhale, chest moving with your breaths.

“will you answer?” he asks, his body so close now that you feel his warmth. “i do not wish to keep you from sleep any longer.”

a lie. you can tell by the way he exhales so sharply through his nose. from this close, you can see that his pupils are dilated, his eyes lidded.

“i do,” you say. the three simple words that you had said to him countless times yet had never allowed yourself to mean in the way they do now hang on your tongue, your lips parting to speak them out loud yet the duke has grown too impatient to wait.

his hand spears into your hair, pulling you as close as the cloth between your bodies would allow, his lips claiming yours with an intensity you had never experienced. he knew this, and you knew that despite his approach, the hand on your waist remained unmoving as did the one in your hair because he was holding back. 

you had never tasted another’s desire, only fantasized. yet, if this is what it felt like all along you wish he had snuck into the gardens earlier. following his pace was a challenge that you took in stride, sucking in a breath every fleeting moment that he pulled away to change his angle. 

“let me…” he whispers through the fraction of space between you, “court you properly.”

his name leaves your lips and a low groan is what his answer with before claiming their rightful place once again.

©heedeungism : do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission.

[zepskies]

Hello my lovely friend! I would love to see an imagine/head canon of Dean and the reader seeing each other for the first time after he either comes back from hell or purgatory if you’d be up for it 💕 up to you whether it’s an established relationship or mutual pining 😉 thank you! 😘

Hello, my dear!!

Thank you so much for this imagine! I needed a bit of Dean. 😘

Now I went with Purgatory for this one (S8, E01 – “We Need to Talk About Kevin”).

I diverged from canon of Sam not looking for Dean to make sure if he was dead. Not just because I think that choice by the SPN writers wasn’t true to Sam’s character (Even Jared has said this lol), but because I think if Dean had a girlfriend at this point in time, Sam wouldn’t just abandon her to deal with Dean’s loss alone. 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Song Inspo: Yes, I had one for this! Weirdly enough, it was the entire “Moneyball” soundtrack. The whole smooth but intense pace of it really drove me on this.

Word Count: 2,200 Warnings: 18+ only for some smuttiness.

Imagine: Reuniting with Dean, not knowing if things will be the same.

You’re doing the dishes when your phone rings.

You check the caller ID, frowning when the number is unfamiliar. But you answer with a thread of wariness while you’re holding a glass.

“Hello?” you answer. For a moment, there’s silence on the line. Your brows knit together in suspicion.

For months, you’ve been living with Sam and Kevin in this dusty cabin in the woods. Literally, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. It was the only way you and Sam could try to protect the prophet from Crowley.

So the fact that you're getting a call at all is surprising in and of itself.

Your frown deepens. “Whoever this is, you have three seconds before I hang the hell up.”

“Hey…it’s me.”

Your suspicion fades, but shock overtakes you. Your breath stills in your lungs when you hear Dean’s voice. However, your brain can’t compute.

It’s been a year.

“Sweetheart, are you there?” he says.

You finally choke on a gasp, and the glass slides out of your hand and shatters in the sink.

“Hey, you okay?” his gruff concern is so very Dean that it continues to choke you into tears.

“Dean,” you utter. Your mouth trembles as your eyes close, and your tears find their own way down your cheeks. “I…I’ve been…you’re okay?”

“Well, I’m here,” he answers, with some dry humor, but he sounds off. You don’t know what to make of that, but now you’re worried.

You look down at your shaking hand, and you realize that there’s a small piece of glass that ricocheted into your palm. You ignore it, because all you can focus on is your boyfriend’s voice in your ear.

“Where…are you?” you ask. Every trembling, heave of breath brings you closer to a sob.

“Louisiana. Clayton, Louisiana,” he replies. His voice is even, but there’s emotion there too. You hear it, only because you know him so well. “Where are you?”

And how soon can you get here? his tone implies.

After Dean disappeared in the aftershock of Dick Roman’s death, you, Sam, and Kevin had been scouring every lore book on God’s green Earth. Nothing has gotten you closer to finding Dean in the last year.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to fully give up, but in recent weeks, you would never admit that your heart has been starting to falter. So has your body.

Sam watches you closely on the way out of the house, heading to the Impala. You’re grateful for the way he’s been looking out for you, but you also resent it. You don’t need help. You’re fine…mostly.  

As strange as it’s been living in this house, it’s become your safety blanket. Your cold shell where you can block off the rest of the world, as if time hasn’t been ticking by all these months outside of it.

But now you’re practically shaking. Call it nerves, lack of sleep, too much caffeine, too much crap food, stress, and grief. You ignore it, taking a firm grip of the passenger door handle and yanking it open. Sam drives.

The hours are excruciating. Your leg bounces restlessly, and Sam notices, but doesn’t comment. He does try to soothe you with your favorite music in the car. He tries to pick up conversation, but you’re not having it.

You’re even being pretty selfish right now. Sam had been without his brother for a year, just as you had been without. And here he is, trying to comfort you.

You can’t help it though.

You’re not okay. You don’t think you’ll ever be okay again until you see him.

Sam eventually pulls into the dingy motel in the middle of rural Louisiana. (And yet, somehow on the corner of a Hustler, one of Dean’s favorite sex shops. Your lips curve slightly.)

Sam’s calling Dean on his cell, but you’re too impatient to wait for the man to come out.

You jerk the car door open, and in your haste, you don’t realize that you’ve slammed the door shut.

“Hey, easy on my Baby.”

