#habitually walked with God

[isan0rt]

Sigh. I know this is a pretentious pet peeve. But nothing makes me close out of a fanfic faster than use of the "[character] would [action]" future tense. You're not writing a roleplay where you need to give your partner a chance to counteract the intended action, you're writing a fanfic. Tell us what IS HAPPENING or DID HAPPEN, not what your character intends to do, if the other player is down with it, Christ almighty.

[harpsicalbiobug]

Ok, so! Normally my nightmares are pretty convoluted and arise out of the mishmosh of daily stressors, and they aren’t very plot driven. They’re usually a little gory and existentially awful and there’s not much to learn from them, but yesterday while reading at the marshy state park campsite we were staying at, I looked up from my book and made direct eye contact with a cow moose and her cinnamon perfect baby calf who were ambling straight towards me and were, at that point, less than 15 feet away.

“Oh, fuck, what?” I said intelligently. Dimly, I thought how moose are my least favorite species to encounter on the trail and much louder my brain asked what one does when pleistocene megafauna enter your campsite and calmly flick an ear in your general direction while you and your squishy primate body are within trampling range. Strangely, I felt less fear than indecision, as my stupid brain took in the fact that the 900 lb calf defender was currently calm, so of course she’d remain calm, obviously, that’s how wildlife work (it is not).

Then my partner yelled at me to get in the car and I bolted. The moose and calf ignored me. The cow delicately sniffed an open can of Wild Basin Hard Seltzer™ (Yumberry flavor, it tastes ok) and the baby peed in the beautiful sunset grass, while my partner set off the car alarm on purpose and I alternated yelling, “MAMAM PLEASE LEAVE,” and barking (? I think I was reaching for a scary non-human noise?) at her to try to startle her away. No startles were achieved. Eventually the pair walked off into the brush, but it was with the reluctance of animals that are far far too habituated to humans Later we learned from other campers that these moose had been eating trash off other people’s campsites (this is why you don’t leave out food or food smelling items folks, Leave No Trace, a Fed Bear Moose Is A Dead Bear Moose, etc) and then even later on it it was the middle of the goddamn night and I had to use the bathroom. Except the moose came by, cracking sticks under hooves, and looming in and out the dark shapes that I struggled to differentiate between waving foliage and wandering moose. I kept my headlamp off and opted to let my partner sleep through another close encounter of the cervid kind. The pair did leave eventually but I needed to get to the pit toilet down the road and I had no idea how far off they had gone. This will be fine! I lied to myself. I will be on the road in a populated campsite, which will of course dissuade the human acclimated trash eaters. I’ll walk real loud! I thought, as I put sandals over my socks and flipped on the headlamp. Headlamps always throw weird shadows. The foreground of your vision ends up looking like a photo where you’ve left on the flash, while the background is full of shadows that jitter with your head movement. It’s great for avoiding tripping when out at night. It’s not great for a pattern sensitive visual primate who is now jumpy about deer of unusual size. I did walk loud. I walked scritchy scrapping my sandals across the gravel road, kicking up puffs of dust that wavered in the headlamp light. It’s only eight campsites up, I thought. The shadows bounced among the living and beetle killed lodgepole pines with each step, and the LED light bounced back from parked cars at each campsite.  The baby moose calf moved like a cinnamon teddy bear on spider legs. I saw it unfold in a second and lurch into the trees. I made a sound that was more groan than scream and sprint stumbled into the ditch in the opposite direction. I did not turn but listened for cracking branches, the animal movement of the mother charging, as I stared into the dry dead trees hoping I could climb or at least shelter in any of them. There was no crash of maternal protection. It was quiet, and the calf was gone, and the stars were still overhead. I stood in the muddy ditch, ruining a little freshwater habitat with my feet. My socks are soaked through, I finally registered. I still need to get to the pit toilet, I thought. The return trip was nerve wracking but uneventful. My shoes dried outside the tent. I watched the shadows outside the tent until I fell asleep. So! It turns out I can have plot driven and specific nightmares! The rest of the night I did not have gory, byzantine dread filled nightmares. Instead, I dreamt of one thing: a cow moose, pursuing me at all costs. Up concrete stairs, charging after high speed cars, lunging out of the woods, hooves slipping on linoleum as she emerged from elevators, head lowered and ears tucked in threat, rushing at me.

She was relentless. My brain made her relentless. These few moments of alarm and environmental context mixed with my risk assessment and subconscious made me dream a terminator moose to re-enforce that I Should Avoid Moose. A lesson I had already fully learned, but that some part of me decided needed a little reinforcement, given barrage of moose encounters I was clearly not avoiding. Avoid Moose. Thanks brain.

[arminsumi]

Scary Movie Night

G. Satoru — さとる ⋅ fem reader

🔞 mdni / nsfw / smutty

NOTE : i have no idea, i just wrote and wrote and then a 4k fic came out. i was supposed to be watching scream and totally got sidetracked with this daydream of watching a horror movie with stsg and then you and gojo just start making out when he leaves 🥴

SUMMARY — the three of you planned to watch horror movies all night, but instead you started making out with Satoru on the couch after a long tension built up between you.

WARNINGS — not proofread pls ignore errors, cheesy, spicy make out, dry humping, smutty, sexual tension, heavy flirting and teasing, something between u and Suguru 🤭, lighthearted jealousy, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, princess etc), gojo is so bratty, kinda sub!gojo stuff but he's also a bit dom??, lap straddling, Suguru walks in on you two

WORDCOUNT — 4k

🍒 — J ⋅ reblogs and comments help a lot ! enjoy reading :)

"AAA ~ !! "

And the first character of the movie dies, of course, you already knew that because Satoru so kindly spoiled it minutes earlier.

"Seriously? I could scream more convincingly than that."

"I need proof." Suguru jokes teasingly, arm draping sultrily over the couch riiight around your shoulders. He stuffs some caramelized popcorn in his mouth. How can he make even the act of eating popcorn look so sultry and attractive?

"Shut up." you shake your head and smile. "This movie's so cheesy, which one of you picked it out again?"

"Satoru."

"Hey! Cheesy isn't bad. And besides, the killer's a hottie."

You chuckle with Suguru. "So we're watching horror movies because the killer is hot?"

Satoru shrugs like it's obvious, scooting closer to you as inconspicuously as he can. But he's not smooth like Suguru; you notice the increased proximity and roll your eyes.

"Yeah, why else would you watch a horror film?" Satoru says.

Suguru responds, "Ah... maybe because you want to get scared?"

"Eh!" Satoru waves his hand dismissively.

You decide to tease him a bit just to get a reaction out of him. He's so easy to tease. "I get it. Satoru's too scared to watch something that's actually scary."

He glares at you immediately. You laugh, Suguru stifles his laugh and habitually rubs his index finger back and forth across his upper lip. (And he even manages to make that attractive.)

"I'm not scared of anything! I can watch any horror movie, no problem." Satoru boasts.

"Okay, big boy, let's put in something that's actually scary." Suguru teases.

"Ooh, how about the Grudge?" You suggest.

"Nah, too scary for me." Suguru admits.

"Can't handle a real scary movie, huh big boy?" Satoru mocks spitefully.

Suguru looks over at him and raises his brows very high. There's a tension between them, but then it breaks when Suguru decides to swap out the movies. The cheesy one is tossed, and hello the Grudge; you're nervously fidgeting and curling up in anticipation when the intro starts rolling.

"Be right back, getting refills. Satoru don't eat too many sweets you're gonna go into a sugar coma." Suguru sighs right after he says that, because the white-haired menace shovels a handful of sweets into his mouth and chews.

And he chews as loudly as possible right next to your ear. Chew chew chew.

"Satoru, I swear to god."

He giggles mischievously, stealing a sideways glance at you.

Why does she look so good tonight? This isn't fair.

The movie's starting, Suguru's trying not to make too much noise as he rifles around in the kitchen for refills. Such a sweetheart, he's refilling your drink without you even needing to ask.

Before his best friend can reassume that suggestive arm-draped-over-the-couch-but-really-over-your-shoulders position, Satoru does it; you feel the warmth and slight plush press of his toned arm against the back of your head.

Suguru doesn't think much of it and just sits back down normally. Though you do feel a bit sandwiched between them. But that's not uncommon in your friendship; they've been sandwiching you between them since highschool.

Satoru audibly swallows, but covers it up by making obnoxiously loud noises; shifting his legs, tucking them, untucking them, putting them over your lap and cheekily smiling until you scowl and push his legs off and then he pouts. He pouts so genuinely that you apologetically allow him to put his thigh over yours, just how he likes to do when the both of you are sitting side-by-side.

The movie's rolling. All three of you have your eyes glued to the screen. Satoru can feel you start to scrunch your shoulders up, so he teases (and talks during the movie, like he always does).

"You gettin' scared, princess?" he smirks. "Should I hold you — "

"SHHH!!" you and Suguru hush him in sync.

Satoru rolls his eyes and shuts up, but only for a little while. Then he pipes up again.

"Man, this isn't even scary, we should put something else in — "

"SHHH!!"

He shuts up. And then, the funniest thing happens.

Satoru starts getting scared. Suguru notices it, but you don't; and it makes him quietly smirk. He would never expose his friend like that right in front of his crush, though. So he doesn't tease and just casually watches the movie, completely immune to the horrors.

You can feel Satoru tensing up, but then as if he notices you noticing, he relaxes his muscles. Then he clears his throat loudly.

"SHHH!!"

"Sorry! Jesus I can't even clear my throat? Bleh."

"Satoru, quiet."

He pouts. Now it's silent again, except for the movie playing and the rain beginning to hit the window softly. The room is dimly lit, and the atmosphere isn't eerie but horror movies always change that.

It's raining, raining, raining, the movie is playing, the three of you are sinking into the couch, invested.

Then there's a small, sudden thunder crack and it makes Satoru jolt like a cat.

"Haha." Suguru stifles his laugh.

Satoru pokes hard at his cheek. "Shut up."

You tease, "Gettin' scared, princess?" you mimic mockingly.

"Yeah right! I can feel you trembling besides me." Satoru grumbles, unexpectedly defensive.

"Oh yeah. I'm just so terrified. Hug me, Satoru, I'm scared." you joke sarcastically. But sarcastic or not, his heart lurches.

You don't notice until you're halfway through the movie, but Satoru was the one trembling; very subtly. You can even feel the thighs of his muscle tensing up — he's still resting his leg on top of your thigh, unmoving. Why would he move? He's comforted by your body warmth. He needs that right now.

There's another thunder crack, and it makes both you and Satoru jump this time.

"Haha. Wimps." Suguru laughs, playfully mocking the both of you.

"Ah shut up!" you furrow your brows.

"Y/n, if you're scared you can cuddle m — "

" — meee, you can cuddle me, baby." Satoru interrupts Suguru, resulting in a funny side-eye moment between the two of them. Suguru shakes his head.

Satoru's scooting even closer, pressing his body against yours. Side by side. Warm. Firm and soft. Basically cuddling. You're sure you couldn't be any closer, but then Satoru manages to become even closer.

Your words echo in his head and for some reason, get him feeling hot beneath the hem of his pajama pants.

Hug me, Satoru, I'm scared.

Seriously? Did you realize how hot you were? How dare you say something like that?

He craves more intimacy with you. And he's no stranger to just randomly rearranging your body or playing with it, he's always been touchy since high school. Like a cat, he only gets physical and comfortable with calm people like you and Suguru.

So he takes his thigh off your thigh, right? And then two big hands grab your thighs, press them together and put them right over his lap.

"What the hell...?" you laugh under your breath.

"Isn't this comfier?" Satoru murmurs sensually, lips grazing your cheek.

"Augh, get a room you two. Gonna make me nauseous." Suguru grimaces.

"You're just jealous!" Satoru giggles, trying his best to not look at the TV screen.

"SHUT... up and watch the movie. Your talking is distracting me." Suguru complains.

"Ughhh, but it's so boring I don't even wanna — " he pulls up the blanket over yours and his head. " — watch it anymore. Oh hey, this is intimate, isn't it? Hehe."

"Satoru! I wanna see the movie!"

"No you don't, you're scared shitless."

Suguru's just sitting to your left, shaking his head as he listens to you two flirt under the blanket as if it magically enclosed you into a space away from the world.

"I can hear you two." he grumbles. "If you're gonna make out, at least do it quietly."

"We're not making out!" you squeal embarrassedly, even though Suguru was clearly joking. There was no sign of making out happening under that blanket.

"...yet." Satoru winks, but you miss it because it's so dark now with the blanket draped over the two of you.

You can almost feel him blinking at you. Even if it's dark and impossible to see you, Satoru will still try to; he's just always been like that, ever since you first met him. In fact, on the first day you met him, he wouldn't stop staring at you, as if he was captivated or fixated on some aspect of your face or behavior. Completely spellbound, starstruck, heart-eyed...

Suguru excuses himself to the bathroom so you two can have your little moment.

You ripple the blanket off your head to look at him as he leaves. "Bring back those pretzel snacks."

"M'kay, angel." Suguru hums.

"Thanks, my boy."

Satoru looks at you very dramatically.

"What?"

"What the hell? I'm right here! You know I'm the one who's had a crush on you all these years, not him! RIGHT SUGURU?"

There's a hesitation, then Suguru confirms from the bathroom even though he didn't hear a damn thing. He just agreed because it's his best friend asking for a confirmation.

"YUP THAT'S RIGHT."

"See! What, why are you laughing?" Satoru starts to smile because you're starting to break down into laughter.

He's facing you now. And it makes the both of you aware of just how much bigger he is, and how much smaller you are. Daddy long legs aside, he's just bigger than you; the broadness of his shoulders, the size of his hands — even his ears, which he remembers you used to tease him about in high school. He's got those cute ears that poke out a bit.

"Satoru..." you murmur against his face.

His heart pangs. "Huh?" he's so caught off guard, expecting you to lean in for a kiss. So he surreptitiously wets his lips with a swift swipe of his tongue.

"...you know, I'm sorry for always teasing you about your ears in high school. Looking at them now, they're really cute." you admit, hand coming up to caress his ear; fingers just grazing his sharp undercut.

His stomach knots up, and he goes silent, too stunned to respond. "Oh... thanks..."

You're side-eyeing the movie for a moment, and poor you; it's at just the right moment for a terrible jumpscare.

You reactively grab for Satoru's shirt and arm, squeezing tight and nearly yelping because you were caught so off-guard. Your heart is racing and so is his; but not because of the movie.

"I hate this film!" you whine into his chest, and he thinks he's in heaven right then. Is his crush really holding onto him during a scary movie? Um, hell to the yes. This is his dream. This is exactly what he wanted out of this experience, as cheesy as it is, he doesn't care that it's cheesy in fact he likes that it's cheesy.

"Tell me about it..." he huffs under his breath, and it fans your face and he can feel it come back to him. That excites him so much.

"And it's all your fault we're watching it, 'cuz you had to show off your 'manliness' or whatever! So Stupid!"

"Yeah, but, it got you in my arms, so it wasn't such a bad idea." he flirts with a slight nervous shake in his voice.

"Huh?" you look into his eyes. Ooh boy, he's holding it in. He's refraining. He's tying his hands behind his back, metaphorically; but not for long...

"What? I've got a pretty girl clinging to me 'cuz she's scared of a horror movie. And it's a rainy night. Bonus points." he smirks.

"Oh shut up... stop flirting with me or I'll — "

" — you like it, don't you? Being this close?"

You look at him in surprise. Where did that serious tone come from? It's laced with something sexual that just raises the excitement in the air between you and him. He's on edge. He has to kiss you. He's thinking about it so hard that he's sure he'll just snap at any moment.

"Y-yeah..." you admit.

You're suddenly so conscious of the closeness. The slight press of his biceps as his arms ensnare you, how you're practically sitting on top of him — when did that happen? His breath smells like the sweets he's been snacking on all night.

His breath fans your face and now he's really thinking about it as he stares at your lips.

"You sooo wanna kiss me." he cheekily teases you.

"Ew, cheesy." you cringe at him. You playfully shield yourself by putting your hand over his lips. His pretty nose peaks over the edge of your palm.

When you cover half his face like this, you realize just how striking his eyes are. Even in the dim light, they're capable of holding your whole attention. The movie is just another background noise.

"Mmf."

"What was that, loser? Can't hear what you're saying. Speak up." you tease.

"Mmf mm-hmmf-hmf? hmf hmf." it sounds like he's offended, and then he's snatching your hand away and climbing on top of you.

He's soaking up your every giggle. And underneath his playfulness, he's trying to show off his strength. Not like you notice, you're just enjoying it; being pinned under him like you're the tiniest thing on the planet to him.

