#does this count as x reader?

[cafecourage]

Sky ran his hand over his soulmate stone for the umpteenth time that evening. It was, as usual, quietly muttering. He loved your voice, even when they were complaining about how it should be illegal for someone to be as distractingly pretty as he is. He listened to you, oscillating back and forth between protests against being so infatuated with him and sheepish admissions of how important he is to you, a smile slowly splitting across his face. Something about it made his heart feel all warm and fuzzy. He was sure he was grinning like an idiot, not that he cared.

Years ago, he’d carved a small casing for the stone out of some of the wood recovered when his childhood home was demolished. The promise of his future protected by the sturdy wood that had sheltered him through his youth. Somehow, it seemed right. Settling his handmade necklace back under his shirt, beside his heart where it belongs, he pulled out his harp and began plucking at the strings, making up notes as he went. The sound drew the attention of his fellow Links, and the lovesick smile on his face won him a few teasing laughs. Sky ignored them, choosing to focus on the sense of warmth and completion he gets even from just the sound of their voice.

He remembered the day he’d gotten his soulmate stone as if it were yesterday. He’d literally choked on air when he saw the face of his beloved for the first time. His heart ached at the reminder that he hasn’t seen you since. It’s been five years and he worries, sometimes, in the quiet of the night that he might never meet you. He’s been all over the surface, met so many people. His era isn’t particularly populated, and you don’t look like you belong with any of the groups other than the Skyloftians of his era. He’d lost too many nights of sleep to those worries. The only thing that soothes them is clutching his soulmate stone tightly to his chest, as if you might somehow feel the weight of his love -- and his hug -- through the action alone.

He shook his head abruptly, clearing away those thoughts before the tears could start. He plays his harp with a little more intensity. This journey, he’s decided, has given him some hope. He can go to so many more places now, and he’s met groups and towns he never could have imagined before. Maybe, by some ironic twist of fate, you hadn’t been born in his era. But that didn’t mean he’d never find you. He would find you. He had to, for his own sake. If he couldn’t convince you to go back to Skyloft with him, well… he shook his head again. Best not to dwell on painful thoughts. He would do whatever it took to have you in his life, even if he had to follow you to the ends of reality. He would give up everything to be with you. He’d never met you, but he knew.

He felt it in his soul before he realized what he was doing. It was a prayer he’d made, silent and aloud, time and again throughout his life. Please let today be the day. It had never been answered, even when he asked Zelda directly. He felt his wish echo through his soul, his body, his harp, and even Fi from where she shat in her sheath beside him. The music, his hope, flowed through the very air around him until it began to pulsate with an ancient energy. Sky’s playing stopped abruptly, but the crackling energy around him did not. Fi buzzed with a warning.

It took a few seconds of panic for him to realize he had not done this. Not directly, anyway. Sky doesn’t have magic of his own. This can’t be his own doing. The magic started to swirl. It created a vortex that sucked up everything in the camp. The next thing Sky knew, he was in a different Hyrule. The others were here, too. It seemed like all their bags had been switched, though. Wild ended up with Sky’s things. Sky had Time’s stuff, somehow.

This Hyrule was strange. The streets were made of a single piece of stone that was painted down the middle. The nearest building had a sign on it that said “Cafe Courage.” He could have sworn he had heard you talking about a cafe by that name before. Speaking of, soulmate stone was quiet, for the first time since he’d obtained it. His heart dropped to his stomach, up to his throat, and back again as he realized the implications. You were nearby. You had to be. Otherwise his stone would still be vibrating with your constant chatter. His necklace weighed heavily against his chest.

He barely had seconds to process this before the demon’s portals started opening. They were surrounded by monsters: too many monsters. The Links were easily outnumbered ten to one. Sky grabbed Time’s Biggorn sword, but the blood of the first monster he slashed came back black. Swearing, he cast a quick glance around the battlefield. Everyone else appeared to be fighting black blooded monsters, too. His chest tightened as he realized all these monsters were infected. Then, he saw something that made his heart stop.

You. You were on the battlefield somehow. From the looks of it, you had been walking in the general vicinity when you got swept up in this fight. You’d gotten a frying pan from somewhere and were brandishing it with an admirable amount of courage for someone clearly unused to combat. He hated seeing you there, but he also couldn’t suppress the overwhelming urge to hug you. As worried as he was, for a couple seconds his face was split by his second lovestruck grin of the afternoon.

The moment was shattered when one of the monsters landed a hit on you. You went flying and Sky was seeing red. He screamed with a primal rage he hasn’t felt in his whole life. He was angrier even than he had been when Zelda was tortured in front of him. He wanted to catch you, to protect you, but he couldn’t. He was surrounded by infected monsters, as were all of his brothers-at-arms.

He wracked his brain, searching for a solution. He couldn’t use his whip — he didn’t have his bag. He had Time’s bag instead. Hold on a second. Time’s bag! Sky remembered him telling stories of the Fierce Deity mask. He didn’t have any better ideas. He dug desperately through Time’s bag as you hit the ground with a panic-inducing crash. Another monster stood over you, ready to kill you while you were down. He slammed the mask onto his face with a furious howl.

He was suddenly much taller. He felt funny, but more powerful than he had ever been. The chatter of thoughts in his head suddenly went quiet. His focus was absolute as he tore through the crush of monsters to get to you. He grabbed the bokoblin that was advancing on you by the scruff of its neck and tossed it over his shoulder like it was nothing. He knelt down before you and reached to cup your cheek. He was surprised, momentarily, that his heart rate didn’t increase.

