#Ticklish!Midnight

[kanene-yaaay]

Logical (or The One About Love and Friendship)

Warnings: None. This is literally 2.200 words of Aizawa being WEAK for his friends, tickling and being tickled by them. It’s cute, it’s fluffy and full of teases, playful tickles and warm feelings. Switch!Aizawa, Switch!Nemuri, Switch!Toshinori, Switch!Hizashi and Ler!Tensei. All the relationships are platonic

Kanene’s notes: I 100% give this fanfic to my sisters that painted my nails and lightly tickled me for a few secs while I was rambling which immediately made think about happiness and love and all the soft stuff in between for weeks. <3

[~*~]

Aizawa loved to be tickled. 

He wasn’t ashamed to admit this.

It made him feel silly, yes, sometimes even shy, but not ashamed.

Most people would find tickling as an annoying thing or his liken for it weird, but he could care less about them. He loved it. Simply and quick like that. It was only rational, afterall: he was always the kind to be affectionate - in his own quiet, unwavering and attentive way - with the people he was close with, not holding himself back when he felt it would be proper - or simply nice - to share headpats, half hugs or shoulder bumps with his friends. Or to just follow them around like a particularly determined and easily irritated shadow, seeking their warmth just like a cat sought for a sunny spot to nap. 

Tiny touches and daily small doses of affection quickly became an important part of his life, especially after he got into UA and met the most important people he would ever know, people he would take and follow to the most difficult and easier days of his life.

So, yeah, Shouta could recognize he was quite a tad touchy. He could admit it even, on a particular early morning around his friends, right when everything feels just a bit more unreal and dreams are closer to touch. Even if this memory was something that Nemuri and Hizashi would constantly tease him about, delighted to discover a something that would make their so gloomy and grumpy companion share a tiny smile for a piece of second before immediately shoving both it and the beginning of a blush that appeared on his face in his scarf. 

They were all chill with this part of himself, too. More than happy to answer and support his touches with plenty of hugs, snuggles and a constant invasion of his personal space (not that he complained) without even a blink. Like he said: it’s only rational that his love for touch and the closeness that meant trusting someone translated into something as tickling.

It simply felt right.

To just let himself close his eyes and smile, to lazily wiggle around as Hizashi began to prod and skitter his fingers on ribs, finding and attacking all his weak spots with a precision and accuracy that came with years of experience and friendship, leaving plenty of tingles and tickly shocks to generously spread on his torso and fish more huffed giggles and quiet snorts from the dark haired hero as he go.

To bask in the warmth of the friendly, playful teases and lights pokes of fun that spilled freely and unashamedly from Nemuri’s smirking mouth when she sneakily wormed her hands to his armpits, skillfully using her nails to create not only a quite loud squeal in the sea of puffing giggles, but also one of the most unbearable sensations he ever felt in his life.

To ignore everything else and only focus on holding Yagi’s wrists as they got dangerously close to one of his most ticklish spots, even if he showed no real struggle to push the offending digits away, just keeping them in a loose hold, tittering non stop at the way the taller scratched and scribbled on every inch of sensitive skin, gradually increasing the speed. His clear smile of half amusement and half fondness plastered on his features that never failed to make his cheeks prickle with hotness.

To feel his mood immediately light up and his day get just a grain better at the rush of adrenaline flooding his system at Tensei’s fast, startling pokes that always seemed to get him in the moments he least expected it - not a easy accomplishment, something Aizawa should mention - or at the surprising tickle attacks full of squeezings and raspberries that, somehow, seemed to came when he most wanted it, with the right amounts of awful teases and incredibly fun, giddy energy that accompanied the underground hero hours after they parted ways. Probably a skill that comes with being an older brother.

It didn’t matter if it was just one of his friends or all of them at once. If his silent huffed snorts and low laughter mingled with Yagi’s calm presence, his quiet teases being always careful to be delivered on the most unexpected moments in an exact formula that never failed to make hotness prickle on the skin of his cheeks. Or if it clashed and danced beautifully in sync with Hizashi’s own loud laughter, just a tad of taunting and just a tad of amused, both of their reactions filling the air with playfulness and games full of “Let’s see how long can the gloomy, grumpy hero Eraserhead last before being defeated by a few tiny tickly tickles”.

If Nemuri would always start a collection of squeals, squeaks and yelps when she decided to tickle him, being sure to properly coo at every one, something which would normally make the underground hero flare with indignation (he was not cute, dammit), but, under how much soft her grins got during those times, he let it go. Or if Tensei would make as his goal to find any new tickle spots, showering his sides, back, calves, neck and basically anywhere with all the kind of soft pokes and maddening pinches, only to his determined expression to totally light up and his snickers to ring freely when he succeeded in fishing a bark of laughter from Shouta.

Sometimes they would all collectively look at Aizawa and decide that he needed a smile on his day and then jump on him in a mess of hands scribbling, skittering, prodding and tickling everywhere. 

With Nemuri’s loud brags of how she was the first one to make Shouta giggle her name out loud and did you see how much adorable that was awww, sorry guys it must suck for you all to not be able to do that but don’t worry it’s fine no one can be the best I will gladly bear such heavy burden alone. 

With Tensei’s loud laughter and playful bump of shoulders asking for space, come on give a bit of space for the tickle master here, I want to test something that makes Tenya go absolutely crazy, it’s so cute, he couldn’t stop himself from becoming a mess of giggles and you definitely will want to see it if Shouta has even a quarter of his reaction.

With Toshinori’s wheezing snickers as he requested for everyone to please calm down and stop making such a fuss, there is plenty of Shouta for everyone here to tease and attack and he knows, he knows it must tickle a lot with how incredibly ticklish you are, Shouta-san, but if you could stay still for just a bit longer for Tensei to try this new thing (even if his own hands kept tap-tap-tapping the sensitive skin right under his knees and that definitely was not helping) it would be really nice.

With Hizashi’s taunting pokes and scribbles that played with his reflexes, teasing his armpits when he tried to hide his face, skittering on his neck when an attempt of a pout grazed his lips and showering his lower back with scritches every time he tried to curl in a defensive ball. Always more than happy to cheer loudly at any of his reactions because YEAH Shou, show us all that rocking smile, yo! You wouldn’t try to hide it from your best friends in the whole world, huh? After everything we’ve been through you wouldn’t leave us out here to suffer and die without our daily doses of Shouta’s giggles?

With all of their attentive gazes, careful touches and soft whispered questions, checking if he was fine, if that was okay, if they went too far, filling his heart with such an amount of care and a love that never failed in leaving Aizawa speechless.

Even though his friends would be adamant to deny that last part, especially with how quick he was to recover from their attack and immediately pull Nemuri to his arms, ignoring her flirts and wobbly attempts to break from his hold with more clumsy tickle attacks to focus his attention in squeezing the especial spot just right above her knees and a few inches to the left that created the most lovely snorts. After that it didn’t take too long for a flow of uncontrollable laughter to flow freely in the air, which, on itself, meant that now he only needed to whisper a few teases close to her ear - how could a single person have such ticklish ears he would never know, but the loud squeals and crackled death treats made this spot one of their favorites to tickle -, letting them evolving to an onslaught of nibbles - and a couple or two of kisses, - before she finally got distracted enough to not realize one his hands getting way too close to her stomach.

The loud wheezes and sudden silence that bathed the whole space meant that the panther was already after his next victim.

(And, if he stayed just a few seconds more than necessary, hugging Nemuri close to him while she recovered, it didn’t matter. He was out before she could gather enough oxygen to tease him about being a complete, incorrigible and utter softie. Shut up. You know nothing.)

A high pitched shriek that was cut in the middle of being shouted always made pretty clear who was the next one to be caught.

And this time Shouta already had gotten most of his breath back, but, even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t be so difficult to transform Hizashi in a mess of blushes, squealed ‘nononono’s and infinite squawks, even if the black haired one just did as much as look in his direction.

When asked about it, Yamada said it was because of his smirk. There was just something in the way his eyes glinted in a playful way and his lips were pulled up in a grin which basically shouted ‘You are dead’ that made all his nerves alight and incoherent noises to bubble on his throat. Now, how the blond was able to realize that while he was kicking and squirming and wiggling and trashing non stop on the floor, Aizawa didn’t know.

Eventually the underground hero would be able to dig his hands on his thighs and draw senseless nothings on his soles, occasionally scratching his toes just to watch him jump and yelp, his own low, playful pokes of fun being easy to be heard over Hizashi’s usual silent laughter that made his entire body shake with happiness and delight.

(And, if he brushed Yamada’s hair with his fingers while he squirmed the rest of his giddy energy on the floor so it would look a little bit less of a mess, enjoying the not-quite silence that hung around then, no, he didn’t. You saw nothing. Get out.)

Tensei, on his turn, wasn’t particularly fond of being tickled. He would endure a few pokes or a random raspberry if they got caught in a tickle fight or any similar situation, but more of that was not his definition of a good time. This required Aizawa to be creative during his revenges, then, usually deciding to pull a snicker and distract the other with a couple of pinches on his sides, fast enough to just divert his attention while Shouta stole some of his fidelity cards of their favorite cafeteria and a pair of Tenya’s baby pictures from his wallet before tangling his capture scarf on his arms so he could safely dart away without being immediately chased. 

He still had one victim left, afterall.

(Before going, however, he always spared some time to adjust Tensei’s glasses so they stop being dangerously close to falling from the tip of his nose, a tradition that began during their time on UA as students and continued until nowadays, even if Tensei kept trying to bite him every single time. Nuisance.)

Toshinori was a little more like himself in this point, much more full of breathless giggles and sudden snorts than a strong belly laughter - like Hizashi or Kayama. It was fine. It was perfect. Because honestly Shouta already had enough of All Might’s customary, booming laughter, but this? The high pitched, quiet ‘mercys’ he let out amidst his titters? The muffled yelps and low snickered babbles full of nonsense filling the room when Aizawa let his fingers prod softly on his ribs and tap their way across his right side, finding and exploring any weak spot for quick, maddening seconds before jumping to another one? 

He could never, ever get enough of this. 

The smiles, the squirms, the quiet and loud reactions, the whispered teases, the feeling that brought warmth to his chest every time he saw one of his friends smile and thought ‘I did that’, the way they grinned proudly after one of their tickle fights, the comfortable silence that sat with around them after those moments, the excited conversations, the warm touches, the nice embraces.

…Yeah. Aizawa loved to tickle his friends. And he loved being tickled by them. He loved and loved and loved and loved again and again and again.

Of course he did.

It was only logical.

[ticklishina]

Do you think there are a lot more people who like being tickled / to tickle than you find in the tickle communities? 🤔

[wordstrings]

Tickletober Day 6: Cuddles

[tkpuke]

do u have any tickle headcanons about the hargreeves sibs? 🥺😭😭

hell YES I do! my absolute babies, who can never get a break from the world ending </3

slight season 3 spoilers for those who still haven’t finished it !

LUTHER

I saw this one hc that I unfortunately forgot who made it but when Luther’s original body comes back like we saw in the last ep of season 3, he’s 10x more ticklish than ever

Because he f o r g o t what tickling even use to feel like

Boy, will his siblings make sure he won’t forget

Luther definitely always ends up restraining his sibling’s hands to keep them still whenever they drag him into their playful fights

He doesn’t mind, as long as he’s involved in their shenanigans which brings a smile to his face, you won’t ever hear him complain

Luther likes to sometimes pick his siblings up and flip them upside down, then skitter around their stomachs

It drives them NUTS

I can see Luther having a really ticklish back, where you can’t even innocently give a massage to without him squirming all over the place

His underarms? That’s murder. You’ll murder the poor boy

No matter what, he’ll try to purse his lips together to contain the bubbling laughter in his throat

But the farthest he’s gotten successful with that is literally two seconds before his giggles is to be heard around the academy

DIEGO

Diego Hargreeves would respectfully throw a sucker punch to anyone that thought it was a good idea to tickle him

It seems like his siblings, especially Klaus, think half the time it’s a good idea

Diego HATES being held down when getting tickled he just won’t allow it

He sees tickling as something that makes you look weak and vulnerable

So don’t count him a fan

Although when you do tickle him? Prepare for this man to literally scream

Get his ribs if you wanna pull a snort from him

Diego turns into a puddle of goo whenever fingers get ahold of his most ticklish spots

Most he will do is push your face or sputter out giggly protests

“Not so much Mr. Tough guy now, huh?” Do you wanna die?

