#like your body will never be good enough. why on earth should you try to hold yourself to those ridiculous standards when you're infinitely

[cosmicredvelvet]

the concept of "entertainment fat" changed my life.

[kiyinian]

Part two

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Ex-husband Simon who: Always does the month's grocery shopping with you, always coming up with lame excuses to spend more time with you. Always encourages your children to eat a lot, sometimes even more than they should, just to make sure the food runs out quickly and that you call him to help with the groceries.

Ex-husband Simon who: Never stopped wearing his wedding ring, even though you no longer wore yours. For him, you would always be his wife, no matter what, even if you refused to wear your wedding ring again.

Ex-husband Simon who: Is very attentive to the children, always picks them up from school when you can't, who takes them out every weekend, and on vacation, takes them on trips. And of course, always thinking about spending more time with you.

Ex-husband Simon who: Knows that divorce means divorce, but can't stop giving you Valentine's Day presents every year, even if you reject being his Valentine once again.

Ex-husband Simon who: Is always available when you need him, if something has broken in the house? Don't hesitate to call him. Need to buy something? Ask him and he'll sort it out. Want a shoulder to cry on? He'll be there for you.

Ex-husband Simon who: Always pays for things for you, especially when you go out with the children. He refuses to let you pay a single penny when he's around, even though he knows you have enough money to pay for whatever you want. Just as he won't stop sending you money, even if you work.

Ex-husband Simon who: Even though you live in separate houses, he always goes to the house where you and the children are living, the usual excuse being that he was passing by, so he decided to go and see the children. And you, too.

Ex-husband Simon who: Knows it's wrong to manipulate children like this, but he induces the little ones to dislike any other man you introduce to them. No matter how good your new romantic interest is, Simon can't stand the idea of you having someone else by your side. And the children think so too.

Ex-husband Simon who: Is happy when he hears that you haven't met anyone since you split up, that no other man had caught your eye. And he could only feel the relief and hope that this brought him.

Ex-husband Simon who: Tries to win you over again, always giving you presents, calling you to dinner, being the exemplary husband you needed. All the effort that was thrown away every time you denied him, he left with a heavy heart, but destined to try as many times as necessary. There was no other person who was like you, you were the only one for him.

Ex-husband Simon who: Almost felt his heart drop out of his mouth when he saw you all dressed up for your son's second birthday, you'd only prepared a small party, no big deal. But the sight of you was still breathtaking, even more so when you smiled so sweetly. He didn't take his eyes off you once that evening.

Ex-husband Simon who: Didn't hesitate to accept when you asked to spend the night with him, after the children were asleep. And you would have time alone after a long time apart.

Ex-husband Simon who: Made love to you as if it were the last time. He caressed every part of your body, made you feel butterflies in your stomach with every kiss he gave you. He pounded into you like a maniac, as if it were his last day on earth, telling you he loved you, calling you the nicknames he knew would make you weak in the knees. He made you see stars that night.

Ex-husband Simon who: Felt heartbroken when you said that everything that had happened was a mistake, and that it was a moment of weakness. It shouldn't have happened, that's what you said, but it all seemed so right to him.

Ex-husband Simon who: Didn't understand why you were distancing yourself from him after the night you shared together, that he felt he had done something wrong to you. Who didn't understand your nervousness, the way you stuttered and fidgeted next to him, he just thought he'd done something wrong and you were angry.

Ex-husband Simon who: Had no idea that you were actually nervous not because of some action of his, but because you didn't know how to break the news to him that you were pregnant, that your evening had resulted in an unplanned pregnancy. You were carrying twins.

Ex-husband Simon who: Almost fainted when you broke the news to him, he didn't know whether to cry with relief or joy. But in any case, he was sure that he would go through hell to get you back, he was going to do everything possible and impossible to make his family what it was before.

[urhoneycombwitch]

eddie x latebloomer, virgin reader (so not self-projecting...) who isn't innocent or typically what people say is "virginal" (because virginity is a construct!) but still gets super nervous about heavy petting/sex because they've never done it before and don't want to be bad or weird and literally just flees at the confrontation

until that ovulation hits and r! is trying so hard to ignore it, squirming on Eddie's couch/bed and he's like 🤨 you ok? and then it just comes out in a whole word vomit that he's super hot and they're absolutely soaked but don't know what to do and it probably won't be good and they should just go home and eddies like... no big deal, I'll just eat you out, no penetration 🤷🏻

and when they do actually have sex later, I know Eddie talks R through it

ty for suggesting this anon! u got me inspired here's a lil blurb. also dedicated to @wdsara48 who asked for more inexperienced!reader content 🫡

+18 mdni: Eddie’s a bit clueless about the hormone cycle, oral (r receiving), cumming in pants (guess who), ovulation horny (™)

____________

On second thought, it was probably a really bad call to visit your boyfriend when you were this horny.

Which sounds silly, you know it does- who wouldn't want to visit their hot boyfriend at a time like this?- but you've really been enjoying taking it slow this time around. Eddie is the first boy you've dated who has totally and completely earned your trust when it comes to sex- he's never once pressured you to take your heated make-out sessions any further, pulling back and unwinding himself from you with spit-slick lips every so often to gauge your comfort level.

Is this okay? How are you feeling? Wanna take a break?

So kind. So considerate. So far away, in the kitchen, humming to himself while he fixes dinner, hair loose and curling around the shoulders of his tight Metallica tee. Every time he reaches over to stir the pot of chili on the stove, the lean muscles in his upper back and biceps curl and flex.

Hormones are flushing hot through your body, the couch you’re seated on feeling more and more confining by the second; you cross your legs at the ankle in an attempt to stave off the fidgeting, but when this causes the thick denim of your zippered jeans to press into the ache between your legs you are quick to uncross them again.

There’s a low-toned buzz that’s taken up residence in your hearing, like all the raging horniness has no place else to go- which is why you don’t hear Eddie the first time he speaks.

He’s standing at the edge of the living room now, hands on hips, one dark brow raised in your direction- “Earth to angel. You with me?”

“Huh?” You swallow harshly against the dryness in your throat (contrasted with the excess wetness in other places) and shake your head, slipping your hands underneath your thighs to sit on them and ground yourself a bit. “Sorry, I was zoning out. What’d you say?”

“I said you seem antsy tonight,” Eddie repeats, moving in to sit next to you, close enough for your knees to touch. “Had too much coffee or somethin’? Y’know, you really shouldn’t drink that stuff after noon. Not good for ya.”

He’s teasing, all smooth movements with an easy grin as he snakes an arm around your shoulders.

The smoke-sweet smell of his cologne floods your senses- musky and heady and this underlayer of something earthy, wild, that you could swear hits on a primal nerve by the way it makes your clit throb.

When you stiffen under Eddie’s arm, he reads your signal as one of discomfort, tsking at himself underneath his breath before starting to pull away. “Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to make you-”

“No!” Your hand darts out to grab at his over your shoulder, keeping him from leaving, because if the warmth of his body pressed to your side stops you might actually die. “No, it’s not you. I promise. It’s me. I’m…”

Eddie watches you with mild concern as you flounder, mouth opening and shutting a few times before settling on just the truth- “I’m ovulating.”

He blinks. “Um. Shit. Do you need to go to the doctor? ‘Cuz the main office is definitely closed this time ‘a night but the ER is for sure open-”

You bend at the waist, pitching forward with a groan and cutting him off. With hot cheeks buried in your hands, your voice comes out muffled- “Didn’t you take sex ed, like, three times?”

“Sure did. Learned basic anatomy real well.” His palm has slid to your lower back, your shirt ridden up to expose a stripe of skin that his warm hand now rests on. “Help me out, princess. What’s goin’ on?”

With a pounding heart, you manage to sit up, looking down at your hands in your lap as you whisper, “Ovulation makes me, like, super horny.”

At first, you think he didn’t hear you, but after a beat of silence there’s a subtle shift in his posture, spine straightening.

“Oh.” Eddie’s hand on you doesn’t move but his other one smoothes down the line of his jean-clad thigh, clearing his throat before asking, “And do you wanna… do something about that?”

Mustering courage, you swivel slightly to look at him- the joking tone from earlier has drained out of his voice, and this is the shyest you’ve ever seen him: staring unseeing at his own lap, plucking at the knee of his jeans.

“Like what?” You ask, matching the same low tone he’s just used.

When Eddie looks back at you, that’s when you realize your mistake- his lack of eye contact wasn’t due to shyness. The way he’s looking at you now, dark chocolate eyes holding a steady gaze, it’s a wonder he’s been so restrained this whole time. 

“Could eat you out. Only if you wanted, though.”

You shiver. Visibly. 

A slow, half-tilted smile pulls at Eddie’s lips; he brings your free hand to his face and kisses your knuckles, then tugs you up with him to stand.

“C’mon. Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Cast in soft lamplight, Eddie closes the door to his room before cupping your face in his hands, cool rings against your cheeks. He kisses you gently, at first, plush lips notching in steady rhythm against yours; when you tug him in closer by his waist and slip your tongue between his teeth, he groans into your mouth.

He pulls away, wet click of your separating mouths loud in the quiet of the room before giving your hip a light tap. “Up on the bed, angel.”

You’re quick to comply, crawling backwards on the duvet, lust unfurling in your stomach as you rest half-propped on your elbows.

Eddie divests himself of his shirt in one fluid motion without taking his eyes from you. His pale skin gleams in the low light, silver chain and guitar pick necklace swinging as he moves to hover over you.

“You okay?” He asks, dark hair a curtain around both your faces as his bare torso presses against your clothed one. 

When you nod, he ducks to kiss you again before sliding a hand up your shirt. “Good. ‘Cuz I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You know he’s mostly joking- you and him have a safeword, and he’s always attentive to your body signals- but the pure desire that he’s kissing and touching you with is indicative of a boy who’s waited too long to be able to have you like this.

Eddie laps at your mouth, tongue twining with yours as his hand squeezes and molds the fat of your breast through your bra as both your nipples stiffen in response. When his knee slots between your thighs, you moan, hips jolting up to chase the friction.