All his emotions seemed muted. He was struggling a little to even remember how he behaved normally. He looked into your pretty eyes, and you didn’t seem afraid of him. Your eyes were wide with recognition and morbid curiosity. You knew who he was, and — somehow — you knew what he’d done when he put the mask on. The only thought in his head that seemed truly his at the moment was that this was not how he wanted your first impression of him to go.

He scooped you up, careful not to harm you. The odd beast in this mask gave a small, contented purr when he cradled you to his chest. The Deity seemed fond of you, but Sky chose not to dwell on that. He had to save his brothers, and he had to make sure the cafe you had worked so hard for remained unharmed. Using Time’s biggoron sword, he fought one-handed as he held you in his other arm.

He makes quick work of the rest of the monsters. He sets you down gently on the sidewalk in front of the cafe, worry evident in his eyes. He set about trying to tend to everybody, but most especially you, while in an 11 foot tall body. It… didn’t work very well.

“Link, you’ve gotta take that off if you wanna help. Your hands are too big to handle potions like this, let alone bandages.” You remind him.

Sky considers this, frowning. You goad him a little more, and Legend and Warriors inform him he’s behaving strangely. Time levels Sky with a knowing look and tells him he has to return the mask. Sky looks over at you, still worried. You sigh.

“Link, please. You… haven’t said a word to me this whole time.” You look away, unable to meet his gaze. “My stone’s shut up, too. I… miss your stupid voice.”

Sky’s face splits with a grin, then he starts to giggle. He’s just so delighted. You want him to talk to you! He takes off the mask and reverts back to his normal size. You’d looked up to watch him shrink down but you had to look away again as soon as the light faded. He was looking right a you, his expression impossibly soft. His eyes were practically overflowing with love, relief, and concern.

“C’mon, now, Beloved.” His voice is soft, gentle. It’s as if he wasn’t a godslayer. Like he hadn’t been an 11’4” god of war less than a minute ago. Like he was just a big, cuddly, adorable sweetheart with nothing better to do than look after you. Actually, that’s exactly what he was because that’s all he wanted to be.

“Face this way and take this potion. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.” When you comply, he’s still looking at you like you’re the center of his universe. You groan from how flustered you are but you take the potion nonetheless. You try to turn away quickly, but Sky catches you. He gently cups your face in his hands after you finish drinking. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

You punch him in the face. He lets you. He’s just too delighted to have finally found you. He’s so adorably happy that you go to punch him again. He catches your hand easily and kisses the back of it before pulling you into a hug, resting his head on top of yours. You squirm.

“Shhh… don’t fight it. Soulmate stones reveal inner thoughts. I know you want this deep down.”

- glitter ✨

GLITTER FREAKING SPARKLE I AM GOING TO SCREAM, YOU LET ME ACTUALLY PUNCH HIM?! I DONT KNOW WHAT TO THINK ABOUT FIRST. THE FACT YOU HAD THE CAFE, FD SKY, AND SOUL MATE AU IN ONE THING?!

IM SCREAMING. HOW DARE YOU!

[samyy009922]

Silli man

[strawberrymilk-sunshine]

Its been on my mind for a while. Does Jade put in the warm water first then the milk? Or milk then the warm water when making tea? Also how would he respond if he witnessed some making the worst brew of tea? I'm saying nuking it the microwave, adding in things you do not put in tea or at least not at the same time.

This'll be a nice palate cleanser after all... that.

Also, I drink tea, like, a lot and have never once heard of someone putting the milk in first. Genuinely had no idea people did that. The more you know, I guess.

Warning(s): none, unless you count the atrocities the reader commits by making the worst tea in the world

"What... ah, what are you doing, (Y/N)?" Jade asked you one day.

"Making tea." You responded. "Why're ya so curious, something wrong?"

"No, it's... it's just that, well... none of those would be good in tea...!" He had a very forced looking smile on his face.

You were mixing ingredients you've never even heard of before. Magical plants that only exist in Twisted Wonderland, items that are typically used to curse people, jelly, jam, fruit, you were just putting everything in there.

It felt less like you were making tea and more like you were making a potion.

You put in the teabag, the milk, and then to top it all off, you put it in the microwave.

"Ah, um, (Y/N), I-I highly suggest you-"

"Huh? Were you saying something?" You asked.

"...no, nothing at all."

The microwave beeped, and you grabbed your... well, can you even call this 'tea' anymore?

You stirred everything around, added way too much sugar, and-

Ta-da!! Your tea was done!

"(Y/N) whatever unholy mixture of ingredients you just made is literally glowing bright green I HIGHLY suggest you not drink it."

You took a biiiiiig sippy all while Jade was trying his best to not think too hard about what that... thing could possibly taste like.

"Ohhh!!! That was sooooooooo good!" You said to yourself. "You want some, Jade?"

"No-! Y-you can have it! I would hate to steal such a... um... flavourful drink from you..." He said, looking away.

"Alright then, more for me!"

Jade is not afraid of many things.

But after this? He is DEFINITELY scared of you now.

[ravenwitch45]

How would Blitzo react if Striker tries to flirt with his s/o who couldn't resist as they were blushing?

Oh my that's a scenario for sure XP Personally Blitz's reaction really depends on when this happens, when Blitz first meets Striker and seems to have a crush on him (Which I feel he did) He'd be probably very awkward as he was with him

Like "O-Okay come on man, they're my S/O, only I get to mess with em like that" Something along those lines, Bonus points if Striker just goes "I don't mind sharing~" Which Oooh double flustered Blitz which I love, Overall just some good fun flirting that's harmless.