You turn with a gasp lodged in your throat, but not even that can escape when Dean comes into view. Complete with red plaid and old jeans and rough stubble that approaches a beard, and a duffel bag.

Dean’s smirk fades into a softer grin when he takes in the familiar curve of your face, the gentle frame of your body, the sight of your tears, welling up in your eyes.

You take in a shuddering breath, and you go to him. Dean drops his bag so that he can properly welcome you where you’re supposed to be.    

His arms wrap around your waist, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. He smells like motel soap and second-hand clothes, but all you care about is that he feels solid and alive and your heart’s just shy of shattering, or knitting back together. It beats a fast flutter in your chest.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he rumbles in your ear. You nod, even though you can’t help the way you’re shaking, crying, clinging to him.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You hate that those are your first words to him, but you can’t help it. That’s what you feel, down to your bones. “We tried so damn hard to find you…”

Dean pauses a bit on that, but he just shakes his head. He meets Sam’s gaze behind you and offers his brother a smile. Sam smiles back; he’s full to the brim at the sight of Dean, but for you, he’s patient. He can wait his turn.

“I know,” Dean tells you, holds you a bit tighter. “I'm all right. It’s not your fault, you understand?”

You draw another shaky breath and lean back far enough to see his face. You raise a hand to touch his cheek. When he stares down into your eyes, you know you’re going to be okay.

And so will he. You’re going to make sure of it.

In lieu of words, Dean leans down and captures whatever you might’ve said then with his lips. The kiss is heat and longing, both sweet and rough. It’s everything you need.

It’s a long drive all the way back to your cabin in the woods. Dean checks on you often while you’re passed out asleep in the backseat. He’s back in the driver’s seat of his car, hands wrapped around the familiar leather steering wheel, but he still doesn’t feel totally…right.

Despite being wrapped around the leather, his right hand feels empty. Like it needs the weight of a weapon. He’s still tense and on edge, even now, and Sam notices.

“What was it like?” he asks, quietly so he doesn’t wake you. He’s glad you’re finally sleeping.

“Purgatory?” Dean scoffs. “Like being deep in God’s freakin’ armpit.”

Sam’s brows knit together, but he waits, seeing if Dean will continue. And he does, after giving Sam a brief glance.

“It was monsters, Sam.” A never-ending twilight. Never a moment to rest. A wide-eyed existence of gnashing teeth and blood and black ooze.

When Sam inevitably asks how he got out of Purgatory, Dean is vague, evasive. Castiel didn’t make it, he admits, also in halting detail. But Dean is more willing to focus on how tired you and Sam both look. How pale your skin is. How it seems like this is the first hour of sleep you’ve gotten all week.

“How’s she been?” Dean asks, once again checking on you through the rearview mirror. Sam inhales deeply, making Dean frown.

“She’s been holding on,” Sam replies. “Strong, for Kevin especially. Poor kid’s too scared to go outside half the time.”

Dean turns to him with a frown.

“You’ve been taking care of her, right?” he asks.

Sam huffs, with a wry smile. “When she let me.”

Dean quirks a bit of a smile. That sounded like you. Stubborn at your best, damn near impossible at your worst. But the latter is what he’s worried about.

He later carries you inside the cabin, acknowledging your sleepy mumbles that you can walk, but not actually heeding your words. Sam tells him which one is your room, and Dean carries you there. By then you’re awake, but resigned to the fact that he isn’t going to let you down.

Your hand smooths up his arm, up the back of his neck and into his hair. It makes a pleasant tingle run up his spine.

“Your hair’s gotten long,” you muse, sorting your fingers through the strands. His hair’s darker too, not quite so dirty blonde, now leaning closer to light brown.

Dean smiles a bit. “If that’s all that’s changed, then I’d say I’m in good shape.”

He lays you down on the bed, and you bring him down with you by grabbing onto the front of his gray undershirt. He sinks down onto the edge of the bed and drifts a hand from your arm, to your face. He refreshes his memory of every angle, the soft feel of your skin. He knows his hands are rougher, but you feel the same.

You draw him into you and it begins.

Kissing him feels like taking a much needed breath. The way he grips your arms when you lick sensuously into his mouth—a sudden squeeze, an iron hold—it ignites your blood and the fire in your lower belly.

Your fingers rake into his hair. His solid grip moves to your hips, and you lie back when he guides you onto the mattress.

The sound of your breaths mingling together become shallow as you shove the plaid off his shoulders and ruck up the shirt. He does the same for your shirt and jeans, followed by his own. All that’s left it his skin against yours and rough hands squeezing fingerprint bruises into your hips and thighs.

You don’t mind at first; the strength of his hold and how much he wants you spurs you on. You’re slick and pulsing with need when Dean eventually slides home inside you. He has a hand tight in your hair, gripping tighter as he begins to move hard and fast.

“Dean,” you pant. You moan on his name, but you’re also trying to get his attention. You wince as his hand tightens, both in your hair, trapped against the pillow, and on your hip. You hold onto his wrist.

“Ease up, baby,” you whisper. You don’t want Sam or Kevin to hear you, even though you’re sure they could guess what you and Dean are up to.

But Dean doesn’t seem to hear you at first. You look up into his eyes, and you’re not sure if he’s entirely seeing you. It’s not like him, and it triggers warning signals in your mind. You have to wrap your legs tightly around his hips, squeezing his wrist even harder to stop him for a moment.

“Dean,” you insist. And he finally sees you.