“Can I…” you’re panting, forehead crushed to Eddie’s as you search for the words. “I want your mouth, on me- please.”

You’re rarely ever so communicative, usually hidden away behind a wall of reservations that are totally melted away now. Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched, sucks at a spot behind your ear that causes your hips to rock forward again, then says, “Yeah, sweetheart, yeah. You can have my mouth. Fuck.”

While he kisses down the slope of your neck, between your clothed breasts, your bare stomach where your shirt’s been rucked up, he’s muttering (to himself, to you, hard to say): “‘Course you can have my mouth. Have it wherever you want it. Christ. Should’a asked for it sooner. Give you anything you want.”

Eddie pops the button on your jeans and you lift your hips so he can pull them completely off your body; when he sees the wet patch of arousal darkening your baby blue underwear he chokes out another curse before working the fabric down your hips and tossing them to the ground.

“Gonna let me taste you, baby?” he asks, stretching his lower half out on the mattress and pulling your legs over his shoulders, his mouth inches from your soaked core. Eddie looks up at you, face bracketed by your thighs, pupils blown out with desire, waiting for your go-ahead.

“Please,” you murmur, stretching out a hand to pet at the crown of his head.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment with your touch; when he presses a kiss to the top of your cunt, your hand tightens in his hair, his resulting hum of encouragement vibrating against your clit.

Eddie flattens his tongue and licks a wide stripe up your folds, spreading the wetness from your leaking hole up to mouth sloppily at your clit; when he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your elbow supporting your half-propped frame gives out and you pitch back against the covers.

“There- ah- shit, there, Eddie…” you sound wrecked already, voice husked with the strain of holding back whines. Normally, you’d be so in your head about the exposing condition you’re in, but at this point you’re too wound up to care, Eddie’s tongue against the beating heart of you coaxing that tightness in your stomach closer and closer to snapping.

His nails bite in where his hands span the width of your thighs, holding you against his mouth even as your legs tremble and hips twist jerkily with each sweep of his tongue; Eddie gives one last suck to your clit then follows the line of your cunt down, down with his tongue to prod at your sodden entrance.

When his tongue slides into you with a wet squelch, obscenely loud in the otherwise quiet room, you both moan in tandem- your hand in his hair tightens to near-brutal, and the bed underneath you both tremors with the jolt of Eddie’s hips rutting into the mattress.

He sets a steady pace with his tongue, fucking it in and out of you as his nose nudges against your clit. That coil in your stomach is starting to make all your muscles tense up, your thighs locking Eddie in place (who seems to only be spurred on with each constriction of your body).

“Gonna come?” The lower half of his face is coated in your slick as he takes a brief pause to kiss at your inner thigh, one hand coming to rest on your tummy, pinning you down. “C’mon, baby. Let me see it.”

Your body obeys, tension snapping as his mouth returns to your cunt, a high whine of “Eddie Eddie Eddie” that you don’t bother to hide this time loosening from your throat as everything around you bursts and crashes into orgasm.

Toes curling against Eddie’s lower back, cunt spasming around his tongue, Eddie fucks you through it and then some, his own hips mindlessly grinding down as your release triggers his own, spilling warm into his boxers while your high spirals out.

When the spams of your pleasure turn over into aftershocks, Eddie comes up for air, pressing one last kiss to your overstimulated cunt before crawling up your body to lie on top with his head in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck,” you say aloud to the ceiling, breathless, arms automatically encircling the boy. “Holy shit.”

“I’ll say.” Eddie’s breath cools over the sticky patch he kissed into your skin, his mouth still wet with your release. He gathers enough energy to plant his elbows on either side of your head, looking down at you, suddenly serious. “So um… how often do you get ovi- ovel… like this? Once a year or somethin’?”

The laugh shakes out of your chest before you can stop it; you reach up to tuck Eddie’s curls behind his ears, your previous bashfulness having been tongue-fucked out of you.

“Eddie Munson, do I have news for you.”

[sahisan]

★ summary: harbinger!scaramouche x harbinger!fem!reader. you reveal that your favourite body part of his are fingers.

☆ cw: nsfw. scaramouche's fingers' appreciation. established relationship (may not be seen here but anyway). reader is a harbinger. alcohol mentioned, but reader doesn't drink. fingering. overstimulation. scara uses degrading praise (use of 'whore'). soft dom scara. reader's title in the harbingers is 'brighella'. 1810 words.

☾ a/n: kay why essing myself if this flops🧍‍♀️/hj

you didn't know how you could possibly end up here.

around the table there were seated harbingers like arlecchino, columbina, signora, scaramouche, you and, of course, the bastard who initiated all of this - tartaglia. a few bottles of expensive alcohol were also placed on the round table, along with some glasses - some full, some empty.

the gingerhead even got scaramuche here. you couldn't even begin to imagine how he got the sixth here. probably, by begging or promising something stupid like not bothering him with his fights for a month.

idiot, dunce, moron-

you sigh for the nth time, straightening your warm, fur coat on your shoulders, then rubbing the bridge of your nose in an attempt not to make a face at the smell of alcohol on the table in front of them all.

a regular game with questions and drinking, except that you don't drink. and that’s why you have to answer all the questions asked, tartaglia explained. you held back the urge to leave.

"should've chosen drinking.." you think, already regretting your decisions. you couldn't possibly know what kinds of questions all of them could ask eachother. kana's guesses started off something like "what's your favourite colour" and continued up to "what's your favourite sex position". the harbingers were always so chaotic that you could really imagine someone asking that. especially tartaglia.

well, enough whining about that shithead.

your bored gaze falls upon the balladeer at the other end of the table. his hat is so big that everyone sitting next to him had to sit at least a meter away from him.

you look him up and down, your eyes lingering on the folded hands on his lap. the length of his fingers, their softness, their position-

you swallow the saliva in your mouth. this is not what you should be doing right now. at least not now.

you don't realise you're literally staring at him for a good few minutes already, until you hear someone calling you.

"...ghella. brighella!"

a familiar voice calls out your title, interrupting your glaring session, and you nearly jump out of your seat, trying to look like you were definitely not staring at scaramouche. not that he'd be against that.

in front of your unfocused eyes, they move their hand, waving. you immediately recognize this hand. its fingers, to be completely honest.

"earth to [name]!" scaramouche leans back, grinning in a slightly mocking way as soon as he sees that he managed to bring you out of this 'trance'. "you were asked a question." he simply says, when you finally manage to focus your vision.

crap. were you staring the whole time? humiliating.

"what?" you ask, having no idea of anything what happened while you were busy. clearing your throat and straightening your back you try not to appear embarrassed.

you sincerely hope you succeeded.

"i asked you a question." tartaglia’s voice is heard from the side, and she turns her head in his direction. of course it will be tartaglia, who, if not he, will never miss an opportunity to joke around.

"sorry, i didn't hear it. repeat the question." you sigh, asking calmly, propping your chin with your palm.

tartaglia grins widely. what a brat.

"i asked..." he makes a dramatic pause, looking around at everyone present - arlecchino, columbina, signora, scaramouche and, finally, his gaze stops at you. you pretend not to be in the least bit intrigued. "which part of scaramouche's body is your favorite?"

you pause, eyebrows raised up in surprise and confusion even when your face stays calm. you blink. twice. three times.

you think you might've misheard the gingerhead.

trying your best to stay calm, you cock your head, brows falling back in their place. "...what?"

"which part of scaramouche's bo-"

no, you definitely did not mishear him.

"i heard you the first time." you retort almost sharply, confusion coating your once bored features. you start to wonder what could he possibly think when asking that question in front of the other harbingers and, first of all, in front of scaramouche. "why... why this question?"

"just because." tartaglia simply replies, shrugging as if it's the most innocent question in the world.

"just because?"

"just because."

fucking bastard.

jokes aside, you didn't know if anybody from the harbingers or of all the fatui knew that you and scaramouche were together. you never told anyone and he didn't bother with telling anybody - no public kisses or words of affection when outside your private chambers - that's how it was for both of you.

nonetheless, you do give his question a thought. a big thought.

you feel the gaze of everyone present in this room on yourself, and especially - scaramouche's gaze. it's like he's burning a hole in you, yet having that usual mocking smirk present. for a second, you even wonder that he's fucking you with his eyes. just for a second.

you, quietly swallowing the suddenly viscous saliva, turn to the one mentioned, allowing yourself to look at him again.

eyes. his eyes, his endless indigo eyes, on which you'd let him drown you without saying a single word of protest. it's like looking at the infinite myriads of stars in the sky.

hair. his hair is incredibly soft, even if it is artificial. you can spend hours running his strands between your fingers without saying a word.

lips. his lips make your knees weaken and the butterflies in your stomach flutter with renewed vigor, and you're talking not only about kisses. his degrading praise has you on your knees for him anytime.

fingers.

"fingers." you blurt out without a last thought. this all is absolutely about his fingers. thin, long fingers, at which you could just glance at once and your legs would already shake in anticipation.

you notice the silence of all the present in the room. from the other side of the table, opposite from tartaglia's, arlecchino's all-knowing chuckle can be heard - she had you ranting about every little thing you'd like him to do with you, and every single thing you and scaramouche have already done together.

you're too embarrassed to turn to face scaramouche.

tartaglia can't stop himself from grinning even wider, looking at you with some kind of suspicious glint in his eyes. what is he up to now?

"what?" you confusingly frown at him, turning to face the man.

if it hadn't been for the tsaritsa, you'd crush every single bone in his body a while ago already.

tartaglia only smirks. "nothing. so, you're asking someone a question now...'

nothing is also something.

—

"yes, there you go... say that again." scaramouche cooes into your ear, leaning over you, his voice sounding like a literal honey - soft and gentle, a usual contrast to both how he acts around the fatui and the other times when you make out.