Now he lifts his hips away from you, so you don't feel how hard he's getting. He can feel himself throbbing in his pajama pants. Such cute pants for the fact he's got a big cock underneath them

There's very little space to think when he's so chokingly close to you. His scent pervades your senses. His whole essence invades your space. It's just Satoru Satoru Satoru, nothing else is in your head. And for him, it's just you you you, nothing else is in his head, either.

His eyes roam up and down your body in one small moment, it excites his fantasies. Now he's wondering not just about what your lips taste and feel like, but also about what your body tastes and feels like; he knows one thing's for sure, and that's your softness. He's hugged you like he's trying to crush your bones in the past, and muttered praises about how impossibly soft your little body is in his.

"See that?" he murmurs, blurting out his thoughts without thinking, "Our bodies fit together perfectly. 'sure our lips would, too."

"Wow... where did that come from... you just gave me butterflies, Satoru." you chuckle nervously against his lips.

He's so tempted. He's right on the edge. Why's he holding back? He's forgotten by now.

"Good..." he mutters suggestively against your lips, eyes beginning to become lidded with sultriness as he leans in for a kiss.

And oh wow... that's a kiss he won't forget for the rest of his life. It's soft. He melts against you like butter in the sun. He was so right; your bodies fit together perfectly, and so do your lips.

" 'Toru..." you mumble his sweet nickname into his mouth and it nearly makes him moan, but he holds it in and kisses you like a gentle boy.

He's trying so hard to mask his horniness, but it's showing through; he's starting to shake from how bad he wants you. This kiss is enough until it's not; and then he turns up the heat. His lips glide over yours, wet sounds fill the room and the horror movie keeps playing in the background.

Kiss kiss kiss. He's kissing you like he's scared he'll never be able to after this moment, like this is the only time he'll have the courage to kiss you. And that courage and confidence falters mid-kiss, because he wonders worryingly if you crave him as badly as he craves you.

"Don't pull away... " you mutter against his saliva-wettened lips.

He breathes excitedly, eyes lighting up at your words. "Nah, if you want more kisses... 'gonna have to come get 'em." he pulls back, and you immediately miss the feeling of his torso pressing against yours.

"Teasing bitch, damn!" you complain, "Come back — kiss me more — oh you're so annoying!"

He giggles, lips feeling tingly. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it all over his chest and cheeks. And those poor cheeks. He hasn't blushed this boyishly since the last time you gave him a kiss on the forehead.

"Come get your kisses ~ " he teases, beckoning you with his finger. Oh you hate when his confidence swells so suddenly like this, he becomes a menace. Well... 'hate'. You love it. He knows it. That's why he does it.

"Don't wink at me, you freak..." you crawl on top of his lap, and he didn't expect that even though he should have.

So now your face drops in surprise and amusement. "Oh... oh. Getting a lil' excited, big boy?"

A noise comes out of him, his face stuck with this embarrassed smiling expression. "Uh... uhah. Haha. A little bit? Shit don't blame me, you're fucking hot."

"Mmm, am I?" you lean close, lips grazing across his lips, eyes staring into his eyes. He feels electrified.

"Wow... uh..."

"Speechless, 'Toru? That's so unlike you." you tease him in such a low voice that he leaks a little precum. And you can feel it.

"W-wow... what... no... I'm not... holy shit... haha..." and then he laughs it off, nervously placing his hands on your hips. "D-don't straddle me like this, you'll make it worse."

"I'll make what worse?" you tease dirtily.

You give him so many butterflies right then that he starts feeling a bit lightheaded.

"My... uh... nothing..."

"...your? Continue. What were you gonna say? Now you've got my attention and we're all alone..." you keep teasing and it keeps making his heart flutter.

Wow. Call me lucky. She's straddling my fucking lap and teasing me? Am I dreaming?

"Wow... you're so speechless." you chuckle.

"Fuck off... what d'you expect... you're the one sitting on my dick..."

"... oh, sorry." you mutter a teasing apology and begin to move away, but his hands grip tightly and refuse to let you go.

"Stay."

"Ooh, now you're dom? Really thought you were sub for a second there." you cheek.

"Cheeky bitch..." he mutters before crashing his lips haphazardly against yours.

And surprisingly, the second kiss feels better than the first. It's electric. Your bodies are on fire and all the two of you are really thinking about is taking this to the bedroom.

Subconsciously grinding on his lap, feeling the outline of his cock, even feeling the wetness a bit as his tip digs between your thighs. You're starting to feel lightheaded now, too, with how he's kissing you.

"Trynna... t-turn me on or something...?" you giggle into his mouth.

His big hands come to cup your cheeks, trusting that those hips won't attempt to move off his lap again.

"... yeah..." he breaths heavily, looking at you so deeply that you feel like he's staring into your soul.

The moment is so hot and steamy that you feel like there's visible heat clouds hanging over the two of you. But then the moment is interrupted —

"Are you guys done making out — OH HAHA WERE YOU ACTUALLY MAKING OUT? I was just kidding — WHAT THE FUCK WHY ARE YOU GUYS ON TOP OF EACH OTHER! THIS IS HORROR FILM NIGHT NOT PORN NIGHT!" Suguru starts laughing, clutching his stomach.

"Party pooper!" Satoru frowns over at him from underneath you. You're mortified and laughing like a seal, slowly getting off Satoru's lap which makes him whine.

"What the hell! That's funny, were you two seriously fucking in front of a horror movie. Satoru, that's not classy at all."

"Shut! Up!" You throw a pillow at him, and he comes over to throw a snack packet at you, cheekily smiling. "We were not fucking!"

"Sooo... just dry humping?" Suguru teases.

"SHUT UP!" you and Satoru yell in unison, both completely embarrassed. Suguru laughs so hard that his cheeks hurt.

"And anyways, take this damn movie out, it's creepy! I'm not gonna sleep tonight..."

"...aw, big baby's scared of horror films after all. I knew you were bluffing. Y/n, will you sleep with my best friend tonight? I think otherwise he'll be sucking his thumb and not getting any rest."

"Oh you're sooo dead, come here." Satoru glares playfully at him and climbs over you to get to Suguru.

And the boys start playfighting, and you shake your head and get up to take the movie out yourself.

"I'm getting my own apartment one day, I swear. Living with you two is a nightm-AAAAHH!!' you whine, seeing the creepiest thing yet on the TV.

They laugh at you together, and it reminds you of high school so much at you feel a wave of nostalgia.

"No more scary movies!" you declare. "Never again!"

"Aw, but they brought you and Satoru closer together. I think next time you guys are too shy to kiss or fuck, just put in a horror film and it'll get the atmosphere right."

"Suguru, be careful what you say. Remember you don't pay rent."

Satoru cackles. "That's right!"

"Wow, what the hell... I'm never letting you borrow another hoodie." he retorts, purposefully bringing up the hoodie thing just to catch you and Satoru off-guard.

"WHAT! You what?! What??" Satoru is in between being playfully jealous and genuinely jealous.

"Suguru!" you cover your face out of embarrassment. You feel lightheaded from all the butterflies that the both of them cause in you.

"I didn't say anything." Suguru acts nonchalant, tearing into the snacks that were supposed to be for you.

"You! Gave her! Your hoodies!? This isn't gonna be a polyamorous thing, I'm possessive you know that!" Satoru's playfully battering his friend and his friend isn't reacting to it, which makes it all the more amusing. He's just languidly chewing on snacks.

"She asked for them." Suguru exposes.

Satoru stops and looks at you like he's been betrayed.

"Suguru!" You squeal, "Nono, Satoru he's lying — "

"YOU CAN HAVE MY HOODIES, WHY WOULD YOU WANT HIS!!" Satoru's getting louder and funnier by the minute.

"I'm sorry I didn't know I could ask for your hoodies." you blabber.

Suguru's watching you and Satoru like you're a comedy show, dusting the sugar coating of the candy off on his pajama pants.

"Of course you can have my fucking hoodies you idiot! I'll give you this one right now, damn it!" Satoru says.

"STOP TAKING YOUR SHIRT OFF — " you cover your eyes.

Suguru laughs, "As if you weren't planning to take it off earlier?"

"Exactly! Here, take it." a shirtless Satoru is shoving his red hoodie onto you.

"You two are ridiculous. I'm going to bed."

"TAKE MY HOODIE."

"NO."

"SO YOU'LL RUB YOUR COOCHIE ON ME BUT NOT WEAR MY HOODIE?"

"HAHAHA WHAT?"

"SATORU!! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!!"

Suguru's caving in with laughter after Satoru says that. His laughs always become soundless after a while, it's the cutest thing. His whole face is stressed into amusement.

"You love me!" Satoru's darting behind the couch for protection.

"You're so dead!"

"You're turning me on with this serial killer role you're playing right now!"

"GOJO SATORU!"

Suguru looks at Satoru, "Oh no, sh-she government named you, boy. Better run." he speaks through his laughter.

"I haven't done anything!"

"YOU SHIRTLESS FREAK, YOU EMBARRASSED ME IN FRONT OF THE ONE PERSON I WANNA BE COOL IN FRONT OF!"

"Aw." Suguru blushes for you a bit, "Cute."

Satoru stops, looks between you two, and gets riled up again. "What the hell!"

"I didn't mean it like that!"

And it goes on and on like that, until the three of you are too tired to keep laughing; and you're collapsing tiredly on the bed with Satoru after chasing him there. He said a lot of embarrassing things, but you got him back for each one.

You catch your breaths, and Satoru looks over at you, suggestively wiggling his brows.

"You scared from the movie? Need a big strong man to hug you 'n kiss you?"

"Satoru, kindly shut the fuck up."

"Wow, is Nanami rubbing off on you? You sound like him."

"You're a menace."

"My dick's a menace, too."

"Hahah, yeah right."

"I'm serious!"

You giggle, looking at him enticingly, "Then, wanna prove it to me?" you say just barely above a whisper.

Satoru's face gets hot, and what do you know he's already got a tent forming in his pajama pants.

"Yeah... come here. I'll show you."

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[heetos]

𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲?

▌│█║▌║▌║▌│█║

pairing - best friend!sunghoon x afab!reader

wc - 1.4k

synopsis - going out to parties with your mate sunghoon meant you're gonna have the time of your life, but you didn't expect him to show up in the shirt you'd bought for him to be enough to flip your switch.

tw - themes of jealousy, making out, oral (m. receiving), curses, nicknames, lmk if i missed something !

a/n - hiiie ! first work im kinda nervous eekkk. i feel like there's a lot more story than smut idk ? it's literally 4 am i haven't proofread cause im getting dizzy lmaoo. but hopefully you guys like it ! do lmk plss <3

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

denying you're in love with your best friend has almost become habitual to you. you don't want to ruin your friendship with him, really, but you just can't help it when he wears those sleeveless tops with his arms out. his fashion sense always stood out to you, the way every piece of clothing would wrap around his perfect body made your attraction towards him get deeper. he wasn't just a hot piece of ass, he was genuinely the sweetest guy someone could ask for. you thought you could control your obsession, but when those girls would eye your guy, you'd lose it.

going to parties was always fun for you guys, you guys would talk until some girls huddle around him and make you blurred. you'd get wasted out of your mind, and he'd drive you home. that's your idea of fun. what you never noticed was sunghoon always pushing all the girls aside to find you in the crowd.

tonight would be no different, you'd have to mask your flustered face around him once again, or so you thought.

you arrived at the party a few minutes before him. you sat at near the kitchen talking to your other friends when you felt his presence next to you. you turn your head around, only to see him wearing the shirt you had bought for him. your mouth went agape seeing him effortlessly look stunning under the flashing lights.

"something wrong?" he asks, running his hand through his hair.

"no... uh- uhm- nothing's wrong you look nice i guess.." you look away to the side mentally slapping yourself for losing it.

"you guess? i literally wore this shirt for you im gonna kill you" his eyes trail your face as he lightly slaps your shoulder.

"yeah park i get it, i said you look nice, be happy" you barely let out, processing him wearing it for you.

a group of girls walk upto him, as always, you knew the drill, your time with him was over now.

"hey sunghoon! i love your shirt, it's so sexy! where did you get it?" they blush and laugh right in his face.

sunghoon unexpectedly wraps his arm around your waist. "y/n got it for me. it looks so good right?"

the smile on those girls disappear as they compliment him and drift into the crowd.

you on the other hand, prayed to god he couldn't hear your heartbeat. such a sudden action made you lose your mind. you turn towards him staring at him laugh at the crowd. "what was that for?" you poke him slightly.

"ouch man, excuse me for showing me what my girl got me" he smirks as he looks into your lovesick eyes.

"stop that shut up!" you nudge his shoulder getting up to take a drink.

he instantly puts his arm around your wrist, pulling you back down. "no getting drunk tonight, im not carrying your ass to your 3rd floor room again bro"

you tsked and landed on his lap, eyes widening as your dress rides up higher.

you got upto move but his hands secured around your waist. "isn't this fun?" he whispers in your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine.

you slap his hand away and get up, now matter now badly you wanted to grind on his lap.

he watches you get up with a pout on his lips. "damn you kinda made me hard there" he smirks and runs his fingers through his hair.

heat rushes to your face at that, mind processing all this is real. "huh? made you hard?"

"yeah, well, you make me go crazy all the time. remember that the guy who disappeared right after he asked for your number?"

"holy shit no way" you gasp processing he actually did that.

"like you're driving me crazy right now" his hand trails up your thigh, your breath hitching at his delicate hands touching your sensitive thighs.

you look up and stare into his eyes, the most beautiful eyes you've seen. you gulp, cupping his face pressing a deep kiss to his soft lips.

sunghoon's eyes widen in suprise as he feels your lip gloss coating his lips. his heart races as he kisses you back eagerly.

actions speak more than words seems to have come to life as you both pour your feelings into the kiss.

as the kiss heats up, his hand grips your waist while his tongue prods at your lower lip. you quickly open your lips allowing him to suck your tongue.

your cherry lipstick and lipgloss coat his skin as he puts his hand on yours and trails it to his crotch. you gasp into his mouth feeling him grow under your palm.

he smiles into the kiss, feeling you gasp as you make contact with his clothed dick. he groans softly into your mouth as he pulls away watching you fix your lipstick. "you're so fucking beautiful"

you smile at him admiring his face full of smudges and kisses from your lips. you get up as he watches your tiny hand pull him into a room.

as you guys enter the room, sunghoon locks the door as you quickly tip toe and latch your lips onto his, not wanting to break the kiss for a moment. he smiles into the kiss as you both topple onto the bed.

after making out once again, you pull off breathless, as you watch him caresses your thighs.

"can i blow you?" you let out watching him turn into a mess.

sunghoon's breath hitches as he looks into your eyes watching you get onto your knees under him. "fuck yes" groans, his hand finding your hair. gently guiding your head between his legs.

you pull down his pants, teasingly palming him over his boxers. watching his annoyed look, you pull his boxers down and lick a bold stripe on his tip.

"ah..fuck" sunghoon bites his lip, his hips jerking up off the bed feeling your warm mouth come in contact with his dick.

you spit on his cock as precum dribbles out of his silt, you've wanted to do this for so long, and now you know he wanted it too. you take your hands and wrap it around his cock as you spread his precum all over his dick. feeling him shudder, you take his tip inside your mouth as you keep licking his silt. you fully take him in your mouth as you begin to bob your head up and down.

"fuck baby, that feels so good" sunghoon pants, gripping your hair tightly. "keep doing that.. f-fuck you're so good" he gasps as he feels you take him deeper, his hips bucking up against your mouth.

looking at his reactions, you moan around his length sending a deep vibration to his throbbing cock.

"fuck !" sunghoon moans loudly, his hips thrusting forward as he feels you vibrate his dick and take it him in your throat. his heart pounds in his chest as he feels the pleasure build up inside him. 'k-keep.. fucking. doing that.." he moans at you looking up at him with doe eyes.

you hollow your cheeks, bobbing your head faster as you feel his grip on your hair tighten. wanting to see him cum, you trail your hands down to play with his sensitive balls.

"oh fuck fuck fuck fuck !" he groans, his moments becoming jerky as he loses control.

you pull off feeling him become a mess under you and put his balls in your mouth. you begin to suck them as you stroke him faster.

"fuck !" sunghoon cries out, his fingers digging into the sheets. he gasps, his hips jerking forward as he feels you suck on his balls. "ffuck.. 'm so close.." he says as he feels his orgasm building up inside him.

you speed up your actions, sucking him messily, feeling his balls tighten in your mouth, his tip turns deep red aching to climax.