But after Harvest Moon?

Time to put a snake in his place, noone dangerous comes near his S/O and doesn't get taught a lesson, intrepet that how you will~

[laarbybarbtbox]

Thinking about doing something like this because I love ask blogs and I love this character

[iliektehhaxs]

All of the 141 has a domesticity kink, the worst offenders being Price and Ghost.

Price will at least try to keep a level head about him, eyes trained to the apron that lines your figure like a second skin.

You look good like this, happily prancing in the kitchen, the smell of dinner lingering in his nose. What are you making? It doesn’t really matter, because whatever’s in that pot isn’t what’s going to satisfy him tonight.

You offer him a taste and he’s more than happy to oblige, humming constantly at the flavor of your meal. Your gleeful face makes his chest physically hurt, how the hell did he manage to keep a pretty thing like you all to himself? So happy to be his little housewife, and Price is nothing if not grateful.

He makes certain to show his gratitude the moment the stove is turned off.

Simon is much less refined, all jagged edges that makes it difficult to understand the need for a gentle touch.

You greet him in the morning in a baggy shirt—his shirt. It’s so oversized, the hem of it barely covering your panties as you work on chores around the house—makes his fingers itch to dig themselves into the soft flesh of your thighs and never let go.

His dick turns solid when you kiss him good morning. A peck of the lips really, but it’s enough to have him wanting more, the faintest whiff of familiarity hitting his nose when you pull away. It’s not long until he’s keeping you in his embrace, burying his face into your neck and groaning. You smell like him.

One moment you’re dusting shelves, the next you’re lifted into Simon’s arms. He doesn’t say much, but he doesn’t have to. His eyes give you all the answer you need.

[killerpancakeburger]

Sleeping Beauty

Gif by @no-one-fights-alone

SUMMARY: The sleeping beauty is Soap hehe. You weren't supposed to fall asleep in the rec room, but you did. When you emerge, there's someone snoozing in your lap.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader

TAGS: Fluff, first kiss, confessions, light/non graphic smut: dirty talk, friction, Clingy!Soap, Civilian!Reader, Smitten!Soap AND Smitten!Reader. Part of the Moaning and Blushing Soap Agenda.

WORDS COUNT: 1.8k

A/N: My thanks to the fanartists who draw Soap alseep, giving me inspiration :') been obsessed with this piece.

It was never your intention to doze off on the rec room's couch.

However, the combination of the coziness of the sofa, the bone-deep tiredness you accumulated over the work week, and the delicious warmth radiating from Soap's body eventually defeated you. The rowdy Sergeant  had always displayed a tactile kind of friendliness, but lately he was glued to you, downright clingy. 

Another person would have been irritated by this behavior quickly enough - his teammates from the 141 made it pretty clear, teasing him frequently about it, and jokingly pitying you. Nonetheless, you didn’t mind, at least outside of the bursts of heat that would overrun your face from time to time. Just when you thought you were used to him, one brush of his fingertips or one gaze from his piercing blue eyes would revive the fire in your blood. 

But just like with most things, you couldn’t say no to Johnny. Not to mention, you were seriously touch-starved; had been your whole life, to be honest. To have someone apparently addicted to the feel of your skin was like a heaven-sent gift.

This was how you ended up sitting way too close to him on the couch, thighs touching, his burly arm thrown carelessly on the backrest behind you, as the task force was enjoying some TV before heading to bed. Between vaguely paying attention to the movie, keeping up with the guys’ conversation, and fighting your own mind to forbid it from obsessing over how burning his leg felt against yours despite the barrier of your respective jeans, you were plenty busy. At least until you fell asleep without realizing.

Filled with confusion, you sluggishly blink at the half-light illuminating you. The lights have been switched off, but the TV provides enough brightness for you to figure out your surroundings. The room is silent and empty, save for the murmur emitted by the television, and your lap feels strangely heavy.

You lower your eyes to figure out that mystery, and immediately supress a yelp of surprise by pressing your hand against your mouth.

John Mactavish in the flesh is right there, sleeping like a baby. 

You can’t help but drink in this one-of-a-kind sight; you've never seen him asleep before. Never contemplated him looking so peaceful, so tranquil. There's an inherent vulnerability that comes with catching him sleeping. 

He's laying on his stomach, the side of his face pressed against your thigh, grabbing it with one hand. The way his cheek is squished by your leg is both funny and adorable. Low but regular snores escape his parted lips.

His mohawk is as ruffled as hair that short can be, and now that you’re observing it, you’re tempted to stroke it, to find out whether it is as soft as its owner. You ponder over that dilemma for a minute, biting your lip, before giving into temptation. Tentatively ruffling the top of it at first, terrified of waking him up, you gain in confidence as his hair proves to be delightfully smooth. You run your hand through the strands carefully, your touch as delicate as possible, removing some stray locks from his forehead as you go.

Eventually you stop, taking in the room around you, and thinking about how this situation can’t last. Soap really needs to reach his bed. You peek at him again.

There's a self-indulging part of you that very much desires to let him sleep, keep him in your lap and stare at him for hours. With how heavy he feels, you’re not sure you could get up even if you wanted to.

“Why'd ye stop?” he rasps, voice made hoarse by drowsiness, tone surprisingly whiny.