"i-i love your f-fingers, scara- i love them, i absolutely love them..." you breathe out, barely holding back a mewl that escapes your lips when his fingers start to pick up the pace yet again.

scaramouche had been fingering you for... you don't even know, mind too hazy. maybe it's been a few hours already. maybe even barely 30 minutes. you can't remember how many times you've came, creaming all over his fingers time after time, orgasm after orgasm, your white discharge dripping from his digits. the time certainly didn't matter now, as his fingers' inches filled your cunt, bedsheets soaked with your secretions.

he had your back pressed against his chest, one hand fingerfucking you and the other slowly, as if to soothe your overstimulation, stroking the skin on your stomach in comforting circles. the touch felt a contradiction in comparison to how rough he could get when you fucked before.

you writhe in his grasp as his other hand's fingers got under your clothes, starting to toy with your nipple, occasionally squeezing your breast every now and then, letting out quiet whimpers of overstimulation which get louder every time his thumb finds your sensitive clit.

"what a good little whore." scaramouche's voice is now basically a whisper-like purr next to your ear. he laughs quietly, taking out his fingers and smearing your secretions on your pink, puffy folds, occasionally rubbing your clit before sinking his digits inside your cunt again. "mmm, made such a mess all over my fingers, didn't you... i can finger you for eternity and you'll beg for more."

you felt like you were going to either fall asleep or pass out. your hips buck instinctively against his hand, eyes closing and head resting on his shoulder. you did try your best to hold your moans back with biting your lower lip, but, after some time, you just couldn't hold it in any longer.

"hey, c'mon sleepyhead, keep those pretty eyes open. i can't let you fall asleep while fucking you, can i? keep them open." he says, voice a tad bit louder just to keep you awake and in touch. you whine and murmur something about how you can't take it anymore but, nonetheless, tilt your head and open your eyes to meet his.

fuck, the way he's looking at you makes you get even wetter in a single moment, and you clench around his fingers one more time.

"there you go. now just look at me, mmhm?" scaramouche leans down to you, his lips hovering dangerously close to your lips. his voice gets much quieter now - still just a bit louder than your soft mewls - and raspier than before, with a single ounce of threat to it. his fingers keep getting faster, pace increasing with each word. you feel like you could come undone just from his voice. "keep those eyes on me while you cum on my fingers again."

"mmmn- s-scara, g-g'nna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum-" you mutter, a breath away from another orgasm.

scaramouche's fingertips curl around that sensitive spot inside you once more, and that is when you crash.

his lips quickly settle on yours and he uses the opportunity for his tongue to enter your mouth immediately just when you open it to moan loudly. he shushes you with a kiss, but still hears you groaning into his mouth, back arched upwards. quickly finding your hand, he intertwines fingers with you, feeling just how you squeeze his hand while your hips buck into his other hand, riding the aftermath of your release, your walls clenching desperately around his digits.

when the kiss is over - you're a whining, almost crying mess, with tears in the corners of your pretty eyes from all the overstimulation.

" 's too much... scara, i c-can't-" you whine out loud when his fingers enter your cunt yet again, and you cry his name out, now more quietly.

"this was the fourth time you've came just from my fingers." scaramouche whispers into your ear, cutting off your soft whimpers. "let's see if you love them so much to get that to five."

[beenbaanbuun]

cub w/ choi san

this is not proof read but it will be!!!!

——————————————————————————

having thoughts about san with bear hybrid!reader, specifically on the first day of spring….

winter had been pretty lazy for the two of you. with a hibernating bear, there wasn’t much for him to worry about other than making sure you ate enough. you could keep yourself curled up in the little den you slumbered in in the corner of his room, all warm and cosy and safe in the knowledge that san would be there to take care of you. it’s safe to say that over those chilly winter months you were pampered—more than you perhaps should have been—but san was far too soft to care. if his little cub wanted something, then he’d be damned if you didn’t get it.

it was a few days before the beginning of march that he started to notice a change in you. you were actually asking for the things you wanted instead of just making sounds and expecting him to figure it out. your sentences were short, and you almost never lifted your head from beneath your blankets to say them, but it was more than he’d had for the past while. he’d even caught you stretching your limbs between bathroom breaks once or twice which almost made him drop whatever he was carrying every time he walked into the room to see you standing up, wobbly and bleary eyed.

you still let him feed you during those more lucid days. perhaps you might have been ‘awake’ enough to traipse yourself to the kitchen and grab a sweet treat from the fridge, but it was just so much easier to ask san to do it for you. he practically jumped at the chance, pressing a teeny kiss to your forehead with each request before shooting out of the room to complete it as soon as possible. it’s in his nature to be caring; you were simply using that to your advantage.

but perhaps san had gotten too used to your laziness as when the first day of spring finally rolled around, he found himself being rudely awoken by a weight falling atop his stomach. he groans, face screwing up in pain as all the air gets forced from his lungs. there’s a giggle that comes from the strange thing that’s wriggling over him like an overactive earth worm, and despite his frustration at his streak of lazy days being broken, he can’t help but crack a smile.

“it’s spring, i assume,” he murmurs, voice still gravelly with the remnants of last nights sleep. the worm wriggles it’s way up to his body until a head finds itself perched atop his chest. he cracks an eye open to look at you, “wriggly this morning, aren’t we?”

you make a point to squirm a little more, but your plans are soon foiled by an arm that wraps itself around your waist. “wouldn’t you be wriggly if you had the pent up energy of three whole months living inside of you?” you try to move but the grip only tightens. a displeased chuff crawls it’s way up your throat, but it does little more than make the man chuckle and tip his head back against the pillow once more.

“sleep a little more, my little pooh bear,” the nickname irritates you; that’s why he says it. san just adores hearing you grumble in complaint whilst being entirely too soft to act upon your non-verbal threats.

“i can’t sleep,” you reply, “so i’d appreciate it if you got up!”

“brat.”

“and who’s fault is that!” all your fight drains out of you when san still refuses to move. your shift your head to lay it flat against his chest, snorting out a sound of displeasure before puffing your cheeks up in a pout. san tells you you’re a good girl, but you don’t respond to him, simply too focussed on proving your displeasure. “you’re the one who pampered me all winter…”

and san supposed you’re right. he did spoil you a little more than he should so it’s no surprise that you’ve turned out to be such a little princess. he barely even blinks an eye when you command something of him, simply moving to comply to your demands straight away, and he hardly ever complains when you demand things; why would he when the you always seem so happy when he pampers you rotten? maybe his heart is too soft, or maybe you’ve just moulded it perfectly to fit right into your little mitts. san doesn’t doubt that you’re crafty enough to pull off some master manipulation scheme to make him your own personal butler, but somehow he can’t find it in him to care.

he sighs, “what do you even want to get up for? it’s cold outside and there aren’t even buds on the trees yet.”

san doesn’t even need to open the curtains to know that a thin layer of frost still carpets the grass outside; he can feel the chill infiltrating his bedroom, seeping through his skin and making his bones ache. a shiver runs through his body and to tugs you closer still.

“how do you know?” you argue.

“that it’s cold?” he replies incredulously, “because i can feel it, dummy.”

you roll your eyes, irritated at his answer.

“no,” someone’s grumpy, san thinks to himself. he’s sure he’ll have to work hard to make up for your bad mood later. whatever; he doesn’t have to pretend to be mad at it when he knows deep down that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you smiling. “how do you know there aren’t leaves on the trees yet? your curtains are closed and so are your eyes! how can you tell if you haven’t even looked.”

god, you’re a brat.

san pushes you off of him, gently rolling you to the side before twisting his own body to pin you to the mattress. again, your body moves like a worm as he settles atop you, but one soft kiss against your neck has you melting into him. soft little cub; you’re not the only one who knows how to get what you want.

“i can tell because there weren’t any yesterday,” his voice is hushed against your ear, his warm breath tickling your soft skin. you squeal and try and squirm free, but the way he’s holding you keeps you in place. there’s another kiss right below your earlobe and you go limp once more, “trees don’t go green over night, my sweet teddy. a little patience doesn’t go amiss, sometimes.”

and you can’t help but feel like he’s making a jab at you with that last comment. patience is never something you’ve had, but again, its san’s tendency to spoil you that’s to blame. you scoff, but don’t say a thing.

“now, cub,” san whispers, “take a little nap with me and we can enjoy spring a little later.”

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sukuna comforting you after a breakup

Pairing: Sukuna x reader

Word Count: 627

Notes: I don't know who needs to read this but somehow I needed to write it inspired by that edit I saw on Instagram a few days ago

Imagine Sukuna laying his eyes on your puny figure sitting on the completely destroyed sidewalk while you cry your heart out in the middle of Shibuya.

“Why the hell are you sitting there crying like a baby?”

“Leave me alone”, you mutter into your hands.

He furrows his eyebrows, body drawing closer to you. Did those words really leave your mouth? Nobody ever dares to talk to him like that. Especially not when you're all alone out here with Gojo being sealed.

“Don’t you know who I am, stupid girl?”

“I don’t give a damn about who you are. Just leave”, you bark at him.

Why? Why on earth did it end like this? You really thought you could make it, that your relationship can be saved if you put the work in it, that you’ll be able to change yourself. But then this call came in, only minutes before you arrived in Shibuya.

“It’s over, (y/n).”

It’s over. How is it supposed to be over when it didn’t even start yet? How is it supposed to be over when your heart still aches for the tender touch of your love, for the smile that haunts you in your dreams, for this one person alone? A new wave of tears swells up your puffy eyes and takes your sight, body still numb in agony. This can’t be true. It shouldn’t have ended like this.

Your heart sinks through your shaky fingertips onto the floor, bleeds out when reality hits you like a wall.

But it definitely is over.

“You’re lucky I’m having a good day.”

His voice is suddenly next to you, forces your eyes to dart up. This is Yuji. No…Just one look into his blank eyes is enough for you to realize that Sukuna himself is sitting next to you, nipping on a coke as if he isn’t the king of curses.

You should be scared. Fuck, you should scream in horror and try to run away. But instead, you just stare at him blankly. Does it even matter what happens to you anymore?

“What is it?”