"ah...! oh god ! " he moans feeling his body tense up in the pleasure. 'fuck...just like that... don't stop!. he grips your hair tightly urging you to not stop. " 'm g-gonna cum..fuckkk !"

with a final cry of your name, sunghoon moans loudly as his cock throbs and releases ropes of hot cum on your tits. he groans, body shuddering with the intense pleasure.

"fuck.." he breathes out, "that was amazing..." his chest heaving as he watches you trying to catch your breath. "you okay love?, you're really fucking good at this"

"you're so damn hot like that" you say as you smile at him, happy to have him this way for you. you get up and press a small kiss to his lips.

"so beautiful babe" he admires your chest spoiled with his cum. "thank you for finally breaking your shell"

"hey! shut up or no head now" you pout at him before decorating his face with kisses again.

he smirks at your actions. "you must be soaking rn"

"you think park?"

end.

[lundenloves]

Dad!Simon reacting to his oldest daughter having a small crush on a boy at school! Overprotective dad!simon having to be scary (ofc not towards his lil family) but in private with Wife!Reader he’s emotional because his little girl is growing up 😭😭 fluff mix with tiny angst

Thx! Love ya Dad Simon series 🖤

dad!simon masterlist | taglist

ANON! This mf would get migraines over the idea of his sweet little baby girl and a boy. I’ve had quite a few asks about this, all along the same lines (crush, boyfriend etc) so just decided to make one of all of them. Unless someone wants something dead specific, shout me!

Everyone grab your binoculars as we observe from a safe distance.

He almost choked on his drink, dropping the glass to the counter with a cringe inducing clink. One that echoed around the now silent kitchen as his eyes caught onto his wife’s. “A what?”

His eldest daughter threw her arms in the air in battle of her mother. “Why would you even say anything to him, oh my god.” She groaned frustratedly, attempting to storm away but cut short when Simon had cleared his throat.

“Why didn’t you tell me.” He leant his palm on the kitchen counter, looking down at the girl who was slowly growing to look like her mother instead of him. “What’s his name?”

“Because you’re like this.” She gestured to him, whining a sigh and turning to her mother. “Tell him, mum. He always gets involved.”

Simon laughed, balling his hand into a fist and habitually hitting down on the counter with his movement. “I’m only asking, love.” His arms then crossed over his chest, feet a length apart from another. “What age is he?”

“See!” She shot a hand toward him, widening her eyes at you. “He can’t help it.”

“Well, I need to know what—“

“Simon.” You held a hand out to silence him, a slight tilt of your head telling him to let go. “Invite him for dinner, darling.” The warmth in your voice made Simon itch from the other side of the counter, a half-hearted glare piercing into you over what you had just asked.

“No.”

“Why?” You knew exactly why.

“Because dad will just fu- interrogate him.” She left the room, walking down the hall as she continued, “Which he doesn’t even get to do. He’s never here anyway!” Her words were spat out and Simon tsked, turning back to you when she had stomped up the stairs.

“He’s her age.” You said quietly.

“You knew?” He whisper-shouted as you took a step toward him.

“Of course I knew.” He humphed when you had wrapped your arms around him, humming into his chest. “That’s what mothers are for.” A long sigh left him at that, pulling back from you and rubbing a hand through his hair and down his face visibly stressed.

“I need a cigarette.”

“It was always going to happen, Simon.” You smiled, following him outside and nudging his shoulder playfully. “Leave her be. What’s the worst that could happen?”

He eyed you through a sideward glance.

“She’s not going to get pregnant.”

“If she’s with a little rat—“

“Stop.”

He lit his cigarette, taking a long inhale before shrugging. “That kid is not stepping one foot into this house.” The smoke escaped his mouth with each word, creating a momentary cloud around him. “Not when i’m here.”

“She’s growing up.”

“Too fast.” Simon shook his head with another long drag, the two of them stood in silence.

Being a father to a teenage girl was a new era of problems. Ones he was yet to even learn about never-mind tackle, and this was apparently one of them. The boyfriend dilemma. He was not immune to the dad feelings, resulting in many a phone call to Johnny who somehow knew everything. The man didn’t even have a family.

“Just invite the kid, see what happens. He’s hardly going to pull out an M9.”

“I’m not having him ‘round.”

“She can go to his then.”

“No she fucking can’t.”

In result, he was invited over. On one condition with his daughter, so was uncle Johnny.

Him and Simon were stood in the kitchen when the scrawny kid walked in. You had convinced your husband that holding his knife wasn’t a great idea, twirling it around his fingers before forcefully sticking it into the chopping board.

“Alright, son.” Johnny slapped a hand onto the kids back, ultimately welcoming him but also shoving him toward Simon.

“Sorry. That’s my uncle.” His daughter would point with her eyes, steering him away from her dad and to the seat furthest away. Many a death-stare had been shot across the table toward her father, all returned of course if it wasn’t for you stomping on Simon’s foot underneath it.

It was a mess, to say the least. Bar Johnny’s flamboyant stories that kept at least a drop of fun.

this was supposed to be a lot shorter but LMAOO you can’t convince me ghost wouldn’t recruit soap in this whole thing. THIS is canon. so many thoughts, such little brain.

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @freakonfilm @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @abbugaduu @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog

if you weren’t tagged i couldn’t get your blog!

[grapementos]

ugly truth

pt 2 of this. pt 3 here.

aged up bakugo x reader

cw: descriptions of a panic attack, hospitals

a month had passed since you walked out on katsuki, walked out on your life, your home--everything you knew.

a number of your friends, along with plenty of katsuki's (who were mutual friends at this point), had reached out to you, offering a place to stay.

mina, kirishima, denki, and sero in particular were constantly checking on you and shooting you texts in case you needed to talk.

you knew they meant well, for they were bakugo's closest friends and knew how mean he could be. occasionally, you spent a night with them, the five of you coming together to watch a movie or play a game.

however, you knew they talked to bakugo too, so you remained cautious and never overshared--especially to kirishima. he was bakugo's right hand, his best friend since u.a.

there was no way you were going to show any semblance of missing bakugo, not around him.

once you found your own place, you'd distanced yourself from them, avoiding overstaying your welcome.

after they helped you move into your apartment and yet again reminded you, "if you need anything, we're here! really, anything at all!" you settled into your new space, suddenly feeling so alone.

for the first time in what felt like eternity, there was pure silence.

and then there wasn't.

the loudness, the static in your mind overpowered everything, several emotions washing over you like tidal waves. each wave was bigger than the last, merciless as it dragged you under, filling your nose and lungs with doubt, regret, sadness, anger.

"fuck," you whispered, pulling a pillow to your chest, "fuck."

you sobbed into the pillow, draining yourself of every ounce of strength and independence you thought you had.

you and bakugo had been together for three years--three years that you spent falling asleep, knowing you'd wake up to his face in the morning, three years of cooking meals large enough for two people, three years of habitually closing the shower curtain after your shower because it irked him when it was left open, three years of keeping the sodas on the left side of the fridge and water on the right.

three years. how can you unlearn three years worth of habits? let go of three years worth of comfort?

i can't do this, i can't. i can't be alone.

your subconscious was destroying you, and you hated that you felt like it was right. how could you survive alone?

your chest tightened, and the room spun and spun as the oxygen left your lungs too quick, overworking your circulatory and respiratory system.

"i need him-" you choked out, grasping desperately at nothing, nothing that could help you ground yourself.

a wave of dread rolled through you, sending your body into complete and total panic. just as you moved to stand, to grab your phone and call whoever, you felt a sense of airiness before your body tapped out, sending you straight back down to the floor.

-

"yeah, they're okay." a pause, "no, i just found them like this. i didn't know what else to do."

you groaned quietly, slowly blinking your eyes open to a stark, off-white ceiling. the blinding light made you regret it immediately, not to mention the pounding headache, swollen eyes, and nasty-feeling skin.

"y/n? you awake?" you recognized mina's voice from right beside you.

"yeah, god," you mumbled, hesitantly cracking an eye open, "hospital?"

"yeah. sorry, i just.." she trailed off, looking down at her shoes, "i found a pair of shoes you left at my place and wanted to give them back. then i found you just.. out cold."

you scrunched your eyes as you tried to remember anything before the onyx pit you were dropped into but thinking just hurt your head more.

"kirishima's on his way. he's super worried, you know." she chuckled, grabbing your hand, "he hates hospitals."

you squeezed her hand, finally managing to open your eyes fully, "me too. they stink."

she laughed, scooting her chair closer to your bed, "do you remember what happened?"

you tried to concentrate, pondering what you were doing. obviously, you had just moved in and..

"oh." you sighed, suddenly feeling stupid. of course, you'd been crying like the damn baby katsuki said you were, "i think i was just anxious. you know, new place and all."

"you could've stayed living with me, you know. i don't mind your company at all."

you shook your head, "i have to," your voice cracked a little, but you hid it with a cough, "i have to move past this. get on with my life."

"but there's no rush, y/n, you know--"

"where are they?" your body stiffened at the voice echoing off the linoleum and into your ears, triggering the code red alarm inside your head.

suddenly, the door slammed open and in walked a terrified looking katsuki and a guilty kirishima.

you scooted yourself back into the plastic barrier of the bed, clenching the bars, "what the hell is he doing here?"

"y/n, are you okay? what happened?" katsuki approached the bed, inspecting you for any injuries.

"get the hell away from me!" you winced at the pull on the iv in your arm as you moved impossibly farther away from him.

the heart monitor beside you was picking up, your blood pressure climbing higher and higher the closer he got.

mina stepped between the two of you before he could say anything, "kiri, what the hell? why would you bring him?"

"you were on speaker in my car when you told me, and we were together!" he explained frantically, "he didn't listen to me."

she shook her head, pushing katsuki towards the door, "you shouldn't be here. they don't wanna see you."

he looked past her, pleading at you with his eyes, "please, y/n, i'm so sorry, okay? i need you, okay? i need you, and i need to know that you're okay."

"y/n?" mina looked back at you, silently asking what she should do.

"i don't want to see him." you looked away, unable to look in his eyes for fear of falling victim to their lure.

without hesitation, mina ushered him to the exit despite his protests, almost getting him completely out when there was a thud on the linoleum.

katsuki was on his knees, his arm outstretched above his head as he clutched something in his fist.

for a moment, you expected him to set off an explosion or anything of the crazy sort.

you flinched as he opened his fist, fully expecting to be blown to bits.

instead, the fluorescent lights bounced off the shine of what you were 101% sure was an engagement band.

the other two in the room gasped, kirishima releasing his quirk that had instinctively taken over the front of his body.

"i was gonna ask you," he choked out, "before i quit the agency. but then everything went south and, and i--i just, i lost sight, y/n, and i'm so sorry. i'll be better, i swear it."

your hand covered your mouth, though you were speechless anyways. instinctively, you felt anger. how could he do this to you? here? now? after you'd wound up in the hospital because of him?

"how dare you," you spat, tears welling up in your eyes, "how dare you do this to me? do you enjoy hurting me, huh? tearing me apart just to build me back up again? do you get off on that--that glory?"

he was crying too, his eyes pleading, "i don't wanna hurt you. i'll go to therapy, i'll change, i swear. whatever you want me to do, i'll do it right now."

you swallowed hard around the ball in your throat, "leave. leave me alone and stay the hell out of my life."

hospital staff came flooding into the room before katsuki could respond, ushering the three of them out, "i'm sorry, this hospital has low tolerance for commotion like this. security will see you out."

you had never been more grateful that you were in a hospital, relief flooding your body as you turned onto your side, letting the tears run down your cheeks.

it wasn't fair. he knocked you about a hundred tiny steps back, considering you'd only taken a hundred tiny steps in the past month. your heart was throbbing, and a large part of you couldn't help but question your decision.

what if he really would change, get better? he was the love of your life. no one had ever loved you better.

extremely stressed, you found yourself questioning whether you'd made the right decision.

wow, i was super surprised by the amount of support. it was meant to be a standalone, but now i’m pretty sure there will be a 3rd part. thank you so much for the support! 🩷

tags: @blackout-ice-biohazard @survivorofmath @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @odessa-is-my-queen @firesmokeandashes @tsukikoxo @valentineshiftz

[talaok]

I love your writing! And because of that, I thought of something that I would like you to create for us, the reader and Pedro are dating. they have been separated for a few months due to recording some of Pedro's projects, in the middle of these recordings he gave some interviews and in one of them the interviewer flirted with him, and he kindly(?) and habitually flirted back, the reader is now leaving the airport and arriving at the hotel where they would meet and her cell phone keeps beeping with fans (and nasty people) who are tagging her in the flirty part of the interview... she arrives at the hotel and confronts him, this is a little anguish? I leave the ending in your hands, thank you for your incredible stories!

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

a/n: thank you for reading them, babe!💗💗

"hi sweetheart" he smiled, as soon as you opened the door, wrapping his arms around you "I've missed you so much"

You had to take a deep breath to not tell him to fuck off right there and then.

Look at him, acting so sweet and kind while your phone was blowing up with clips of him flirting with another woman.

The perfect fucking boyfriend no?

"Hi daddy" and although the word would have usually sounded hot and sexy, you made sure it was traced with as much annoyance as possible.

"Uhm... ok?" he frowned, leaning away.

"What? You seemed to like it so much when Lidia said it" You shrugged, walking in and dropping your baggage at the door "You don't like it as much when it's your girlfriend saying it?"

He closed the door and leaned his back on it as he tried to understand what was going on.

Everything was fine when he talked to you this morning, what could have changed in only a few hours?

"I'm- I'm sorry, who's Lidia?"

You shot him a look, looking just as done as you were feeling.

"Don't play dumb Pedro, you know very well who she is"

He looked around the room as if a clue on what to say would just appear any minute.

"sugar, what are you talking about?"

"oh my god," you sighed "the interviewer, Pedro!"

"the interviewer? What interviewer?"

"You gotta be kidding me" you exhaled, pinching the bridge of your nose "The one you spent a full ten minutes flirting with yesterday!"

And at that, his eyes widened in realization and puzzlement combined.

"Flirting? I wasn't flirting" he said, walking toward you 

"No? So you go around calling mama every woman you see?" you asked, "You tell every woman they're beautiful and that their dress looks really good on them? Is that it?"

"No baby, but-"

"but what?" you cut him off "How would you feel if I did that? If I flirted with the men who interview me huh?"

"That's different I-"

"Oh fuck off" you muttered, turning away from him. You couldn't stand the sight of him anymore.

"Baby, it's part of the job!" he burst 

Your hands curled into fists at your sides as you turned back around.

"Flirting is part of the job!?"

"No- you know what I mean, I have this whole persona online, and I..." he sighed not really knowing what to say

"That's not a good enough excuse" you spoke "Just 'cause people expect certain things from you doesn't mean you should do them. I told you I was fine with the whole daddy thing, but now you go around calling people mama? that's a bit much, don't you think?" you said "And I don't know... I didn't like how you were talking and looking at her, it didn't make me feel good ok?"

He swallowed, taking in your words "Ok, I-I'm sorry, really, but I was just being polite, it didn't mean anything"

You only needed to shoot him a look to make him rethink his choice of words.

"No, you're right." he cleared his throat "I went too far, I-I won't do it again, I promise" he spoke more softly now, as one of his hands reached your cheek to stroke it "I'm sorry baby, please forgive me"

You looked up at him, biting the inside of your cheek as you decided what to do.

"It didn't mean anything?" you asked

"No, of course not baby, I love you, I only have eyes for you, you know that"

"I know..." you bit your bottom lip "It's just that she... well she was really pretty"

A soft smile pulled at his lips 

"And you're the most beautiful woman in the universe" he promised, "so what?"

A shy blush crept up your cheeks as your lips involuntarily twitched into a smile.

"Ok" you nodded, as his other hand settled onto your waist

"Ok?" he smiled, hopeful "You're not mad anymore?"

"nope" you shook your head

A smile from ear to ear spread on his lips

"oh thank god" he breathed "'cause I've missed kissing you so fucking much, sweetheart"

[tkaulitzlvr]

OUT OF LOVE - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: once tom realises how much your relationship has lost the love within it because of the distance he has put between you both, it’s his job to make it up to you.

content: angst to smut.

lately, tom and i's relationship has hit a bump in the road. each conversation lit an already short fuse within the both of us, the smallest of words capable of creating an unnecessary yet very real dispute that would leave us silent for hours, and in the worst of cases not talking for days. but it wasn't just the things we said, it was whatever we didn't say, too. physical touch was usually a huge part of our relationship, but now, i couldn't remember the last time that i had properly kissed him. it had gotten to the point where we slept on different sides of the bed, refusing to lay in eachother's embrace as we usually would.

as each day dragged on, feeling like tom and i were moving further away from eachother, i failed to even remember how we ended up this way in the first place. we had a perfect relationship, filled with love and trust, those the foundation of what made us, us. everyone knew that we loved eachother, we were the 'it couple'. whilst we had small disputes just as every couple did, it had never reached this point - yet it showed no sign of stopping.

which is why it brought me no surprise that tom had already become irritated from my single question, asking him where he'd been after returning home late yet again, this becoming a habitual occurrence since the beginning of whatever our distance could be called.