You barely stifle a screech, completely taken aback by his awakening.

He shoots you a look so indignant, you'd think you woke him up at 3 a.m with a bucket of ice-cold water. That, or he's a petulant child you’re waking up for school.

“Sorry…?”

Why you are apologizing, you don't even know. His expression somehow manages to make you feel guilty, so you lift your hand and caress his hair again. 

His eyes instantly close at the contact, like a cat. A pleased, satisfied “Mmmh” leaves him, as a deep rumble escapes his torso, like a purr. A blissful smile stretches his lips, sending a pang to your chest.

“Soap.”

“...”

“Johnny.”

“Mmh?”

“You need to get to your own bed.”

“Nooooo.”

He proceeds to turn his head and bury his face in your lap. Next thing you know, the hand squeezing your thigh releases you, only to sneak behind your back and grab your waist. The other slides under your legs to seize your knee.

You end up well and truly trapped in his grip.

“M great ‘ere.” he retorts, muffled by your body.

His hot breath sends tingles over your skin, and the motion of his lips against your pants provokes a throbbing between your thighs. You feel your cheeks’ temperature rise dangerously. The fact that you two are alone together is both a blessing and a curse. You’re going to give Gaz and Ghost a piece of your mind for abandoning you like that.

“Soap,” you sigh, trying your best to sound unaffected, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You can’t stay here all night.”

“Can't I?” 

The cheekiness in his voice manages to be both irritating and arousing.

“John Mactavish,” you scold, attempting to sound menacing.

“Could spend tha whole night between yer thighs, bonnie.”

Yep, that's it, your entire face is on fire. He's never been so forward before; your chest feels like it's about to burst.

Unfortunately for Johnny, your annoyance exceeds your embarrassment. This explains why your next course of action is to take hold of his mohawk and yank. 

Face finally unsticking from you, he lets out a noise that's half a grunt, half a moan, and fully obscene.

Astounded, turned on, and just a bit sheepish, you stare at him in bewildered silence as he returns your gaze, cerulean eyes wide, cheekbones and the tips of his ears bright red.

You only meant to remove him from your lap - cross your heart and hope to die. And roughen him up a little in the process as payback, but that was counting on the fact that his pain tolerance must be way beyond the average mortal's.

As you stay frozen in place, he pounces. Next thing you know, he got you pinned against the backrest, hands on each side of your head, hovering over your lap.

“Can I kiss ye?”

His voice suddenly turned so husky that the question comes out more like a growl than anything else.

“W-what?” you stutter, convinced you heard him wrong.

“Can I kiss ye? Please?” he insists, pouting.

The “please” has the effect of a punch in your sternum.

“I… you… uh.. “

His face is way too close to yours, his gaze way too intense for you to do anything else but combust on the spot.

“We shouldn't”, you mumble, looking anywhere but at him.

“Aye we can, fraternization is authorized between military and office personnel.”

That has the merit to make you look back at him, eyes wide in surprise.

“How do you..?”

“Ah checked”, he asserts like it's evident.

“You're really putting me on the spot…”

You pivot your head to the right to relieve yourself from his piercing blue eyes. That doesn't seem to deter him at all, however, as he presses his forehead against your temple.

“Well, ye tend tae run away when ah flirt wi’ ye…”

His lips brush against your cheek as he talks.

“So really, this is all yer fault. Yankin’ mah hair like that-”

“MY fault!? You’re the clingy bastard who stuck his face into my lap-”

Outraged, you face him abruptly. He must have predicted your reaction because he backed away enough to avoid a headbutt.

“Very nice lap.”

The compliment leaves you unimpressed.

“Not really,” you correct automatically, your self-consciousness deeply ingrained.

He doesn't lose his smug smirk at that.

“Oh? Need me tae demonstrate?”

His hand leaves the backrest and slips between the sofa and your leg. He grabs your thigh and lifts it slightly, then slowly trails the tips of two fingers from the edge of your ass until the back of your knee, sending suggestive tickles all over your lower body.

You stare in anticipation, voice stuck somewhere in your throat.

“Bonnie? Ah'm not hearin’ a no, but ah'm not hearin’ a yes either-”

“Yes,” you murmur.

He tilts his head questioningly, smile teasing.

“Wha’ was that? Didn’t catch-”

“I said yes, you-,” you assert, riled again, loud enough that he cannot pretend to have missed it.

His mouth presses against yours almost immediately, so eager that your back hits the backrest. You close your eyes and interlace your fingers behind his neck.

His hands feel everywhere at once, like he can’t get enough of you. As for you, the accumulation of sensations threatens to overwhelm you, so you clench your hands into fists to hold on, one desperately clutching the other's wrist.

Lost in his embrace, you forget yourself. At the feeling of his muscular thigh between your legs, you grind against it thoughtlessly.

Soap reacts instantly, abandoning your lips for a moment, despite you chasing after his.

“Humpin’ my leg, ae? Ye naughty girl… ah can give ye so much better than mah leg.”

Regardless of his comment, he pushes back against your crotch.

“But if that's what ye want… ah'll give ye anythin’. Everythin’ ye want, baby. Ah'll be so good to ye, promise.”

The sweet vows falling from his filthy mouth makes you hang onto him tighter, as if you were trying to fusionate your two bodies.

“...Everything,” you reply softly after kissing him some more.

“Wha…?”

Taking Johnny by surprise is not something that you manage often. But oh, how the view is worth it.

He withdrews a bit, face flushed, mowhawk tousled, gaping, eyebrows lightly frowned in incomprehension.