Diego will make anyone regret their ticklish attacks on him

He will spring back onto his feet and grab at you for his revenge

He would suggest you running, but only because it entertains him more

Nothing wrong with a good chase

I have a feeling Diego doesn’t really understand how to “properly” tickle

He’s one of those people who just roughly scratches any patch of skin and think it tickles like hell

More hurts than anything, you’ll have to let him know

But once he does learn a thing or two on how to get you cackling? You’re in for a ride

ALLISON

Let’s not be dumb, she would DEF use her powers as a advantage when it comes to tickle fights

“I heard a rumor you can’t move” then goes to town

Allison’s personal fav way of tickling somebody is using her nails

C’mon, it brings the best reactions

Allison can be very observant on what exactly gets you to break faster and what spots you just can’t handle for more than a minute

She remembers ALL her siblings worst spots

She reminds them daily she hasn’t forgotten

Tickles the snot out of her brothers if they ever annoy her or to keep them in check

Her laugh is the best you can’t tell me otherwise

Allison isn’t much of a squirmer, she kind of enjoys the sweet bonding act so she’ll let you have your fun

I can see Allison using baby talk to only embarrass her brothers, and also to give herself a good laugh since she can’t take herself seriously when doing so

KLAUS

You can’t punish this guy with a good time

He doesn’t mind getting tickled to pieces at ALL

His go-to’s are usually Diego or Five because they promise revenge right after getting absolutely wrecked

Klaus wears crop tops and ripped jeans for a reason

But he’ll never admit it

My man just straight out CACKLES

No giggles in the beginning, solely loud cackles to be heard a mile away

Thank you to God for blessing us with canon ticklish Klaus in season 3

You saw how Luther BARELY grazes his fingers on Klaus’ knee

So yeah, I’d like to announce that his knees are probably on his top five most ticklish spots list

Along with his stomach, of course

Don’t mind his protests, he says to stop or beg to not tickle there, but he doesn’t mean it

If he starts to wheeze then it’s safe to say he may need a breather

His favorite victims to go after are Five and Diego

Their reactions are priceless to him

The man loves to be a little shit and tease, or sometimes act stupid as if he doesn’t understand why his brothers are laughing so damn much

“I’m trying to go somewhere else, but you’ve trapped my hands in your underarms. Guess I’ll stay here.”

“Very rude of you to not tell me what’s so funny!”

Hugs his sibs from behind then when they least expect it, gets surprised with fingers squeezing their sides

Tickle hugs are his speciality sorry not sorry

FIVE

Every grump deserves tickles

I don’t make the rules here

Five swears on his life he’ll murder you in his sleep if you even DARE to touch him

“Sleep with one eye open.” Yeah yeah, you kind of secretly enjoy it old man

Okay yes his knees may get him to thrash crazily when you squeeze rapidly, yet he never rolls his socks high enough or wear pants to cover them

But have you tried the top of his ribs? No? Trust me on this one

It tickles so bad he sometimes teleports somewhere around the house without realizing it

Other than that? He can’t focus enough to really teleport on command whenever he’s getting tickled to tears

He’s so giggly where there’s no point to even threaten his siblings because they won’t take him seriously

His dimples are the best part of it all

An adorable little shit tbh

His revenge game is strong though

Whatever his sibs did to him? He will do it right back but 10x worse

Mercy isn’t found in his vocabulary

Won’t stop till he’s completely satisfied, which ends up with them being breathless most of the time

He thinks doing that will get his brothers and sister to learn their lesson to not drag him into tickle fights, but he’s still gonna get wrapped up in them one way or another

BEN

Ben, this poor poor angel

Back when they were kids they targeted Ben the most of their tickle onslaughts

His reactions were too cute for anybody to handle

His smile could light up a room instantly

If you wiggle your fingers in the air directly at him? Forget about it, he’s already pleading his case for whatever he did to deserve this mean torture

Tickling Ben is something anybody would do if they get bored

Ben wasn’t exactly the happiest when Klaus kept the tradition going of tickling him out of the blue all thanks to his powers

Gentle tickles works better with him

He can’t handle it give him a break

You see, he tries to get his sibs back, he really does, but it only takes a single poke to his side and he’s crumbling

If you go for his stomach, you’re responsible for his funeral

All due to his power of the tentacles from another dimension coming out of his stomach got him to be veerrryyy sensitive around that area

VIKTOR

Viktor isn’t ticklish in most common places for people

Ears, hips, and neck would receive a good laugh from him

Place hands on his shoulders and slightly squeeze around his neck area, your fingers are getting squashed from Viktor trying to protect the spot as much as he can

He taps out in two minutes tops

Stick with gentle tickling, he prefers it more

Never getting involved with the playful fights his siblings had when they were kids, always forced to watch from afar or be sent to practice on his violin

Caused Viktor’s eyes to light up whenever he sees a tickle fight brawl out and his siblings asking for him to lend a helping hand

He accepts in a heartbeat, loving to feel so included

Five gives him a few pokes here n there as a playful retort

Klaus is Viktor’s number one tickle monster

Viktor never minds the affectionate act

He volunteers in anything if it’s to bond with his lovely siblings

More on the receiving than on the giving, because of hearing tales on how ruthless his brothers and sister can get if you tickle them long enough

If he finds a pretty bad spot? Don’t worry, secret safe with him

[jaxthedragon]

Hey, does anyone know how to deal with existentialism and dread over the inevitable doom of the end of the universe and the fact that no matter what you do that it will all be for naught?

Asking for a friend.

[eternally-racing]

meet me at midnight | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader

wc: 1k

summary: even though you're sick, new year's eve is definitely a night you and lando want to remember.

----

“You have to go, Lan, everyone’s expecting you” you say while attempting to hide the congestion in your voice. It’s all futile though, since your ruby red nose and all too evident fever are giving you away. 

It’s New Year’s Eve and the two of you had planned on spending it together in Bali. It was a compromise of sorts. You got your quiet Christmas at home, while Lando was so excited to show you all his best DJ moves to close out the year. The only hiccup in the plan so far is that you had come down with one of the worst colds you’d experienced all year, leaving you absolutely cocooned under the blankets of your shared hotel room. 

Of course Lando wants to stay with you, he’s a gentleman after all. The two of you are still trying to keep things quiet with your relationship;  that means no joint entries into the paddock, no lavish vacations on a yacht, and most of all trying to keep things looking as “business as usual” in your personal social media accounts. People were already starting to question things, and Lando not making an appearance with his besties while everyone knows he’s in Bali would definitely raise too many red flags. It’s only when you threaten to get out of bed and iron his button down shirt yourself (it’s your favorite on him, and he knows that), does Lando come to terms with the fact that he’s leaving you behind to go party. It makes him feel a little sick in his stomach and you can see him almost change his mind at least half a dozen times before he makes it out the door, and it’s only after a mountain of air kisses and a promise to come back the minute you text him that you need him that he finally walks out the door. 

You’re not sure how long he’s been gone, but you can definitely still hear the party booming just miles away from your room. The toxic combination of advil and dehydration has left a pounding in your head that’s only compounded by the bass booming through your sheets, and the amount that you’re writhing in bed is almost enough to have you text Lando to come back. The minute you pick up your phone you see a cute video Martin sent of your man in the DJ booth looking like he’s having the time of his life, and that’s enough to make you change your mind. Seeing Lando happy made you happy enough, and if he was here the only thing he would do is probably just get himself sick. 

After drifting in and out of consciousness for a while you feel the side of the bed dip next to you and a pair of warm arms circle around you. Lando’s giggling a little to himself as he presses his face into your shoulder, and the ticklish feeling is enough to bring you further out of your slumber and roll over towards him. You can tell that Lando is still wearing the same shirt as you grasp at the buttons. He has that soft smile on his face that you just love seeing, his eyes fluttering open and shut as he tries to fight off sleep to look at you. On a normal night you would definitely chastise him for not brushing his teeth or changing his clothes before getting into bed, but it is honestly so nice to have him back and you tell him exactly that. As a response Lando only tries to bring your bodies even closer to each other, burying his head into your neck as he entangles your limbs together.

“Lan, baby I love you but you reek of tequila right now” you groaned as you stretched your back out slightly. The smell itself is enough to make your nausea return and you keep your nose shut with your fingers while you lift his head away from your body,

All of a sudden you feel Lando’s roaming hands freeze on your body and it immediately has you worried something’s wrong. You reach out to touch his cheek again but instead it looks like your boyfriend has seen a ghost. 

“You…love me?” Lando whispers out.

Shit. this is absolutely not how you meant for this to happen. I guess that's what love is like - perfectly imperfect and never how you expect it. The words had been on the tip of your tongue for weeks now but you just didn’t know the right moment to say it, but it looks like while your brain was overthinking it your heart had decided to blurt it out. 

You can feel your own face start to heat up, and this time it’s not from your fever. “Yeah, I love you Lando” You can barely keep eye contact with the blue-eyed boy across from you as you say it. 

There’s barely a beat of silence between you two and you’re about to launch into a mini rant about how he shouldn't feel any pressure to say it back and that it kind of slipped out when Lando scoops you into his arms. Before you know it he’s laughing and he’s kissing you and there’s fireworks happening between you two that can’t even be rivaled by the lights show that you can see streaming in through your window. 

“Can I show you how much I love you, baby?” is all Lando has to ask before you give in, all goals of trying to keep your distance to stop him from getting sick having gone out the window. 

And when Lando wakes up with a cold the next day, you’re right there next to him taking care of him. He’s the one you love, after all.

---

author's note: fun fact this was the very first formula 1 fic i ever wrote! it's making an appearance today because i've been so crazy busy this week and haven't been able to write a ton of new stuff :( so excited to get some more writing done this weekend! Love you all, thank you so much for reading! Until next time - Em <;3

[literaila]

midnight happenings (2)

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you wake up and look for satoru

warnings: unspecified angst (of course), fluff, and fluff

last part | next part

*

year five.

satoru can feel you coming down the hall before you're there, your presence a lurking, tasteful thing. 

he's just laying in bed when he feels it--the creeping, the warning signals bouncing around his brain like any of it matters. so he pauses, listening, and waits. 

when you knock on his door--so softly it should be inaudible--he isn't surprised. 

he seldom is, with you. every one of your moves is calculated, and satoru likes to think of himself as an expert on the subject. he's been studying for many years and he always excelled at arithmetic. 

still, he leans up, holding himself up with an arm as he looks at you in the dark. 

heres the thing about sensing cursed energy--it's very helpful in a social situation, however few and far between they are for satoru. he can tell when the person checking him out at the store is upset about something, or when the barista at the coffee shop is happy to see him. 

but you're not just an ordinary person. 

and jujutsu sorcerers--especially trained, strong ones like you--are constantly buzzing with a consistent output of cursed energy. 

your body is engulfed in it. if satoru was any less gifted, he wouldn't even be able to see you beyond any of it. 

but satoru has known you since you were sixteen.

so when you tip-toe into the room, he can already tell that this isn't your normal sneaking-into-his-room-in-the-middle-of-the-night-so-you-can-both-pretend-it-didn't-happen-in-the-morning thing. 

because, well, first of all, you usually don't knock. it's an unspoken thing. and also, you're slouching in the room, and even though satoru has stayed up (not waiting for you, if anyone asks) he doubts that you have. you're much better at falling asleep than he is.

and when you near him, he can see the tint in your eyes. the slightly glassy, avoiding his own, eyes. 

it's not a surprise to him, but something in his chest tugs. 

he likes you all of the time (in every single moment), but he doesn't like when you're six feet under, hiding away from the world like it's something you need to protect yourself from. 

satoru should really lock you up somewhere, happy and healthy, just so he can get over this ridiculous feeling. 

"hey," he whispers, smiling softly at you. "need something?" 

you don't say anything but practically fall into his lap. the wind is knocked out of him, but you ignore that. your arms are quick to fall around his neck, like it's routine, and your legs curl against him. 

you effectively trap him in your hold in less than a second. 

still, satoru doesn't complain. instead, he wraps his arms around the swell of your back, making sure that you won't fall off of the bed with the slightest movement. 

and then your face falls against his chest and satoru instinctively tightens his hold, already prepared to fight whatever's plaguing you. 

there's a reason he's the strongest, after all. 

"feeling lonely?" satoru asks, softly. it lacks his typical teasing tone, which he notes with disdain. still, there's nothing he can do to remedy it now. 

your fingertips graze along the nape of his neck, and satoru tries not to sigh at the feeling. it's a bit ticklish and slightly wicked. 

but you don't nod at his question. you don't shake your head, scowl at him, or tell satoru to shut up. 

the only response is the sound of your exhale, a harsh feeling against his chest, and then your body stilling once again. 

kind of like you're holding your breath. waiting for something to burst from the door and pull you from the moment. 

satoru frowns, hands beginning to trace circles against the skin of your back unconsciously. "what's going on?" 

he wouldn't ask, but this isn't a part of your routine with him. 

usually, you'll each put the kids to bed, taking turns tucking them in, megumi bullying satoru as a sleep aid and tsumiki wanting each of you to sit there and talk for a little bit. 

and then the two of you will clean up the shared spaces, if necessary--satoru typically dragging his feet because you made him--parting ways once you've finished, a lingering glance being shared as you close your doors, pretending to go to bed for the night. 