When you soothe a thumb against his wrist, his eyes widen. He releases his hand from your hair, bracing against the bed instead.

He frees the other hand from your hip, and he sees the shape of his fingers already forming in your skin. He knows his hold was tight enough to bruise down to the bone.

It’s happened before, but not like this. Dean’s never lost control like that. Not with you, even in times like these.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he catches his breath, frowning deeply. His green eyes meet yours, raw and guilty. “I uh…I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head at him with a thoughtful frown. You reach up to frame his face with both hands, and you wordlessly tug him down to you. Dean is somewhat reluctant, but he follows your guiding hands and meets your waiting kiss, tender and slow.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats against your lips. His voice is low and coarse, filled with the true depths of his emotions. Everything he's been trying to hide from you.

Your eyes sting with the threat of tears.

“It’s okay,” you reply, through sweeter kisses. “I love you. We're gonna be okay.”

He hesitates. Then, he nods, accepting your words and your warmth.

His hand slowly brushes against your thigh, soothing along your bruising skin. You still have your legs wrapped around his hips, but you lessen your own hold, now that he seems to have come back to himself.

You both realize then that it might not be okay for a while. But that too is all right. Because you’re nothing if not stubborn, and Dean is worth the challenge.  

He closes his eyes to breathe and center himself. They blink open at the feeling of your hand, insistent on his shoulder. Your face is both tenderness and determination.

You push against him and twist until he's the one on his back, on the bed, holding your hips, the two of you still joined. He looks up at you still with a measure of reluctance.

"I've got you this time," you tell him, stroking his cheek. His almost-beard prickles against your palm.

After a moment, you can see in his eyes that he believes you.

And you begin again.

AN: Gaaaah, this man. I'm weak every time I write about him. 🥲

I have another Dean imagine coming soon. Some special anon asked for the reverse of "Sam being in love with Dean's girlfriend."

So stay tuned for "Dean gives you an impossible choice." 😉

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean Tag List:

@hobby27 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @emily-winchester @deans-baby-momma @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin

@theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @mrshalverson2021 @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @beskarfilms @skyesthebomb @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @iamsapphine @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @fabimaou @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @syrma-sensei

[facioleeknow]

Time for love ° Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin. the immortal Adonis, falls for a human.

WC: 2094 Genre: Greek mythology AU, angst, smut

TW: make up artist reader, model hyunjin, smut, masturbation, thigh riding, handjob, mention of cum, borderline asshole hyunjin, greek gods and goddesses, mention of blood, angry hyunjin and angry deities

AN: thank you from th ebottom of my heart to th elovely @leeknowsallyoursecrets , for giving me her opinion about this.

My Kofi if you want to support me <3.

Hyunjin was old. Hyunjin was really really old. Eternal youth they called it. When one thinks about youth, they imagine freshness and fun; a colorful, colorful phase when you get to try new things and explore the world. Hyunjin’s life was anything but; he had seen every corner of this earth and tried every experience that was humanly possible. His life was flat and gray, there was nothing more to do and he was bored.

He remembered his first life. His name was Adonis and he was considered the most beautiful man in the whole world; he was so beautiful that goddesses soon appeared on his doorstep and asked to share his bed. That’s how his story became myth, or what people thought it was.

He had lived many lives from then, he had taken many names and done many things, he lived a tranquil life and minded his business; had sometimes taken a couple of lovers but nothing that had stuck to him. 

His life and pattern of change had come crumbling apart when one day the gods decided to come out in the open and introduce themselves to humans. With time everything was uncovered and the protagonists of every myth became their own kind of celebrities. He had never been more famous in his life, but he also had never been more lonely. He was beautiful and that was a fact, and with the fame came the modeling offers. He modeled for the most famous maisons of fashion of the world and people loved him. No they didn’t love him, they loved his body, they loved his face, they loved his fake smile and fake confidence.

His days were always the same, he would wake up at an insane hour, get on set, get ready, shoot, get unready, check social media and then go to bed, just to do it all the following day. Day after day the cycle had never been broken, for years on end. Until it had.

When he walked inside the photo studio, he could sense something had shifted in the air. He hated changes. A heavy hand smoothed back his unruly hair, his eyes closed almost on instinct after he sat down in his makeup chair. He had requested a special chair, made of one of the softest furs he had ever touched, where he could sleep and relax.

Something warm and small suddenly touched his shoulder, hesitantly. He hissed and his eyes shot open, his staff knew better than to interfere with his pattern. 

His breath hitched in his throat when he opened his eyes. This wasn’t his usual make-up artist.

“Sorry to disturb you Mr. Hwang, I am Y/N L/N, your new makeup artist,” your voice was sweet, way too sweet to be human, but he knew all deities by heart. Perhaps some kind of creature.

“What happened to Ha-na?” his eyes bore holes into your skull, his gaze held a fiery passion you had never seen in your life. Is this how an immortal looks?, you thought.

“She’s on maternity leave, sir,” you had never felt that nervous in your life.

The conversation died off after that but his eyes were fixed on you. There was something about you that Hyunjin couldn't quite pinpoint, his inside felt like they were lit on fire. His head told him that if he looked away from you, something bad would've happened. He had to have you, one way or another, he didn't even care if you were human or not.

Since that day Hyunjin had always waited anxiously for your arrival every morning. You would always greet him with a tight lipped smile while you closed into fists your obvious shaky hands. He liked to think your hands were shaking and your heart was beating out of your chest because of him. 