“What if I want everything? All of you?” 

You cup his cheek affectionately. Your own boldness surprises you, but this whole situation feels like a dream anyway - maybe it is one -, so you might as well make the best of it. Soap has never been one to be stingy with compliments, so the least you can do is return the favor.

“You're amazing, Soap. You’re so brave, and smart, strong, selfless, and goodhearted, caring… and you have the prettiest eyes I've ever - mmh.”

He seemed pretty captivated by your words, listening religiously, until something snapped and he crushed his lips against yours.

After making you dizzy, he releases you, beaming. You remember hearing Price calling him “sunshine”. He's always been luminous, but now he's downright blinding.

“I love ye. IloveyeIloveyeIloveye.”

He chants fervently while covering your face in ardent kisses.

“Ye don't have tae say it back,” he adds hastily afterwards, like distressed he'd scare you away.

“Ye don't have tae say anythin. Ah just… can’t contain it anymore…”

“I love you too,” you cut in.

The words came out more easily than you expected. Almost naturally. It makes sense in a way - you’ve been enamored for a while after all.

You two seal your mutual confessions with an enthousiastic kiss.

BLOOPERS

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i'm suddenly thinking about rockstar!eddie shooting a music video on some naval ship and meeting actual sailor!steve who's all dressed up in his whites 'cause eddie's a big name star and the captain said everyone had to look their best and eddie immediately folding for the pretty guy in uniform

just: eddie wanting a couple of the guys to act in the video 'cause hopefully then they'd actually know what they're doing, and asking the capt to point out his most competent sailor. the capt immediately points out one of his low-ranking ensigns (like, brand new baby officer 'cause that's the kinda shit an officer would pull) and eddie, having been raised by wayne (who i'm hc-ing as a navy vet) knows better and is immediately like "No sir, I said your most competent, not your least. someone point me to THE second class. Where's he? I need an enlisted guy." and a higher-ranking chief that's been following the band around the ship all day bellows out a laugh and says "You're gonna want Harrington, Mr. Munson."

idk idk, it's niche but for some reason my mind went into the cold clammy depths of my time in the navy this morning and i was like 'NOPE! don't wanna dwell here, make it fun! make it about the blorbos so you dont get sad!!' lmao

[viperwhispered]

So we all agree that Jamil enjoys when he can nudge others to do what he wants, right? Like, one of the basketball jersey lines is about controlling the flow of the game and making others react, and beans camo has a bit of a similar vibe.

Plus like, the whole plan in book 4 of setting things in motion and having others actually take the decisive steps once he paved the way.

So, consider: Jamil nudging his s/o to being the one to actually act on his desires. Because yeah you're together, he knows how you feel about him, but it's just nice to get himself to feel extra desired and wanted, isn't it? Having you come to him, rather than him going to you.

So he does all sorts of little things he knows get to you.

Knows how you feel about seeing his bared arms? Casually pulls up his sleeves while cooking (if he's not in his dorm uniform already).

Or maybe he'll ask you to come watch his practice or a game, if he knows him on court is a weakness of yours.

The sight of his hair loose gets you weak? Oh better undo his ponytail and take his time readjusting his hair.

A million and one totally casual touches, he just happens to touch you in passing while doing his thing or while you're hanging out.

Similarly, he just happens be close to you while talking, lowering his voice or using a particular tone that gets to you.

You like his more cocky, scheming side? Oh, why doesn't he tell you about a little something he just pulled off earlier (or is planning on doing), that'll give him a reason to hit you with that smirk and everything.

Sweet words from him are your weakness? Sure he can slip something nice and totally matter-of-fact into the conversation (when you're alone, at least).

Just, all those little things, until he can really see all that love in your eyes, that desire in your expression.

And the satisfaction he feels when you're the one getting close to him, when you're the one to turn those fleeting touches into something more. When you don't let go of him.

He loves pushing you like that.

And how easy it is to make you express your love to him? Well, that just tells of how much love you have to give to him, doesn't it? And how could he possibly not want to see the proof of that, time and time again.

[darlingofsatoru]

NEW GUY

⊹ synopsis: Yuji feels jealous and Sukuna won’t shut up about letting him take control [fem!reader + swearing]

Yuji sighs loudly, eyes darting to where you’re happily chatting with a new student.

He doesn’t get why he feels this way but he isn’t going to do what Sukuna’s being telling him to do for the last ten minutes.

When Yuji looked at the clock and found he’d been arguing with Sukuna about letting him take control so he could ‘scare the bastard off’ for five minutes, he let out another sigh.

Should he go say hello, subtly get you away from the guy or should he just leave you there?

He understands jealousy or possessiveness is a natural feeling, especially for ‘youths’, as the god-knows-how-old Sukuna likes to put it, but it doesn’t shake off the feeling of guilt at not entirely trusting his girlfriend with someone she barely knows.

“Let me take over for a second, you’re pissing me off.”

“No! You can’t rip his eyes out, give them to her, then expect everything to be magically okay for me, y/n and this new guy..!”

“Back in my day, giving the eyes of a enemy was pretty damn impressive, you know? You kids can’t appreciate shit anymore.”

God, Will this great great great great Grandpa shut up...

“I can hear your thoughts, you brat!”

Yuji groans, eyes finally meeting yours from across the room.

He smiles, though it’s clearly a tired one.

You send a sympathetic look to him and excuse yourself from talking to the new student, coming over to Yuji quickly and gaining a ‘goddamn boring, could’ve fixed this ages ago’ from Sukuna in his head.