(that is, on the nights when you don't fall asleep cuddling on the couch first). 

but then, after an appropriate amount of time has passed (or one of you breaks), satoru will crawl into your bed, or you into his, and satoru will kiss you until he's dizzy and you'll cling to him like you'd be very willing to share your bed with him for eternity. 

it's become so familiar that no words need to be exchanged, no questions of if or when. it's simple, and easy, and sometimes satoru has to blink in the dark of his room (or yours) just to be sure that he didn't actually dream all of it up. 

but you're always there, and you're always waiting for him, just like he waits for you. even if it's late, even if it's dark. 

and you can say things when this happens. satoru can whisper that he missed you when he was gone, and you can echo back that you don't like it when he leaves. you'll tell him something about the kids, something that you're worried about, and he'll kiss the spot behind your ear that's sensitive. 

it's just how it is, at this point. and none of it really matters. 

eventually, the two of you will fall asleep just like that, tangled together like a useless ball of yarn. 

but tonight, you don't say anything. you don't try to get him to lay his head against your stomach so you can play with his hair, or attempt to tickle him until he falls against you in defense. there's just silence, now, the harsh beating of your heart. 

and you're holding on to him like you're desperate to keep him right there. 

"nothing," you answer, after almost a minute has passed, voice muffled against his shirt.

satoru swallows, waiting for something more that he knows won't come. he wants to get you to look at him, to pull you away from his body so he can observe you, for even a moment, but he knows that if he even tried you'd recoil. and you wouldn't come back. 

and satoru would rather sleep on the floor than have that. 

"you... okay?" 

you nod, but you're lying. 

satoru could sigh and tell you that he knows that, but he doesn't. this isn't all that unusual, really. not with you, and not to him. 

so he only continues to run his fingers down your back, tracing indiscernible shapes against your skin. he's still sitting up, bent over you as you cling. and he should probably lean back so that you fall asleep. he should probably start talking, or tell you that you shouldn't be up this late--any of the things he would do if he didn't feel trapped in your embrace, entraced in a moment he can't let go.

so he only licks his lips, thinking. 

you're completely still. you don't move when his hand dips to the curve of your hip, or when he breathes intentfully against your head. satoru can't tell if your eyes are closed or not, but he's sure that you're not even blinking. 

"did you have a bad dream?" he asks, eventually, leaning back so you'll stop doing that. gluing yourself to him and making him feel like he's missed something. 

really, if he even tried to do this to you, you'd be complaining. 

you shake your head, but your eyes don't meet his, and satoru can see the twitch of your lip, the flicker of your entire face. your movements are slow, your body only moving when he pokes and prods. 

if he avoids your eyes and scratches his neck when he's lying, then you stay quiet, like you'll break if you say one word. 

"are you sure?" he tilts his head at you, bringing his hands to cup your face. "it's okay if you missed me. it happens." 

your eyes flicker to his reluctantly, but you focus on him immediately. your pupils are small and your eyes are cold, almost empty, and satoru has to lean in to inspect them even closer. 

you shake your head stiffly in his hands but don't bother to argue. at least he got a little reaction from that. 

"oh," he says, after a moment, ignoring the chilling feeling in his chest. "i get it. did tsumiki kick you out?" 

"she was hogging all of the blankets." 

satoru nods, pouting at you. "so you're cold? need me to warm you up?" 

your hands wrap around both of his wrists, and one moment you're just sitting in his lap, and the next satoru is lying against the pillows and you've already shifted so your face hides against the crook of his neck. 

he could complain, but he really doesn't want to. he'll swallow his pride for you, just this once. 

you're a very dangerous person to be around, he realizes, suddenly, because as soon as you get him on his back he has to fight the instinct to fall asleep. he blinks idly at you, wishing you wouldn't try to conceal your face from him. "do you want to talk about it?" 

he can barely feel it when you shake your head against him. 

"i won't judge," he promises, scratching at your scalp. "much." 

you snort against his skin. 

"is there..." he starts, then stops. it's a blow to his ego to be here, to feel this much. but he relents. "can i do something? d'ya wanna make out?" 

you pinch his bicep, and even though he can't see it, satoru can practically feel the eye roll. 

it fills him with an unwarranted delight. he can feel it as you subtly shift into him, beginning to settle your body. at least now he only has to settle your mind. 

if that. 

"is that a no?" 

you sigh against his skin--satoru tries not to flinch at the horrible feeling--and shake your head again. "can you just--i don't know... tell me about your day?" 

he smirks, just barely. "oh, so you've got a voice thing?" 

"satoru," you whisper, but he can feel the clash of your teeth as you smile, and then the gentle bite that you give him--right on his sweet spot--to hide it. 

satoru can't help but flush--he never should've told you about that--but he nods anyway, refusing to let his body succumb to the urge to run far, far away. 

it's not his fault, really. 

it's instinct to want to disappear at your very whim. only natural for satoru to want to give you whatever you need, whenever you need it. 

if you asked him to give up his strength, he would do it in an instant. 

"just talk to me," you whisper, barely a request. more of a demand. unfortunately for satoru, it's late enough for him not to care. (and he likes you).

"okay..." he drawls, thinking for a moment. "so, i--" he pauses, frowning. "you know that we spent basically the whole day together, right? you probably remember more than i do." 

"tell me about yesterday, then." 

"same thing." 

you sigh, digging your nose into his skin. "make something up." 

"why would i--" 

"satoru." 

"okay, okay," he smiles at you, even though you can't see it. "so... i woke up to megumi pulling my hair, which i'm pretty sure you told him to do. and then i ate breakfast, brushed my teeth, and got dressed. and then we dropped off the kids at school. uhhh, then we went to the store, and we looked for those sugar packet things that tsumiki likes. and then--" 

"this is the worst story i've ever heard," you deadpan, mumbling into him. 

satoru scoffs. "you're the one who wanted to hear about my day." 

"say something more interesting." 

satoru rolls his eyes, tugging on your hair a little. then he sighs. "i could tell you about the curse in kawagoe? the one in the shopping district." 

he looks down at you, in question, just in time to see you scrunch your nose in distaste, you breathe into him again so satoru laughs. 

"okay, no curses." he thinks for another moment. "oh, i bought a couple of shirts the other day." 

"what's 'a couple?'" 

"just like, nine or ten." 

you shake your head against his neck but don't say anything. 

so satoru continues. "i just got some button-ups, the ones you like." 

"what color?" 

"blue and white, mostly. like my eyes," he flutters his eyelashes even though you're not looking. "one black shirt, and another sweater." 

"do you really need more clothes?" 

"um, of course." 

you giggle, teeth grazing against his skin once again. 

satoru swallows. "and, uh..." he blinks, trying to regain his train of thought. "do you think i should start getting dad patterns?" 

"dad patterns?" 

"cool shirts." 

"do you want megumi to bully you even more?" you ask, rhetorically, your voice entirely soft. 

satoru can tell that this is working. just the way you're nuzzling yourself even deeper into him, seeking his warmth is a good sign. 

it's also slightly irritating. how is he supposed to think when you're cuddling up to him like this?

he clears his throat. "tsumiki said that they're cool. some plaid, maybe a bird shirt..." 

"if you wear anything like that i'm not going anywhere with you." 

satoru pouts, looking down to see the curve of your lip as you hide a smile. "you don't think i'd look good in stripes?" 

you giggle once more, shaking your head. 

satoru kisses the top of your head, very satisfied with himself at the moment. he got you to crawl out of your cage a bit--if only to get you to crawl into him. 

and even though he knows that you're still upset, still hiding against him, at least you're there. 

he'd much rather you be in his room, with him, than all by yourself, rotting away. 

he'd much rather you be with him always, actually. 

still, satoru continues to bring up blithe topics until he can feel your breathing even out against him, and your body begin to accept his ministrations. 

he kisses the top of your head, and he stays up a little while longer. making sure that you're sound asleep before he even bothers to close his eyes. 

and he's out in an instant. 

*

tsumiki is sitting at the kitchen table, chewing on some cut-up fruit when megumi walks into the room. 

he rubs at his eyes, looking half asleep. still, tsumiki smiles at him. 

"where's mom?" he asks, looking around. 

you're usually up before either of them, even on weekends. tsumiki's used to waking up to the sound of you throwing things around in the kitchen. she'll walk down the hallway to breakfast already set out, you telling her to go get megumi. 

but this morning, all of the lights are off. and there are still a couple of bowls on the table from last night. 

tsumiki shrugs. "still sleeping, i think." 

"and gojo?" 

"what do you think?" she smiles at him, laughing when megumi groans, then shakes his head with a perturbed look on his face. 

"i'm not waking them up this time," he tells her. 

but megumi turns around and walks back down the hall anyway, going to do just that. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

if Vaggie used to have a little backpain from her lost wings and Charlie got in the habit of giving back rubsies before bed only now the wings have returned through the power of gay love and it's past midnight in the hotel with the residents (supposedly) trying to be kinda quiet at the bar so the two can sleep (and not come storming down to threaten everyone with a spear) but then suddenly in the silence there's this singular SHRIEK of laughter, and even more shocking (terrifying?) is it sounded like Vaggie, everyone downstairs freezes as a door slams open and hooves clip clop frantically down the upper halls and then Charlie's leaning over the staircase bannister yelling DID YOU KNOW WINGS ARE VERY SENSITIVE AND KINDA TICKLISH AT THE BASE!??!? ANYWAY EVERYONE HAVE A GOOD NIGHT I KNOW I WILL!!! before racing back to her and Vaggie's room, their door slams shut as everyone stares blankly into the abyss of knowledge except Husk who's pouring them all a drink and Angel Dust who's looking thoughtfully at husk

in the morning husk baps vaggie over the head with a shot glass for dooming them both and then pours her a drink too in commiseration

[jk66m]

𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒₊˚❀₊˚.

— 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

How the men of the Spiderverse ask you to be their date for prom. Based on this request.

paring: Hobie Brown × Fem!Reader, Spider Noir (he's 19 y'all) × Fem!Reader, Miles Morales (earth 1610) × Fem!Reader

genre: Fluffy drabbles & headcanons, SFW

notes: For this headcannon I will mainly focus on teens and younger characters as they are closer to the age range for prom.

*ೃ༄ 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐨𝐢𝐫

Noir is old fashioned, so he will definitely be the type to pull out a bouquet of roses, a romantic letter, and maybe even a box of chocolate for his promposal. He will ask you directly as he thinks it shows his sincerity and love for you more (and he also thinks that it is not proper to ask someone indirectly for an event as grand as this).

"Ah thank you for escorting me home tonight Peter," you said sweetly as you walked the final steps of the staircase to your apartment complex.

Peter nodded, silently trailing behind you. It is midnight, a dangerous time for young high school girls such as yourself to roam around the streets (albeit you are eighteen and an official adult, he does not trust men).

"So, I will just go in now," you pointed towards the door, "I will see you next weekend."

"Wait," he suddenly stops you.

Peter pulls out from his coat pocket an envelope and from behind his back a bouquet of fresh red roses.

"Would you be my date?"

You gasp. "Why of course Peter!"

You jump into his strong arms and he swings you around.

Once you are put on the floor again, you peck him on the lips to which he responds passionately, gnawing your tender flesh and hands all over your body.

His touches are ticklish. Your sounds of laughter resonates through the building, and Peter chuckles along with you.

You suddenly stop, seemingly realizing something.

"Wait, how did I not notice you got a whole bouquet of roses right behind you?"

Peter looks away.

"Um... that does not matter."

♱‧₊˚ 𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧

Hobie would ask you out in confidence and style. He will plan a surprise for you for his promposal, and it will be extremely prepared and ready. He is not exactly the lovey-dovey type but he has a way with words and that pulls you in.

"Oh what is this?" You asked yourself as you entered your apartment.

The space is decorated strings strings of lights in the ceilings and a path of scattered rose petals leading to the kitchen — all obviously the works of your boyfriend Hobie.

"Hmm..?”

You follow the path into the room to a wall with a blue note taped to it.

"Go to the study room," you read, "Oh," You notice something.

Below the note on the desktop you see a small box wrapped in patterned paper. You quickly open it.

In it, contains a brand new copy of the ring that you had lost on your first date with Hobie. You had told him it is an important item left by your mother, you did not expect him to actually remember it.

"Oh my god."

The heartfelt present roused your interest for what would come next, and you quickly follow the clue and goes into the study room.