At night Hyunjin would lie awake and think about you, your hair, your lips, your hands, your eyes, but most of the time he would think about what laid under your clothes, how your curves would look and how they would feel in his big and soft hands.

He had to have you, he didn't care if you were human or not.

The second time Hyunjin spoke to you, it was weeks after your first encounter.

“What are you?” his eyes bored into yours like the first time you met.

 “What do you mean sir?” 

His presence felt almost overbearing, it looked like he was towering over you, it felt like he was everywhere, you couldn't run from him. But in reality he was still sitting in front of you.

“Don't play coy. What kind of creature are you?” 

“Creature? I'm human, sir,” your eyes wide as saucers at his assumption. You? A supernatural creature? 

“Are you lying to me?” His tone was stern and demanding.

“No, sir, I would never.” 

He didn't reply.

He was scary. Immortals were scary and dangerous for humans more than anyone else. You should've been fearful of him but a familiar throb between your legs kept growing and growing and you couldn't help but feel ashamed.

Hyunjin could feel your arousal, he could read it on your face. After centuries he could read human emotions quite well.

“Everybody out!” His tone left no space for arguments. The staff and photographers scurried out of the room with their hearts in their throats.

“Come sit.” The immortal patted his spread legs, his big hand encased your wrist.

“Excuse me?”

“You don't want to?” he sounded cocky now, a new emotion he let you see.

“I didn't say that,” you stuttered.

“Then be a good girl and straddle my thigh.” 

His hands never left your body, not even when you complied and positioned yourself how he asked. He was in control, he was the one guiding your movement.

A small gasp escaped your lips when you felt him ground you on his strong thigh.

“Please sir, touch me,” the shame fueled your pleasure like never before.

“No can do, get yourself off like this or don't at all.”

That was the best orgasm of your life.

After he touched you, Hyunjin couldn't get enough of you. He thought your voice was sweet at first, but your moans were even sweeter, your skin tasted like nectar and your pussy like ambrosia. He was addicted.

Sleep came easier to him now but not even in your dreams he could escape you. Your voice, your sweet whines, your skin, your scent, they all clouded his brain even in his slumber. He'd wake up hard as a rock every night and leaking. He would fuck his fist roughly, just how he liked it, he would use all of his toys and cum again and again until his seed had permanently stained his satin black sheets. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. He had to feel you clench around him, he had to feel you rake your nails down his back, he had to push your legs to your chest and see fat tears roll down your cheeks.

So he would get up and drive to your house where he would fuck you until you both passed out. It became some sort of routine, one that he followed religiously. But the more he saw the bigger a foreign and strange feeling grew inside him. It started at the pit of his stomach and then spread through his chest like a warm blanket enveloping him in a tight hug. It was comforting and that unsettled him.

He was confused and ignorant, he hated that. But he knew that it didn't come from him, somebody was attacking him. That's how Hyunjin found himself in front of the goddess of love, Aphrodite, herself.

“What have you done to me?” he yelled. He knew yelling at a deity was not a smart move but the anger was consuming him, mixing with that strange feeling and making his blood hot.

“You cursed me, didn't you? You cursed me because I don't want to share a bed with you anymore, you selfish woman.” The moment those words came out of HYunjin’s mouth he regretted them. The room started shaking along with the anger of the goddess, everybody knew not to anger Aphrodite. he was foolish, he thought he could get away with it because he used to be her favorite lover. The goddess grew in stature, the light bulbs in the room exploded, leaving the only light her angry eyes. 

“You foolish human, how dare you speak to me like this,” this was not Aphrodite the goddess of love, this was the goddess of fiery passion and victory, “ I did not curse you. You do not hold significance in my eyes anymore, you are a mere human. Humans all fall in love, it’s their destiny.”

The walls of the pristine white room they were in started to crack under the gravity of the goddess full immortal form. Hyunjin knew that the fact he was not dead meant that Aphrodite let him live as a sign of charity and because of the time they shared their bed. But she did not give second chances, she never had so he quickly kneeled and when he felt the presence of the immortal get gradually less overbearing he got up and walked backwards until back hit the door as a sign of respect and then left. 

The drive home was pure madness, flashes of rage traveled through his body like lightning before leaving like nothing had happened. Hera was punishing him for angering her daughter, nothing was less expected from the goddess of family. When he stumbled into his house, with shaky hands he grabbed his ceremonial cup and offered his bloods to the gods to appease them and as a thanks for sparing his life.

The following day Hyunjin avoided looking at you in the eyes, he had never looked away from you, not even once. You were so used to having his fiery gaze on you that now your whole body felt cold as ice. 

‘Maybe he’s tired,’ you thought while you worked. Tired or not, you felt him miles away from you even if you were touching his skin with your very own hands. Something had shifted between you. 

The next day felt like a deja vù, Hyunjin still had his eyes closed and he still refused to talk to you. You felt wronged and cold. The following days followed the same pattern, it felt like a terrible nightmare. His nightly visits had also stopped and so did his texts. 

Anger and frustration were eating away at you. Work had started to get tougher and Hyunjin’s attitude was making your mental health drop. The last straw was the pouring rain, you were stranded at work, with no umbrella, when all you wanted to do was go home, eat ice cream and sleep.

Fat teardrops started dropping down your cheeks, why was this all happening to you? Why couldn’t you live in peace? Why was Hwang Hyunjin doing this to you?

“Are you crying?” That voice. Hwang Hyunjin.