“What is what?”, you try to avoid his question.

Oh god, as if it isn’t bad enough that you’re sitting here like an idiot while crying your heart out.

“What is all of this about?”

You swallow hard. There is no way out of this, no chance to escape the piercing gaze of his. You will have to tell him the truth.

“I’ve got dumped today”, you mutter.

“Dumped”, he repeats dryly.

“Dumped.”

“And that’s what you’re crying about? Some random guy?”

“It wasn’t just a random guy”, you bite back in a desperate attempt to defend yourself.

No, more like the one you imagined your future with, the one you wanted to adopt a dog or cat with, the one who was supposed to stay. But now all of this is gone in the wind. Your past, your present, your future. Everything went black.

“You know what makes me so damn strong?”

What? You blink away your tears, confusion written on your face. What on earth is he talking about?

“Because you killed countless people, are older than dinosaurs…-“

“Because I never let a love story distract me from my own strength.”

“What are you talking about?”, you huff in response, shaking your head in sheer disbelief.

What is that supposed to mean? You’re not Ryomen Sukuna, you aren’t a special grade sorcerer, you are…A no one, not even able to keep your relationship up. Fuck, you should have worked on yourself like you've promised over and over, shouldn't have started fights over things that wouldn't have changed anyway. You...You are the problem.

“Shouldn’t you be strong on your own as well?”

You have to blink a few times, mind trying to process the meaning of his words. Sukuna throws away the empty cup of coke and gets up, casually straightening his clothes before yanking your chin upwards, forcing you to stare straight into his red eyes.

“You don’t need anyone. Now get your puny self up and stop giving other people that power over you. If I see you crying over that relationship again, I’ll kill you right on the spot. Got it?”

Your heart flutters uncontrollably in your chest, hands shaking by the sheer force of his words. Why does he have to be so damn right? Why…why do you suddenly feel better?

“Got it”, you breathe out, clenching your trembling fingers into a tight fist.

Yeah, you got it.

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazini @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr@kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299@busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru

[miley1442111]

hi!!!!! I love your writing so much, and I loved insomniac, and i was wondering if we could get some more aaron and insomniac reader? I just thought it was so cute!!

thank you ml!

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treatment plan (part 1)- a.hotchner

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a/n: thank you so much for requesting, I love this series (as a fellow insomnia girly)

summary: aaron oversteps and it starts a fight.

pairing: aaron hotchner x insomnia! reader

warnings: angst, discussions of insomnia and feeling 'different' because of it, mental health, crying, no happy ending, aaron is an asshole, fighting

part of this au:

insomniac

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Aaron didn’t always know what to do in these situations. He’d never had trouble sleeping, he was lucky like that. He realised very early into your relationship that he was lucky. He didn’t stay up for the simple fact of not being able to sleep often, he wasn’t worrying constantly about whether or not he’d get enough sleep to function the next day, he wasn’t brought to doctor after doctor only to be told the same thing time and again. “Sorry, we can’t help you,” or “No one here specialises in that,” or, his personal least favourite; “You can’t be helped, sorry.”

He knew he was lucky he didn’t have to go through the things you did. He didn’t have to worry about what insomnia would mean for his future health, what not sleeping would do to his body. 

You weren’t lucky. 

Every night was a battle, ever since you were a kid. You’d kick and scream, and even now, often you’d end up in tears. It was awful, and incurable somehow, at least in your case.

Yet, Aaron didn’t want to stop looking for a solution, and that’s how you ended up sleeping at Penelope’s place, your eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and a dumb rom-com on the TV. 

Fuck him. 

---------------------

4 hours earlier. 

Aaron walked into your shared home with his briefcase in his hand. You’d gotten off work an hour ago and come home to cook dinner. You were in the kitchen.

“Hey baby,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck as he walked in. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, then smiled down at you. 

“How are you?” he asked, but everytime he asked, there was another question underneath it, one he’d stopped asking because it would always end in a fight. ‘Did you sleep?’ 

Aaron had left early that morning, and he felt good when he saw you asleep in your bed, and he was as silent as humanly possible while getting ready, so he’d hoped he hadn’t woken you. 

“Fine,” you nodded, going back to your cooking. “Work was boring, but Lucy’s leaving so we have to go to her farewell party on Friday- if you’re around-”

“You have the sleep test on Friday night honey, we can’t go, remember?” 

You sighed. “I cancelled it. I can always do it another time.”

Aaron was in shock. You’d cancelled the appointment? The appointment that was there to help you, to help you feel better. “Why would you do that Bug?”

“Because Lucy is one of my best friends, plus it’s not like the sleep test is going to work, so it doesn’t matter,” you shrugged and Aaron felt his blood boil. 

In recent months, you’d become what he would call ‘complacent’ with your condition. You saw it as accepting it. After years of being told you were incurable, why should you search for a cure? They were the professionals, and you’d seen more than 60 doctors about this, in your entire lifetime. That didn’t bode well with Aaron. He would fight to the ends of the Earth for you, and he planned on trying to fight this for as long as it took, but that would only work if you were fighting too, which you weren’t. 

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. “We were on that waitlist for a year Y/n.”

“I was on that waitlist for a year, and I decided I don’t want to do it anymore, it’s my health,” you shrugged and served him up his plate. “Now tell me about your day.”

“We still need to talk about this,” he scolded, sitting across from you at your kitchen table. “You just decided to stop treatment?” His eyes were darker than usual, his signature 'negotiating stare’ trying to make you feel small. Not that Aaron himself was trying to make you small, just that you always felt… different when he looked at you like that. Strange. 

“I don’t know why you can’t grasp that I’ve accepted my condition?” You scoffed. “You don’t need to worry anymore, maybe this will be good for me! I’m always so worried, and so are you, even Jack notices it for fuck’s sake! My insomnia has controlled my entire fucking life, and I’m sick of it, so yes Aaron, I decided to stop treatment,” you weren’t exactly shouting, but you weren’t calm and collected. You were at your wits end, completely. You hadn’t slept in two days, you were bordering on exhausted, and you planned to take one of the sleeping pills you had, (even though you’re slightly allergic), an allergy medication, and sleep for 15 hours straight. You were very happy Jack wasn’t meant to be back from his cousin’s house until at least after 4pm tomorrow. 

“That sleep study is the closest we’ve ever been! Why would you cancel it? I understand you’re frustrated-” he started, but you cut him off. 

“You don’t understand Aaron. You don’t understand. How could you? When you go to sleep, it’s simply that, sleep. To me it’s so much more, so much anxiety, so many negative thoughts, so much awful shit, so many shitty sleeples nights since I was a fucking kid! And you don’t understand that, and I'm not asking you to, but I’m asking you to accept my decision over my body Aaron. I can’t deal with this anxiety anymore around something as simple as sleeping. I feel like I have no control anymore, so this is me taking back control Aaron-” You felt yourself welling up with tears. His face was set in stone, silently judging you.

“There’s better ways to take back control of your life Y/n-”

“Tell me!” you shouted. He stayed silent. “Exactly.”

“This isn’t healthy, you’re going to hurt yourself more Y/n,” he cautioned and you scoffed, a sick smile on your face, bred from your frustration and desperation. 

“Aaron, what more damage can I do to myself?-”

“I don’t want to wake up someday and have you not remember me!” He shouted. That was low. You were terrified of memory loss diseases like Alzheimer’s and Dementia. 

You stared at him for a minute, small tears pushing past your ‘emotionless’ exterior. “That was low Aaron.” 

“It’s the truth.” 

“No it’s not, it’s your truth. Don’t mix that up,” you cautioned. 

“Am I not allowed to be worried about my fiance?” he asked, but in that stupid condescending voice that made you want to smack him. 

“Aaron please just stop,” you groaned, looking down into your food. This was going to turn into a lecture. This was going to break you. You were right on the edge, hanging on by a thread. And Aaron cut it clean with his next words. 

“You’re being selfish.” 

You blocked the rest of his speech out. Selfish. You were selfish. Selfish was silently crying so he could sleep. Selfish was indulging every single one of his stupid sleep tests and doctors even if you were in pain and exhausted. Selfish was being poked and prodded by doctor after doctor that he brought you to, in hopes of finding a cure. Selfish was hiding your condition’s worst parts (migraines, mood swings, anxiety, memory loss,and everything else) so he wouldn’t worry.

Right, you were selfish. 

You got up and grabbed your jacket, keys, and phone, and you left the house. You ran into your car, Aaron hot on your heels with his booming voice screaming over you, pushing you further. Your car was cold, thus the pleasures of Washington. You shrugged it off and started driving, Aaron was trying to stop you, you didn’t let him. 

Fuck him, he was the selfish one. 

You drove to Penelope’s without another thought, just letting yourself cry. You couldn’t let this condition define you anymore, and you won’t let it define your relationship either. If Aaron didn’t understand that, maybe he wasn’t the right one. 

---------------------

With the shitty rom-com over and Penelope heading for bed, you made your makeshift bed on the couch, and tried as hard as you could to sleep, but you ended up just thinking about it all, all night long. 

What a great Friday night.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

criminal minds taglist :) (message me or comment to be added :))

@princess76179

@khxna

[tasteleeknow]

pairing: minho x virgin!reader genre: smut, angst, fluff. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 6.3k requested by: anon

summary: you’re insecure, both about being inexperienced and about revealing your body to him fully. minho asks if he can show you how much he likes you. a sickly sweet, body worship, virgin!reader smut.

afab!reader. virgin!reader. profanity. protected intercourse [oral (f.rec), squirting, grinding, nipple licking]. body insecurity [no mention of body weight]. body worship. pet names.

“Would you like one?” you ask, offering Minho one of the red lollipops you kept stashed in your bag. It was a desperate attempt to distract from the lull in conversation. Not exactly an awkward silence, but enough to make you nervous. You’d spent so much time with him, you shouldn’t be this nervous. It was just that you liked him. A lot. You liked him so much you had struggled to sleep at all the night before, up late with a cocktail of nerves and butterflies swirling around your stomach. 