“You alright?” You place a hand on his forehead, checking his temperature, “you’re pretty warm, you know?”

He nods, mumbling, “just Sukuna..”

Instead of insulting him in his head, Sukuna of course appears on his cheek, “Tell the new boy to crack his neck and die, yeah?”

You pale at that, used to the comments but always managing to be caught off guard anyway.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” you chuckle awkwardly.

A groan is heard and you can almost imagine Sukuna rolling his eyes like he’s a teenager too.

“Fuckin’ pussies, that’s what you two are.” The mouth disappears promptly after that, gaining a sigh from Yuji.

“Sorry about him..” He mumbles, rubbing his head in light embarrassment.

“Don’t be sorry, I’m used to him, I think.” You smile, leaning forward to hug him.

A smile appears on his face too and he embraces you back softly, “That new guy, what’s he like?”

“Meh.. Nothing compared to you, that’s for sure.”

Bonus aftermath with Sukuna & Yuji:

“I told you that you could’ve just went up to her, geez!”

“You did not! You said to rip his heart out, which I know hurts tons!”

“I brought you back, get over it already!”

[erenthology]

He loves the kind of woman that would actually just k!ll him (quick drabble)

When you scolded his teammates for not picking up after themselves after dinner, he realized something about himself. “We’re sorry” they said in unison. Eren just stared you up and down with craving eyes.

“Dude, your girl is kind of scary.” They muttered as you walked off to the bathroom. He knows…intently following your retreating figure with his eyes.

When he first approached you at a frat party, offering to help carry your drinks, maybe with the intent to take you back to his place later that night..you left him speechless with your glowering glare, muttering explosives at him.

He was stunned as he watched you walk away.

“Poor girl would rather walk spill her drinks than speak with you.” Jean snickered. But Eren just grinned.

It took him a while to get you to warm up to him, but the chase was worth it. Turns out, you’re just a soft cinnamon bun once you let your walls down. For someone who claims she hates cuddles, you sure want cuddles. He loves you, and especially that mouth of yours.

He doesn’t mind when you calmly give him the look if he’s acting up, your sharp tongue, or your quick comebacks. In fact, he loves when you speak up for him if his order is wrong before he gets the chance to, or rather aggressively cheer for him at his games, that in particular makes him blush ever so lovingly. He almost gets shy. Meanwhile you’re swooning over your beast boyfriend smashing 220 pound guys down on the field. Unaware he’s doing the most to impress his girl.

He remembers being taken aback once. You had slapped a stranger who catcalled you. Eren was away buying you ice scream, strictly ordering you to stay within his line of vision since the carnival was “dangerous”. So when he noticed the situation, rushing with the intent of smashing the guys face in, he nearly dropped the ice cream as he witnessed your hand connecting with roaches face. Proudly observing you with gleam in his eyes.

Eren admits it, he’s attracted to intiminating women. He doesn’t know when it started, might’ve been with you. Now that he thinks about it, every girl he used to chase after before you was reserved and timid. Either way, all he knows is every time you let out that side of you, his pants feel tighter.

You come back from the bathroom, noticing the guys picked up after themselves. Finally, you thought.

“Hey Eren, can we get dessert?”

He stands up and grabs you by the loops of your belt, pulling your hips flush against his.

“Can’t you sit on my face first?” face to face spooning you, about to add a “please,” but you smirked and got down on your knees instead. He quickly looked around, “we’re in the living room, the guys might walk come back in.” he stresses.

“Let them.” and Eren swears that one day you’ll give him a heart attack. His girl is a freak, the thought makes him grin.

“Only if you sit on it later.” he was not below begging for it. He actually wouldn’t mind going out by you sitting on his face, it would make him die a happy man.

[whore4abby]

christmas headcannons; abby anderson

+ some bonus insta posts

warnings; tiny mentions of smut - strap-on mention, mdni

౨ৎ takes you to the local christmas markets every year - holding hands as you pass by the christmas stalls which are all aglow with twinkling fairy lights, breath visible in the cold air but you’re both cosy and bundled up in thick jackets to keep warm in the icy weather.

౨ৎ would notice you staring at a snow globe or something and immediately have her hand in her pocket to fetch her wallet and buy it for you without even thinking twice about it.

౨ৎ buys you the BEST gifts. spends months slyly asking you questions trying to get an insight into what you’ll be wanting as gifts.

౨ৎ not the best gift wrapper her big hands make it hard :( but she tries her absolute best. ends up using absurd amounts of tape to keep the paper in place, ultimately making it look like it was wrapped up by a small child.

౨ৎ insists that she hates the matching thermal pjs you buy for the both of you, sulking in protest when you suggest the idea but after much persuasion, she finally caves, willing to do anything to make you happy.

౨ৎ loves to decorate the christmas tree with you but she takes it soooo seriously, she never half-asses it and is always groaning at you that you’ve hung everything in the wrong place. always lets you put the star on the top of the tree though, hoisting you up into the air effortlessly, smiling as she watches you gently place the glittering star onto the tree.

౨ৎ so good at snowball fights but she sometimes forgets her own strength. pummelling the icy snow at you a little too hard which results in knocking you off your feet and back into a pile of freshly fallen snow. she attempts to stifle her laugh as she scoops you up, pressing warm kisses against your frozen cheeks apoligetically.