“That’s none of your business, Hyunjin,” you furiously wiped at your cheeks.

“It is,” his hand cupped your cheek and you had no strength to fight it, “ it is because you are the only woman i’ve ever loved in my long life.” Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Say that again.”

“You, “ he paused, “ are the only wo-”

You didn’t give him the chance to finish his sentence, your lips attached to his and you richest deflated with relief. Kissing him felt familiar and natural. The recognizable desire that always lit within you when you were with him started spreading through you like wildfire. Your hands quickly traveled to his pants and unbuttoned his pants without thinking, you had done that countless times. His dick was already hard and leaking, waiting for you. Your soft hand wrapped around his velvety skin and tugged and moved just how you knew he liked, how you knew drove him mad. Your lips found his neck and nipped and sucked at his pulse point, his weak spot.

“Oh, baby, I’m not going to last, I think I’m cumming.”

A quick swipe of your thumb against his slip made him spill all over your hand, his head thrown back in ecstasy and his eyes tightly shut.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, lover, but first let me return the favor.” 

A hand on his chest stopped him.

“Take me on a date first.”

“Whatever you want, lover.”

[minafeu]

I'm not the greatest at writing when tired and it's 11 pm before I got to school the next day but I thought I'd give a snippet of what I have so far. The chapter will be called "Girl, So Confusing" because the tension I've written is utterly divine and fits the title because the way Red be acting is so confusing to Chloe.( @uhhhh-em-draws-stuff this is for you pookie 😘)

Theatre class. A place where many don't have academic rivals but Chloe was unlucky enough to have her academic rival in her Theater class. Today they were doing line readings just to make sure the teacher picked the right people for the roles. Chloe reading for Juliet and Red reading for Romeo. An irony Chloe could care less for but still funny none the less. Red takes her hand as per the directions of staging "If I profane with my unworthiest hand. This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: My lips two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." Red had an annoying sly smile on her face, knowing she was slightly getting under Chloe's skin.

She take a deep breath and begins her line. "Good Pilgrim, you do wrong your hands to much, which mannerly devotion shows this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch. and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." They make eye contact whilst Chloe recites her lines lines. It's obvious to Red that Chloe has honed the craft of theatre for many years which is almost impressive if it weren't for the fact she acted slightly cocky about it. It elicits a small chuckle out of Red, it being humorous that Chloe thinks so highly of herself.

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers' too?" Reds voice is soft but firm. Chloe laughs slightly and states "Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer." She give an unserious smile, emulating the character of Juliet. It's almost impressive how well Red is doing as Chloe has never seen her so theatre. Red simply brushes off the slight look of disbelief on Chloe's face and responds. "O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do: They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair." Her smile growing more cocky, her head tiltes slightly to the side as she watches to see how Chloe react. "Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake" Chloe speak softly, shaking her head lightly during my lines. She lightly looks Red up and down as she recites Red next lines.

Red steps a bit closer to Chloe. "Then move not while my prayer's effect I take." She takes Chloe's chin in her hand, just a few inches from her face. "Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged." Chloe rolls her eyes lightly, breaking character for but a moment. She clears her throat, takes a step back from Red and delivers the line promptly. "Then have my lips the sin that they have took." Chloe's gaze is questioning with a hint of innocence, replicating how a child of Juliet's age would have said it. "Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again." Red looks into Chloe's eyes, a mischievous smile on her lips. "And scene!" Their teacher calls out.

After a few moments, Chloe goes to her seat and grabs her things, intent on getting to her next class to have peace for just a few moments. The only bad thing about next hour being AP history was perhaps the fact that the seating chart just had to have Red sitting right next to her. It was the only class they sat next to each other and every moment felt like hell on earth. As the teacher begins to give Red compliments on her compelling acting Chloe checks her phone and texts back her mom. After about a minute, the teacher begins to compliment Chloe who dutifully takes them. Red simply rolls her eyes. Ah yes, little miss perfect taking compliments like it's nothing. It's almost as if she isn't Satan incarnate in academia clothing and a pretty smile.

(now published as a full chapter on ao3)

[chvnnie]

I had an awful week😭 is there any chance you can do a comforting dad!han fic? Something short please it’ll really make my day🥺

i’m sorry you had an awful week, love. this dad sung will be rejuvenating for the both of us 🫶🏻

Propped up against the headboard, Jisung rubs soft circles into the infant’s back. His hand is almost the size of her tiny body. She fits perfectly on his bare chest, already asleep though her father doesn’t stop the motion. The more she can sleep, the better.

It’s been a rough few weeks for his family. The baby came earlier than expected — only 32 two weeks and she decided it was time to arrive earth side the most complicated way possible. You were miserable in the hospital, the birth complicated and exhausting. A lengthy stay in the NICU only tacked on to that.

It’s nice to be home.

The shower shuts off in the en-suite bathroom. You’ve been in there a while. Not that Jisung minds, he’ll take any alone time with the little bitty he can get. And it’s nice to be able to give you a break — however hard it’s been on him, he knows it’s been ten times harder for you. It’s truly the least he can do.

Jisung looks down at the baby. A newborn sized onesie is still a little too baggy on her, the tiny hands slipped under the cuffs. The first thing his friends commented on when they met her (via FaceTime — you’re still a little worried about anyone other than immediate family being around her) was how much she looked like him. A full head of dark hair, a small version of his nose. Full cheeks, so much bigger than her body.