You arrive in front of your office table and sees a yellow note taped to it with a red box placed beside it.

You open it, and pick up a phone decorated in stylish stickers.

Examining the work more closely, you take notice of the additional buttons and pieces cleverly induced into it, probably made for applications of sorts that normal phones could not achieve.

Chest filled with happiness, you grab the note and reads out the next clue.

"Go to the bedroom."

You do so contently.

On your bed scatters a variety of bags and boxes of snacks that you love. Against the headboards sits a cardboard sign with words written in colored marker: ___ would you go to prom with me?

A large cut-out arrow below the text points towards the balcony, and you scream as you noticed who is there.

Hobie, dressed in posh couture, stood cross-legged leaning against the railings. He has a bouquet of flowers in his hand, seemingly freshly picked.

"Since when did you get in here?"

You went to hug him, and he pulls you closer for a peck on the forehead.

"Not too long ago."

"You surprised me."

"I know."

He kisses you again on the lips this time, passionately.

"So what's the answer huh?" He murmured against you, "I prepared so much for this."

"It's a yes, obviously."

“…Hmm I want to celebrate this, with something more physical."

You give him a look, and he stares at you right back mischievously.

"Come on, is your acceptance not worth celebrating?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬

Miles would be so adorable when asking you out, like he will be dressed up in his best shirts and kicks, and would definitely be the type to be nervously knocking on your door. He thought about asking you on text before because he knows he will probably be super nervous, but he feel like that will show that he is not sincere, so he asked you in person instead. He's awkward, but in a cute way where you just could not reject him.

Maybe he should go. Maybe he should head back, lay back onto the comfort of his bed, and just take his time to make a well-written text message to ask you out.

But he is already at the steps of your door. He has flowers and gifts. And he knows you would not be satisfied with just a text. (who would?)

He rings the bell once more.

Miles only realizes how heartdropping it is to ask someone to prom just now. His heart is thumping, his belly is flipping, and despite years of athletic building as Spider-Man, his legs felt like two wobbly sticks of clumpy jello.

The door opens. His breath stops.

"Who are you?"

A man appears in the doorway, looking at him up and down.

"Um, I am here for ___,” Miles reports.

The man nods and turns back and calls out your name.

You quickly run down the staircase and meets Miles on the steps.

"Would you like to go to prom with me?"

He hands you the flowers and the card and the chocolates.

You look at him in a daze.

"I-um of course."

You watch the edges of Miles's lips slowly grow upwards.

"Nice."

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Best Kept Secret on the Grid {6}

Summary: It's Christmas Eve which means eating out and going home for secret Santa. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, oral WC: 1.5k F1 Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five

Christmas Eve Your spacious penthouse seemed small when it was filled with the egos of a dozen formula one racers. Lewis, Charles and Pierre lounged on the sofa watching a basketball game on the tv. Carlos, Logan, Daniel and Lando were at the wet bar competing to make the best cocktail while Oscar judged them, and not just on the cocktails either. Fernando was using Esteban and George’s height to hang Christmas decorations around the apartment.

The rest of the drivers would have come but other commitments had kept them from joining you for the festive celebrations. You had a little present ready to be sent at midnight and you knew the video would only make them wish they could be with you even more.

Footsteps padded along the hall before your bedroom door opened and you caught Max’s eyes in the mirror as you applied a vibrant shade of lipstick. “You look beautiful.”

You rose from the vanity seat and turned slowly to show off the dress completely, blowing him a kiss when you faced him again. “Thank you, Maxy.”

He curled an arm around your waist, his hand meeting your skin where the backless dress left you bare, and he tugged you against him. “Ready for dinner? I’ve been told the appetiser is to die for.”

“That is high praise from a man who would be happy with a bag of Doritos. Will you tell me where we are going?”

He smirked as his hand drifted down over the material that covered your ass. “Just wait and see.”

The restaurant was unassuming with an unmarked door, and if it wasn’t for the seven sports cars lining the street you never would have known you had reached your destination. You never saw the kitchen, or the staff, as you followed Max and Lewis to the only door that had light spilling from it. You were beginning to doubt it was even a restaurant until you reached the room and found a large round table set with mouthwatering scents permeating the air.

“There’s a seat missing,” you pointed out as the men took their places.

“How could we forget you, darling?” Lewis chuckled as he held a hand out to you.

“We have one for you right here,” Charles said, swiping the middle of the table that rotated at his touch.

“Are you wearing anything under that pretty dress, ma chat?” Pierre asked as he toyed with his plump bottom lip.

Max’s hands ran down your thighs before dragging your dress up until it reached your hips, a collective sound of pleasure answering the question. Lando turned Max’s chair around and offered his hand to steady you as you stepped up and onto the table.

“Are the chefs aware this is a BYO first course?” you teased as you sat down and reclined back on your elbows.

“No,” Max chuckled as he took his seat and spread your legs. “But we have napkins for when you get too loud.”

Lando’s hand ran up your calf, drawing slow circles over your skin and Lewis placed your heel on his shoulder, kissing your ankle. At the opposite end of the table Pierre took your hand and tugged you flat on your back so you could reach his collar. Tugging his tie, you pulled him in for a kiss that inhaled the gasp that came when Max ran his tongue along your slit.

Hands caught the bodice of your dress and bared your breasts, deft fingers teasing your nipples to stiff peaks. Your eyes fluttered shut at the pleasure from their worship and you didn’t know whose kiss, touch, lick or bite belonged to who as you writhed in ecstasy.

Your mind was already a dizzying mess when the room spun and gone was the ticklish beard that had burned your thighs when Max feasted between your legs. The new mouth that sealed around your clit was just as skilled as he sucked and licked you into a frenzy, but the cheeks that pressed to your inner thighs were smooth and gentle on the heated skin.

Your back arched as your muscles tightened and your legs tried to close before new hands spread them wide. “Fuck, George, don’t stop, please…”

Your needy whines grew louder until Nando grasped your jaw and opened your mouth to shove a napkin in. “Shhh, corazón,” he soothed as he stroked your cheek. “We’ll give you what you want, just not yet.”

The table turned and the orgasm that was within reach faded with a frustrated cry. Their taunting laughs only made your core clench as you squirmed as you impatiently waited to see who’s seat you would stop in front of next.

“Sounds like you need some help, sweetheart,” the young American drawled, his fingers running through your wet folds. 

“Typical All-American hero to the rescue,” Lando joked to your left.

“Please…” you begged through the napkin as you reached for Logan’s hair. His smirk disappeared between your legs and bliss returned with more stars dancing across your vision than there were on his flag.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as the pleasure mounted and you were rewarded for your patience with a mindblowing orgasm. Still, he didn’t stop his ministrations as the waves rocked through you and hands pinned your hips down while they drove you to overstimulation.

The tower clock down the street chimed as midnight arrived and you grinned as you eyed the stack of presents under the tree. “Please, can I open just one?”

“If you open one, you have to open them all,” Max replied cryptically.

“I’m fine with that,” you hummed much to their amusement and he patted your hip with permission. You tested your steadiness as you climbed off his lap and found your legs had regained their strength. Your boys had really done a number on you in the restaurant, they were surprised you were even still awake.

Kneeling on the floor beside the tree you grabbed a very neatly wrapped box with a large silver bow in the centre. You gave it a shake and felt something move inside but there was no noise to indicate what it was. Turning it around you found no name on it and frowned. “Is this one for me?”

“They’re all for you,” Esteban said, sharing a smirk with Charles who then said, “You should be able to guess who they are from.”

“Aha, secret Santa,” you giggled before reaching for the biggest gift first. You tore the silver bow open and flipped the lid of the box before plucking the ruffled crepe paper away. “Oh, wow.”

The guys had gathered around and they chuckled at your reaction as you wrapped your hand around the shaft of the dildo. Your fingertip traced the delicate veins that your tongue knew intimately and you met the pair of dark eyes it belonged to.

“Thank you, Lewis.”

“You’re welcome, darling.”

“That was too easy, go for an average size, but no less important, present,” Daniel said with a grin.

Lewis laughed and reclined back comfortably. “I can’t help that my dick didn’t fit in the same box.”

You scanned the rest of the boxes and your jaw dropped in realisation. “How did you even think of this?”

“We thought you might miss us when we go away for training and testing after the holidays, or miss a part of us at least,” Daniel said with a smirk.

“I miss every part of you,” you assured them as you grabbed another box and tore into it. “But this will make the nights easier to bear until Bahrain.”

You pushed the shredded paper aside to see a fluorescent green cock, a laugh escaping as you picked it up. The head was wider than the shaft and your mouth watered at the memory of the many times you had tasted Lando.

“This is very bright,” you said to him as you stroked the phallus.

“So you don’t lose it,” he grinned proudly.

“Yours glow in the dark?” Carlos huffed as he took it from you and inspected it for himself. “I wish I thought of that.”

“You wish you read the instructions properly,” Lando teased before tipping his head to you. “Someone didn’t know you had to shave before sticking your dick in the mould.”

Max winced along with Oscar and Charles rubbed Carlos’ shoulder patronisingly until he shrugged it off and grumbled, “I still have a bald patch.”

“Would you like me to kiss it better?”

His warm brown eyes lit up at the offer and his hands instantly reached for his belt. “Do you know how long I have had a hard on for?”

“The same as the rest of us,” Oscar muttered as he took the replica of his teammate's dick and marvelled at how realistic it was.

“I can think of a few things to help with that,” you said as you waved a hand over the presents. “I mean, Santa’s already come, so why shouldn’t you?”

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Domestic Jason coming home from patrol (through a window preferably 🤭) to you singing and cleaning the apartment

Ima put Latina housewife (me) twist but imagine whatever song you want. Sorry this was too short!

—

Time Written - 7:14 p.m

—

The bedroom window was open, cream curtains ballooning outboards due to the warm, nightly breeze.

A smell of fresh cleaning products waffed through his nose when he hauls himself inside, catching glances of faint damp patches slowly drying along the hardwood floors.

Loud music played from the kitchen on a propped up tablet, not loud enough to disturb your neighbors, but just enough to prevent you hearing the heavy impact of his boot soles leaving prints along your freshly cleaned floor.

A smile automatically forms on his face at the sight of his girl mopping the kitchen tiles, wearing flops to keep your feet from getting wet. Nearby was a grey bucket half full with a concoction of diluted cleaning ingredients and warm water.

Not a single nerve in Jason’s body wanted to interrupt your work; especially your singing. Believing you were alone, coupling with the loud choice of tunes, you sang along to the lyrics without as much of a care in the world, especially when you believed your singing was awful.

You were his midnight songbird, that’s for sure. He adored your singing voice, even when you missed a few words or exhaled a few things in off pitch. It mattered little to him.

You clearly sang a lot better than he could possibly dance, that’s for certain.

It wasn’t long before you caught witness of red through the corner of your eye whilst you turned, brushing the mop over the same spot along the front of the stove.

“Look all you want, can’t touch without a price,” you tease after standing fully, using your volume buttons on your watch to control the connected tablet’s settings.

“Already put a ring on it, so it’s all free.” Came his quick reply, his smirk still hidden behind his mask.

You’d roll your eyes and scoff, under the supposed assumption that you were too disheveled in the midst of cleaning to receive these words from him.

Again, he didn’t care how you looked or what you were doing.

“Wanna help me with the last bit?” You motioned towards the un-mopped area by your front door.

Out of nowhere, he shifts his gaze elsewhere, purposefully stretching out his arms over his head whilst emitting a loud, over-exaggerated false yawn.

“Actually, think I’m gonna hit it early.”

“Jason,” you call him out, making him laugh and throw his arms back down.

Heavy boots lightly squeak against clean floor when he treads closer as you return the mop to its bucket, hugging your waist close once get got a hold of you.

“Missed you, babygirl.”

“Missed you too,” you smile, amused by his sudden burst of affection. You watch him unclasp his mask, pulling off the front to reveal his ever so handsome face. Dark, slightly silvery curls dampened with sweat nearly cling to his forehead, adding onto his rugged attraction you craved to see every night.

“Could listen to that sweet voice all night,” he hums against your cheek after pressing a kiss against it, trailing down along your neck. “How’s about singin’ a song for me later, hmm?”

Involuntary giggles left you when he found those ticklish, sensitive spots along your skin.

Questions on why he was home at this hour left your mind, all replaced by the feeling him peppering your neck with kisses. His faint stubble added onto the devilishly sweet sensation, making you forget your task.

It wasn’t until he pulled away, your unjustly habit of looking him up and down in his body clinging uniform made you quickly catch his mistake; one he attempted to hide in between pretty comments and loving gestures.

“Your boots got mud all over the floor!”