"look, i was just out, okay? what is this a fucking interrogation?" tom fires out, frustration laced in his tone as he throws his keys on the table.

"im sorry for worrying about my boyfriend! i just wont give a shit next time, yeah?" i shoot back, confused on why he acts this way every time i start a simple conversation.

"yeah that'd be great, thanks." he mumbles sarcastically, scoffing and sinking into the sofa, flicking through the channels on the tv displayed infront of him.

"are you fucking kidding me tom?" i utter out, in complete disbelief of his childishness.

despite the clear anger in my voice, he stays silent, shaking his head slightly and continuing to look through the channels on the tv, this only fuelling my anger.

"can you listen to me for fucks sake?" my voice begins to raise as my patience is slowly wearing thin. i walk over to the tv, blocking his view and forcing him to look up at me, his eyes cold, an unrecognisable glare within them in place of the usual love that emits from them whenever our gazes meet. 

"what?" he sighs, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and pointer finger.

"i'd appreciate it if you fucking listened to me, just for one second! i'm tired of sitting here alone, every night, wondering where the fuck you are because you're my boyfriend but i know nothing about you! i never get a text, a call, nothing! instead you come home at god knows what time, and act as if i don't exist. fuck tom, you won't even cuddle me in bed anymore." my voice begins to trail off, tears beginning to cloud my vision, my tongue instinctively hitting the roof of my mouth to stop them from falling.

he stays silent, breaking his eyes away from mine and staring into his lap, his fingers playing with the material of his jeans.

"do you even love me anymore?" i ask, genuinely questioning if he feels the same way he did when we first met, the man that fell in love with me no longer in front of me.

"what? of course i fucking love you. what kind of question is that?" his head shoots upwards, his eyebrows threading together as if i have asked the most ridiculous question, though it was one nagging on my mind.

"really? it doesn't seem like it." i reply, shaking my head and biting my lip, the tears now spilling beyond my control.

"i'm going to bed." i mumble, not waiting for a response from tom as i head for our shared bedroom. the sheets feel cold as i allow them to envelop me, the warmth that i would feel from tom's embrace lost, leaving me empty. it is impossible to fall asleep, my body laid on its side facing away from the door and staring motionless at the wall, longing to be in his arms, safe and content, free of the gut-wrenching realisation that our relationship is not the same as it was.

the door slowly creaks open after a while, my eyes quickly flicking shut as i pretend to be asleep, not keen on the idea of speaking to tom, not whilst his mind is acting so irrationally, mine sensitive enough that any argument would break down my already crumbling walls. i hear the bed dip beside me, tom laying flat on his back, whilst i stay put, not daring to look at him, instead keeping my back to him. the distance between us speaks volumes, tension reaching an all time high.

after a few minutes, the bed creaks, indicating that tom is moving from his initial position. as he has done for the past nights, i expect him to shuffle to the edge of the bed, increasing our already far proximity and confirming the fact that he cannot bare the thought of being near me.

however, much to my disbelief, i feel an arm droop around my waist from behind, tom's hand gently touching my stomach as he tests the waters, clearly thinking that i am deep in sleep. deciding to stay still, my eyes remain closed, accepting this small act of affection, for it is all i have experienced in the past weeks. but, to my surprise, he doesn't stop there.

he moves closer, his chest now flush against my back, pulling me tighter into him as i feel his uncertain breathing against the nape of my neck. my breath instinctively hitches at his unexpected actions, alerting him of my consciousness.

"baby?" he whispers into the dark room, not moving as he awaits my response.

"hm?" i mutter, unsure of what to say, not intending to reveal the fact that i was in fact awake, my cover completely blown as i lay, small and vulnerable, beside him, his body against me for the first time in forever. the uncertainty of what his response will be creates a sickly feeling in my chest. he could want to fight, to let out the last of his anger from our unfinished argument. or, he could want to fix things, to be the boyfriend he used to be. and right now, my mind was going with the first option, assuming the worst and bracing myself for more of his harsh words.

"we need to talk." he speaks, his breath fanning against my neck with each word.

i knew that he was right, my heart aching slightly as the possibility of resolving whatever the fuck we have become finally starts to feel real, not just something that i have longed for.

refusing to face him, i slowly nod my head, awaiting his response, the sound of our steady breathing the only thing to be heard in the silent room.

"i'm so sorry baby." he speaks, slowly and sincerely, his hand that is draped over my stomach beginning to slowly caress the bare skin there, comforting me in the best way. tears begin to silently roll down my cheeks as i struggle to find the right words to say.

he takes my silence as a chance to continue. "what happened to us my love, hm?" he begins, sighing slowly and increasing his hold on me, the pet name causing my heart to swell, making me realise how much i truly missed his affection, wether it be verbal or physical - i just craved him.

short sniffles emit from my mouth, giving away my weakness faster than i would have preferred. tom quickly picks up on this, finally turning me to face him, our eyes meeting, his immediately softening once he takes in my state - eyes bloodshot, tears staining my cheeks, mouth curved into a frown.

"oh baby..." he trails off, taking his hand and beginning to wipe my tears away one by one, the other gently stroking my hair. i melt into his touch, allowing him to comfort me silently. "i can't carry on like this, i just- i need to be with you again, not just in a relationship with you, i want to actually feel close to you again."

he pours his heart out, all whilst wiping any loose tears that fell from my eyes, which never left his, the love in them beginning to flood back as i can slowly recognise the man i fell in love with.

"do you really think that i don't love you anymore?" he asks, guilt evident in his tone as he feels nothing but anger for making me doubt how he felt about me.

i try to find the right words, swallowing nervously. "you didn't want to be anywhere near me tom. i can't even remember the last time you told me that you loved me." uttering those words made me realise how bad things had really gotten. tom would tell me he loved me at every chance he got, never failing to remind me of how he felt. but looking back, those three words felt so foreign that my mind couldn't even remember when he had last uttered them. and the realisation hit him just as hard as it did me.

"oh meine liebe...i'm so sorry." he starts, now slowly kissing away each tear that stained my tinted cheeks, holding my face gently in his hands. "i love you. i love you so so much. never ever forget that, okay?"

i nod my head, swallowing the lump in my throat away. "i love you too."

a slight smile appears on his face, my hand reaching to his head as i pull it closer, playing with the loose braids there. tom takes advantage of our nearing proximity, grabbing my face and gently connecting his lips with mine. for the first time in days, our lips touched, immediately moulding together as if they had never been apart. he smiles into the kiss, moving his hands to my lower back, pulling me closer to him and embracing me, our lips never parting. the desire, the passion in which our lips collided reaffirming our love without the need for words, my body and soul slips further into his touch, reminding me just how much i missed intimate moments like this with him.

he slowly pulls away for air, his lips, now pink and swollen, flush against mine, foreheads touching. "i promise baby, that i'll never give up on us, no matter how hard it gets. i'll never stop loving you, ever."

deciding that actions speak louder than words, i reconnect our lips once more, with much more desire and hunger than the previous one. he picks up on this need, reciprocating it and pressing his lips so hard onto mine that my breathing becomes muffled and there is no option of pulling away - but in this moment, parting from him doesn't even cross my mind. his hand moves to my thigh, placing it over his and kneading the flesh roughly as we lay facing each other, a small whimper escaping my mouth at his actions. our lips fail to part, making up for the lost kisses that we had so desperately yearned for.

lust soon takes over the innocence, my need for him growing by the second as our kisses become harsher, his tongue entering my mouth, mine gladly reciprocating. "i love you." he whispers breathlessly against my lips, pulling away slowly and studying my face. his thumb tugs at my lip, his eyes never leaving mine as he drags it down the now plump skin at an agonisingly slow pace, until he releases my bottom lip, it quickly bouncing back into place, his thumb now slightly wet with my saliva.

"you're so beautiful." he whispers, caressing my cheeks, taking in every inch of me as if this is the first time he has seen me.

"i need you tom." i mutter, looking into his eyes with a glint of desperation, longing to feel him again, our distance meaning it has been so long since we have kissed like we just did, let alone fuck.

within seconds, his lips are back on mine, his body moving in one swift motion on top of me without breaking the kiss, hands clutching mine, mirroring the hunger i feel.

"then i'm all yours." he mutters against my lips, reattaching them and entering his tongue as i gladly accept, moaning slightly into the kiss, a small smirk appearing on his lips in response.

he pulls away, looking into my eyes before reaching for the hem of my t-shirt and whispering "can i?"

i slowly nod my head, the soft fabric being pulled off my body and somewhere on the floor, both tom and i too needy to care where. his eyes scan my body, a hint of adoration within his eyes, his hands reaching for my small lace bra, undoing the back and tossing it aside. he pauses, gazing down at me, drinking in my features, everything exposed to him. despite the look of awe on his face, insecurity takes over, and my hands instinctively cover my breasts, breaking eye contact from him.

tom quickly takes his hands, placing them over mine and moving them away so that he could see me once again. "don't cover yourself, you're so beautiful."

i hesitantly nod my head, moving to remove tom's shirt, his chiselled abs and torso now on display. refusing to break eye contact, my hand slowly runs down the skin, feeling every bump, every muscle there, his breathing hitching as i do so. it has been so long since i had felt his bare skin against mine that it almost didn't feel real, my being lost in pleasure despite us not taking anything further yet.

i soon become impatient, pulling his face downwards and kissing him once more, his hands reaching for my panties and slowly pulling them down, soon removing his boxers, leaving us completely naked.

he pulls away, staring into my eyes and positioning himself at my entrance. "are you sure my love?" he asks, searching my expression for any sense of doubt, hating the idea of forcing me to do anything.

"yes...just fuck me, please." i breathe out, craving the feeling i have missed so much.

he smiles slightly, before slowly sliding in, groaning as he does so, my walls clenching around him, not used to his size as it has been so long since we have last done this. once he is fully inside, he stops. "you okay baby? does it hurt?"

"no...move tom." i reply, and he slowly begins thrusting in and out of me at a steady pace, whines emitting from my mouth as my eyes squeeze shut. his head finds the crook of my neck, groaning into it and beginning to kiss the skin, sucking lightly and leaving marks whilst speeding up his pace.

"oh my god." he mutters into the skin, his hands running up and down my waist until they find a stable hold on my hips, thrusting easier whilst his thumbs caress me, slightly digging in, however the slight pain only fuels my fire, moans now escaping from my mouth.

"oh tom..." i trail off, hands raking down his back, pulling him downwards so our bodies our flush against each other, desperate to feel any part of him, to be closer, despite him literally being inside me.

"i love you so much." he groans out, taking my legs and wrapping them around his waist.

he continues to thrust in and out of me, his tip hitting my g-spot, and i cry out. "oh god, right there tom..."

"here baby?" he taunts, hitting the spot again, causing my eyes to roll to the back of my head. he abuses that spot, my stomach beginning to tighten as the familiar feeling soon takes over.

i clench around him, feeling my release creep closer and closer. "fuck schatz, do that again." he breathes out, and i tighten my walls again, a choked moan escaping his mouth.

"i'm close." he manages to let out, speeding up his pace and capturing my lips into a kiss, moaning into my mouth. i struggle to kiss back, holding back sounds of pleasure each time he thrusts in and out, the sound of my heavy breathing muffled in the kiss.

"tom...i'm gonna, oh my god!" i cry out against his lips, feeling my release wash over me, eyes rolling to the back of my head as i swear i see stars.

"oh fuckkk..." tom drags out, throwing his head back, jaw slack as he follows, my release triggering his own, the feeling of his cum coating my walls emitting another small whine from my mouth.

he moves slowly, thrusting in and out whilst he rides out our highs before collapsing on top of me, sweat coating his forehead. his head rests in my neck, breathing uneven and heavy, planting gentle kisses on the bare skin. i struggle to catch my own breath, my fingers running through his hair, body trembling as the adrenaline slowly wears off.

"i love you so much my love. i'm sorry for everything, i promise i'll never treat you like that again." he says, planting a single kiss on my shoulder.

"i love you too." i reply, tom lifting his head upwards and meeting my lips in a soft kiss, pulling away and wrapping his arms around my waist.

"goodnight meine liebe." he whispers, placing the covers over the both of us as i snuggle closer, resting my head on his bare chest as he slowly strokes my hair, falling asleep in each other's embrace.

requests are open!

[jadeee]

Living with Nanami

I get the feeling there'll be a part 2... I've never done anything note motivated but maybe if this gets 100 notes I will 👀 -> update: read part 2 here!

He habitually wipes the bathroom countertop after using the sink. It's ingrained in him. We all saw that ep in season 1.

Definitely has a modern aesthetic which when paired with yours is very... interesting. He'll eye whatever knick knacks you have in silence, keeping his thoughts to himself.

Your feet felt warm on the multi-colored rug you placed in front of the couch. The walls were decorated with art you picked out, a few pops of green from your many plants here and there. Then there was the odd trinket you found from a thrift store years ago which stood upright on the coffee table. The longer he studied the color blocked sections of your bookshelf, the more his set mouth morphed into an impressed smile. Your hands brushed against each other until he took yours in his completely.

His pet peeve would definitely be little bits of trash scattered throughout the house. He's not passive aggressive but he won't lash out or lecture you. Just a little "Darling, I noticed you forget to throw things out sometimes. Why is that?"

Another pet peeve I see for him is walking around brushing your teeth or flossing 💀 if you walk down the hall flossing, he just imagines bits of plaque flying onto the walls silently. I'm not sure if he'd say anything about this because he thinks you may find it silly and he knows it's not a big deal but a piece of him shudders just a bit.

Always has pads, tampons, and pain relief meds in stock. He'll get the special snacks you like around that time of the month. Whenever it hits you, he's there with everything prepped and ready to go. I imagine he'll secretly want you to ask him for cuddles just so he can spoon you 💗 he rests his hands on your low abdomen while talking to you softly, his breath tickling your ear.

Side note: He doesn't get into the habit of carrying these things around until one day you two are out and you're period suddenly comes out then he goes on the hunt for a pad or tampon.

He's very serious about going to sleep at a certain time and is lowkey bothered when he sees you staying up late - if it's for work, okay fine but if you're up on your phone or watching TV, expect a "you should really go to bed". If you're being a brat and he's really serious, he will haul you off to bed. He wants to give you a peck on the cheek so you know he's not mad but he won't because he's feeling petty.

The place would look very clean and organized nearly all the time except for the weekends. I believe in this 100% because Friday night is when he finally let's loose just a bit. Maybe he had too much to drink when you two went out but you look so cute and you smell so good and my God, your lips... Saturday morning rolls around and so does he in the sheets. His arms wrap around you as he groans softly against your skin, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. He knows the place is a bit messy but would rather clean tomorrow since he wants to spend the day with you.

Cleaning is a shared effort. He's not doing all the work and neither are you. I love him and I know he's all for taking care of you but I feel like realistically, this would truly be a shared task. Doing dishes can suck and so can cleaning the bathroom but it's enjoyable when you're playing your music. When he hauls the laundry off to the washing machine, he can't help but look in your direction and smile at the private show you're putting on for yourself.

No matter who cooks, dishes are typically done together. I think it'd become a tradition to bake on Saturdays. Ohh some cake with wine in the afternoon? You two sitting on the porch just giggling and talking about nothing and everything inbetween. Then when golden hours hits and the sun just casts that heavenly glow on you.

Kento leans back with a soft grin on his face.

"What are you smiling at?" you block the sun from your face.

"My light, my life."

Heat filled your cheeks as you dropped your head and crossed your legs.

Kento chuckled, "Did I make you nervous?"

"No." you snicker then glance up at him.

He filled your empty glass, "You're a better baker than you are a liar."

You grinned then looked off into the sunset to hide your embarrassment but it only highlighted the things Nanami loved about you.

He doesn't go to sleep mad or upset. He doesn't have the space for it or the time or the energy. Your relationship isn't perfect but it's worth fighting for and he makes sure to do that whenever you two have a fight. If you're both home that night, he won't invade your space but he'll make sure to let you know he cares in some way. Say you fall asleep on the couch? You're going to wake up in the bed and wonder how he ended up on the couch instead. If you haven't eaten, he'll bring you a small snack without saying anything.