Baby quokka, she was lovingly nicknamed. “It fits.” You said, reaching into her hospital crib and adjusting the gloves on her hands. “She really is your mini.”

What in the world did he do to deserve her?

The door creaks open slowly, steam following you into the bedroom. Jisung feels his heart come to a halt when he looks at you — every time, without fail. It did that the day he met you. The day he proposed, the day you got married, everyday in between and on.

“How long has she been asleep?” You ask, shaking Jisung from his awestruck state.

“About ten minutes.” He answers with a shrug. His hand hasn’t stopped moving. It’s practically second nature at this point.

“Why haven’t you moved her to the bassinet?”

Another shrug. “I’m not ready to yet.”

Your smile is so fond. It’s no surprise that Jisung is a wonderful father, but you think this was his true calling. If you could freeze this moment, spend forever watching him softly push his daughter’s hair out of her face, you would. There’s nothing that could make this better—

Expect for the burst of energy that just tumbled through the bedroom door, her hair spilling from the braids she fell asleep in. Though she looks just like you, her expressions are your husband’s. Pouty, eyes narrowed.

“Dada.” There’s fire in her voice. “Didn’t stay.”

Uh oh. You climb into the bed next to Jisung, mimicking your eldest daughter’s glare. “You left her?”

His eyes are wild, bouncing between the two of you. Is he really getting ganged up on right now? “I told you I would leave after I finished singing to you—“

“Nuh uh.” She turns to you. “Dada ‘pposed to sleep in my room.”

“Oh no.” You say dramatically, picking up the four year old and hauling her into the bed. “Isn’t he the worst?”

“Okay now—“

“Is.” She lays her head on your chest, resting on your body the exact same way her sister is laying on Jisung. Making sure her head is turned in her direction, she pouts even more.

It’s a pout that Jisung returns, shifting lower in the bed so she’s eye level with her. The baby stirs from the motion, but doesn’t wake. Perfectly content on her father. “Sprout, don’t hurt my feelings.”

“Hurt mine first.”

Jisung looks at you for help, trying to resist breaking into a smile. Her little pout is too cute to be mad about. You shake your head with a chuckle, untangling her messy hair.

“I’m sure Dada didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” You reassure her, fingers smoothing out her dark hair.

“I’m sorry.” Jisung says sincerely, holding out his free hand. “Forgive me?”

Her big eyes stare at his palm, and he can practically see her little brain spinning. Weighing her options. He knows she can hold a grudge — she is her father’s daughter, after all. After what seems like an hour of careful deliberation, she puts her hand in his. Squeezing it as tight as she can.

“‘Kay.”

Jisung smiles, bringing her tiny hand to his lips and giving it a kiss. He makes a loud “muah” sound, his daughter giggling. The tiny problem fixed with her father’s love.

“Promise I’ll never leave you again, Sprout.”

She doesn’t know how deeply he means that.

[miioouu]

Mean dad's best friend! John Price Ending

Helloooo! I’m back from the dead to drop this horrible, disgusting, bad bad final part for Price’s route! I’ve been dealing with some personal issues as well as some terrible creative blocks, so please I know it’s bad, ok? Tw: smut, breeding kink, mention of fingering and oral (female receiving), female reader Wc: 1.4k 

Your eyes kept glancing between the two men. Why are you having such a hard time making a choice? It should be obvious right? Although Simon has always been on your mind, the one you're always crawling back to, you know better than that. The voice in the back of your head is telling you to let go, no matter how much your heart will break, there's someone who'll mend it back together.

The thought alone made you smile, you gazed into ocean blues and suddenly, it wasn't that difficult to choose. His grin alone made your heart skip a beat. His hands, the way they smooth down the skin of your waist as he pulls you closer, is enough to make you melt. And you weren't supposed to feel anything for that man; only here to make Ghost jealous, only a mere distraction at first, but he's become so much more, someone you like…loved even.

You try to voice out your choice, although Price stopped you “It's ok sweetheart, I think he got it, right?” His warm eyes turned icy just by looking at the other man. And again, you hate their silent communication, you hate always being left in the dark, but the moment Simon scoffed, giving you his infamous eye roll as he turned away and slipped from your room, it was enough to make you forget all about their lack of communication skills.

It was the way his arms wrap around you as he holds you close, and the way his warm eyes gazed into yours as he smiled so adorably, that’s one of the reasons why you chose John. The way he cared about you, never talked about other women, never told you what to do. Never stern and never rude, only sweetness outside the bedroom and in it too. His hands are always soft as they gently lift your shirt up, just like he is doing right now, calloused but gentle as they brush against your skin, leaving scatters of goosebumps in their trail. His words, praising you with devotion “Maybe I don’t make you feel as good as him. Maybe he really is better than me…But you know, he doesn’t like you the way I do. Noone ever will.” But you only shake your head. Maybe you have been blinded by Ghost’s pure rough lust, but you’re not stupid enough to disregard gentleness and awe. 

His lips trailed down your neck, down your collarbones, and when usually he’d like to bite and nibble, he feels as if he doesn’t need to mark you anymore. You’re his, you know it, he knows it, Simon knows it. No need for unnecessary roughness, of reminding that you enjoy him just as much, if not more now. It’s obvious, from the way your head falls back against the pillows, they kind of smell like him. From the way your nails dig in his shoulders as you guide him back down, further down. Soft lips on your soft tummy, making the butterflies erupt in your stomach, the way he kisses you, so carefully, like you were crystal, like you were the finest porcelain, like you were the most fragile thing that has ever seen the light of the earth. 