౨ৎ abby loves to wake up before you on christmas morning in the the early hours to enjoy a cup of coffee, watching as the snow falls outside of your bedroom window, caressing your back softly as you sleep. finishing her drink just as you start to wake up which leads to groping each other through your thermal pjs, sleepily grinding against eachother.

౨ৎ abby adores ending the night by watching endless christmas movies, wrapped up in blankets and surrounded by your favourite snacks and drinking hot chocolate whilst using you as her personal heater. the two of you sharing sticky marshmallow coated kisses as you giggle and press yourself closer to her.

౨ৎ the night ends with the hot chocolate and christmas movies long forgotten as abby has you ride her strap, her big hands gripping at your hips and bouncing you up and down on top of her.

[cz19y]

.... Cat Isagi?

Cat Isagi. zoom in for quality

Unrelated but-

Yuppie >< | my art [I doubt someone's gon repost this but NO reposting on other platforms XD]

[bluesylveon2]

Sebek: YOUNG MASTER!! MASTER LILIA!!

Malleus: what is it, Sebek?

Sebek: SILVER IS GETTING HIT ON!

Lilia grabs Malleus and he starts running

Lilia: Formation B!

Malleus and Sebek: roger!!

Cut to Silver casually talking to Yuu

Malleus and Sebek grab onto Silver

Sebek: WHO IS THAT WOMAN? Have you forgotten the night you toasted to my eyes?

Malleus: was it all a lie when you said your time with me was the most enjoyable of all?

Silver: what are you talking about?

Lilia: could you not touch him so casually, please. YOU HOMEWRECKERS!!

Lilia: Silver has violin practice with me now. Let's go home, Silver. Today I'll have you master "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star"

Silver to Yuu: ignore them. your cat ran that way *points to a direction*

Yuu: thank you so much!

Lilia, Malleus, and Sebek: huh?

Silver, looking irritated: now whose idea was this? You're embarrassing me.

Lilia: ✨️😎✨️

Silver: stop doing that!

Sebek and Malleus run off before Silver could question them

[taintedcigs]

i know some ppl hate it but i love 'stevie' SOO much. and i know he'd just blush the cutest pink when you called him stevie... squirming in his place by how much your little nickname turns him on... because he loves to hear you whine 'stevieeee!!!' whenever he teases you, just by a slap on your ass, or when his hand lands on your thigh whenever he's driving, a harsh grip on your inner thigh slowly travelling up, or when he 'accidentally' presses your ass against his bulge when hugging you from behind, OR OR when his hand wanders to your panties while the two of you are out to dinner with friends.

he loves the way that nickname leaves your glossy lips whenever you're trashing beneath him, begging him to fuck you faster, deeper. wanting nothing more than to be filled to the brim. he loves the way you utter it in such a lewd way while giving him those doe-eyes, begging for him to fuck your throat, he loves the filthy smile you give him as you say it. but he especially loves sliding his cock down your throat, hearing your muffled 'stevie' while you beg for him to cum down your throat. and he loves it even more, once the two of you are fucked out, laying next to each other, and you whisper, 'i love you, stevie' he gives you a sloppy kiss on your forehead, arms securely wrapping around your waist, bodies tied to each other.

'love you more, angel,' he murmurs into your hair, he's your stevie, and you're his angel.

[devilfic]

omg we need more of the honeymoon shot bruce and reader,, maybe a one bed trope if it’s not too much to ask no pressure obv!!<3

❝honeymoon❞

II. marriage bed.

parts: previously / next plot: the in-laws are in town. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce, only one bed trope. words: 1.6k.

"I'm sorry" feels numb to say at this point. You still say it, standing at the foot of what should have been your marriage bed. It's been a long night and you'd wrung your hands of dish soap until your family practically barked at you to get to bed, to get back to your husband.

You can still hear them, cackling downstairs in the living room while your nieces and nephews tumble through the hallway. It must feel alien to have your childhood home, long devoid of familial joy, be suddenly bursting full of it. And have none of it mean anything to you.

Bruce stands shoulder to shoulder with you for a few more beats. Then he walks to the door, and you watch him twist the lock with a firm click. Your heart picks up a bit.

His steps are muted on the carpet and you take in his shoulders, the rolling hills of muscles in his back, and the pants that cling to the divots of his hip bones. The black cashmere is a gift from your mother, something preferable to his "ratty" sweats. He didn't like these very much.

Since you'd started living here, you caught glimpses of him like this. A heavy shadow of a man skulking in the darkness, waiting for you to leave for work before revealing himself. Rarely would you find yourselves crossing paths in the kitchen or catching eyes in the living room. And with each fleeting glance, he would escape elsewhere, receding into the tower the way a frightened cat might hide from strangers. Intruders. Funnily enough, you found avoiding eye contact helped that.

But now there was nowhere to run. Your family was here for the holidays and they were in every room. Eyes everywhere.

"Do you need to work tonight?" You'd started calling it that: "work". It made sense around the family (not so much your mother), and it didn't put him on edge when you skirted around the "B" word. "I can help you get downstairs."

He's half-turned to you, waiting on his side of the bed, so you can see the way his face scrunches up at a thought, "Gordon... told me to take time off. For family."

You snort, "You told him the in-laws were in town?"

"Yes."

You blink, "Oh."

Bruce had told you that between you and Alfred, no one else knew who Batman was. The lieutenant, trusted friend and ally as he were, had yet to join the ranks of your prestigious little club. It felt wrong to be in it when he wasn't; you'd forced yourself into it, and Bruce didn't even trust you.