This is really random but the security would honestly be multi-layered. Definitely a self insert bc home invasions TERRIFY ME 😭 he'd invest in a good alarm system and have the security cameras outside - yes, cameras to cover the front and back door.

Hmm, what else? Oh you'd have house shoes by the door. I like to think someone bought you two matching ones as a wedding gift or couple themed - like his and hers.

Fun fact: Sharing a bed with you the first night was weird for him. He didn't feel uncomfortable but he didn't feel comfortable either. He just laid there like a man in a coffin.

"Nanami?"

"Hm?" he turned his head to glance at you in the dark.

"Are you ok?"

"... I'm fine, why do you ask?"

The sound of you moving around made his ears turn pink and he was grateful for the dark for once. "You just seem so," he tried not to grunt when you poked his side "stiff."

"Hm, it's really nothing. You should go to sleep."

More rustling he wished would go away. Each second caused a slow heat to creep from his feet to his face.

"Can I hold you?"

He turned his head again then glanced up at the black ceiling. A sigh escaped his lips as he rolled over. Your limbs found each other in the dark and you rested your head near his. His chest deflated of anxiety then.

"Is this better? Do you feel comfortable?"

The sudden feel of lips against your forehead made you smile.

"Yes," he said softly then held you tight until he fell asleep.

Author's Note: I only saw him as the husband while writing this. You're already married in this headcanon.

[ellana-ravenwood]

Buttslap ?/Batslap ! - Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

Synopsis : You’ve had the “bad” habit of slapping your husband’s butt every chance you get since almost as long as you two started dating. And sometimes, it gets you in trouble...

Not me, writing a fic the day before my wedding...Haha, I had time to relax before the big day, and I thought : “what could be better to truly chill, than to write a silly little fanfic ?” This started from an ask, and now we’re here. This is just a story for fun and not to be taken too seriously, one of those stories that exist purely because I told myself : “I mean, why not ?”. I hope you’ll like it nonetheless ! : 

Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you. 

My masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives​

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Habitus 

““Man is largely a creature of habits”, said the famous philosopher G. Stanley Hall and...ain’t that the truth ? 

It’s nice and stress free, to have habits. To do things a certain way, and to not change that way (as long as it’s effective). To automatically repeat certain actions. 

It’s comforting, even soothing, to know that at least, there’s some constant in your life. It’s a feeling of safety, almost. 

It’s one of those things you know you can always rely on, you know ?

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I will always, ALWAYS, slap my husband’s ass whenever I get the chance.”

There’s a silence in the room, as you end your little speech. Most people are just too stunned to react. What, did THE (Y/N) Wayne just say all that for real ? Or was it a collective hallucination ? 

Did you really just climb up the stage at this insanely crowded charity gala, and proudly told everyone that...you enjoyed slapping the famed Bruce Wayne’s butt ? 

Well. Yes. Yes, you very much did. Oh dear...

And the worst thing was ? You weren’t even aware of it. 

The past week had been quite busy, and stressful, and you did not want to come to this gala, but your position made it so you were kind of obligated to...and therefor, to ease your anxiety about it all, you might’ve drunk a little bit too much champagne (you didn’t need much anyway). 

Oopsie. 

Now here you were, talking about slapping your husband’s ass, and it being an action that comforted you greatly. How embarrassing. Fortunately, most people were just shocked that you dared to say all that, and would probably think they imagined it all.

Plus, Bruce, being used to your antics, just casually walked on the stage, and just took your hand and dragged you with him before you could continue to speak about how you worshipped your husband’s butt. 

Of course, as he took you away, you managed to give his ass a good slap, before turning to everyone else and saying with a big smile : “Soooo satisfyinnnnnnng !!”. 

Needless to say, you were mortified the next day, as your husband told you all about it, amused. You did remember doing that, and that it sounded like a GREAT idea on the moment and- oh my God, you hated those galas ! 

You were expecting the story to be on the headline of all tabloids, but fortunately for you, that day, Penguin’s trial was starting and the “downfall of the Cobblepot” was still more important than “(Y/N) Wayne says husband’s butt is great”...Pheww, crisis averted. 

This time. 

The first time it happened 

Slap !! 

Bruce stops in his tracks, and slowly turns around towards you. 

“Did you just...Did you just slap my ass ?” 

He asks, almost in disbelief, his cheeks slightly tinted of a rosy color that you find just too adorable (although, you’d never tell him that). 

“Um, yes ?” 

You answer shyly, afraid you went a little too fast. Afraid you offended him. Afraid you were totally out of bound. I mean. You did slap his butt without asking if you could, he didn’t consent, and that was bad...The more you thought of it, the more you were livid. What did you do ? How dare you ? You really just slapped THE Bruce Wayne’s ass, the fearless Batman’s butt cheeks ??? And without asking if you could first, at that ??? Outrageous. 

“Im-I’m sorry ! I didn’t mean to- I mean, I did mean to, but I should’n’t have ! I’m sorry ut’s just-”

It’s just you couldn’t help it. What. The man was climbing the stairs in front of you, showing his perfectly shaped butt to you, what else were you supposed to do ?? It was pure instinct. 

Here he was, all muscles and shapes in his black dress pants, and suddenly, your hand found itself slapping his backside as if it had a mind of its own ! 

You were feeling so awkward now, this was what, your third date ? How would you have reacted, if a man did this to you ? 

Oh dear. Oh dear. Were you one of those disgusting predator ?? Slapping people’s butt just like that ? 

Oh. But not just people. Bruce Wayne’s butt. Only his, had such a power of attraction on your hand. Which didn’t make you feel any better about your action. 

You were a little disgusted with yourself, the more you thought about it. And you-

“No don’t apologize ! Please. I-um...I liked it.” 

Short silence. 

You look at him. He looks at you. 

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk slowly rising on your face. 

He looks away, embarrassed. 

“You did now, didn’t you ?”

“Yes. You can- do it again, if you want.” 

“Can I ?” 

“Yes.” 

Ah. Here was the last barrier to it all : his permission. 

He was giving you permission to slap that beautiful, perfect ass. Who were you, to resist him ?

And that’s, when this all thing started. 

“A disgusting habit !!”

The kids hate it, of course. 

As if the fact their parents weren’t into PDA way too much for their taste, what, their mom just HAD to slap their dad’s ass whenever she could ?? 

Did you have no self-control ?!

DICK 

Dick was eight years old, when he saw you do that for the first time. It was still a time during which you tried to keep your affection for your husband as tamed as possible, especially in front of your boy (as the years went by, you just found it too funny, the way they reacted to the slightest touch of affection between you and Bruce, and you couldn’t help but mess with them). 

You slapped his butt, and he turned around smiling and then kissed you

And Dickie, oh, bless that young and innocent little bird...He thought the butt slap was just a way of showing someone you loved them ! 

Oh, oh the awkward moment when you had to explain to him that no, this was not what it meant, and that he couldn’t just go around slapping everyone’s butt (that kid loved too many people). 

That it was only when you “loved-loved” someone, that you could do that. 

The boy was horrified, of course. And even to this day, he remembers it. He often said that it was one of his childhood’s greatest trauma (and in a way, that joke helped him relativized his actual trauma). 

After that, whenever he would see you slap Bruce’s but, he’d yell : “Go love-love each other somewhere else !”, and you found it so adorable, despite your son being genuinely mad. 

Even now, as an adult, he’d still exclaim things like : “Oh please for the love of goooood, get a rooooom !!”, and other : “CONTROL YOURSELF, PARENTS !”

It never ceased to amuse you. Which was definitely not why you kept doing that in front of him, right ? *evil laugh*. 

JASON 

Jason thought it was funny. Ever since he was a child. 

In his mind, you slapping Bruce’s butt was a mark of affection. Was one of your love language. He’d always been more sensitive than others, as to what made each person’s way of loving others special. 

It always made him happy, when he saw the both of you giggle together because of it. Jason never needed much, in life. Just people to love, and who loved him back. Just family. 

Of course, just like his brothers and sister, he’d get annoyed by your “horny teenager” behavior sometimes. But the butt slapping ? It was never that. It was always clearly just a fun joke between you and Bruce. 

Ah, Jason couldn’t help it. If you or his dad smiled ? It was enough for him. He couldn’t be mad, when those he loved were happy. It made him happy, in return. 

When he got resurrected, and he felt abandoned by all of you, it was more painful than every thing else. He would’ve rather been tortured by the Joker for a thousand years, than feel this emotion again. All alone, unloved, forgotten...(or at least, so he thought). 

When he started to forgive you guys, and he first saw you slap Bruce’s butt after years and years of not seeing something like this...

It made him smile. Unintentionally. Subconsciously. 

A big smile. And it warmed his heart. Because-

Because those two still loved each other as if it was their first day together. 

Because his parents were happy. 

And, because the reason he was so angry at them, was because he loved them so much, that it hurt too strongly to think they abandoned him...

But small moments like this. His mom slapping his dad’s butt when she thought he wasn’t looking. Bruce unable to fight the smile growing on his lips. The look you both exchanged...

Love. 

And it just made him happy. As simple as that.

TIM 

Tim had decided since a long time that he would just pretend like his parents do not exist when they start to get all lovey dovey. 

As a result, you can slap Bruce’s ass right in front of him, or even kiss him, and Tim will just close his eyes, and pretend he’s somewhere else. 

The first time he brought Bernard home, Bruce, him and said Bernard were in the kitchen drinking some milkshake when you came in the room.

Tim instantly just turned his head towards his boyfriend, knowing what was going to happen. And sure enough...it did happen. 

You said : “hey guys”, to which they all answered “hey” (my love - Bruce / Mom - Tim/ Mrs Wayne - Bernard). You casually walked across the room, gave your husband’s ass a big ol’ slap (he acted as if it never happened), got yourself a smoothie, and then exited the room saying “bye guys”, of course not forgetting to slap his butt once more as you walked passed Bruce, and give him a mandatory kiss on the cheek. 

Tim said : “Bye mom”, still not looking in your direction. Bruce said : “bye my love”. And Bernard just stared, obviously stunned by what just happened. 

Later on, Tim would just tell him : “Ignore them, trust me, it’s just easier.”, and honestly, Bernard couldn’t help but love that weird family. Never a boring day, with them. 

DAMIAN 

He will NEVER let his father walk in front of you. You go up flight of stairs ? Either he’ll make sure you get in the front, either he’ll get in the middle of them.

His strategy was to simply not give you a chance to slap Bruce’s ass. 

After all, if you always did it “whenever you got a chance”, if he rendered nulle those chances...he could avoid seeing it, right ? 

He always managed to get himself between you and his father, to take your hand at the right time, and hug you, so that you’d stop the “slapping motion”. 

Bonus ? The fact that he could make his dad almost jealous because that meant that he always managed to redirect your attention on him. The attention that was supposed to be for Bruce, he’d get it with his hugs. 

It was sneaky, really. And it always worked. 

CASS

Cass was the most radical of them all. Unlike Damian, who would stop you in some clever way, she’d simply stop you unscrupulously. If she saw you approached her father when she was around, she’d just say : 

“No.” 

And stop you by grabbing (lightly) your wrist. Which always stunned you enough, that you just forgot about the butt slap. 

At one point, your only daughter took it upon herself to “train you” to stop doing that when she was around...and literally used a water spray to deter you from slapping your husband’s butt. 

Whenever she saw you coming from behind Bruce’s back, she’d spray your face with water, and say “no.” 

It worked...for a short while. You didn’t want to embarrass or annoy your kids too much, so if it bothered her that much, you’d just stop. 

You’d just stop ? 

Oh, but that was underestimating your “manipulation skills”. “No”, ugh ? Well, we’d see about that. After all, you don’t teach new tricks to an old dog. 

You over-exaggerated everything. Sighed whenever you saw your husband, staring at his butt, but not doing anything. It came to a point that Cass started to feel guilty, and eventually stopped reacting to you slapping your husband’s butt (well, she’d use the “Tim technique” of looking away, even though she still thought you two were disgusting). 

Your plan worked. No more spraying of water, no more “no”, or Cass stopping your wrist...Aaaah, it was almost too easy. 

Once, Dick said : “Ah, she got you too, didn’t she ?”, and Cass didn’t quite grasp his words before a long time. When she finally got it, an evening, while laying in bed, she sat up suddenly and exclaimed : 

“WHAT THE FUCK !!” 

DUKE 

Duke..never expect THE Batman to act this way. And even less elegant (Y/N) Wayne that he saw so many time in the papers. 

And yet, every chance you got, you’d give your husband’s ass a big slap, and leave definitely pleased with yourself. 

How weird. 

But to be honest, this wasn’t the weirdest thing Duke found out about that family. And in the end, Batman getting his ass slapped by his wife on a regular basis, was it really that weird ? 

Yes. No. Yes. It definitely was. 

The incident (you know, worst than that time you publicly admitted you loved slapping your husband’s ass)

“We warned you countless time, mother. It was bound to happen, really. You can only blame yourself.” 

It was rare, that Dick would call you “mother”. To be fair, none of them ever did...except when they were sort of disappointed in you. Kind of in the same way you’d call them by their full name when you were mad at them, you know ? 

The fact that your eldest just called you “mother” added insult to injury. It wasn’t like your son, to rub salt into the wound. But oh well...You did kind of deserve it. 

You definitely had it coming. 

But seriously, how could you know ? Those people were sneaky. It was part of their job ! 

You sighed, looking at the headline of most papers from Gotham, horrified : 

“Is (Y/N) Wayne cheating on Bruce Wayne with...BATMAN ????” 

“Gosh dang it”, to use an expression often used by a certain man from Smallville. 

So what, you can’t even slap your husband’s butt in public now ?? Well..You made a mental note of not doing it in public, anymore. Not when he was wearing the Batman costume, that is.  

What happened was : it was 6 am. One of those December mornings during which it was still very dark outside. You were going to an important early meeting, and your family was coming back from a night out patrolling. You thought you’d kiss them goodnight on your way. 

How were you supposed to know that a paparazzo was following you that day ? It was so early, what kind of psycho would do that ? Oh..but this was Gotham, of course. 

The picture that bastard snatch didn’t leave any doubt : it was clearly you, grabbing with your full hand a piece of Batman’s ass. 

Gosh dang it. 

How were you going to get out of that one ? 

It’s Tim, who suggested you pretend the picture was manipulated. He almost didn’t say anything, because well, yeah, this would serve you right...But also, he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone thinking something ill of his mom. 

Bruce took care of the rest. 

Using the latest tech available, he actually manipulated the picture to make it look like you were giving something to Batman. And he managed to convince everyone else that the picture of you grabbing his ass was faked. 

What would Lucious think, if he knew his hard work was used for that, uh ? 

Everyone knew you loved when paparazzi took picture of you grabbing your husband’s ass, because you thought it was funny. So it was easy to pretend as if the paparazzo managed to fake the picture using those. 

And then, everyone also knew that Bruce Wayne had a close “work” relationship with Batman, so the fact his wife would give Batman files wasn’t too crazy. 

Of course, the fact Gothamites seemed to vow a blind faith into your husband, made the rest easy. 

Everyone bought it. Oh, and that paparazzo ? Bruce made sure he wouldn’t be a problem (by giving him many pictures to sell, not by threatening him...at least, not officially). 

And that’s how you avoided a HUGE scandal. 

But did that incident deter you from slapping your husband’s ass every chance you got ? Absolutely not. 

The broken hand

“For the last time Damian, this wasn’t my fault !” 

“Oh yeah ? Well you should’n’ve contracted your muscles so much !” 

“I-I can’t help it !!” 

But nothing Bruce could say would stop his son to glare at him. 

“Who need muscles in their ass anyway ????” He’d say, angry that-

That his mom got hurt. 

You found it so funny. This situation was hilarious. Like, come on. You had a cast on your hand right now, because you slapped your husband’s ass a little too hard (and that man was made of pure muscles). 

Neither Damian nor Bruce thought it was, of course, which made it even funnier. 

Damian couldn’t bear any harmed be done to you, and though he knew it was an accident, he couldn’t help be a little mad at his dad. 

“Batman works out everything.”

Is what you heard your husband say, once, to Clark (surely, they were fighting about who had more muscles once again...pretty common...Ugh, men).  

But it was true, your husband worked out every single muscles in his body. He never skipped “leg day”, and definitely didn’t skip “butt and glute” day. 

His ass was hard. 

And you broke your hand slapping it. 

Come on, it was so fu*king funny !! 