This military man always felt like he belonged in chaos and brutality, the savagery of bullets and loudness of bombs, never did he think he’d find relishing in tenderness and kindness. Cold nights when he’d stay awake praying god would let him see another day of life, now between the warmth of your sheets, god is forgotten, John can only sin and sin over and over again, if this is what hell is like, then so be it, nothing will ever taste as sweet as your arousal. A sloppy man by nature, saliva and drool dripping down his chin as he messily makes out with your folds. Between your thighs, that’s where he truly belonged. 

Doe eyes looking up at you from below, it made you smile, how a man like him can’t contain his eagerness. Your fingers ran through his hair, pulling him closer to your core, even closer when your back arched, his fingers suddenly plunging inside you. That’s how he always did it “Wanna make sure you’re ready sweetheart. Don’t ever want to hurt you, not that way at least…”  He’d constantly say, to the point where it kept on replaying in your mind, even at the worst possible moments. He’d always make sure you’d cum on his fingers or tongue first, for comfort, as he puts it. But deep down, that’s not the reason. Knowing that he as you wrapped around his fingers, literally, always did something to him. The way you purr, thrash against your sheets when he overstimulates you with just a flicker to your abused clit, the way you beg him “Please, please! Just…put it in, fuck me!” the way you ramble, voice dripping with desperation, high pitched, and whiny. Your whining, your begging, your crying is why he does it. You’d always tell him how nice he is, but he’s cruel really, selfishly so.

It’s only when he thinks you’re ready, or in other words, it’s only when your tears are staining the pillows, only when your nails drew crescent reds on his back, only when he couldn’t take it anymore, would he push you further up the bed and hover above you. He wouldn’t even give you much time to process what’s happening. He already got your legs wrapped around his waist, and when usually he’d growl and complain about having to use protection, this time he skipped it all together. Your eyes went wide, a small gasp escaped your lips when you felt his tip nudging between your lower lips; he found your behaviour just so cute. He chuckles, leaning down, folding you as he does so, whispers lightly in your ear “You’re so adorable like that, sweetheart. So pretty folded in half for me like that…Got to take advantage of that now, soon I won’t be able to do that at all, hmm?”  It doesn’t take a genius to know what he meant by that, and even if you had any doubts, he slid into you, hissing in pleasure at the feeling of your tight walls around his cock, reinforcing his idea, making it clear. 

And why did he ever doubt you? Was the way you scream his name not enough proof that you loved him? The way you squirm, the way tears cascaded down your cheeks, the way you grabbed into him, all of that, was it not enough to make your decision easier? You’re both too stupid to realise that there shouldn’t have been any hesitation in who you’d choose in the end. 

His hips moved against yours, drilling into you at a speed you’ve never experienced from that man before, or anyone for what matters. His hands dug into your hips as he held you steady. You’re panting, biting your lips to keep your moans at bay, but to no avail. He won’t be having that. “Don’t be selfish now my darling. I’ve been patient enough, the least you could do is appreciate me by screaming my name, don’t you think?” And who were you to deny him this request? Your lips parted at his demand, his name rolling off your tongue has him picking up his pace, faster and faster, he’s reaching so deep. Although not in the fields, when Johnny puts his mind into something, he’ll make sure it happens, no matter what it takes. His fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles on the bundle of nerves, it has you twitching underneath him, squirming and shaking, your voice is all choked up when you cum. Your vision is blurry, your limbs feel like jelly as your gummy walls spasm around him, really, he’s not surprised at how fast he cums when he’s with you anymore, never once did it hurt his ego. Your exhausted smile warmed his heart. A kiss on your forehead and a soft whisper of “Thanks for giving me a chance”  has you wrap your arms around him to press a sweet peck to his lips. And you thought that was the end of your night, you’re ready to be tucked in and cuddled up against his chest and be lulled to sleep by his heartbeat as usual, but no. “Oh no, where do you think you’re going, darling? No, no we’re not done yet. I got to make sure it takes, wanna see you all round for me. We’re gonna show him, I can give you what you want. I am what you need…”

[buckgasms]

what would daddy Bucky do if princess forgot her safe word but was clearly not enjoying whatever they were doing?

Hi Nonnie 🩵 thank you for your question 😘 I have taken this a bit further along than your request because it's a good idea to look after our Daddy Bucky too 💙

I think he would notice the changes in his princess and figure out a way to stop without upsetting you more.

So let's say you had your hands tied and he was watching your face and your lip was wobbling and you weren't making much noise, which is not usual. Sometimes you cry or whatever but it's normally like happy, spoilt tears. These ones are different.

So he slows his movement to a stop, drops his face down to yours and presses kisses to your cheeks. He gives you a moment to respond but you can't. It's too much.

"I've got a job for you princess..." He says softly and you nod, limbs shaking. "I want ten kisses babygirl.... Ten kisses, take as long as you want, but I need ten..."

As your brain catches up, you press soft, gentle kisses to his cheek. You do a few and he asks, "how many was that angel?" Gentle and kind and you stumble over your words. "It's ok Princess, can you start again...Count for me, out loud. I know you can do it Princess."

You breathe out a smile and start again. Your hands have been untied, and he's wrapped you up close. Your warm bodies are pressed together and before you even know it you are back down to Earth and pressing your tenth kiss to his lips.