Jason’s laughter involuntarily grew a lot louder when you chased after him. A sight that every single cape wearing hero would talk about for ages if witnessed. “M’sorry! I’ll clean it up, babe!”

“You better, Jason Todd!”

[chenfleur]

night will fall

summary. riki hates mornings because it means leaving your side.

pairing. riki x y/n

genre. angst, fluff, mentioned mafia/crime au

word count. 1.0k

released. 03.08.2024

author's note. feedback is appreciated! this is a rewrite of one of my older pieces heheh

masterlist

Between the hours of five and six, meek rays of light begin to filter through the curtains. You hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, and the announcement of dawn makes the unease on your shoulders double in weight.

You look down at the reason for your restlessness, softly snoring his life away in your lap.

Riki had only fallen asleep two hours ago, the long hours he’s been spending at headquarters taking their toll on him. There are dark circles tainting his under-eyes that you gently stroke with your thumb, a furrow in his brow that you try to massage smooth. Constantly being on edge meant never being able to get a good night’s rest—but right now, in your arms, he finally looks at peace.

You wish it was always like this. Having his arms tightly wrapped around your waist, slow puffs of air leaving his parted lips. Knowing he’s safe and in one piece.

Bringing a careful finger to his cheek, you lightly trace his face, connecting the moles scattered across his skin. A small smile pulls at your lips as you imagine lying under the real night sky with him. A midnight sea of a trillion stars, all for the two of you to marvel at. 

You would point out a constellation and a gust of icy wind would blow past, but it wouldn’t matter because he would be there to encase you in gentle warmth.

The ticklish feeling causes Riki to stir, his eyes slowly fluttering open. You can’t help but internally wince that you disturbed his sleep.

Grazing your thumb over his eyelids, you whisper softly. “Good morning. Slept alright?”

His grip around you tightens, burying his face into your stomach. “‘m tired,” he replies hoarsely.

When you notice he starts to doze off again, you lightly tap the side of his head in an effort to keep him awake. “Ki, c’mon. You’ve got to get going.”

Riki only groans, unmoving. You sigh in defeat.

You know he doesn’t want to go. You don’t want him to go. You’d run to the ends of the Earth if it meant he could stay. Every fiber of your being is yelling at you to let him sleep, but him staying only meant putting himself in danger.

“I wish you didn’t have to go, but it’s for your safety. Please,” you plead.

The boy doesn’t show any signs of response, and you wonder if he had fallen asleep. You go to shake him awake again, only to feel the fabric of your top growing damp. 

When you feel his body start to tremble, you gasp.

Using all your strength, you push him up into a sitting position, gently grasping his chin and tilting it up. Your heart drops at the sight of his crumpled expression.

Riki doesn’t cry often, maybe even at all. But right now, his face is stained with tears, new ones flowing down his soft skin by the second. His eyes and nose are reddening, barely audible whimpers leaving his quivering lips.

He himself seems surprised at the sudden onslaught of tears, cursing under his breath as he refuses to make eye contact with you. Cupping his face with both of your hands, you brush his tears away before they can drip off his chin. 

“Cry,” you whisper. You worry that if you speak any louder, your voice would break, and you have to be the strong one because right now, he can’t. 

“Don’t hold it in. I know it's hard. You can cry.”

Slowly, Riki’s whimpers turn into small sniffles, sharp intakes of breath periodically piercing the air. You wait for him to speak, and when he does, you nearly regret it.

“Do I have to go?”

His voice cracks. Riki hopes that you hadn’t noticed, clearing his throat—but the sorrow in his voice is so blatant that you feel your heart shatter.

“I’d do anything for you to stay, but you can’t,” you try to reason with him, hoping he would oblige. “You aren’t safe here-”

“You aren’t either!” Riki hisses, finally looking at you properly. Caught off guard by his sudden outburst, you go quiet.

“You’re—” He deflates, the words dying on his tongue. “You’re in danger, Y/N. I’m so terrified every single time I leave your side,” he murmurs incoherently. 

Riki slides his hands down his face in an effort to get a hold of himself. You watch as he presses his palms harshly against his eyes. The walls you’re trying so hard to keep up are getting beaten and bashed at.

You reach up to remove one of his hands from his face, lacing your fingers with his.

“I know you’re worried about me, but I really need you to trust me, Ki. I’m tough, okay? Maybe even more than you,” you joke lightly, smiling when you hear a shaky chuckle leave his lips.

“This is my home. I’m safe here, but nowhere is safer than headquarters for you. And I- I need you to be safe. So please go. For me.”

Your words hang in the air, suspended by a desperation that feels more palpable the longer you dwell in it. Then, his head falls onto your shoulder.

You sigh softly. Instinctively, your hand reaches up to run through his hair.

“I hate the morning,” Riki huffs out.

A small laugh. “Why? The morning means a new day for you to live and conquer.”

Riki's head shifts so his chin is resting on your shoulder. His lips ghost against the side of your neck, sending chills down your spine.

“It’s the only thing that separates us,” he breathes out.

You glance out the sliver of your window that isn't shrouded by curtains, watching as the top of the rising sun peeks out over the horizon.

It feels hopeless to believe that it'll ever move. But eventually, it'll rise to the highest point in the sky. Then, it'll colour the lands with different shades of orange and pink, then disappear completely—and when it does, Riki's silhouette would appear at your backyard door, giggling as his hands find your hips and your breaths intertwine.

“Time doesn’t stop for anyone, love. Night will fall, and you’ll come back to me.”

[mvniro]

. . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 SPREAD YOUR WINGS TO TAKE POSSESSION OF WHAT'S YOUR'S ; a fyodor dostoyevsky fic.❞

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . holy shit i need to make an actual smut comeback. :/ @averagebsdenjoyer give your kids now.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; politician!fyodor, fem!reader, escort!reader, exstripper!reader, nsfw, boob biting, breast fucking, angst in some way and yeah that all i remember.

sin and lust ran around as they swirled with the wind, settled on top of the preety drinks and flowed inside the mouth of the one drinking, settling on their conscience before pulling out their courage to do what one wouldn't do normally and when the courage blindly took over and buried every emotion within, sin and lust giggled.

"here is your drink," you look over your shoulder to look at the bartender handling a customer their large glass of vodka, but before the customer could feel your eyes on them, you look back towards the dance floor again to continue observing the many intoxicated and sober bodies dancing, gridning against each other and doing lord knows what for the gobo lights above aren't really helping to look at each person and where their hands are.

you pull the silk robe closer to your body to make sure it is covering atleast till your midthighs as below them the eyes of those curious could only see your fishnet stockings and heels, kicking your legs as you hum for your customer to be here, but when you glanced at your phone screen a minute ago, you were waved at by disappointment of knowing the time and that he won't be here before half an hour, at his usual time.

being punctual is his style after all, the thought makes you smile which soon disappears when you feel perverted eyes of those around you trying to check you out and to find faults in your tied around robe to catch a glimpse of your skin which is meant to be reserved only for the man who can rival the greatest genius and defeat him pathetically.

you stand up from the stool with a small frown tugging at your lips, taking your phone from the black counter before you saunter away and on your way through the sidelines to avoid bumping into the slaves of lust and sin, your hand felt the tickling feeling as your phone vibrated and it felt the same when the man you are waiting for talks to you and you feel the same ticklish feeling in your stomach that your hand had the chance to experience right now.

tilting your head down to glance at the screen which illuminated to bring you hope and excitement, you read over the message quickly and cautiously yet it would've been fine even if you didn't since it seems as if you have it memorized like a prayer. the message which informed you of the arrival of the man in a few minutes.

you quickly turned on your heels to walk towards the bar again and when the dirt of perverted gazes tried to fall on your body, the shield of reassurance protected you from it. reassurance in the sense that the man who practically has ownership in a sense over you will be here quite soon, your hands work like those of a skilled craftsman as you put a bottle of dom perignon champagne in a bucket filled with ice while grabbing a white wine glass with the other hand before you make your way upstairs using the elevator permitted for staff and vip's only.

the bucket is heavy and hence why you placed it on the floor as soon as the elevator doors closed with you inside it, you turned to look and examine your reflection in the mirror behind to deem yourself ready to meet him. your leg bounced to excrete some ounces of excitement and anticipation out of your body.

as the elevator door opens to lead you into the world of lewd luxury, the stars from through the glassed walls twinkle in the sky but the moon pays them no heed and rather gazed down at the group of black cars driving on the empty roads for who else if not the rare percentage would drive on the streets at midnight, not those with tiring routines and families and not those with sorrows and despair but those who rules the night, the twinkling of the stars being the same as the shine of the silver ring on the svelte finger of the one who sat in the middle car.

the black coating of the car pays their respect to the sheet of black spreading over the night sky as if informing the sky that they aren't the rulers of night but the svelte man sitting in one of those five automobiles is, the same man due to whom your heart began to practice gymnastics and is now performing the flips etc., your futile attempts to calm your excited heart had only made your task of scanning your card on the door to unlock it difficult.

your foot took the lead by nudging the door to open after which you stepped in and immediately took off your heels, you closed the door behind you by nudging it against the door. the moment you place your feet on the soft red carpet, a gasp almost too inaudible had left your lips for the sensation traveled through the soles of your feet to your arms.

you had cleaned the table, the mirror to make sure it remains free of stains, lipstick marks and scratches for the man you serve had his face shaped by god himself who made sure to make the angels look at him in admiration of him and his creation and so, is it not appropriate to serve the perfect man (in your eyes) with the same perfection he always wears on his body?

your hands glided over the leather purple couch to smooth it of its roughness if there is any present as the staff before you made sure to deem this room appropriate for you, the maiden, and now you are doing the same for the swan you stumbled upon once but what made the swan stand out was it wasn't the traditional white one but a black one. yet it served grace as generously, if not more, as the white swan.

you are the ballerina with the way your feet glided across the room from one corner to other as you made sure to scan and evict any little flaw you find in it and after a few minutes when the room was utterly begging for the man it got ready for to grace it with his presence though the room had the wind flowing through the opened window as it's comfort when you began to wear your heels again, the see through white curtains covering the opened windows flowed inwards a bit to distract the room from its temporary dolour when your hands held the edge of the door to pull it with you to close the door as you left.

your phone screen illuminated with brightness of euphoria and as the light fell on your skin, you found your heart get more excited for perhaps your phone's brightness falling on your face in the dim hallway had transferred its euphoria inside you and maybe this theory could be taken to explain why you felt a sudden desperation to reach the entrance as soon as possible to be the first one on whom his eyes fall upon.

and so, in this state of frantic joy, you opted for the stairs instead, skipping one at a time as you quickly skipped downwards with only one goal in your mind ; to reach the bottom of the staircase to make your heart be even more frantic in anticipation and as soon as you skipped over the last step, you did not continue your journey forwards towards the main entrance which is usually where the entry is permitted from but the man we are talking about is not a ordinary man.

status wise, intelligence wise and lookwise -- even adonis would feel green in envy and feel the nimble hands of insecurities seduce him when he gazes into those purple pools of hypnosis which are far more powerful then any spell or magical orbs.

but what does he not know that you do? what makes your head raise high in pride of knowing the secret that not even adonis knows about the man he would surely envy?

the not so ordinary man became one after trials and errors and practices and more practices till he become one with the soul of a mad artist who painted with his fingers and when he saw the absence of red on his palette, he was driven to stab his finger and use his own blood as paint, the not so ordinary man who entered every time from a different route and it made you question how he knows more about this place then you, someone whose nights and evenings pass here, does.

so to explain why you were going towards the back doors can be explained with the childish desire to catch him off guard, impress him by being one step ahead of him which happens once in a blue moon and maybe this is why he always played the part of the passionate charecter who loved his passion even after said passion wounded him and left him unable to walk into the same field again.

you are said passion and you hurt him by making it hard for other women to be on the same caliber as you, to be as pretty as you in his eyes and to make him crave the time of the day to spend with them the way he does with you.

your hands find themselves seeking comfort by pinching on your forearm as you stand patiently infront of the two big doors with bulky men on either side who greet the celebrities and other important and rich figures who can not enter through the front entrance but when minutes pass by with the ticking of the clock, your mind scrambles to pinpoint a reason for his absence after his appointed time had passed and after the most excruciating five minutes of standing in the middle of the stage of loneliness and being guided across it by your rationality, your phone beeps and you do not even need to tilt your head down to look at it to know what it says, the announcement of the victory of the man once again.

it is when you turned around that you were approached by his guard who bowed, handed you a shopping bag of an expensive brand and left as if he had been performing an act with the way his movements were precise, not an ounce of confusion in his movements but you were the opposite.

perplexity told you to tilt your head down to examine the bag on whose handle was a shining ring attached with a paper, you made your way towards the elevator while wearing the ring in your ring finger for the presence of the diamond wasn't your source of confusion as the man had told you last night of his desire to give you the ultimate gift, his proof of his possession over you and with the way the lights of the elevator made the ring glimmer, the man clearly didn't care enough to take your refusal of being gifted such an expensive ring, into consideration.

the paper which you handled with perfect fragility made you wonder how he never felt worry and burden when handling and treating you for with every movement of your finger, your fear of ruining the paper only grew but when it finally opened to show you what was written in it, your worries and fears left and were instead replaced by the strong adoration which dangerously sat close to your rationality.

in the paper, were simple but firm words which left no room for confusion with the way they were so clear, the words read ; 'do not open the bag until an hour before i return tomorrow and if you do, it would be disappointing for me to know how my angel went against me. be good like you always were, for me and only for me always, angel.'

the elevator doors opened but you didn't step out, expectations of the man who is the expectation of god himself, rested its hand on your shoulders and flicked at your heart before it pushed you forwards slightly to make you step out and you did, blinking, you placed the paper inside the bag without looking down at what it contained.

your heart thumped, blood rushed through your veins and your hand fixed for any imperfections varying from any possible ruffles in your silk robe to any stray strand of hair that could've gone out of place during your entire journey to the entrance and back upstairs again.

you stopped, closed your eyes to be in peace for a short moment while you take a deep breath before opening your eyes again and unlocking the door using your card.