Bruce, of course, hated when you were hurt. He always felt ill himself, when you’d get any kind of injuries. But that time ? He couldn’t feel (too) sorry, because oh my god you laughed way too much at your own mistake ! 

He could’ve gone without your son’s reaction, though...

Bruce had to hear about it for days. Jason and Dick also thought it was so funny (mainly the fact their little brother would keep bringing it up). But none thought it was funnier than you did. 

So. Yes. A broken hand. Ah, but did that deter you from slapping your husband’s ass every chance you got ? Absolutely not. 

The instagram page

It was a secret. 

A secret all of your children knew, of course. 

But they pretended they never heard of it, and had the account blocked on their personal insta feed. 

Yes. It was a “secret”. 

What, you might ask ? 

An instagram page, with pictures of your husband’s perfect butt. 

An instagram page...ran by you, of course. 

Because : “sharing is caring, it’s not fair if I’m the only one who can admire it.” 

So, no. You were not about to share him with anyone really. You wouldn’t be the only one admiring it, but you’d stay the sole “batbutt toucher” on this planet (other planets included, actually). 

But you loved to brag about him. Plus, you thought it was HILARIOUS to open such an instagram page. 

Of course, you were the only who found it funny. But oh well, it was worth it. And those accounts racked quite a bit of followers. 

Somewhere on the web, there was also a “BruceWayneThighs” page, and a “BruceWayneJawline” one...Mmm, wondered who made those, eh ?

More effective than Kryptonite 

Everyone remembers the absolute SHOCK on his face when Clark first saw you slap Bruce’s butt. 

It was at the League’s headquarters, of course. Not long after they discovered that Bruce had kids, AND a wife !! 

They were having an important meeting on a world class threat, when you arrived. You had come to bring Batman some lunch (that in itself was quite shocking). And as you were about to leave, you just casually gave him a slap on the butt, and said : “see you tonight hot stuff”, and WHAAAAT ?!

It rendered Clark speechless for a good minute or two. As if he had been hit by a fist made out of green kryptonite. By multiple fists, even. 

“Did she just- did she- did- dshe-idshe-ddd-ugh ?” 

“Once again, you shine by your uncanny intelligence.” Bruce sarcastically said, annoyed by this reaction. He disliked, when people commented on his relationship (some would say : maybe don’t make it so public ? But then, some learned that it was better to just not upset Batman too much).

Diana almost killed Clark, when she said : “I wouldn’t mind if she slapped my butt.” 

Who were those people ?? The mighty Superman was about to have a brain fry, but then he noticed Bruce. Was he...pouting ? 

And was it because of Diana’s comment ? 

The woman was smirking mischievously, clearly pleased with herself. And the pout on the Batman was growing. 

That day, Clark decided to pretend as if nothing happened. On one side, because he couldn’t fathom the Batman getting his ass slapped by his wife, and on the other side, because him and said Batman had just become friends, and he didn’t want to make him pout further by commenting his personal life. 

************

Clark never got used to it though. 

Over the years, he saw you countless time slap your husband’s butt, but he could never quite register the fact that this was Batman. 

Right there. 

Batman. 

Him. 

🦇👨, himself. 

Getting his butt slapped (and clearly enjoying it, although he’d never let that comment slip as he didn’t wanna risk Bruce glaring at him). 

It was odd. At the same time, it made him more human. 

And though Superman would never get used to the idea of you just casually slapping your husband’s ass whenever you got the chance, he never thought it was something that you shouldn’t do (as weird as it sounded). 

************

To reassure Bruce, except for Diana who reenacted the “I wish that were me” meme, every single member of the JLA went : “👁👄👁” when they first saw you do it. 

They all got used to it, unlike Clark, but still. It was quite a shock, the first time they witnessed it. It was the way you did it so naturally, and how Bruce didn’t even react, that got them...

Unbeknowst to neither you nor Bruce, they all started to call that habit of yours “the batslap” (and thought they were very clever for their play on words...Butt slap, batslap...Oh yes, there was a reason why Bruce, was considered the smartest) 

“I will never stop, you cannot make me stop.”

Over the years, even after many “incidents” and “troubles” born from you slapping Bruce’s butt, it never even once came to your mind to stop doing it. 

It became one of those habits that was actually comforting to you. As if you and Bruce could be a normal couple sometimes, with your own little silly “inside jokes”. 

Hell, when he was sure no one was around, Bruce would literally put his ass out just for you to slap...because as odd and ridiculous as it could sound, it became one of those thing that made you, you. 

The woman he fell in love with.

Whom, even during the worst moments, would be there to cheer him up (and vice versa). 

The woman who never hesitated once to slap THE Batman’s butt. THE Bruce Wayne’s ass. How many people like that existed in this world, uh ? 

Yes, doing that got you a lot of time in troubles. Got you in delicate situations, in awkward ones, and even, a few time, dangerous ones (you didn’t wanna talk about it). 

But never, NEVER would you walk pass your husband without slapping his butt. Nothing could stop you from it. No one could, either. You’d always find a way. 

As you said all those years ago, it was as if your hand and his butt were magnetically aligned.  

Of course, you’d exaggerate greatly all that matter. You found it funny, really. Besides the fact that you just liked slapping his butt, that is. 

And Bruce ? Oh, Bruce wouldn’t have it any other way. 

His ass, was yours to slap. 

The end.

________________________________________________

Told you, it was gonna be dumb haha. Still had fun writing it. I’m getting married tomorrow, and took advantage of a chill time today before the mayhem to sit down a few minutes and write...I hope you enjoyed this story :). As per usual, comments/reblogs are beyond appreciated <3. Thank you for reading !

[majordemonblockparty]

au where sam goes along with the demon blood drinking 'cause he figures if anyone can grant clemency in hell, it oughta be the boy king of the fucking place.

cue full-on yellow-eyed juiced-up rightful prince of hell sam winchester who has spent the past four months picturing how he'll pour into the depths of hell with legions of demons and hellhounds at his beck and call to break his brother out of whatever implement of torture he's been strung up in... except that when he gets there, dean's unbound, unfettered, up on his own two feet with a knife in his hand, and doesn't even notice sam right away. he's dialed in, laser-focused on peeling back the skin of what might've once been a person with all the care of a shearer going after a sheep, everything from his face (oh, god, his face, his dear face; last time sam saw that face he was nailing pine boards over top of it after he'd closed the eyelids and wiped it free of blood and salt and kissed that cold, still mouth and--) to his bare feet spattered in abattoir-floor gore.

(in the end, sam's never entirely sure how he gets dean's attention -- whether he calls his name, or chokes on a sound trying to be words, or if something inside him deeper than a soul screams out for dean -- but there's a knife in dean's hand and blood on the blade when he turns to sam.)

dean just stares at him for a second, that still, cool, animal look he gets sometimes on a hunt; all predator, 'yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for I am the meanest sonovabitich in the valley' kind'a look that makes the hair at sam's nape stand on end. then dean's face contracts all at once -- eyes narrow, lip curls, jaw tightens -- as he turns on his heel and flings his knife into the chest of the -- man? demon? demon, gotta be; nothing still human wears a face like that -- standing just out of arm's reach.

"thought we had an agreement," dean snaps, gravel-scrape low at the bottom of his register, like he's been sick but won't admit it for weeks on end. (or screaming. like he's been screaming, a lot, for weeks. or months, maybe. but maybe not; sam's been wrong before.) "no more projections, no more games. we agreed."

the demon puts his hand to the hilt of dean's knife, still buried in his chest cavity, and sam can't have that, can't have an armed demon within throwing distance of deandeandeandeandean, and all he has to do is think about it -- not even really think, not anything so complicated as holding the words or the image of it in his brain; just the intention behind the thought is enough to send the knife jerking out of the demon's grasp and slapping handle-first into sam's open palm.

the demon doesn't laugh, exactly, but his face stretches into what might be the memory of a grin; all teeth, no smile. "we did, and I have not thus far reneged on our agreement, boy. if I'm not mistaken, that's the genuine article; sam winchester, in the flesh. and what pretty flesh it is, too. goddamned succulent."

"hey!" dean barks, "knock it off." that habitual, spine-up, big brother voice that's been part of sam's life since before he can remember. "quit talking about his fucking... flesh." he says 'flesh' in a tone people usually reserve for words like 'fascism' and 'gangrene' and sam's chest aches for the dean-ness of it.

for a second, like a hologram or a magic-eye puzzle, sam sees dean. dean disarticulated, splayed out like a frog pinned to a dissection board, chest cut open, organs scooped out and toyed with and put back wrong. bones rent from their joints, eyes ripped from their sockets, fingers broken one knuckle at a time, nails torn from their beds in a bloody little pile. pieces cut off and waiting for their white waxed paper wrappers; bloody red pieces of flank, ribs, leg, shoulder.

"dean."

(he doesn't say his brother's name so much as he breathes it, horror and relief and delight and longing all shading his tone.)

the look on dean's face is like missing the bottom step of the staircase in the dark. he looks at sam like he hasn't seen him in a hundred years. he looks at sam like he saw him yesterday, the very last thing he saw, sam's face inches from his when his pupils blew out, the fine muscles inside his eye relaxing as his brain and heart and lungs all stopped working.

"sam?"

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Yandere!Yang Jeongin x F!Reader TW : jeongin redemption sort of but at what cost? ; mention of readers s**c*d* attempt ; reader depression ; Jeongin doing his best ; it's still really angsty ; reader has very valid trust issues ; fluff ending though because Jeongin never gets any fluff ; Word Count : 3.1K Request : @slayhyunjin @neteyamsmate4life and the one anon who was in my inbox... Part 2 for Pins and Needles!! A/N : THIS ONE TOOK A TURN FOR THE BETTER! YAYYYY!!!

“Good morning, beautiful…” Jeongin whispered, his words slightly slurred by his yawn as he stretched his arms above his head. “You’re making breakfast?” He questioned, walking over to where you stood at the stove, trying not to pay too much attention to the way you flinched away from him, your movements went from fluid to almost robotic. “Did you sleep well?” 

“Do you care?” You mumbled back, taking a shaky breath as you flipped the omelet in the pan. Jeongin couldn’t help but appreciate just how perfectly you did it too, there was no residue on the side, none had splattered over the edge, you had gotten it to land right in the center. “Please don’t pretend just because you found me like that. It’s the first time and the last time I’d let you see me that way.” 

“I hope it was the first and the last time you’d try to do something like that in general.” He snipped, but immediately clenched his teeth. You were annoyed with him, and reflecting on the way he had been made it very clear that he deserved everything you might want to do or say to him. “I do care though… I want you to sleep well… A good sleep is important for your health.” 

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and sliding the omelet to the center before placing the bacon on the side. “You can eat now.” You said flatly, setting the plate down at his spot and then grabbing his drink. “I’m gonna take a shower and-” 

“D-Don’t… Don’t lock the door…” He blurted out as his eyes widened, his fork inches brom his mouth but the food falling off of it and back onto the plate. “Please… Just in case you need me for anything… I can come in and help you.” He rambled, and your eyes shut as you shook your head. 

“God, would you just stop.” You sounded so tired when you said it, your hands slipping into the pockets of the hoodie you were wearing. When your eyes opened once more, you were glaring at him and it pissed him off to be honest. He was trying his best and you were just pushing him aside. How was he supposed to be better for you when everything he did seemed to piss you off? 

“Stop what? What am I supposed to do? I’m trying to change and that’s not good enough for you! So tell me! What do you want!?” He shouted, and he saw you shiver, it was evident that him raising his voice still scared you, and while it used to be amusing to him, now it was just upsetting. How could he have ever found that to be amusing in the first place? He never wanted to hurt you, but it just became habitual almost. That in itself was sickening. 

“I don’t know!” You shouted back, but it was like you immediately backed down, inching back until you were standing against the fridge, like you were trying to disappear inside of it. “I’m scared of you…” The whispered confession had his heart sinking and he wanted nothing more than to run over to you and hold you, to tell you that you didn’t have to be scared anymore, but he knew that wouldn’t make anything better, not at all. “I’m scared of you being nice to me because I never know when you’ll go back to being that way… At least when you were treating me like garbage I was prepared for it daily… Now I just… I don’t know… And that’s the scariest part. So just… Just stop…” 

Seeing you in the bathtub… Seeing you trying to leave him like that… It had been a rude awakening, but one that he very clearly needed. Now he was left with the pieces of you that he had broken, and he didn’t know how to handle you, he didn’t know where to even begin in putting you back together. Being gentle wasn’t working, but it made sense… The pieces were shattered almost beyond recognition, every time he thought he was getting somewhere, you’d fall apart all over again… Or maybe the pieces had never fit in the first place and it was all wishful thinking on his part. 

Now he had to watch you walk away, closing the bedroom door behind you, and he heard the lock click, and while he had the key to get in, he wanted to believe that you were at least past the point of wanting to hurt yourself. Sometimes he felt selfish… He knew he was selfish… You wanted to leave him, he had put you through enough… He should have let you go that night… But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. Somewhere beyond the sick twisted part of him that found fun in making you cry, he did love you, and now that twisted part of him was long gone and all he could feel was love for you, and you weren’t ready to give it back… And maybe you’d never be ready. 

“Are you sleeping already, beautiful?” He whispered when he walked into the bedroom after work. He was exhausted, but the entire day he thought of nothing more than coming home to you. There was no dinner made, the house was clean, but it was also still… Which in itself scared the hell out of him and had him rushing to the bedroom to check on you. God, he’d never get that image out of his mind, it even replayed often when he was working, enough to text you every hour, and even if you didn’t respond, you’d read the message which let him know that you were okay. 

The room was dark aside from the faint glow of the moon that painted the carpeted floors a pristine white, and he thought that maybe, maybe he’d finally get to sleep beside you for the first time since everything happened. Usually you’d get up as soon as he came in and you’d move to the couch, and he wanted to argue, he wanted to tell you to come back, but again, he was trying to be better, and he respected the fact that you needed space. What might be easy for him to do was obviously not at all easy for you. 

He pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, climbing under the blankets and moving as close to you as he possibly could without waking you up. Your hair still smelled of the shampoo and conditioner that you used earlier in the day when you took your shower, and that in itself was comforting. There was a warmth that radiated off of you, one that he had never taken the opportunity to fully appreciate before, but it made him feel fuzzy, it made him feel safe… He wanted to give you those same feelings… 

“I’ll move to the couch now…” You murmured tiredly, and he wondered if maybe you had just been laying there silently waiting for him to come home or if you had actually been sleeping and he had just woken you up. You started moving and he reached out to grab your hand, and it was like grabbing a statue the way you froze, he could hear you inhale sharply, and he wondered what was going through your mind right now, what you thought he’d do. 

“Please don’t… Can you just sleep in here tonight? I’ll even put pillows between us… I just want you next to me…” His hold wasn’t tight at all, and his thumbs brushed lightly over your wrist, trying to show you that he could be gentle, he could be sweet. He could be all the things you had wanted him to be before… He was changing for you… He wanted you to see that. 

“Do I have a choice?” You mumbled, and while he wanted to say no, he wanted to tell you that you had to lay beside him, he knew that would only be setting him back. He hummed softly, and while it wasn’t truly an answer, his actions were enough, letting go of your arm and dropping his hand back down on the mattress. “I can respect… I appreciate the fact that you’re not… hitting me… or yelling at me… Or belittling me anymore… Thank you…” You sighed heavily through your nose and he could hear you rubbing your hands nervously against your lap. You were still scared of him. “I’m just not ready… It’s a lot for me… But I’m trying too… I hope you know that…” 

You were trying… And while he couldn’t really tell at first, the fact that you sat there long enough to tell him this, to explain to him why you couldn’t lay beside him… He could tell that you were doing your best. He respected that, and he wasn’t going to force you to do something that scared you or made you uncomfortable, so he relented. “I do… I know…” He whispered, pushing himself up so he was sitting on the bed, his body fully turned towards you. “Is the couch comfortable? You can sleep in the bed and I can take the couch if you want…” 

You let out a little laugh, and the sound was weird… You hadn’t laughed in so long, it was almost nostalgic, sending his mind back to a time when your giggles were heard almost daily when he was with you. It had been so long… It had him getting choked up. “Don’t worry… I’m used to it. I’ve been sleeping on the couch for months now.” Your attempt at reassurance was nothing more than another slap though when the lightbulb clicked and he realized just what you were saying. 