"There's my girl" he whispers as you shiver a little and cling to him, teardrops gathering on your eyelashes. "M'sorry Daddy... I couldn't say it, couldn't say my words..." Your breath shudders and he holds you closer, stroking your back and telling you everything was ok.

💙

I think once you were feeling better and maybe you'd had a little doze while wrapped up in his arms you feel Daddy slip away into the bathroom.

You wait for a little while for him to come back but he doesn't come back, but you can't hear the shower or anything. So you slip out of bed and tiptoe into the bathroom where Daddy is standing staring at himself in the mirror and leaning heavily on the counter.

"Daddy... What's wrong?" You whisper and wrap your arms around him, pressing your face into his back. His heartbeat thuds heavily and his breathing seems slow and tight. He turns around and hugs you, pressing his lips to your head.

"I'm so sorry I scared your Princess. I never wanna hurt you baby.... I fucking hate it... I'm supposed to protect you... I made you cry..."

He holds your tighter and his breath shudders, so you grip his soft muscles and skim your hands up and down his body. "Daddy" you whisper, "you don't...you didn't hurt me Daddy, I promise..." He grunts a little but you just squeeze him tighter. "Daddy listen... I mean it..."

He hmms again and you move back a bit to look at him. You stroke his chest and face, wondering what to do, how to take care of your perfect daddy. Suddenly you smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

"Come on Daddy, I'll make you feel better..." He lets you drag him over to the big shower and watches as you turn the water on, smiling as you jump at the cold water, humming until it turns warm. Your outstretched hand guides him into the stream of water and you smooth your hands, guiding channels down his skin.

Taking a loofah and some of your fanciest soap and rub it all over him and you in the process. It doesn't take long before you are the bubbliest people in the world. As you wash, you ask him to pick his favourite things about you, and you pick your favourite things about him. He grips your waist gently, keeping himself grounded as you whisper pretty things and tell him how much you love him.

The water washes away bubbles and discomfort. You do your best to dry him off with a fluffy towel, but you are getting a little worn out now. Daddy is finally feeling more himself too, and takes up the task of drying you both off.

When you both slip into bed you are both wondering what to do but the exhaustion of the night takes over. It can wait till morning.

💙

You wake up to his kisses on your face, you both smell of your chosen shower gel and you feel absolutely warm and safe.

You spend the morning in bed, discussing safe words and perhaps a new way of expressing discomfort when words are hard. That makes you both happy. And he thanks you with endless kisses and praise for taking such good care of him when he was feeling sad.

You spend the rest of the morning tucked up with him in bed, and the worries of the night before have long gone....

[izvmimi]

Senku exhales deeply and releases the small screwdriver he’s holding in his right hand, and as the metal clatters quietly on his work surface, he admits to himself that for the first time possibly in his entire life, he’s having issues with concentration. 

Taking a swig of long-cooled coffee in his left and smoothing out a blueprint that he’d normally have committed to memory on the desk before him, he pores over the details of his newest invention again, but as the acrid taste of double shot espresso, taken black, hits his tongue, a flash of your wide smile comes to mind instead. The vision of you practically sweetens the aftertaste. He sighs, downs the rest of his coffee, then rubs his face with both his hands. Tilting back in his chair, he crosses his arms over his chest, jittery hands that now yearn to hold something soft and warm instead of being made to work. 

Love is the most irrational thing on Earth, really. 

Glancing at the digital clock just above his work desk, he finds that it’s late, close to 1 am, and you’re probably long since snoozing with far better sleep hygiene than he can ever afford (although he knows better, he always does). Perhaps if he just spoke to you, he’d be able to get that natural, primitive urge for companionship out of his system, that evolutionary shackle that keeps people fitting the mold rather than breaking through for societal advancement, but he only knows that feeding that desire is akin to throwing fresh meat to an endlessly hungry horde of dogs - never satisfied, always wanting more… a loud and wanting demand in his chest that doesn’t wane. 

His curious nature finally proves to be a detriment because rather than uncover the laws of the natural and advanced world, he wonders if he could know you to the very atomic level. What your likes are, your dislikes… how your heart stays tender and pliable even at the worst of times… how kindness is communicated from your thoughts to words spoken sweetly through soft lips… how you decide what to wear, what gives you comfort… if you think you’re as pleasing to the eyes and soul as he finds you…

He shakes his head as he contemplates himself wasting precious time thinking about a woman, but you’re not just any woman, are you? You’re that person who generates that specific neurochemical cocktail that keeps him preoccupied, distracted - sitting in a chair in the middle of the night wondering if you’ve slept well and if you’d be interested in him picking your brain. 

He looks at his phone, then looks away. He picks up his wrench, then places it back down. 

His heart races for a moment, and he looks upset at the coffee cup, now consumed to the dregs. If he could make another cup, perhaps he could regain his focus, perhaps…

He rises for a moment, sits back down, and in a split, uncalculated decision picks up his phone and calls. 

And you pick up on the second ring.

“... Senku?”

Your voice lacks the grogginess that would engender guilt for waking you up in the middle of the night. His mouth opens then closes for a moment, pulse quickening faster than any stimulant could hope to accomplish, and he quickly comes up with something to say. Anything, before you lose interest and question him just as badly as he questions himself.

“I need to run something by you. Do you mind?”

He can practically sense your smile on the other end of the line and it warms him from inside out.

Whether you understand his newest contraption is moot because you listen enthusiastically and you ask the right questions and he’s delighted just by the sound of your breathing on the other end of the phone -

Appetite for you whetted, satiated, and yet never truly full.