"the man of great promises has wowed the crowd again with his extreme ethics and mannerisms and with the results of today's conference, it is safe to assume that fyodor dostoyevsky and his party will be the one thriving on top in the upcoming elections next year, what do you think? --"

the voice of the television was lowered using the remote when the man heard the door open and he immediately looked at who entered not because he wanted to know who entered, he already did, but because his purple irises were dying to catch a glimpse of you.

"mr.dostoyevsky," your voice always sounded so soft and tempting whenever it pronounced his name, you were born to call his name, weren't you? you closed the door behind you as you approach him.

and there is he who killed his former self to be this being of perfection, killed his flaws to paint over them with the pride of being perceived as flawless instead and the man whose grace is in his smile and the pigment of his irises.

the sight of the man sitting with one leg crossed over the other, elbow propped on the armrest of the couch on which his cheek rested as he silently checked you out, always made you acknowledge your pussy clenching around nothing but tonight there is no room for mistakes and for imperfections for if its your last night serving the man, you want it to be perfect and leave an imprint on his heart so strong that no one else can recreate this scene and this night.

the stakes has never been higher, it's everything on the line tonight. it's the promise to yourself to show this man that no one can compare to you as well like how none can compare to him but he knew that, ever since your second night of serving him. he has known and lived with the fact since then.

"my angel." voice flowed like the waves of an ocean, peaceful yet powerful. and did it make you the fish swaying with the waves as you took the bottle of dom perignon and the white wine glass before approaching him? maybe it did but perhaps you are the leaf blowing with the wind which is fyodor. always so ready to flow in whichever direction he leads you to.

the man ruling your heart and thoughts wore a black turtle neck tucked in black pants and a white jacket over it which was falling on his elbows now, the purple lights falling onto his face gave him the crown to make the mortals of imperfections to fawn over his greatness. he raised his hand before bending his index finger to beckon you over, running a hand through his hair as he saw you slowly saunter towards him like a tiger walking towards the unsuspecting swan only for the swan to fly away.

fyodor sat straight before spreading his legs apart and you took your seat on the carpeted floor, between his legs as you opened the bottle and poured him his favorite drink into the glass before you raised yourself on your knees and gently brought the glass near his lips.

none made the effort to talk for this fleeting silence should be felt in every pore before the beginning of the night which both look forwards to.

a gulp containing your deepest desires was pushed down your throat when fyodor parted his lips and wrapped his hand around your's, tilting the glass to allow the liquid to flow into his mouth, does he not know how his simple action is affecting you?

he does or else he wouldn't had pushed the glass towards your lips, "drink, you like it, don't you?"

and who are you to refuse him who is staring down at you with a glint of gentleness you are so depraved of?

parting your lips with the intention of allowing him to pour the drink into your mouth was intrupted by the light shining and reflecting the diamond of the ring on his ring finger, the design not varying much if compared to your's and this intruption resulted in you raising your other hand to stop his hand from tilting the glass towards your mouth, your hand felt unfortunately like a succor in times like this, nights lights this where your heart became one with the gnawing defeatist in the back of your mind.

"excuse my sharp tongue but have you no shame, mr.dostoyevsky?" what began with a saccharine tone is the sentence whose meaning and purpose is mockery to soothe the wound in your own heart by craving shallow ones in his own.

"you are to be married tomorrow yet you gift me a ring? is the politics you are such a master of, being pulled in your real life as well? what do you attempt to prove by wearing a ring similar to this one?" you tilt your head in a silent jeering way but had he been the one to allow someone else to have the upper hand on him?

no, absolutely not. for fyodor dostoyevsky doesn't work that way. he doesn't work according to others but makes a plan so impeccable that nature bends itself to work according to him.

the hand of the black swan got a hold of your jaw which he tilted upwards before pouring the drink into your mouth and you wonder if politicians have mastered the act of pretense more then actors or why would his eyes hold adoration for a man of his caliber and especially for someone like you?

"what is shame after all angel? we are all born shameless, are we not?" the spokesperson of his party began but not in a tone of smartness and respect but in one which loosely hangs around the thin line of adoration in the form of a coo and amusement in the form of a playful smile.

"we develop shame, do we not?" you retort though your resolve isn't worthy of being called one for the way your irises followed fyodor's thumb which caressed your bottom lip.

"i am shameless then i suppose? but what's so wrong in being shameless for an angel like you? you, my cruel beauty, makes me feel as if i am drunk. one look at you and the world is blurry for me. i am the politician but you are my greed." words weren't words.

voice of a siren, the face of a swan but the determination of the devil. sumptuous and unreal, he is the greatest creation of god and the greatest envy to mankind. for fyodor is simply the miracle which can never occur again.

the words leaving his lips wrapped around your body and stopped you from looking away from him. the politician and his greed.

beauty is in the eye of the beholder till the beholder is the beauty.

the black swan is the black swan till you catch a glimpse of the tiny white spot on the back of his wings and then you start to wonder of who he was before being this man who wore perfection like his second skin and this curiosity makes fyodor weak in his knees.

to be desired is one thing. to be wanting to see him in his rawest form is another.

"stop flattering me mr.dostoyevsky. tell me what can i do to make your last night with me unforgettable." you smile up at him before you felt fyodor's hand slip down towards your throat before he gripped it, gently for he never treated the greed he chased after wrongly, before pulling you towards him as your hands fell on his thighs to offer some stabilization to yourself.

"last night? indeed i am one with politics for one lone reason. do you want to know what it is?" he asked, kissing the tip of his index finger before he placed it against your painted lips.

"yes mr.dostoyevsky." you breath out before parting your lips to take his finger in your mouth, swiring your tongue around its length and imagining it to be his dick. fyodor smirked, eyes narrowing in amusement.

"because no one knows what i know. they know and believe what i want them to, including you." fyodor shuts his eyes close as he groans lowly, the way your inner cheeks could be felt by every inch of his finger when you sucked on it made blood rush to his cock.

"uh huh. won't ya be a doll and tell me about it mr.dostoyevsky?" you blink, looking up at him through under your lashes and due to his finger in your mouth, your voice and words come out muffled and lord, oh lord, is this making fyodor go crazy.

"doll? am i your doll angel?" fyodor smiled down at you as he took his finger out to let you talk, lithe hands now working to untie the knot on your robe.

"i only had one doll in my life and even that was stolen by a bully. so to call you doll is to make it clear to myself that you, --" you stop to gulp as the robe is gently pulled off your shoulder and you remain in your violet lingere set.

"go on angel." fyodor whispered in mocking encouragement as if he didn't know the effect his fingers kneading into your shoulders is having on you.

" -- though you never actually belonged to me, would be taken away from me as well." you complete your words bitterly but it is soon forgotten when fyodor takes one of your hands to place it on top of his hardened cock.

"don't belong to you? angel no one could make me hard unless its you." he rasped out, closing his eyes as you caressed his clothed dick with your fingers while you looked up to drink in his reaction.

"don't marry tomorrow then mr.dostoyevsky, please? i would hate to see you returning as someone else's man and i would hate it even more to be assigned to someone else." you tell, eyes softening as you admit your feelings to him who looked down at you before grasping your jaw and caressing the curve.

"you trust me, don't you, angel?" he asked and for a moment, fyodor's eyes fell on the tv screen which showed his conference from today morning in which he is seen walking up the stage as his black suit made him look posh and handsome.

"what if i didn't mr.dostoyevsky?" you try not to smile by biting your inner cheek for the man above you has the ability to turn your anger towards him into vapor but you calling his name grabbed fyodor's attention as he looked down at you again and when he smiled, you were reminded why you felt so bitter the entire day, why you wanted to rush down to be the first one to greet him and why you jeered at him just now ;  the gentle and seductive smile and those nonchalant eyes as if no one could touch him is what made you freeze the first time as you stared at him before realizing that the man you were serving for all these nights is the one you fell for.

"that's a pity but i still want you to have some faith in me, to trust me and sign a few papers. can my angel do that for me?"

'my angel' is a term which made you go weak in the knees, your heart fluttered as it poked fun at your brain and proudly exclaimed its victory and you melted, nodding.

for you weren't 'his angel' if you didn't have blind faith in him and his action and if you didn't think of him to be greater then the seven wonders of the world.

bitterness was taken over by love and admiration. jealousy was over thrown by lust and a need of praises.

"let me pleasure you, mr.dostoyevsky. you worked so hard today, looked so preety today." your hand traced his belt before you begin to unbuckle it and fyodor gave you all the freedom you required by spreading his legs as his arms went around the back of the couch he is seated on.

"i looked preety?" fyodor asked in amusement as he looked down at you with one eyebrow cocked, his stomach felt like it was in the middle of a hurricane of butterflies when you pulled his zipper down after allowing his cock free from the shackles of the belt.

"the prettiest and smartest." you smile, trying not to chuckle as you look up at him, you couldn't focus on anything else when fyodor leaned down towards you, head tilted.

"are you talking about yourself angel?" fyodor teased, to hide the pale pink flush on his cheeks by flicking your cheek with his finger and it was your turn to be hugged and have shyness to cling to you.

instinctly, you felt your body leaning the tiniest bit forwards to feel more of his touch on your skin.

"i was talking about you mr.dostoyevsky." you mumble, looking at him who playfully widened his eyes before his eyes looked down at your clevage and then back at your eyes.

eyes who saw too much desire of others towards him were now filled with it themselves as he let his eyes linger onto your lips and wonder how would it feel to kiss you. then as if your clevage asked for attention, a imaginary force tapped fyodor and reminded him about your breasts which he glanced down at and the next movement of his hand tapping at the strip of your bra had you gulping.

"take it off for me, angel?" fyodor's voice is low, soft yet it isn't nervous in the slightest. he knows what he is asking for and he knows what your answer will be.

"why should i?" you raise your eyebrows at the man who snickered before his supple fingers took the leadership by hooking itself under your bra strap and pulling it before letting it smack against your skin.

soft gasp gave rise to titillation to transform into utter and raw intoxication. the soft pout on your lip as you looked up at fyodor made him realise the growing frustration of his hardened dick.

"because i am asking so, angel, do you really even need another reason?" he breathed out, leaning down to twirl a strand of your hair on his finger as his eyes refused to look away from your face.

"mr.dostoyevsky." you nearly mewl, why is this one man and his stare playing with the chord of your heart and giving arousal freedom to imagine whatever it wants to?

black, black swan who is tainting the white swan, why do you feel satisfied and not grief?

does it not satisfy you to see the white swan at your feet every night that you try to reach feats no one else could? for no one could do what fyodor dostoyevsky can to sum it up in brief.

"hm?" fyodor hummed before he smiled upon watching you clumsily fumble with your bra to remove it but the hard and hungry stare of the man is proving the task to be more difficult then what it originally is.

"please tell me how i can pleasure you." you did not need to tell twice for once the words left the cage that is your mouth, they were free and rioting in the form of being chanted multiple times in the back of fyodor's mind.

"oh shit, how can i marry someone else when this is all your doing?" fyodor pulls his dick out, lifting his hips to remove his pants till they are left hanging on his knees and his words were only being understood now when your eyes were staring straight at the hardened and angry dick dripping with precum.

"you say this but aren't you marrying someone else tomorrow?" you bite your lip in sudden pleasure when fyodor leaned forwards to pinch your nipple between his cold index finger and thumb.