All those times that he had woken up in the morning and the bed was empty, he thought it was just because you had woken up before him to make breakfast… But you had somehow managed to slip out in the middle of the night to be away from him and he hadn’t even noticed… You didn’t want to be around him at all. “Oh… Well… We can change that… I can sleep on the couch, really… It’s no big deal…” 

The conversation was just going in a circle at this point, and while most people would find it annoying, the constant back and forth… This was the most you had talked to him in the two months since the incident. He hadn’t realized how much he missed your voice until now. “It’s fine, Jeongin…” You said his name… It sounded so wonderful coming from your mouth, he wanted to hear it over and over again. “Get some sleep… Goodnight.” Had it been too much contact for you? You were rushing out of the room now, and while he wanted nothing more than the conversation to keep going, he didn’t want to push you, so he watched you walk out the door, your body silhouetted by the hall light until it disappeared once the door had shut again. He was alone… And while he had been alone every single night before… Now he knew about it and it hurt, the darkness was eating away at him, and for some reason he was scared, although he wasn’t sure what of.

“I had a nightmare last night, beautiful.” Jeongin said, hearing your feet pad across the floor and then stop at the entrance to the kitchen. “Do you want to hear about it?” He turned around to see your very confused face. He had never made breakfast before, and while he was pretty damn sure he was burning everything, he wanted to do more, show you that things would be better and only get better from here on out. 

“S-Sure…” You stammered, walking over to the stove and eyeing the food in the pot with an ever more confused gaze. “Do you want me to take over and you can tell me while you sit and have your coffee?” You asked, noticing that he had already started to brew the drink, but he shook his head, motioning for you to sit down. “O-Okay…” 

“It was so scary… I woke up and I felt like it was real for a second…” He monologued, and you hummed softly, letting him know that you were listening to him. “You left me… And I couldn’t find you… I was so scared. And then I opened the bathroom door and-” 

“Ah…” You cut him off, drumming your hands on the table. “I know where you’re going with this… I’m not gonna do it again, if that makes you feel any better.” And it did, it made him feel a lot better, because for the first time since it had happened, you sounded honest when you told him it wouldn’t happen again. “Luckily, I don’t have dreams or nightmares anymore.” 

“Oh? Why not?” He mused, turning around to face you, leaning against the counter. He was genuinely interested in everything about you, and this was new considering when you had first got together you’d tell him every morning about the dreams you had the night before. When did things change? 

“Well my entire life up until now has been a nightmare in itself so… I guess my subconscious mind thought I deserved a little bit of peace at some point.” Oh… That made sense… It didn’t make him feel any better, but it made a lot of sense. He quickly turned back towards the stove, his head hung low as he continued frying the egg in the pan, trying his best to make an omelet as good as yours was yesterday just for you. 

“I’m sorry… I really am…” He whispered, focusing on the egg now, trying to remember exactly how you flipped it to make it look so good. “I love you… And I’m never going to forgive myself for what I put you through. I was an awful boyfriend, just… An awful person in general and I know that I don’t… I don’t deserve to be standing in the same room as you right now… And I’m sorry… I’m just really sorry and this egg is going to be shit… And I’m sorry about that too… I suck… At this and everything and…” 

“Innie…” You cooed the nickname, and his heart seemed to freeze and simultaneously speed up at the same time. Hearing his name had been one thing, but hearing you call him that… It was like hearing heaven's bells ringing in his ears. “You’re gonna fuck up the omelet… A few times at least… But it happens, and it’s still gonna be delicious and I’ll eat it.” That wasn’t where he thought the conversation was going… But in a way, it made him feel a lot better. “You never apologized before… Not genuinely…” He had though… He knows he apologized… Had it been genuine? Maybe not… Maybe the initial apology had just been him ranting out of fear… He wasn’t sure. “It’s okay now… You know? I’m okay now…” What did that mean? What were you saying? He didn’t want to get his hopes up that things would be normal… And now he understood what you meant that night, when you practically ran away from him… Sometimes hearing someone be sweet after so long was scarier than the usual… He didn’t know what was coming next. “I thought a lot last night… about everything… And I… I think it’s okay now… For me… For you… For us…” 

“Us?” What were you saying… God you were so vague, he just needed to know, he needed to be 100% sure that he wasn’t being too hopeful. Was this your way of saying that you wanted to leave? Were you going to leave him? He had gotten better… But he still wouldn’t let that happen… He needed you there… He did. “Wh-What are you… What do you mean? You’re scaring me right now, beautiful…” 

It was like he couldn’t get his breathing under control, just the thought of you leaving him had him tearing up, a knot forming in his throat that he couldn’t get rid of. “Come here…” You whispered, and he slowly took those few steps towards you, pausing a couple inches away just in case you didn’t want him too close to you, but then you stood up, your hands folded in front of your lap as you pursed your lips. You looked just as shy as you did after your second date when he had kissed you for the first time, what he wouldn’t do to live that moment again. “Do you think that.. When you’re done making the omelet… We can maybe… I don’t know… Cuddle or something?” 

Cuddle… You wanted to cuddle? He felt like a complete idiot that it took so long for the question to fully click, but once it did, he was reaching back to turn off the stove, scared to take his eyes off of you, worried that you’d change your mind, but once that fire was out underneath the pan he was scooping you up in his arms and rushing towards the couch, your laughter like music to his ears as you buried your face in his neck. “You scared the hell out of me, you know that!?” He whined as he fell back on the couch, bringing you down with him onto his lap. “I almost cried!” 

“You did cry!” You teased, sitting back and looking at him, and there was a twinkle in your eyes that was akin to all the stars in the sky at night, so beautiful, and he couldn’t help but reach his hand up, brushing his fingers along your cheeks. How could he have ever hurt you? Did he even deserve this chance? You leaned in to kiss him, the feeling setting off fireworks in his chest, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, but it felt good… He liked that feeling… “You’re thinking too much…” 

“Do that again… please… Just so I can be sure…” He murmured, his fingers gently tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, and you didn’t pull away, instead your lips collided with his once more and it was like a dream, the best dream, and if that’s all this way, he never wanted to wake up. “You love me… right?” He whispered when you pulled away, your own fingers catching the tears that had at some point begun to fall. 

“I do… I love you, Innie… Always…” 

[tadpolesonalgae]

Feysand x reader: Girls night

A/N: I sometimes forget that I’m capable of writing fluff? Or just a general fic with no smutty undertones and it’s quite a refreshing realisation!

Warnings: slight sexual undertones but nothing else :)

“Oh my gods.”

Feyre stares with wide eyes at the wine seeping into your dress. “I am so sorry!”

She grabs you by your upper arm, pulling you from the counter and up the stairs toward her bedroom. Well, her and Rhys’ room. Since they sleep together. And are married. And most importantly, mates.

You watch as your High Lady flings open one of her closets, rummaging through for something suitable for you to change into. Hastily, she pulls out a large top—far too big for either of you. She glances between you and her closet, debating how long it will take her to find something else that will work.

The shirt will have to do.

“Here,” she offers, walking over to you. “Put this on. I’ll remove the colour then it’ll go in the wash to be properly cleaned.”

“Are you sure? I can just—”

“Hurry! I’ll never look you in the eye again if I know I stained one of your dresses!” Your lips quirk up at her exaggeration, but lift the flowy fabric over your head, leaving you in a small set of underthings.

You’ve changed in the same room before, but something’s more subdued this time.

Her blue-grey eyes dip, only for a moment, to get and eyeful of your breasts. But then they remain where they are. She doesn’t drag her gaze away, and it’s just you before her, in nothing but a bra and matching underwear.

Her hand raises, tracing her finger over the roundness of your right breast. “I haven’t seen this one before?” Her thumb brushes over its peak—right over your nipple—and it’s an effort not to emit a tiny sound of pleasure at the ticklish touch. “Where’d you get it from?”

You swallow, and her eyes mark the roll of your throat. “You know the one,” you reply, surprised to find your voice is smooth and even. “Opposite the restaurant that’s a little down from Rita’s?”

“Ohhh,” she hums, fixated by the pretty lace adorning your skin. “That one.”

Then her fingers are dipping abruptly to the front of your underwear, hooking beneath their seam, and snapping the band against your skin. You flinch, flushing at the intimate act of chastisement. Her eyes narrow teasingly, “you went without me? I though we did all our shopping together?”

You groan, but smile, “Mor’s really rubbing off on you, you know that?”

“Is that who you went with? Did you go with Mor?”

You peer at her, features seemingly a little tense. “What?” You laugh, shaking your head, “no.” The strain seems to seep from her shoulders, and she manages a laugh, “good.”

“Good?” You look at her questioningly.

“That’s our thing,” she explains, “our girls trip out.”

“Ah,” you nod, smiling now, “I see. Rhys is also rubbing off on you.” She gives you a look, and you gently pry the shirt from her fingers as she watches you intently. “So territorial,” you laugh teasingly, donning the item of clothing.

She blinks, once, in surprise. “Gods,” she mutters, “I am.” A surprised laugh bubbles up from your throat and her eyes spark at the sound, grinning softly.

“You look good in that shirt,” she says, softly, thumbing the buttons of the shirt. “Yeah?” You ask, equally quiet, peering at her. She nods, fingers tracing downward—between the shape of your breasts. Acutely aware of the descending path.

“Well, hello there.”

You jump, taking a hasty step back, while Feyre merely looks a bit disappointed. “Feyre was just letting me borrow some clothing since my dress was…compromised,” you explain, fairly succinctly. Rhysand nods, closing the door behind him as he walks up to his mate. His arms glides around her waist, pulling her to his side as he presses a chaste kiss to her temple.

He then turns to you, and you extend your hand—habitual, at this point—allowing him to grasp it as he presses his soft mouth to your knuckles. Violet eyes flick to yours as he pulls away, dragging down your clothed figure intently. His gaze twinkles, “is that my shirt?” Embarrassment heats your skin, burning in the pit of your stomach, as you turn to Feyre expectantly, “is it?”

Her eyes run over you again, and shrugs. “Maybe. I can never remember anymore. More than a few things of Rhys’ have ended up in my closet,” she says, frowning slightly.

“Oh,” you manage, “I’ll wear something else, then. I didn’t realise—”

“It’s fine,” Rhys cuts in, firmly. His arm tightens around Feyre’s waist, both of them watching you with an intensity you’re unaccustomed to. “Besides,” he adds, grinning slowly, “it looks good on you.” You flush with pleasure, smiling gently, “thank-you.”

————

It’s a week before you see them next, while Rhys and you are in the library, searching for a book on the history of mythical creatures—records of the various legends of the beasts that perhaps once roamed the Courts.

Feyre walks in with two plates laden with food—roast potatoes with herbs and something red and spicy looking, a meat you would guess is chicken scattered with rosemary and thyme and some other seasonings you can’t distinguish, as well as some other tasty looking bits and pieces.

You sigh, standing from your crouching position, “I’ll try again next time—thanks for the help though,” you say to Rhys who’s searching the higher shelves. “I’d better get home to start on my own supper,” you add, the food sparking hunger in your stomach. “Don’t be silly,” Feyre chirps, setting the two plates on the table where a third appears at their side. “I could only carry two, and I can hear your stomach from over here, eat with us.”

You eye the plates, just as inviting as before, mouthwatering in its display of aromas. “Well, if you insist,” you laugh, not taking much convincing at all. Rhys chuckles from a few rows over, “good to know if we ever need to tempt you over, we need only offer you a hot meal and you’ll come scrambling back to us.”

“I would not scramble, Rhysand,” you huff indignantly, “I’d skitter and scamper. On eight legs.” Feyre snorts as she settles at the wooden table, cutlery and eating implements landing either side of her plate as she prepares to tuck in.

“You know, I’m not sure even in a book containing information on the known creatures of Prythian would you find one that transforms into an arachnid when lured with food,” Rhys comments, taking the seat opposite Feyre, leaving to take the head of the table. “Maybe you should have it updated, then,” you laugh, settling into you seat.

“I wonder what other strange things you would find in there,” Feyre muses softly.

An easy quiet descends as you tuck into your food—pleasant and simple. Beautiful.

It’s always easy with them.

————

“That reminds me,” Feyre says, dropping you off at your own home—a couple of streets down from the River House.

You turn in your doorstep, tipping your head inquisitively.

“Do you feel comfortable around Rhys and I?” She asks, a little too casually. You narrow your eyes at her, “why? Are you propositioning me?” You flick your hair over your shoulder and bat your eyelashes at her flirtatiously. She stiffens, “no…I just…” She doesn’t usually stutter? “I wanted to make sure you don’t feel left out,” she supplies after a moment.

You watch her closely, pausing. She’s off tonight, something’s strange. “What is it?” You ask, turning to face her fully, but she shakes her head, stepping to the lower stair. “It’s nothing. I just know Rhys and I can sometimes forget other people are in the room, sometimes,” she lies, surprised how smooth the untruth is from her tongue. “Oh,” you laugh, smiling broadly, “no, it’s fine. It’s nice seeing you two be so moony-eyed over one another.”

Still, she looks like she’s considering saying something more. You raise your brows encouragingly. “I…” she begins uncertainly. Then she shakes her head again, and stands straighter. “We both enjoy your company. Greatly,” she tells you, locking eyes. You flush at the compliment, feeling a little shy, waving your hand slightly dismissively, “that’s sweet of you, Fey. I…like spending time with the two of you—it’s easy. Conversing, I mean. I don’t really have to…” You pause for thought. “I feel like I don’t have to think around you two, I can just kind of…you know?”

Feyre smiles tentatively, and it’s enough to show there’s more that she’s not saying. You’re not sure whether to push it or not—surely she’ll tell you if she wants to. But she’s also your High Lady—she’ll know how to deflect a question if it makes her uncomfortable.

So you take a small step forward. “What is it?” You repeat softly, watching her. “I can tell something’s up with you, Fey. What’s going on?” Her smile is a bit sheepish—strained. As if she’s tense. Your brow furrows. “You’re worrying me, is something wrong? Is there something I did?”

“No—no. It’s— You haven’t done anything wrong,” she smiles again, stiffly.

You just watch her steadily, then take a risk. You’re sure she’ll make it clear if she wants you to let it drop. So you move toward her, taking her hands in your own, fingers sliding into her palms smoothly—as if designed for one another. “Tell me, Fey,” you murmur, “if something’s weighing you down, I want to be there. Even if you just want a bed for the night, or a hug, or someone to have tea with in the mornings—I want you to know I can be here for you in whatever way you want.”

She looks at your intertwined hands, then back up to your eyes. Then blows out a breath. “Okay,” she sighs, “fine.” You brace yourself for whatever burden is slumping her shoulders. “Rhys and I care for you. Deeply.” You barely have time to blink before she’s pushing forward. “Differently to how friends should care for each other,” she clarifies.

“I can speak both for him and myself when I say that we would like to be more open with our affections towards you. To be more…intimate, with you.” She pauses to take in a breath, hands loose on your own, allowing you to step away should you wish. In no way threatening. “That being said, if that is not something that interests you, or it makes you uncomfortable, neither of us will ever bring it up again. Just understand we…you’re incredibly dear to both of us, and we would like nothing more than for you to requite our feelings,” she finishes.

You manage a few more blinks, then take a step away. “Oh my gods,” you murmur, staring at her. “You are propositioning me.” As soon as the words leave you mouth, you shake your head in denial. “I don’t understand. Is this a joke? Are you joking? Did I do something to make one of you uncomfortable and this is your way of figuring out if there was something behind it? By seeing if I’m romantically interested in one or both of you?”

Feyre’s brow furrows at your words. “Not at all. This…we’re both serious. I can get Rhys over if you want to talk to him, too. We thought it would be easier for you to remain calm around me, if things went unfavourably,” she explains, watching you steadily; honestly.

“You—…” You look at her, bewildered, and feeling slightly sick. It’s a lot to digest. “You… Both of you…” you begin, selecting your words carefully. “Both of you…enjoy my company?” You ask slowly, almost analytically.

The female nods gently.

“So…—I’m sorry if I’ve gotten this wrong… You’re asking about my affections toward the two of you?”

She nods again.

“Okay,” you swallow. “Okay,” you repeat, breathing deeply. Better to get it out of the way. “I’ve found myself romantically attracted to you two for some time, now. I didn’t want to say anything for obvious reasons, and you were both so kind, and lovely that I thought I could make do with watching from a distance. I’ve never wanted to attempt to split you up, or made a conscious effort to pull one of your’s attention away from the other,” you manage, speaking in a straightforward, matter-of-fact tone.

“But, if you’re saying that each of you has an…interest,” you stammer over the word, “in…also. Then…I’m open to it. To both of you.” Now you’re flushing, heart pounding.

This time Feyre blinks, processing. “You…you’re attracted to us? To both of us?”

You flush more, skin heating across your body as you shift. “I don’t want to be too graphic,” you admit, looking away from her. “But, yes,” you murmur, “I’m attracted to both of you.”