He takes the lollipop from you, his fingers brushing against yours—one of the only times you’d touched him. Your chest tightens a little at the thought. You wanted to touch him more, very much. It was the idea of him touching you back that had your anxiety flaring up. 

“Why do you always carry these around?” he asks before popping the candy in his mouth. You watch him swirl his tongue around, pushing the red lollipop in and out of his mouth a few times before he lets go of the little white stick—freeing you to answer his question. 

“Oh, I—I don’t know. I just got in the habit at some point, I guess. I don’t eat them very often but…I think I just find it comforting to have them.” He pushes the candy into his cheek. “I know that’s silly,” you add.

“Nah,” he says, pulling the lollipop from his mouth and gesturing at your surroundings with it. “I think they’re the perfect complement to a scene like this.” 

You look out over the ocean, the horizon a bright orange as the sun disappears over the curve of the earth. This was the third time you’d watched the sunset with him this week. You’d lost count of how many dates you’d been on total. Your best friend had assured you he was definitely into you. “How could you go on so many dates with someone and not be into them?” she’d said. You weren’t convinced. He hadn’t kissed you. He hadn’t even tried. You wondered if he just enjoyed your company, if he wasn’t attracted to you at all but was too kind to break it off. 

You had no doubt he knew you were attracted to him. You were incapable of subtly, not when it came to him anyway. “Are you free tomorrow?” he asks, legs swinging over the ledge you both sit on. 

“Mm, I think so.” 

“So you can be out late?”

“Is there something else you wanted to do?”

“I made a pudding,” he says, looking a little nervous. You’d never seen him nervous before. Not visibly, anyway. “I thought maybe you’d like to come to mine and try it.”

You brain blanks. You’d never been to his place before, nor him yours. Words. Words are good. You definitely should say some words. “I—I mean—” 

“It’s alright, no pressure,” he says, picking himself up—leaving you sitting on the ledge alone. You jump up, turning to grab his arm—wobbling a little as you lose your footing. He looks down at where your fingers grasp his forearm tightly. You drop it quickly, cheeks warming. 

“I want to,” you blurt out. “I mean… I like pudding.” 

One corner of his mouth curves up into a small smile, the lollipop pushed into his cheek. You want to poke the little bump. He reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers. You hold your breath. “It’s vanilla. Come on then,” he says, pulling you towards where he’d parked his car. 

You lean forward on the couch to accept the coffee mug Minho offers you. “I uh, didn’t really have anything else to put them in,” he says, placing his own mug of pudding on the coffee table in front of you. You inspect the pudding as he returns to the kitchen. It was nearly to the lip of the mug. “Here,” he says, having returned with two spoons. 

He settles himself into the lounge beside you and then grabs the remote, pressing play on the movie you’d chosen. You take a small spoonful, checking Minho’s attention is on the screen before wrapping your lips around it. It’s smooth and sweet and better than any pudding you’ve had before. 

“You made this?” you ask, pulling his attention from the opening credits. 

“Mm, is it alright?” 

“It’s amazing.” 

He smiles, falling back into the cushions. “Good.” 

“Do you think you could teach me? Or you could just give me the recipe? I mean—you don’t have to. I just—”

He rests his hand on your thigh, halting your verbal vomit. “Sure, I can teach you.” 

“Thank you.” You dig out a much bigger spoonful, waiting for him to pull his hand away. He doesn’t, looking back to the movie—his pudding abandoned on the coffee table. When you’d first sat down on his couch, your summer shorts riding up your thighs had made you regret them instantly—grabbing a cushion to hold in your lap. Now? Now you didn’t regret them quite as much, enjoying his casual touch.

You get about half way through the mug before feeling like you’ve had as much as you can fit in, still full from dinner. You lean forward to place the mug gently on the table, his hand finally pulling away from your thigh at your movement. He grabs his own pudding, devouring it at an impressive rate. 

You hadn’t really been paying attention to the movie at all, focused entirely on the man next to you. Everytime he readjusts himself, fidgets, drinks from his large water bottle, you’re hyper aware of it. When you tap on his arm lightly to ask where the bathroom is, he leans close—as if you aren’t the only two ppl in the room. 

The mugs clink together behind you as you leave the room, Minho taking the chance to clean up while the movie is paused. His bathroom has a full length mirror, a little odd in such a small place. It catches you a little off guard. You usually avoided them. Your mascara is a little smudged. You sigh, turning to grab a piece of toilet paper and wipe under your eyes. 

When you’ve cleaned it up as best as you can you suck in a deep breath, suddenly feeling like you want to run. Run to the front door and away from the man you’d developed overwhelming feelings for, feelings that frankly scared you. 

He’d touched you more tonight than he had in the few months you’d known him. You’d met through a friend, seeing him occasionally at group gatherings. He made you feel seen, making an effort to ask you how you were every time you saw him. He even remembered the little things you mentioned about yourself. He heard you and he cared enough to remember. You weren’t aware you were going on dates until the fourth time you spent time alone. 

You’d gone indoor rock-climbing and after managing only half the kids' wall he’d confessed it was a bad idea for a date. He’d heard you mention it was something you’d always wanted to try and decided to give it ago, despite his fear of heights. You’d been so distracted by the word ‘date’ you hadn’t noticed his ears turning a bright red. “I’m sorry,” he’d said, having ended the session early. “Do you want to come to the beach with me instead?” you’d replied, instigating your first ever sunset date. 

You take a step back from the mirror, turning side to side to inspect your body. All his casual touches were leading up to something, and you wanted so badly to be the type of person who could lean into it—to show him how much you wanted him. You think about all the people you’d pushed away, unable to overcome your insecurities enough to be vulnerable with them in that way. 

You didn’t know how to bring it up to him, that you hadn’t done this before. You were so amazed someone like him could be interested in you at all, revealing something like that could scare him off. You lift your shirt to touch your stomach. Even if he wasn’t scared off, you might make the experience so terrible he’d never try again. You had no idea what the fuck you were doing. 

You lean over the sink, wetting your hands and pressing the cold water to your neck. The things you want in life could sometimes be found outside your comfort zone. Or something. Your best friend had given you a pep talk a few days ago when you’d been unable to keep in all your anxieties. You huff out a small laugh, amused one of her rambling inspirational speeches actually stuck in your mind a little.

When you reemerge the balcony door is wide open, Minho leans against the railing—looking out at the city lights. You take one final deep breath then follow him out, deciding to be brave and placing one of your hands gently over his. He looks down at your hands, then to you. When he pulls his hand away your heart drops. Then he turns to face you, placing his hand at your waist. All your concentration goes into keeping your breathing even. You imagine a little crew in your brain, panicking and sending all resources to maintain an outward appearance of calm. You hope it’s working. 

He pulls you a little closer, his eyes dropping to your mouth before looking up again. “Did you really like my pudding or were you just being nice?”

Not what you were expecting. You blink a few times as you attempt to regather your thoughts. “I liked it, really. It was the nicest pudding I've ever had. I really would like you to teach me how you made it.” 

“So sweet,” he mutters, mouth curving into one of his little half smiles. You drop your eyes to his chest, totally unprepared to deal with a comment like that. It doesn’t stop him from continuing. “Do you know how sweet you are? What it does to me? Drives me fucking crazy.” 

You can’t help looking up at his eyes, a little shocked by his language. He was always so soft around you, including his language. “Like that,” he continues. “Your eyes right now, all wide and innocent. I’ve tried…to wait for you to show me you’re ready. That you want me. Then you showed up today in those little shorts, smiling at me like the fucking sun.” His hand at your waist moves up and down, a gentle caress. “Can I have you? Please? Tell me I can have you.” 

You know you’ve failed at keeping a calm outward appearance, your chest rises and falls erratically. You lift your hands to your cheeks, they’re burning. He drops his hand from your waist, both his hands wrapping around your wrists to pull your hands from your face gently. 

“Please,” he breathes. 

Good things are outside your comfort zone, you repeat in your head. If this worked out you were going to buy your friend a car full of her favourite snacks… and a puppy. A million puppies. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his. He keeps his hold on your wrists, holding your arms up on each side of you. It isn’t until you pull away that he drops them, wrapping both arms around you to pull you tightly against him. He resumes the kiss you’d started. His lips are pillowy against yours. He tastes like the pudding he’d devoured. You wrap your arms around his neck and he turns you, pushing you back until you’re pressed into the wall. 

By the time he pulls his lips from yours you’re practically panting, attempting to catch your breath. Each of his arms frame your head against the wall. “Was that a yes?” he says, breath equally uneven. 

You’re confused for a second, completely lost. Yes?… oh. Can I have you? You drop your eyes to his chest again. Was this the right moment to tell him? You imagined him backing away, trying to find the words to tell you he wasn’t into you enough to deal with the baggage. 

“I—It’s just…”

He drops his hands from the wall, taking a small step back. He looks vulnerable, but he’s quiet—waiting for you to finish. 

“I’ve never really done this before. I don’t want you to sign up for this—for me—and then back out. I don’t think I can handle it,” you finish, sucking in a deep shaky breath. 

“Why would I back out?” 

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never been in a real relationship, I’ve never liked someone like this, I’ve never—” you pause, all the courage draining from your body. He takes a small step towards you again. 

“Never…?” 

“Slept with anyone.” 

He presses one hand to the wall again, the other brushing your hair over your shoulder. “I’m not asking to fuck you, I’m asking you to be mine. You tell me if you ever want to give the rest a try, and I’m here.” His palm moves up to cup your cheek. “I’ve got you,” he whispers. 

“But I do,” you whisper back. You’re not sure why you’re both being quiet. There’s no one to overhear. You’re grateful for it anyway, the words are easier to get out in hushed tones. “I do want to, I really, really want to.” 

He smiles, then presses his lips to yours softly. “Really, really?,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice taking on a teasing tone you were very used to at this point. 

“Are you sure you want me? In that way…”

“I really, really want you. I want you if you want to stay here with me tonight and let me show you how good I can make you feel…and I want you if you want to wait. I just want you, whichever way you’ll let me have you.” 