"i am marrying tomorrow, yes." only giving a glimpse of itself, the black swan teases the nature and fyodor teases you with his vague answers -- they aren't vague to the normal ear but you who saw the reminants of the white swan within him loves to observe him the same way a marine biologist studies the biology within. it may kill you but lord, do you care when the addiction of figuring something in him out is the greatest satisfaction of them all.

"i've served married men before but you were someone i wished would always remain a bachelor, i am being unprofessional --"

"absolutely not." fyodor intrupted you as he tilted your head up to stare at him with his index finger on your chin before he told the declaration of lust within you and within him to begin taking over,  "i love you showing possession over me. go on angel, let everyone passing by know who it is that can get me so worked up."

slender fingers traced the outline of your underboob, "gotta show everyone why you are my favorite, no? you are the only woman who ever touched me and you dare get upset with me?"

he playfully scoffed before fondling with your boob while your hands slithered up like wines to grab his cock which you pumped a few times -- all the while his eyes stayed on you and your's on him.

"mr.dostoyevsky, flattering will get you no where." you smiled, teasing the man who always left you a breathless mess and your toes curled when fyodor leaned down to lick below your lip before he planted a soft kiss. he always did it, kissing dangerously close to your lips but never your lips for the man did not want to have intercourse before marriage and this is what got you especially riled up. you were the one covered in his cum, tasted his cum, the first woman who gave him a blowjob and what not but you won't be the first woman to kiss him. ironic.

"and actions will?" fyodor smirked before tapping your other, neglected boob and you took the cue, your hand abandoned his cock to hold your boobs and push them to give him the invitation.

fyodor placed his dick between the valley of your boobs which would soon be experiencing the ending of the drought.

"actions will." you confirm though if compared to him, your voice is breathless and as you push your boobs together to trap his dick between your flesh, he too, felt the same hand of desire pulling the breath out of his throat harshly.

you began to move up and down as your hands made sure to hold your boobs close in a way that squeezes his dick between them and try to imitate the way it would probably feel to have your walls clamping around him and the pleasure builded up slowly. fyodor groaned and ran a hand through his hair before he gripped the roots and tilted his head back.

a shaky hissed left his lip when you brought your face down to kiss his sensitive tip before you licked it.

fyodor's eyes remained screwed shut as he brought his hand forwards to wrap it around the base of his cock and pump it to stimulate even more pleasure.

your eyes widened and lips parted, staring up in admiration and adoration at the man whose hair fell and sticked to his forehead, eyes may have remained closed but the parted lips of his which gave way to the hisses and grunts of pleasure was the main attraction anyway.

you then looked down to see the tip of his dick disappear between where your boobs met before appearing again and the cycle repeated, the sight of eroticism making you clench your own thighs and move up and down slightly to feel the fabric of your panties press up against your aching cunt.

fyodor opened his eyes, his pace increased and with the other hand, he traced shapes on your collarbone before grabbing your shoulder in a strong grip as he gasped softly, ropes of cum shooting out and painting the canvas of your skin, the cum trailed down your boob before nestling against your nipple.

black swan, oh, black swan, falling victim to your desires?

he is.

how does it feel to be caressed by the very same emotions you once tried to kill within you, oh, black swan, the lover.

fyodor's fingers wrapped around your wrist before he pulled you up into his lap, mouth immediately attacking your nipple as he sucked on it, nibbled and only got more encouraged when you whined out, your hand couldn't stop itself from following the demand of your heart which told it clearly to grab his hair in a gentle grip, the action had fyodor humming in approval.

the other hand played with the cum dripping down your chest before you swiped some of it with your finger to put it in your mouth and suck it, looking at fyodor with faux innocence and the sight of the man gulping made you lick your lips.

white swan, oh, white swan, seducing the black swan is your job not your life purpose yet why do you work so hard as if it's your only purpose?

black swan, be flawless and love her and let the white swan be possessive over you.

and white swan, be the one to look past this fake flawless-ness and watch the otherworldly being submit to his humanity.

fyodor's teeth sinked down on your flesh not hard enough to cause a serious or painful injury but just hard enough to imprint his teeth mark on your boob, which he licked afterwards in a cheap apology to soothe the pain. but nothing about the man himself is cheap so even if his attempt is considered as cheap, the emotions it sturred inside you were rich in every way.

fyodor then leaned back, his fingers spread the cum on your chest before he scooped some up on the tip of his index finger and brought it up to your lips which you parted to let him push his finger into it, resting it just above your wet appendage and pressing down a bit as his eyes got serious to lead to the beginning of the momentous event.

"before anything else, let me tell you what to expect tomorrow. it'll surely be a eventful day, no?" fyodor's amused smile was met with your eyes being blinked once due to the obstruction in the form of his slender finger inside your mouth but before he continued further, it is absolutely important to know why he sticked his finger into your mouth.

the black swan spreads it's wing to charm the white swan, to enthrall it before it brought its magnificent show to an end. the reason for this boastful action was to gather the utmost attention of preety white swan.

"you won't need to do much, angel. just make a decision tomorrow. there will be two documents and it's all on you to either sign it or not." and he finally pulled his finger out when your eyes pleaded him to let you speak.

"will you come tomorrow, mr.dostoyevsky?" your voice came out raspy, breathless and it cracked, not due to sadness but due to the numbing effect his fingers pressing down on your tongue had on you.

"do you want me to?" he pushed himself to be a bit near you while he removed his jacket and placed it over your shoulder, expertly avoiding having the cloth collide with his cum still dripping down your collarbones and chest.

"i do." you confirm to let the man raise his eyebrows cockily but the sight doesn't annoy nor humiliate you but makes your heart swell in adoration, your eyes falling on your bare shoulders which were now covered with his jacket.

and what pain is plucking it's own feathers when the white swan looks so good with your feathers around its head like a crown, oh black swan? the satisfaction is greater then the pain for you, no?

"wear this. my heart is your's anyways so why not take my jacket as well?"

you snorted, rolling your eyes.

"mr.dostoyevsky, i think you should stick to politics." you joked but the white swan was the earlier stages of the black swan, what white swan does, black swan already did.

"and i think you should stick by my side. don't you, as well? i hope you make a choice you won't regret tomorrow angel." cruel.

oh cruel man, why do you speak so seriously yet kiss your angel's jaw at the same time as if you don't want her to focus on your words but just on the feather like feeling of your lips on her skin for the slightest second.

cruel, cruel man yet oh so ethereal too.

"once again, i'll remind you that two documents will be offered to you and it's your choice to either sign them or tear them. your actions tomorrow will change things greatly, angel." the cruelty continued of the temptation packed into the body of the russian man and his each touch ignited a sense of euphoria on your skin and his words were left with half given attention.

till the event he had foreseen since long ago came to life.

you wrapped fyodor's jacket tighter on your body, smiling to yourself as it still smelled like him. his rich cologne still lingered on the jacket and hugged you to provide you with a sense of stability in the otherwise unusually quite club an hour before its usual opening time. the bag he gifted you yesterday contained a white lacy lingerie set though the curiosity remains to haunt your thoughts with the question -- is this a farewell gift or can you really expect to see him tonight as well?

to see the bustling and lively place look so quiet as staff quickly worked to clean it and organize everything for another night of unconfined emotions is a sight you got used to but still felt weirded out with as your undivided attention went to every inch of the place and noticed every inch which would usually be crowded.

though the way someone bumped into you to make you stumble a few steps forwards was quick to make you scowl and forget about the club and its loneliness just one hour before its opening, you turned to look at her. the hunter and the bully.

the manager and the most sought-after stripper of the club.

"we found you at last!" she rolled her eyes in a exaggerated fashion and you did the same to let her know the annoyance is mutual.

"girls." the clearing of the throat of the manager made both of you to immediately snap your heads towards him who nodded once in what seemed like satisfaction at the obedience and discipline shown.

"mr. fyodor dostoyevsky just submitted his last cheque to our club. a last donation cheque. you know what it means, don't you?" he didn't ask to anyone in particular but the girl beside him widened her eyes in mild surprise.

"he won't be coming back? did he find a new club or?" she asked the manager but you took his chance to reply, answering,

"he must've gotten married by now. he is a married man. he won't mingle with the likes of us anymore." you clutch the hem of his jacket as you raise your eyes to look at your manager, "who will i be assigned to next?"

taken aback by your rapid ability to move on and past the man you've you've serving for the past six months or so, the manager took a moment to gather himself before he nodded but before he could let a word out, the attention was grabbed by fyodor's secretary who walked with two guard behind.

you watched for the next five minutes with utter confusion at the manager and secretary exchanging greetings and words before the manager nodded and stepped aside to let the messenger of the man you love to walk towards you, he greeted you and you reciprocated before he dropped the pin in the lake.

"sir told me to directly give these papers to you." the secretary bowed before offering you a file and a pen he came with and took a step back.

his words made sense now. but they didn't.

you understood the overall situation but it was only the outer layer and the inner layer is yet to be discovered but how? when you don't know which decision will enable you to do so.

and what did you do in times of dilemma?

you did what you were told to many times, to put your trust in the black swan and watch him pull the strings without moving much other then a single finger of his hand.

you anxiously pulled on the sleeve of the white jacket before approaching the nearest hard surface which happened to be the bar counter before you opened the file and signed the first document on the signature space, doing the same with the other document.

this is a trial. a test. to not give in to your selfish or well instinctive desires to read or atleaat skim over the writings of the document is to prove your utmost faith in fyodor whose reward remained a mystery but the end results didn't matter while in the journey with fyodor.

"here." you softly utter and turn back to hand over the file to the secretary but to your surprise, your heart beats as you see fyodor approaching you with rushed steps, one hand loosening the tie around his neck.

but according to the news channels, he was supposed to be getting married at this hour, did he walk off from his wedding?

it's selfish. but the thought made your heart flutter and you couldn't help or overcome the nervousness that took over you.

". . . i trust you, i signed it mr.dostoyevsky." you inform and watch the man nod breathlessly and you wonder what's gotten into him with enough strength to take his breath away?

desire. utter raw desire.

"good, i declare you my wife from here on angel."

you saw the manager and fyodor's secretary widen their eyes before your eyes were forced to close when fyodor caught your wrist which holded the files and quickly pulled you towards him to slam his lips against your's, the papers flew out of your hands but fyodor didn't care.

the hunter watched the swans dance and looked at its partner who had dropped the pin in the lake, to see the latter capturing pictures without looking taken aback.

the manager watched with surprise as the  bodyguards and secretary ushered people out of the entire floor.

while fyodor grabbed your waist to lift and place you on top of the counter, lips moving against your's before you parted your lips to whine but the opportunist took the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth.

the girl walked forwards to grab the fallen down papers and she stood straight while keeping her eyes on said papers.

one was a marriage certificate and another was your official resignation letter from the club with the addition of the threat of fyodor's name attached next to your's. and anyone and everyone who worked close enough to the upper class society knows how foolish it is to claim their authority over someone or something whose name has the name of a strong influence next to it.

the girl, the bully, who was she infront of the power named fyodor dostoyevsky?

no one and it was made clear by the way she didn't protest when said man's guards ushered her away as well to let fyodor have the entire floor to himself. he rented it out after all.

"mr.dostoyevsky." you gasp when fyodor separated from you, his half lidded eyes was drawn to the string of saliva connecting your lips to his and he was overtaken by desire again which made him attack your lips ; a lick to your upper lip before he began to nibble on your bottom lip for a while till you pulled him closer by grabbing his black suit coat, fyodor pushed his tongue inside your mouth again and if french kissing is considered sexy then fyodor is certainly doing justice to the claim.

at the same time, his hand went down to unzip the jacket before he pushed it back a bit to flick his finger against your stomach.

fyodor separated from the comfort of your lips to lean towards your ear and whisper, "good choice angel but i thought you didn't trust me? yet here you are, signing the papers without even missing a beat, oh angel --" fyodor sighed out fondly yet his tone remained cocky and amused, " -- always such a good girl for me."

". . .you are crazy, mr.dostoyevsky. absolutely unbelievable." laughing in relief is a short term gesture before fyodor had picked you again and you wrapped your legs around his waist at the sudden action, with widened eyes you watched as he led you towards one of the couches and laid you down.

"told you i would be getting married today but perhaps i forgot to tell you that you were the bride. oh, how can i forget so?" he smiled down, his hand pulling his zip down.

. . . and you are the first woman to kiss him as well. the realization made you smile as you close your eyes.

"not a chance angel, open your eyes and watch your husband satisfy you."

━━━━━━━ 💋 end.