Before she has a chance to say anything, you continue, “and I’ve felt awful about it, for years. Harbouring these feelings—I didn’t want them, and they always make me feel so guilty. Like I’m a spy or something trying to worm my way into your court, or break you apart. But I swear, I’ve never wanted that,” you practically plead. “I swear on everything that is good, I’ve never consciously acted on my feelings for either of you up until now.”

She staring at you, almost disbelievingly, and you wonder if you should have just kept your mouth shut.

“So…you’d like to be with us? You…I mean,” her voice is thick and rough with emotion, “you’d like to be ours? Share our things, eat meals with us, be with us?” She swallow heavily, “share our bed?” Heat swallows your body whole as you look away and dip your head in confirmation.

“You—” she stammers, moving forward to be in your space. “May I kiss you?” She asks hoarsely. You hardly manage a nod before her shaky fingers are sliding over the nape of your neck, pressing her soft lips to your own. Both your eyes slide shut, as you rest there, basking in the feeling of one another, indulging in the heat and the softness and the wonder.

Your hands settle nervously around her waist, one hand sliding up between her shoulder blades, pressing her against you. She moves with your guide, pliant beneath your fingertips, so malleable. Her own grip tightens on you as she pushes further, slanting her mouth as she retreats then washes in on you again.

When she pulls away, you’re both more than a little shaken, more than a little breathless.

“I…would you feel fine coming back to the River House, then? Staying the night?” She asks hopefully. You blink, then nod. You’re unable to comprehend how she’s capable of speech right now. She nods to herself, mirroring your confirmation. “Okay. Yeah. Yeah, that’ll work. Though if you need time to think— Or you want to go slower, just say,” she breathes, arms still over your shoulders while yours remain around her waist.

“Will you—” You clear your hoarse throat. “Do you want to walk back, or…?”

She nods, still breathless, “I’ll take you to the front door, then.”

————

You’re jittery, heart still pounding, when she winnows you to their house, opening the door and letting you inside.

“Does Rhys…” you begin, whispering. “I mean, have you told him?” Feyre shakes her head, “I can if you want?” You consider, arm linking tightly beneath her own, but then he appears in the hallway and you stiffen as his violet eyes take both of you in. His gaze weighs on your linked arms for a moment, before flicking away.

“You’re back,” he greets with a casual smile, walking toward the two of you. “Feyre convince you stay the night for some reading again?” He asks, stopping a little way from you both. Your eyes flick to Feyre’s but she nods toward Rhys, encouraging. You swallow thickly, eyes darting about before returning to his. “Feyre was…well, we were talking, and…and she said—well, it was a bit confusing. Not in general, but at first— I mean, we chatted, about…some things, and, well…” your arm tightens on Feyre’s and you feel heat flushing your skin with embarrassment and humiliation at your stammering.

You turn to Feyre, “I’m sorry. Can you do it? I don’t know how to…” you trail off, looking at her pleadingly. She smiles broadly, then turns her attention to a puzzling Rhysand. “She said yes.” You manage a tight-lipped smile as the male’s eyes widen a little, taking you in with a different intent.

But then his arms a spreading and Feyre’s letting you go as his hands wrap over your shoulders and he pulls you tight into his warmth, nose pressing into your hair as he takes in your scent. Behind you Feyre laughs softly at the sight, then Rhys is pulling her in too, and your front is pressed tight against his chest, while she’s firmly at your back, and you swear you could melt into a puddle of happiness between them.

“You’re really…” Rhys asks hoarsely into your hair, Feyre’s arm looping over your stomach while her free hand strokes the male’s upper arm soothingly. You nod into his chest gently, careful not to knock him, “yeah.” Your voice is raspy but you don’t care, not as Feyre holds both of you tighter, and Rhys presses a kiss to your hair. One of his hands brushes a stray strand from your cheek, pushing it back over your pointed ear, before curving around Feyre’s nape, keeping all three of you together.

Feysand Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @girlmadeofavocados @mali22

[onyxbird]

OK, the idea of a soulmate au where you can't look anyone but your soulmate directly in the eyes was not done with me yet.

Leverage version:

Sophie knows all the tricks for faking full eye contact. For a third-party observer, it's nigh-impossible to tell that she's not quite achieving direct eye contact short of using cameras with very good eye-tracking software. Trying to fool a mark into thinking she's their soulmate via “eye contact” is tougher, but on a mark who hasn't met their own soulmate (and thus has never experienced true full eye contact), Sophie still has a pretty good success rate. Every member of the team has been drafted as her fake soulmate on a con at least once. Or, at least, Sophie has tried. Parker failed to pick up on any of the hints Sophie was able to drop without blowing their cover, so Sophie had to switch tactics. Hardison tried valiantly to hold the near-eye-contact, and they pulled off the job, but he was struggling and his resulting nervous blather did not help the illusion at all. Eliot picked up her cues and pulled off the illusion flawlessly… and hated every second of it. The first time they faked prolonged eye contact, he ducked away to Nate's bathroom the second they got in the door, and Sophie (slightly insulted) wondered if he was going to throw up. He didn't, just practically boiled his skin off in the hottest shower he could stand. Nate is by far Sophie's most frequent “soulmate” on the job… None of the rest of the team are entirely sure whether the eye contact is fake or not, and neither Nate nor Sophie is telling.

Parker has never had any interest in making eye contact, and was genuinely unaware that this was a serious thing people actually believe in. (Sure, people talk about finding their “soulmate” through eye contact, but people also talk about summoning Bloody Mary through the bathroom mirror. That doesn't mean it's real.) The first time she looked directly into Hardison's eyes was both accidental and jarring. She averted her eyes and assumed they would never mention this uncomfortable situation again. She was not expecting Hardison to suddenly want to have an intense, excited conversation that was clearly loaded with some meaning she wasn't picking up on, and she definitely wasn't expecting him to do so while trying to eagerly stare into her eyeballs. When Eliot happened to walk in, she latched onto him like a spooked cat, demanding he do something about Hardison; there was something wrong with him, like he's possessed or something; make him stop!

Eliot has habitually avoided even the possibility of eye contact with anyone since he was in high school. (He certainly wasn't trying to lock eyes with people even before that, but, well, he and Aimee had tried once, back when they were young and naive and thought maybe they were meant to be. They weren't.) In his line of work… it was better not to know. There was just no way that would end well. He doesn't have anything against other people finding their soulmates, though. Really. So he's not quite sure why there's such a bite to his words when he snaps at Hardison to knock it off—that “soulmates” is no excuse for trying to look someone in the eye when they don't like it. But he's sure he can feel a headache forming as he's stuck between Parker's “'Soulmates'! Ha! …Oh, come on. You're kidding, right? That's not real” from one side and Hardison's horrified “Oh my god, I'm sorry! Parker, I am so, so sorry—I was just so excited, you know? I didn't realize—” start of what was clearly going to be a long and heartfelt apology on the other.

Hardison thinks soulmates are very romantic, and he's always hoped, you know? He tries not to talk too openly about it—dreaming of finding your soulmate was deemed “girly” and “wussy” by the popular boys at his high school, and he had more than enough targets on his back for bullying as a kid without drawing attention this one. He's always kind of thought he'd probably never find his, if he even had one. He did so much of his socializing with like-minded people online, and you can't make eye contact—not real eye contact—over a webcam. There have been some near misses that made his heart flip (Hell, back during that first Dubenich job, when Eliot had taken out all the Pierson guards and then given him that smug little smirk, for an instant—just for an instant—Hardison had almost thought their eyes met directly. He must have imagined it, too caught up in the incredibly sexy and unexpected display of competence on display in front of him to avoid a split second of daydreaming about what it would feel like to look straight into those incredibly blue eyes. Anyway, it had never happened again, and after working together for so long, they surely would have looked each other in the eyes by now if it were possible.), but no dice. Until now. Parker, though… Even while apologizing (he should have realized to be more careful with Parker), Hardison could barely keep the absolutely giddy smile off his face. There had been no mistaking that, and god when people talked about “getting lost” in their soulmate's eyes… Wow, they weren't kidding!

Nate will expound at length about how the concept of “soulmates” and consequently the act of making eye contact have been exploited and commercialized for all of recorded history, the absence of any scientific evidence that the rare ability to make eye contact with another person actually correlates with any real measures of relationship compatibility rather than being a random biological quirk that has been superstitiously fetishized, and (if the person who brought it up isn't desperately trying to escape the conversation yet) whether the concept soulmates is compatible with Catholic theology. Very few people last long enough through his disparagement of the entire concept to notice that he has skirted around ever actually saying whether or not he's ever made direct eye contact with another person, and even fewer are willing to risk touching off another lengthy tirade to press him on the matter.

Thanks @soulmate-au-bargain-bin for the fun idea!

[lundenloves]

simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader

you tell simon you’re pregnant with his third child.

no warnings | wc 700 | taglist | masterlist

Your third child with Simon: a story told over the phone. On a busy, frantic morning at the barracks, Simon had barely pulled himself a minute to stand aside and return your missed call.

“Everythin’ alright?” His words composed, although every time you phoned he liked to imagine the worst. Stood a good distance from his unit, hand clutching onto the opposite bicep with a habitual frown. “You phoned.” His jaw tight, the heel of his boot digging into the dirt beneath with a stomp.

“Yeah, yeah no, all fine.” You were spitting the words, pacing around your kitchen and haphazardly tidying with the phone snug between your shoulder and ear.

Simon shifted. “So. What is it?” You could hear the loud bustle of masculine laughter from far away on the other line, the uniformed men audibly walking past your husband.

There wasn’t a break between his words and your own, “I’m pregnant again.” You said without much gusto, as if this was routine by the third child and a few scares. “And I um, I don’t know how.” His silence on the line was briefly penetrated by a murmur of his own confusion, the sound of his weight shifting against the dirt beneath him.

“D’you want me to come back?” His dry tone wasn’t met with an answer, the pair of you in silent thought for when this could’ve happened. “I’d need to know, now, ‘cause—“

“No. I don’t need you back.” You cut him off, gaining a grunt of acknowledgment on the other end. “I just wanted to tell you.”

“Do you want it?”

A long sigh came. “Do you?”

The sound of crunching dirt grew louder as someone approached and you knew he wouldn’t answer you now. “Can I phone you back, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah. No rush,” Simon forcefully grabbed Soap’s shoulder as he walked past, pulling him to the side. “Just think about it though.” You continued, Johnny staring at the silencing gesture Ghost had held up, his finger mere centimetres from the Sergeants face.

“I will, I will.” He glared at Soap, brows fixed into a frown at his lieutenants nods. “Yeah, yeah, right bye.” His eye contact was ditched. “Love you, bye.” The phone hastily shoved back into his pocket, hands on his hips.

“Well?” Soap snorted. “What’s this about?”

“She’s pregnant. Again.”

Johnny’s brows shot upward, smile intruding his face, and leaning back to clap his hands together in amusement. “Christ, Lt. ‘Yous fucking like rabbits when you’re home, eh?”

“Fucking keep it down.” Ghost warned.

“So what’s the deal?” Soap rubbed his face, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No idea how it happened.”

“Well, I assume the shagging had something to do with it.” His joke forced a laugh from Simon, shaking his head and lifting the bottom of his balaclava to rub at his jaw. “A third kid, mate. Can you hack it?”

Simon shrugged.

“Could be a boy.” Soap said absently, receiving a face of sarcastic agreement. Everyone knew Simon was never having a boy, the nurses especially were the first to say as much all those years ago. “Just go home. Talk in person.”

“I’ll phone her.”

And that was Johnny’s cue to leave, nodding once before taking backwards steps. Simon turned around, dialling the number with his eyes to the floor, absently nudging the dirt around with his boots. “Yep.” You answered, clearly still in your busy state.

“I’ll come back.” He murmured.

“No. You’re going away—“

“For three months.” His bite wasn’t intentional. “And by then it’ll be an issue.” The logical side of his brain was forever more in tune than its emotional counterpart. “So let’s just sort it now, yeah?”

And that you did, resulting in the birth of a third child nine months down the line. Miraculously, he was even there for the birth. His first and probably last out of your three children, and god was that an experience. He hadn’t known what to expect but what he came out with was the knowledge that childbirth is seemingly more traumatic than anything he had ever seen on the field. And that was impressive.

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkjoequinn @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble

the taglist is fucked, if you’re not here but want to be added, please follow the link at the start! comments and reblogs are also very appreciated, i’ll sit in a hole if no one pats me on the head every now and then.

[rosekasa]

“I was going for the cheek/forehead and I missed 😳” kiss for any side of the square ❤️

AHHH ANON THANK U!!!

92. “I was going for the cheek/forehead and I missed 😳” kiss - from this amazing list by @kisspromptsforthelovesquare !

Ladybug hates Hawk Moth for a lot of reasons. But interrupting the first date she's had with her boyfriend after his month away in Verona truly takes the cake.

Coming to a halt at Champs de Mars, she sets Adrien down on his feet. The power still hasn't come back on after the attack; the safety announcement hasn't been broadcasted yet, and no one has been brave enough to come back out and return to their picnic blankets.

"Thanks, Ladybug." He dusts himself off once he's out of her arms. Despite being cornered in an alleyway for two hours, he still looks gorgeous -- brand new white shirt perfectly pressed, not a strand of hair out of place. "You really didn't have to trouble yourself, though. I could've just walked."

She knows that very well -- but she wasn't about to let Hawk Moth win. He can interrupt all her dates as much as he wants, but he cannot stop her from exercising her God-given right of enjoying how attractive her boyfriend is up-close and personal.

"What are superheroes for?" she says with a smile. "I mean, I know Chat Noir is your favourite, but unfortunately you were stuck with me today."

He laughs awkwardly. "Chat Noir? My favourite?" he says. "I'd like to have a word with some of your sources. I've been a Ladybug fanboy since day one."

She rolls her eyes. "Your flirting is even as bad as his."

"You should meet my girlfriend. No one thinks my flirting is as bad as she does."

She can't help but laugh. Of course he wears that like a badge of pride. The thing he'd lamented the most while in Verona was how text messages 'didn't do justice' to his awful lines.

"Maybe you should follow her example more often and I won't have to save you from akumas all the time," she says.

He smiles. "But it's always nice to see an old friend."

She goes in for a casual, habitual side-hug. As if he's just a regular-schmegular civilian she's been saving for months and not the guy she was close to building a shrine for to get him to come back to Paris early.

Just as they begin to pull away, Ladybug leans in and presses a polite kiss to his cheek.

Except Adrien, about to say something, turns his head at the last second, and her lips land squarely on his.

They both freeze.

A beat passes, then two. He hasn't moved yet. Neither has she. One of them probably should, though.

But also... she hasn't kissed Adrien in a very long time.

No. Maybe enjoying how attractive her boyfriend is is her God-given right, but Hawk Moth would definitely have a field day if he found out Ladybug was kissing supermodel Adrien Agreste while his girlfriend was nowhere to be found after an akuma attack.

She leaps back, lips smarting. "I am so sorry."

He blinks a few times, as if she'd just hit him with her yo-yo. "No, I mean-- it's fine."

She opens her mouth to speak. Before she can, he reaches up and wipes a thumb over his chin. Pink gloss comes off. He looks at her, nonplussed. Blush shoots up to her hairline.

"You're not wearing your passion fruit lip balm?" he asks.

Silence passes over them for many seconds.

"...What?" she says.

He rubs his fingers together, pouting. "This is sparkly," he says, as if that's any kind of explanation.

"...What?"

He looks up, and his expression shifts. "Do you not... know?"

Eyes wide, she shakes her head.

More silence ensues.

"...How?" he finally says.

She stares at him. "What do you mean, 'how'?"

"I've seen you de-transform before almost every single one of our dates," he says. "You got to the airport five minutes after class ended to see me off. I thought you wanted me to know you were Ladybug."

Before, at least, she might've been able to convince herself they were talking about different things. Not after that.

"But you-- you said I'm an old friend!" she says. "You referred to your girlfriend!"

"I thought we were doing a bit!"

She sighs deeply, scrubbing her hands down her face. This is Hawk Moth's fault. She doesn't know how, but it is.

"Why were you shocked when I kissed you?" she asks quietly.

His face turns sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck, looking at the grass.

"I missed you," he says. "We haven't kissed in a long time."

Ladybug's heart leaps in her ribcage. No, she's not giving Hawk Moth credit for this.

Flying forward, she wraps her arms around him and brings her mouth to his, kissing him entirely on purpose.

The power comes back on after two minutes. While she's not sure about Hawk Moth, Twitter, at least, certainly has a field day.