“Why?” 

“I spend any free day I have with you.” He takes one of your hands and presses it to his chest, over his heart. “You make me feel steady. You make my life feel bright, and warm…and hopeful…” He presses his forehead to yours. You close your eyes. “I want to make yours warm too. I want to give you what you give me. Let me,” he finishes.

His lips hover over yours, brushing them so lightly it tickles. You press forward suddenly, pushing into him hard. He stumbles back a step, huffing a laugh into your mouth and wrapping his arms around you. 

You’d spent months with him, hearing all his worries and hopes and dreams. He made you nervous and giddy and now finally… hopeful. Hopeful that he might want you back the same way. His hand slips under the hem of your shirt, thumb brushing against your skin. You crash back down, remembering why you hadn’t had this before. How you’d looked in the mirror minutes before. You take a big step back, his arms dropping from you. 

“S-Sorry,” you sputter out, stepping back again until your back hits the wall. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

You watch his face fall, his sad eyes making you hate yourself more. Coward. “This?” he asks, gesturing between you. “As in right now? Or this as in us in general?”

“General. In general. I’m just not—I’m not right.”

He frowns, one foot stepping towards you and then he hesitates—keeping his distance. “Not right?” he asks, brows furrowed in confusion. You sigh, suddenly exhausted. He rocks forward a little, like he’s deciding whether to stay away, and then steps towards you slowly. “What do you mean ‘not right’?” he asks again.

Your eyes trail up his body as he steps closer. When he stops, directly in front of you again, you lift one finger to trace down his face. “Do you know how lovely you are? How beautiful? In every way,” you whisper.

He lifts his hand to take your wrist. “What do you mean by ‘not right’?” he repeats. 

“For you.” 

“Shouldn’t I decide that for myself? I choose you. I want you. You’re everything.” 

“You haven’t seen me,” you blurt out, instantly regretting it. You drop your eyes to the ground. 

He’s quiet for a moment. “Fully? Is that what you mean? Without clothes?” 

You groan, more embarrassed than you’ve ever been in your life. He lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Can you trust me enough to believe me when I say I think you’re perfect. I’m so—” he pauses, eyes flicking across your face. “I really, really like you,” he says, lips curving a little. “Let me show you how much? Just say stop whenever you need. I just want to show you how beautiful you are, hm?”

“You’re…you’re sure?”

“Really, really sure.” He offers you a small reassuring smile. 

You’re quiet for a moment, considering if you really were brave enough for this. Then you look up at him, patiently waiting for you. You reach down to take his hand, pulling him with you as you re enter his apartment. You lead him past his bathroom, to the closed door you’d seen earlier. It had to be his bedroom. You stop with your hand on the door knob, looking up at him for permission. He presses his hand over yours, pressing the handle down and pushing the door open. Then he takes the lead, pulling you slowly into the room. 

He lets go of your hand to walk around the bed and flick a small light on, filling the room with a soft light. You’re grateful he didn’t go for the ceiling light. He unbuttons the top of his shirt as he approaches you. “Will you do the rest for me?” he asks, voice low. 

You nod, beginning with the button second from the top. You’re amazed at the steadiness of your hands, especially considering the rate at which your heart is beating in your chest. You keep your eyes directly ahead of you, on each new patch of his skin you reveal as you work your way down. 

When the last button is freed, and each side of the shirt falls open to reveal his bare torso, you can’t help reaching up to press each of your palms on his chest. He’s so warm—and if you concentrate, you can feel his heart beating in his chest. You run your hands over his shoulders and down his arms, pushing the white button-down shirt off as you go. You come back to yourself as it hits the ground, pulling your hands from him quickly. 

He wraps his fingers around your wrists, preventing you from retreating completely. You look up into his eyes as he places your hands on his chest again. “It’s okay,” he says, his voice taking on a gentle tone. Even gentler than usual. “You can touch me. Wherever you like.” 

You smile, then push—hard enough for him to fall back onto the bed. A look of determination crosses his face and he reaches for you, pulling you back down with him. “Got you,” he mutters just before pressing his lips to yours. He rolls over you, pressing his body down into yours—not all his weight, just enough to feel comforting. “Tell me if you want to stop,” he says between kisses. You hum against his mouth and he pulls back just enough to speak. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you answer before pulling him back down again. You’re so consumed by him you forget all your worries for a few blissful minutes. 

It isn’t until his hand slips under the hem of your shirt again you remember why you’d been so nervous. He must notice you tense up because he halts his movements. “Want me to stop?” he asks. 

“No, just…nervous.” 

“You’re okay.” He lifts the hem of your shirt slowly, keeping his eyes on your face. “I’ve got you.”

Your eyes flick to his pouty upper lip. You think about all the times you’d thought how much you loved it, how this small feature on his face was a part of him you adored so much. Surely, others must have those thoughts about you. It wasn’t impossible, anyway. You wonder if Minho did. 

He pulls your shirt over your head and you squeeze your eyes shut. It didn’t make sense. Closing your eyes didn’t stop him seeing you. You supposed it did stop you seeing his reaction. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he whispers, his breath tickling your lips. “Look at me,” he encourages. 

You peek one eye open. He looks down at you, eyes a little hooded. “Good girl,” he says, kissing you softly. He presses small kisses across your cheek, down to your neck. He speaks in between. “Remember what I said earlier? How sweet you are?” 

You breath hitches as he sucks gently on a sensitive patch of skin just above your clavicles. You picture his pillowy lips on your skin, the pouty upper lip you love so much. 

“You’re sweet inside and out, aren’t you honey? Hm? So fucking sweet,” He keeps muttering as his kisses move down to your breasts, his soft lips pressing to the skin peaking out from your bra. An embarrassing noise escapes your throat. He looks up at you. “What was that? Did you make a sweet little noise for me?”

“Min?” 

“Hm?” 

“Should I take this off?” you ask, fiddling with the bra strap over your shoulder. 

“Whatever you want. Do you want it off?” 

“I—I think so.” 

He lifts himself off you and you sit up to watch him move up the bed to adjust himself against his pillows, patting his lap. “Come here, I'll help you.” 

You crawl up the bed, feeling a little awkward as you climb into his lap. You wrap your arms around your stomach. He presses his face to your neck, humming against your skin. Knowing he couldn’t see you, you relax a little—moving your arms from your waist to wrap around his neck. His fingers fiddle with the clasp at your back, not rushing to remove it once he’d succeeded in undoing each one. He lets go, letting the bra fall apart—the straps falling down your shoulders a little. He keeps his face buried in your shoulder, running his hands up and down your back gently. 

“Doing so well,” he murmurs into your skin. A little shiver runs up your spine. 

You pull back, attaching your mouth to his quickly—distracting him with your lips as you slip the bra down your arms and drop it onto the bed next to you. He pulls you against him. A few hours ago a brush of his fingers was enough to make your chest tighten, and now you’re half naked—bare chests pressed tightly together, his soft lips attached to yours. A short wave of dizziness passes over you at the realisation, pulling away from him slightly. 

“Will you lie down for me?” Minho says, his voice a little breathy. 

You nod, climbing off him so you can lay back against the pillows next to him. You hold your breath, scrutinising his face for any flicker of disappointment as his eyes scan over your bare chest for the first time. He climbs over you and falls forward, attaching his lips to the skin between your breasts—offering you no warning. You grip the sheets next to you, overwhelmed as he begins kissing a trail towards your nipple. 

You can’t help gasping as he sucks it into his mouth, wet tongue playing with you much like he had your red lollipop. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to you—too overwhelmed to feel shy about it. He groans, the vibrations against your wet nipple triggering a whine to slip from your throat. 

By the time he’s given the same treatment to the other, you’re not even trying to hold back the small sounds you’re making—whining and moaning his name. Your eyes are hardly open when he moves up to kiss you, his lips wet against yours. You hardly move, letting him press sloppy kisses over your mouth. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs between kisses, drawing a whimper out. “Gonna make you feel good.”

“Min—Minho…”

“Mm? What is it, sweetheart?” 

“You really—You really think so?”

He presses one last kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Think what?” he whispers, pulling back so he can see your face—a knowing smirk on his lips. 

“What you said.” 

“What did I say?” 

“That I'm…” you trail off, unable to get the word out. 

“Say it,” he encourages, brushing his thumb over your lips. Your eyes drop to his lips, wet and swollen. 

“Perfect,” you whisper, barely audible. 

“So fucking sweet,” he groans, trailing kissing from your lips down to your stomach. When he reaches the hem of your shorts he looks back up at you. “Okay?” he asks, fingers playing with the zip. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, throwing your head back as he slowly pulls the small zipper down and works them gradually down your thighs. You squeeze your eyes shut as he pulls them off your legs and settles himself between your thighs, pushing them apart gently. 

“Open your eyes, hm?” he says, the tone of his voice increasingly sweet the more clothes he removes from your body. “It’s okay,” he soothes, his palms massaging over your thighs. “So soft… perfect. You’re fucking perfect, yeah?”

You suck in a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the feeling of his warm hands so close to your centre. “Yeah?” he repeats, clearly seeking a response. 

“Yeah,” you whimper, fingers tangling in the sheets at your side. When his finger brushes lightly over your cunt—cotton underwear the only barrier between you—your back arches off the bed. 

“So sensitive for me…gonna get so you fucking needy, mm?” he mutters, still in his sickly sweet tone—fingers brushing your skin at the edges of your underwear. You fail at keeping your eyes open, squeezing them shut as you twitch and squirm at his teasing touches. He continues muttering small praises, dragging it out until you’re desperate for him to touch you properly. 

Your two minds battle, one desperately wanting to feel his fingers on you, the other embarrassed by the idea of him seeing you like that—seeing that part of you. You take in the situation you're in, how far you’ve come. You’re nearly entirely bare, laid back on his bed—nipples wet from his kisses. You suck in a deep breath. “Min?” 

He huffs out a small laugh. “Mm, baby?” 