You round the bed opposite to Bruce, and staring across it at him felt like staring across an ocean—he was so far away. You wondered how many people had shared this bed with him. How many he trusted as little as you.

You understand that the Bruce you remember was still a boy, grieving much differently than he is now, and had liked you just a little bit more.

You're the first to draw back the covers.

Bruce watches you settle in before following suit, reluctant, as if he were still wondering about the cons of sleeping in his car tonight. The weight of the bed dramatically shifts and you glide against the silk to his side when he lays down, your hand going for his upper arm to steady yourself. He jolts at the contact, staring you down like a deer in headlights.

Your second sorry of the night spills from your lips, and you squirm away from the warmth of his side and back to the edge of the bed.

You both lay like that for a while, side by side, neither of you particularly comfortable.

"Why didn't you say no?"

His question rocks the stillness in the air. You almost jolt. You turn your head and ask, as casually as you are able, "Say no to what?"

"The marriage."

Ah. "You've met my mother. It's hard to say no to her. Isn't that why you're in this situation in the first place?"

He remains looking up at the ceiling, but you see his jaw constrict, "The you I knew had a backbone."

He means it to hurt. Reminders of your youth together had not softened with time, it seemed, even if he treated you like a distant memory. You don't muster up the courage to bite back at him. Instead, you tuck your tail and keep the mist from gathering in your eyes, "...Yeah."

He doesn't seem to have expected that response. He finally turns his head to look at you, visibly confused. For a few moments, the two of you just stare at each other. Him, analyzing. You... mourning. "Is this what you wanted?"

It's becoming harder to hold back tears, "Not this. Not with her pulling all the strings. Regardless of what you think about me, or my mother, or my family, I didn't want any of this. I don't... want to be your enemy, Bruce."

You want so badly for him to believe you. You've never wanted anything more than for him to see you honestly, transparently, except perhaps to see him the same. To not have to fight.

He's about to say something when the doorknob wriggles, followed by a tentative knock. The two of you sit up and listen for who could be at the door, until a small voice calls your name through the wood, "My niece." You say, rigid. "She must be lost." You go to stand but to your surprise, Bruce is already at the door letting her in.

She stands at just about his knee, blanket clutched in her chubby arms and mouth hidden by the purple fleece. She has to turn her head all the way up to look him in the eyes, "Uncle Bruce," she says through a lisp, "where's the bathroom?"

You can't fully see Bruce's reaction from the bed. From the side, you watch his shoulders sag and his cheek rise in what you think is... a smile.

Very slowly, he comes to a crouch in front of her, "The bathroom?" He asks. She nods an affirmative. "Why didn't you ask Grandpa Alfred? He knows where everything is."

Her eyes dart to the side, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, "...Grandpa Alfred is scary."

Bruce laughs, actually laughs. He hasn't laughed around you. Hasn't managed more than a smile today, and only to placate your mother. He's warmer too, more open. You watch him. Mesmerized. "He is a little scary, isn't he? But I promise, he's really nice if you get to know him." Your niece doesn't seem so convinced. A moment passes as Bruce thinks of what to say, "How about I come with you to go ask him?"

Her eyes light up, "Really?"

"Really."

Bruce holds out his arms to her, and though she's reluctant, you watch her tumble into them with arms thrown around his neck. He hops back to his feet with her perched on his hip like she weighs nothing—and she probably does, to him—and asks her in a hushed voice if she's holding on tight.

Her little head turns to look at you over his shoulder and he follows, his smile weakening some.

You almost ask if she'd like you to come with, but think better of it. In the time it would take Bruce to complete this task, you could try to fall asleep. Maybe then it'd be easier on him to share the bed with you, "Go with Uncle Bruce. Maybe Grandpa Alfred will show you the fancy swords if you're brave enough to ask."

Your niece beams, urging Bruce to take her to him this instant, and they disappear out of sight.

You're half conscious when Bruce returns and shuts the door, but there is no click of the lock to follow after.

With your back turned, all you have to tell you where he is in the room are his small sighs. He's on his side, closer than you expected him to be so quickly, and you curse the carpet that hides his footfalls. You keep your breaths measured, pretending you're fully asleep, and wait for him to climb in.

One knee presses into the mattress, then the other, and you quickly remember the problem with this bed.

He's just laid on his side when you go sliding backwards, feeling your body collide with his chest. You force your eyes to stay closed but you are chilled with mortification. Should you move? Give up the facade of sleep and scramble for the other side of the bed? Would he shove you away?

You wait for his heavy hand to fall on your back, but... nothing. Seconds crawl forward at a snail's pace. You can feel the heat of his hand hovering over your hip where your night shirt had ridden up, but he never touches you. You take slow, deep breaths. You wait for him to wake you, then, if he won't shove you.

But that also never comes. The tips of his fingers lightly brush the skin of your hip, and then disappear. You feel his arm wiggle between the both of you, feel him shift a bit on the mattress, but nothing more. He doesn't push you away. Doesn't call your name. Doesn't shake you until you're forced to crawl to the other side.

He gets comfortable. Stiff, but comfortable, and he doesn't move you. You wonder, as the heat of his chest makes you conscious of your heart beating quicker, if it's too late to crawl back on your own.

You wait for what feels like hours contemplating it. So long, it feels like he might've fallen asleep behind you. So long, that you melt into his side of the mattress. So long, that sleep comes and morning soon after before you could even make up your mind.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat @yehet-moi-ohorat @bluestuesday