[smileycarat]

delulu thoughts: jeonghan ver

a/n: just me fangirling about jeonghan lolz, sorry for potential typos

whenever i see jeonghan, i automatically think he’s such a gentle kisser

don’t get me wrong, i do think he can have those more heated moments and such, and i would later love to explore that in another fic

but something about the thought of just lounging together on a sunday morning and him giving you the softest kisses throughout the day i aM SEVERELY UNWELL

just enjoying both of each other’s presence away from the public and the limelight that seems to follow him everyday

being in the comfort of your own home where he gets to let lose and relax without constantly being aware of what happens around him in public

having the opportunity to see how he’s like behind closed doors and to experience the way he cups your face with his sweater paws and kisses your brow-bone first, then your cheekbone, then your nose, and finally your lips with the most feather-like kisses there is

being able to wake up to him softly tracing the bridge of your nose and then softly your cheekbone as you wake

you being the first person he speaks to in the morning, his voice still rough from sleep, and you being the last person he speaks to before bed, his voice laced with sleepiness but still pushing through to make sure he wishes you goodnight even if you’re already asleep the moment your head hits the pillow

i think a lot of people would expect him to be slightly chaotic based of how he sometimes presents himself in gose or concerts and yes he can be chaotic, but he’s a gentle chaotic (idek if that makes sense???)

he will sometimes surprise you with the most odd things out of nowhere, like that one time you had a little bit of frosting on your nose from biting into a cupcake

mans is giggling at your appearance and you’re confused because you don’t know what has set him off this time and you’re just looking at him like ???

and he just jokingly rolls his eyes, makes a tsk noise while shaking his head but reaches out to hold your jaw to stop you from moving

then he proceeds to just lick off the frosting off your nose

“what? i couldn’t just leave you like this without telling you” he says after your wide eyed expression

“you could have used a napkin like a normal person!”

he giggles at the way you roll your eyes and pulls you back by the crook of your elbow as you start to move away

“look, we’re even now” he says after he smears frosting on his lips

you both could just be relaxing on the couch laying down and on opposite ends, but he always has either a leg or an arm extended to have contact with you

is completely the type to pull your legs up to his lap to rub at your ankle

or be the type to use his slender hands to knead at the knots between your shoulder blades

i could see him liking to lay down on top of you during a nap and kissing you right under your ear all the way down to your collarbone

this isn’t even in an explicit manner, he just likes to do it for the sake of doing it (also loves the giggle he gets out of you if you’re feeling ticklish)

i could see him as liking to be the one to stay in on his days off and just lounging in matching sweats with you

but also willing and always ready to take a quick trip down to the convenience store with you past midnight in your matching sweats and slippers to grab a snack

absolutely WILL hold your hand all the way to and from the convenience store even though it’s just a few minutes walk

beware, he does not like when you get separated by a street lamp and will pull you to his side so you don’t have to unlink your hands

just a few delulu thoughts about jeonghan <3

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook kisses you for the first time.

> fluff, lowkey suggestive ig / wc: 1.5k

> warnings: kissing <3 ?

note: something short and sweet. but also think i had like three heart attacks writing this.

—

“i’m bored now. do you want to kiss?”

power interruption at midnight. too small of a kitchen. your chair at the end of the table, infront of the fridge. jungkook on your left, behind him- the sink. a laptop that died in the middle of a ‘the good place’ episode you had downloaded the night prior, few inches away from the candle light illuminating your wide eyes looking at him innocently.

you dip the popsticle stick in the jar of honey yet again, smearing the sweetness across your lips. it seaps in between the crack, and you swallow it down unwittingly, your tongue almost numb from the past fifteen minutes of dipping the stick and sucking the honey from it.

jungkook is rendered speechless, following your seemingly sinless actions with an awe-struck expression on his face. his breath hitches when your thumb swipes under your bottom lip and you suck on it as you feign naivety.

but boy, does he know better.

you frown at him in impatience, tapping your cold foot against the leg of your chair. “mkay. guess not. no hard feelings.”

the more time jungkook spent with you, the bigger of a fascinating enigma you became. your tongue rises without much ado to speak out whatever’s on your mind, and you ask him if he wants to kiss the same way one asks another about the weather. you make either the corniest or dirtiest jokes then hit him on the arm or thigh before hiding your face. you never not cry when watching a pixar movie, and you bawled your eyes out once over the phone ranting about the bad day you had and its correlation to murphy’s law.

at the same time, it doesn’t take much to make you smile. cat videos. tulips. remembering that your favorite flower is tulips. tteokbokki. chewy boba balls. good morning and good night texts. butterfly-shaped things. cloudy sky. holding hands. touching his hair. his voice. nostalgia-inducing songs. the show he’s been watching with you for the past week— the good place.

oh my god. he hasn’t kissed you yet. he knows all these things, and he hasn’t kissed you yet. how does he know you’re ticklish above the curves of your waist but not the feeling of your lips against his?

cracks form on your little facade of nonchalance when you lose feeling in your hands all the way to your fingertips, the jar of honey slipping away from your weakened grip. it doesn’t break but rolls on the ground, a steady stream of the sticky liquid spreads on the oak flooring, saturating its rather light color.

because you learn that jungkook is the type to hold your neck when he’s kissing you, and his hand moves to back of your head to grip your hair when he starts using tongue, almost as if he knows you’ll need to be tugged back into reality because oh my god, you can feel yourself drowning in him. you’ve always known he is a passionate lover, he has to be, but all the nights you spent imagining your first kiss did not prepare you for this. not rushed or slow, but addictingly sensual and sweet. coaxing you to fall deeply in love, to make him the center of the universe.

good heavens, his lips are so soft.

there is no oxygen in your lungs or coherent thoughts in your head. jungkook and honey. the only two things that make sense. the only two things you perceive.

but you will yourself to lean back, pushing away his shoulders lightly. his drunk eyes meet yours, tongue darting out to lick off the remaining honey on his cherry pink lips. he can only taste and smell honey. in fact, he even feels it seaping past the heels of his feet. uncomfortable. wet. sticky. but he can’t give two fucks because if he doesn’t taste more of it from your tongue he’s convinced he will die from the yearning of a broken heart.

“no, more. c’mere.” he murmurs in a daze, bending over to your level with his head tilted to the side, desperate to satiate his thirst, but you lean back again to avoid his lips.

“no ‘more’. the next person to kiss me has to be my boyfrie-”

you’re rudely interrupted by his voracity. he stubbornly cages your face in his big hands and connects his lips with yours. your hands close into fists, and you punch your thigh in frustration because you don’t have the strength it takes to pull away for the second time. not when you’re enjoying it this much.

it feels far too real to be a dream, but you’d hate to deprive yourself of an experience that feels as raw and heavenly.

he leaves a tender peck on your lips before completely pulling away, shaky and breathless as his heart races inside his chest. he anchors each of his hand on your chair and the table, leaving you trapped with nowhere to go. you look up at him with glossy eyes as you try and process what the fuck just happened.

this man made of dreams, tan skin kissed by the warm glow of a flickering flame, has made it his mission to mess with your head and to make a home in your heart.

“i am your boyfriend, baby.”

the pet name forces you to bite back a foolish smile, but god, you want to run laps across the street and scream at the edge of a cliff because why does it sound so sweet and loving coming from him?

fuck it being cliche. to you, he invented it.

you roll your eyes, unable to hide the giddy smile growing on your face. “well, you kissed me again so you have to take responsibility. i don’t just let anyone kiss me as much as they want, you know?”

jungkook chuckles in amusement. you never fail to sound so convincing. if you endorsed a rag as a luxury item, he would definitely buy it.

he actually needs one to clean off the spilled honey all over your kitchen floor. where do you keep those again?

he turns your chin to his direction, greeting you with a playful grin. “then that means i’m allowed to kiss you all i want from now on, right?”

—

“jungkook! the light is green!”

your familiar voice and the continuous honking from behind snaps out your boyfriend from watching the flashbacks of your first kiss playing inside his head like a movie scene. his car finally starts moving forward, and he glances at you briefly with a wince.

“you need to stop daydreaming on the road! what if i wasn’t here?” you scold him with a whine, the angry honking of the car from earlier still ringing in your ears.

this is why driving isn’t for you.

“sorry, baby. i swear it doesn’t happen often.”

you frown, glaring at him from the passenger seat. “better not. can’t have you in a car accident or i’ll go insane.”

jungkook smiles guiltily. “don’t worry. can’t have you going insane either.”

you don’t respond anymore, sinking back on your seat as you entertain yourself with watching the terrifyingly tall buildings of seoul fall behind you like dominoes.

that’s until your gaze falls on jungkook’s hand intertwined with yours on top of your thigh.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.” you reply softly, pressing a small kiss on the back of his hand.

meanwhile, jungkook finds himself oddly disappointed to see that the bee on his sideview mirror has flown away. when did his little winged friend leave?

as soon as he stops at another red light, he hastily removes his seatbelt to reach over for you. you watch in bewilderment as he almost hits his face with it.

“baby, may i have a kiss?”

you giggle, amused with your man pleading for you with his wide doe eyes. what kind of daydreaming was he so invested in back there, huh?

“you need it that bad?”

he nods eagerly.

you grant him a sweet smack, but he knows what he wants, and he gets it for himself. he pulls you back in by the neck for a deep kiss, slower than usual, almost as if he’s memorizing the feeling, burning it into memory. you get swayed by the intimate communication of his affection, and your nails unconsciously dig in on his forearm. he swallows down a hiss.

every kiss shared with you since four years ago tastes the same to jungkook. the honey lingers in his memory, in his mouth. and still, he finds himself craving more of it in his every waking moment. you truly did something life-changing back then, coating your lips with a lifetime’s worth of a love spell.

he settles down on the driver’s seat with a satisfied smirk painted across his face. you squint at him suspiciously as he fastens his seatbelt back on.

“what’s that smile for?”

“nothing.”

the cheeky raise of his eyebrow says otherwise, however. you got yourself a bratty boyfriend, you think to yourself with a sigh.

“yah, what’s that sigh for?!”

you teasingly exaggerate the shrug of your shoulders as you scrunch your nose.

“nothing.”

—

taglist! @alanniys @jjkeverlast @queenofdragonsandcats @yvesismywife @enhypenslay @cramseys @witchfqllen @virgogentlejk @rkie @jeonwiixard @monilyv @bermudaisy @ameliejeannelaurent @takochelle @the1921-monsters @investedreader @seagulljk @yeow6n @yoonqkiss @hopeworldjimin @lllucere @unnatae @zqynmlk @bxbyyyjocelyn @zkdlllin @koostarcandy @tswisal1 @fragmentof-indifference + send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

[an0nymousmessenger]

Boyfriend Gojo Headcannons

ft. Boyfriend Gojo Satoru tags. gn!reader, fluff

Boyfriend!Satoru is someone who would always fight with you to open the doors, even if it’s in your shared apartment. He would run ahead or block you from trying to open it by yourself. He says it’s his job as a boyfriend after constant bickering back and forth.

Boyfriend!Satoru would buy and store sweets around the apartment, sometimes even hiding them from you as you would sometimes complain about how it’s bad for him.

Boyfriend!Satoru is someone who would wake up in the middle of the night to brew tea for you if you couldn’t sleep without complaint. He would do it every night if it meant you’d feel better after drinking it.

Boyfriend!Satoru phone would be full of photos and videos of you, good and bad ones. He would have his Lock Screen be a photo of you looking your worst, insisting it’s the best photo of you.

Boyfriend!Satoru peppers you with soft gentle kisses at least a few times a day. 

Boyfriend!Satoru whose social media is just him showing you off.

Boyfriend!Satoru would cuddle you every night, (it’s a must he says) and would pull you closer if you try to escape. He would hold you tight as if you're the most precious and delicate thing in the world while mumbling sweet nothings into your ear to lull you to sleep. And on the days he’s away for work he would call you on FaceTime to fall asleep too.

Boyfriend!Satoru would chase you around with the bug you would ask him to kill before killing it.

Boyfriend!Satoru would purposely put on scary movies just for you to hold onto him tighter.

Boyfriend!Satoru who is ticklish but never turns on his infinity when you abuse this weakness.

Boyfriend!Satoru would always steal the covers. 

Boyfriend!Satoru who buys matching pairs of everything just so he can brag to everyone that he’s yours.

Boyfriend!Satoru who would ask to take a bite of your ice cream and proceed to inhale half of it.

Boyfriend!Satoru would be extra clingy to you when drunk, latching onto you as if it were his lifeline, slurring all his compliments and confessions about how much he’s in love with you, and how you got him wrapped around your finger.

Boyfriend!Satoru who would always stay up till midnight to be the first person to wish you a happy birthday.

Boyfriend!Satoru who insists on putting up the most extravagant Christmas tree to outshine your neighbors.

Boyfriend!Satoru who would cry when proposing to you. (And at the wedding)

a/n : Just something short and sweet (´ー｀)