“Can you…take them off, please?” 

He crawls up your body, his face hovering over you—forcing you to look into his eyes. He looks like he wants to say something, mouth opening as he sucks in a breath, then closing again. Whatever it is, he decides against it—pressing a kiss to your lips so gentle a shiver ripples down your body. 

He shuffles back down. You hold your breath, expecting him to pull your underwear down with the same slow patience he did with your shorts. He doesn’t. He hooks his fingers over the hem, pulling them down quickly—without any hesitation at all. You have no time to feel shy, brain blanking as he attaches his mouth directly to your cunt. He hums against you,  muttering something you can’t make out. 

“Feel—”

He lifts his head, looking up at you—his hair flops into his eyes. “Mm?”

“Feels nice,” you whine. “Thank—Thank you.” 

He licks his lips, then smiles. “You’re thanking me for licking your sweet little cunt?” he asks sweetly. 

You cover your face with your hands, unable to look him in the eyes. Then his mouth is on you again, catching you off guard. Your hips rise up involuntarily off the bed, grinding up into his face. “Knew you would be the sweetest fucking thing, hm? Thanking me for tasting you…” He presses your hips into the bed, holding you down so he can keep his mouth on you—wet, messy noises filling the room again. 

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, overwhelmed by the filthiness of it all. A few hours ago you’d been fixated on his tongue circling a lollipop, and now he was pressing the same tongue into your throbbing cunt. The thought of it pushes you over the edge, Minho’s hands pushing you harder into the mattress as you squirm—riding out your high. You whimper when it’s too much, Minho pulling his head from between your legs when you fall limp against his sheets. 

You’re vaguely aware of wet kisses trailing up your body, staring at the ceiling as you wait for your mind to return from wherever it just flew off to. Then Minho’s messy face appears above you, his lips drenched from completing his mission successfully. “You want more or have you had enough?” he asks, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. 

“More?”

He smiles. “Mm, you’ve tried my mouth. Do you want to try my cock?” 

You blink, shocked at his language—still totally unused to hearing him speak this way. “Okay,” you whisper. 

“Say stop whenever,” he reminds you, climbing off the bed and wandering off somewhere. You’re too fucked out to care, sucking in a deep breath and turning to look out his open window. The sky is clear, offering you a perfect view of the moon. It looks like it might be a full moon. You’d watched the sun disappear at the start of the night, and now the moon watched you. 

Minho returns, resuming his position between your legs. “Would you like to help me?” he asks, offering you a small square of foil. You lift yourself to your elbows and then Minho leans forward to wrap his arms around you to help you sit up fully. You take the small square from him carefully. 

“I don’t… know how.” 

“Would you like me to help you or do you just wanna watch?” 

“Watch,” you answer, holding the wrapped condom back out to him. “Hold it for me for a sec?” he says, climbing off the end of the bed. He stands then turns and beckons you forward. “Come here,” he says, patting the end of the mattress. 

You crawl towards him, tucking your legs under you to sit at the edge. You keep your eyes on his fingers as he undoes the buckle on his belt, then pulls it through his belt loops in one smooth movement. “Do you want to take them off for me?” he asks, gently taking the condom from your fingers. 

You nod, reaching forward to zip his fly down—still avoiding looking at his face. You pause when it’s down fully, unsure if you should just tug them down. His hands cover yours, guiding you up to his waistband. “You can take both off at once,” he says, leaving you a little confused before you realise he means his underwear. Oh god. You can do this. You hook your fingers into the waistband of his underwear at each hip, your fingers brushing his skin. 

You tug, dealing with a little resistance until they're over the curve of his ass. You suck in a little breath as his cock is freed, directly in front of your face. It curves up towards his stomach and you absentmindedly let go of his pants, distracted. It bounces a little as he steps out of his clothes and then his hand wraps around it. You look up. His eyes are fixed on your face, eyes hooded. 

“Watch,” he breathes. Your eyes drop down again, watching as he rolls the condom down his length. Your eyes flick between his twitching cock and the prominent veins in his hand. You're still throbbing between your legs. You can’t tell if it’s residual from your high, or you’ve just never come down—building back up to another. 

“All good, sweetheart?” he asks, gripping himself at his base. You pull your eyes back up to his face again. 

“Good,” you whisper. 

He walks around the bed, your eyes track him as he moves. When he’s laying on his side against the pillows he pats the bed. You crawl up to him, unsure where he wants you. “Face the window,” he says. 

You lie down against the pillow, his back to you. The moon still watches. His arm wraps around you and then you feel his breath on your neck. “Got your sweet cunt all wet…” he breathes into our skin. “Now gotta do the same for my cock.” His lips are pressed to your skin as his fingers begin caressing your thigh. 

“How?” you whisper. 

He pressed his back firmly against yours. “Like this,” he says just as his cock spreads through your folds. You gasp, hand reaching back to grasp his arm. He pauses, cock resting up against you. 

“Talk to me, baby. Tell me what feels good,” he says, pressing another kiss to the skin behind your ear. 

“Ev—everything.” 

He rolls his hips. “This?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. 

“Talk to me,” he encourages. 

“Feel good… your…. you feel good against me.”

“Against you where?” he says sweetly, continuing his grinding. 

“Min,” you gasp. 

“Where, sweetheart?” 

“Pussy. My pussy.” 

One of his hands comes around you to grasp one of your breasts, his movements against you a little harder. He groans, muttering into your ear with each thrust. “So sweet…wet…mine…” His cock brushes your clit with each roll of his hips, working in combination with the words he pants in your ear to wipe your mind clear. His words and his body against yours. That’s it. Your entire world.

You feel it building again. You’ve never come twice this close together before. You feel like you never came down properly, now just building on top of your last. Your hips stutter, pushing back against him hard—a flood of wetness coats your thighs. You gasp, the first feeling that filters back into your head is confusion, then embarrassment. 

“Oh, god. God. Sorry—I’m—I’m sorry. I’m—”

“Shh, baby. You’re perfect,” he groans, hips still grinding into you. “A fucking dream,” he groans and then he’s over you, pressing his lips against yours hard. “You squirted, sweetheart.” His voice is the sweetest you’ve heard all night, heard ever. It seemed like the dirtier the words that left his swollen lips, the sweeter the tone that accompanied them. “All over my fucking cock, mm?” 

He looks at you like you’d just offered him his favourite dessert. “You—are you going to…do it now?” you ask, looking down between your bodies. 

“Do what? Fill you?” he says, his pretty lips curved into a smirk. You nod. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” you say, proud of how confident your voice sounds this time. You wanted him to know. How much you really did want him. How much you’d dreamt of him like this. “Please,” you add. 

“Please?” he repeats back to you. “You can have anything. You know that? Anything I can give you,” he threads his fingers in your hair at the back of your head, holding you firmly so you can't look away. “You have no idea…” he mutters under his breath, lips ghosting over yours. 

You feel him, nudging at your entrance. You hold your breath. 

“Breathe,” he says, hot breath against your lips. “Breathe, sweetheart. Just relax, I’ve got you.” He keeps his eyes fixed on yours as he presses in slowly, then out again. You’d expected him to push in all the way, like ripping off a bandaid. You lift your head slightly to connect your lips as the tip of his cock works you open, teasing your throbbing entrance. 

“More,” you mutter into his mouth. He obeys, pressing a little further inside. A small sound escapes your throat, signalling a little twinge of discomfort. He pulls back, stilling for a moment until you nod then begins working into you gradually again. He distracts you with his lips, with his hands on your tits, with sweet words against your lips. Then you’re full. He’s still as you adjust to the feeling of it. He was… inside you. 

You’d been so convinced for months that someone like him could never want you in this way, and now he was inside you. “Min?” you whisper against his lips. 

“Mm?” 

“I like you a lot.” 

You can feel his mouth curve against yours. “Very, very much?”  

Warmth fills your chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Very, very, very much.” 

“I like you more,” he says, hips grinding against you a little. 

You're lost in his kisses as he works himself up, increasing his pace a little as you adjust to the feeling of him filling you. Then he starts moaning. The small sounds that slip from his lips into your mouth make you wish you’d been brave earlier—that you could get back all the time you’d wasted being afraid. He was worth being brave. 

“You’re so good to me,” you whisper against his lips, drawing another pretty moan out of him. “I’ve always thought you were so lovely, ever since we first met. You were so kind and thoughtful…and beautiful.” 

“Sweetest…” he mutters between moans, “...the fucking sweetest.” 

“Will you come for me, Min? Please?”

He drops his head to your neck, hips stuttering into you. You wrap your arms around him, stroking his back in gentle circles as he moves against you a little more. Then he stills completely. His weight against your body reminds you of the weighted blanket you used to soothe your anxiety at night. You turn your head as he pants in your neck, the moon still bright and clear in the sky.  

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[thiccpersonality]

The Realization

It's hard being the only human in a team full of meta-humans, aliens or straight up gods, but Bruce manages to get by...even if internally he's overly critical of the work he does, always comparing himself to others and telling himself to do better. But, he secretly counts his blessings one-by-one at how he has friends colleagues that reassure him everyday that he does so much-yes, even when he doesn't ask for it...Clark always tells him it's in his eyes, that's how he knows Bruce wants it.

Bruce finds that stupid though, the only thing in his eyes is exhaustion, and if not exhaustion, then anger; and if not anger, then it's probably a cocktail of self-loathing, self-hate and self-deprecation sprinkled with a healthy dose of "I wish I was dead."

Anyhow, Bruce counts his blessings secretly, even if it doesn't seem like he's doing so. And while it's hard being one of the only humans without a power in a group full of meta-humans or fully fledged super powered beings, he is grateful for the other aspects of power he has: his name, his face, his money, influence-and one of his actual favorites...when he's in a good mood-his body. Bruce isn't an idiot (Jason: "Not all the time anyway!"), he sees the way people eye him up and down, both men and women alike, he knows their thoughts towards him...or well, his body at least.

He has seen the way women eye his arms and pecs (Wally: "You mean, Batboobs®!? And doesn't everyone eye those?"), watches the way mens eyes glaze over when staring at his mile long legs.

Which brings us to how Bruce never truly feels small, not anymore at least. Even if he was of smaller height for a man (or in general) his position in life and as a hero/vigilante would make him feel and appear big to people. So, Bruce hasn't felt small in a very long time, he tends to not pay attention to things like height much-to reiterate: he never feels small because 1. He isn't and 2. Even if he was, who would be brave enough to tell one of the richest men on earth-let alone THE Batman that he's short?

The answer: no one.

So while Bruce has never had anyone say to his face that he's short, he's the World's Greatest Detective™ (Jason and Stephanie: "Ehhhh...occasionally.) and can see for himself the difference of him compared to everyone else.

Who is everyone else you ask? Well, it's the people he works with and-and Jason. It's kind of hard for Bruce to truly pay attention to height when he never pays attention to it in the first place or when he's usually in life-threatening situations to really care, in fact, he doesn't know why he is even obsessing over such a thing-'but you do know'-his mind replies. The thing Bruce hates most is that he does-he does know what kick-started this whole height thing, and it was his son; Jason.

XXX

It was any other normal day at Wayne Manor...if you count your son entering your top-secret cave injured as normal. Bruce had his mask off, his icy blue eyes analyzing the information on his computer unblinkingly, there's been an issue with abductions recently and he doesn't want to waste any time on finding out who is up to it, so Bruce has been working overtime (Alfred in a tired tone: "As usual...") trying to find out who it is.

Just as his brain is stringing something together, he hears the sound of a motorcycle outside the Cave, Bruce's brain immediately switches to finding out who it could be. He takes into account every person already inside the house, outside of it, what said people outside said they were doing until his brain very obviously deduces that it must be Jason. Hm? Should he heat some leftovers up for Jason? What is the other here for? Why is he even overthinking it? Jason is free to come over anytime he wants...

....

.....

......

But what if the reason is bad? Is Jason mad at him again? Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose from the sudden headache he gets from his mind panicking, the man just groans softly and turns around just in time to see Jason riding into the Cave, his eyebrow raising suspiciously at the lack of fancy tricks his son bothered not doing.

Bruce silently analyzes his son's body for any signs of distress, starting from his head, he immediately noticed the crack in the helmet and can feel his muscles tighten in worry before remembering he's trained his kids to fight and be able to receive hits as well. The thing that causes him to stand up though is the fact that Jason hasn't noticed him yet, and the way the young man is holding his side isn't helping to ease Bruce's racing mind.

"Jason, is everything alright?"

Hm? Was that too forward of him? Bruce knows his children, but he especially knows Jason and Damian hate being asked for signs of-what they deem as-weakness and injury (Damian sipping his tea: "Wonder where we learned that from, father?)

Jason finally looks up at Bruce, his tone sounding a bit slurred as he speaks, "Jus' fine, B. A little-" he grunts as he stumbles off his bike-"scratch never...hurt me." Okay, so it's more than a little scratch, Bruce catches Jason and can't control the immediate frown he makes when the boy doesn't bother fighting his hold. "What actually happened? It's not just a little scratch...you are clutching your side like you've been sh-" his breathing hitches at the words he almost uttered, w-was Jason actually-

"What? S-Shot? Why's it matter if-" Jason quiets down when Bruce's words finally process, his baby blue's widening under his mask at the small ways his dad is starting to panic from the thought-"No! I was jus' stabbed is all...no shots."

Bruce will get on himself later about how his body relaxed a bit more when finding out his child wasn't shot, I mean, what kind of father feels relieved that their kid was just stabbed? He knows-deep down-that it's his...ahem..."trauma response" to guns, but it sucks for him to realize he finds himself more at ease when people he knows are hurt in different ways that aren't a gun...he feels like a horrible person when it happens.

For now though, his main priority is his son who is losing blood, blood that Bruce is finally noticing on Jason's hand.

Bruce grunts as he brings his son closer to his body, feeling momentarily surprised when he lets out the sound from moving the younger. Since when did he ever grunt when moving his children? Another thing is, when did Jason get so heavy in the first place? When did his once small boy pack on so much muscle and-oh, God...please...when did Jason ever have to bend his knees when Bruce held him?

His body is on autopilot and he can feel himself moving to the medical table, but his eyes are busy staring at Jason's bent knees, his mind screaming at him that this must be a prank his son is pulling-oh! Or maybe Bruce is actually in an alternate universe where his child is bigger than him.

Bruce sucks in a deep breath when arriving at the table, gently lying his son down so he can get to work on stitching his boy up while also giving a (most likely) hypocritical lecture on how Jason should stay safe.

XXX

It was ever since that day that Bruce has been hyper fixated on his own height, along with the height of others. He hates how he's been sneaking in tests and making things awkward with his family because he chooses not to answer and instead rushes off to panic when realizing Jason is bigger than him.

It all happened as soon as Jason was patched up too, his mind recalls every stupid miniscule little detail, from Jason's clothes to the way his hair was messy from sleep and-the worst part-how he had to look up at the nineteen-year-old when the young man got close enough to him. Barefoot and all. The worst part is how Jason didn't even seem to notice it, and Bruce is NOT risking letting his son know, because then he will be picked on for being smaller than him and then his Bluejay will no doubt drag his siblings into this.

Not to mention how Bruce doesn't want to deal with a furious Damian who will demand that they, in his words, "stop disrespecting father before he slits their throats."

It has been a miserable couple months for him-and don't you judge him for keeping this obsession up for months! How is anyone-let alone a parent-supposed to process that they are shorter than their kid? Bruce holds back his frustrated tears at realizing his children are grown and growing, for goodness sakes, he had a meltdown just yesterday when it caught up to him that Richard is a fully grown man...he will never let anyone know about how he clutched onto old pictures of his eldest while crying.

And everyday Bruce is hoping and praying against Damian's growth...of course he doesn't want his son to be stunted in his puberty process...but if he decides to stay little forever then that is perfectly okay with him.

Besides panicking over his family's growth, which, yay for them...really, Bruce has been noticing-and I mean, TRULY noticing, his friends colleagues heights. There are certain people where it's just so noticeable, like J'onn for example, that guy is so huge that you are stupid if you don't notice it. Another hero is Big Barda, I mean, she's a seven foot tall woman...you would obviously notice that.

But there are just some people he noticed it with but it didn't bother him before (thank you Jason for kick-starting this!) And now Bruce is constantly comparing himself to the most closest of colleagues to one's he barely speaks to, it's insane how many files he's gone through just to look at heights. His two closest friends colleagues Diana and Clark are two people he didn't bother with height wise. It didn't matter since they made him feel small in different ways...I mean, you have the Amazonian princess with strength and skills that would put any living creature to shame and a Kryptonian that is more human than most humans, who truly has a heart of gold despite any negative views towards him.

And then there is Bruce: cold, stoic, a touch too sarcastic, jaded, cynical, a negative Nancy, a party pooper (Jason says that), no fun, emotionally stunted, anxious, depressed, stressed, old, washed up, unfunny-and the worst of all; short.

Bruce holds back his distressed noise as Wally West, AKA: Richard's best friend who has been over a million times, stands next to him with that ever bright smile of his and is animatedly talking, effectively ruining his depressing train of thought. When did he get so big? So...grown? He takes in the maturity of his once soft face, the man is still cute no doubt, but he isn't that same round faced boy who bothered him about Alfred's cookies. Okay, okay, maybe he still is that same kid...just older looking and taller now.

"-and that's why I'll need that penthouse full of Agent A's cookies."

Bruce blinks away the sudden wetness in his eyes and looks down (ha!) at The Flash confused, though to the normal eye he looks the same old disinterested as usual. "You need a penthouse? What happened to that modest apartment you got?" Wally blinks in shock behind his mask before giving a toothy smile, "Is that what your mind got from that? I was joking about the penthouse...though Agent A's cookies would still be much appreciated."

The ginger shifts in place nervously at the way Batman is staring at him, did he do something wrong? The only thing that somewhat assures Wally that things are okay is the fact that Bruce gives a grunt of agreement before walking off.

He can't take this anymore! If Bruce stays around Wally any longer he's afraid he'll start crying in front of the kid. Instead, he'll just head to the cafeteria and drown his sorrows in today's dessert. Bruce walks in and sees that Diana is already in line, holding back his grumble as he stands next to the woman and internally mourns the fact his head only reaches her shoulder. "Good morning, my friend! It's a lovely day in space is it not?"

Bruce grunts and doesn't bother looking up at Diana, "It's the same view we see everyday we come up to the Watchtower."

The Amazonian just smiles brighter, warmth radiating from her mood. "Though we see it everyday it doesn't make it any less gorgeous up here." Bitterness. Bruce's heart is filled with bitterness at the words "up" and "here" , is-is Diana teasing him? Did she somehow find out about his fixation and is now subtly letting him know that she knows?

The feeling of warmth, like that from the sun, at his right side causes Bruce to automatically look up at the person standing so close to him. His icy blue eyes only widen under his mask at fully tilting his head back to look up at Clark, he feels like sobbing when realizing his head only comes to Clark's chest, why is the man even taller than Diana!?

"Good morning Bruce, Diana. Lovely morning up here, is it not?"

There's that stupid word again! And is it really a good morning when he's been suffering for so long? Bruce frowns at the gentle nudge at his side and Diana's jovial tone, "Told you the view is still beautiful." At Clark's questioning look Diana just smiles more, "Our friend here just is being a sourpuss today. He's grumpy about how I said the view is nice, he just replied about how we see it everyday."

Clark just smiles and looks down at Bruce, his smile turning amused when his friend doesn't move up the line. "Are you just going to stare at me all morning or will you move down the line?"

A scoff is all Bruce can give, not noticing the concerned looks shared over his head as he focuses on piling his food tray with dessert. The concern isn't necessarily from Bruce eating sweets, Diana and Clark both know how much their friend actually has a sweet tooth, the issue is coming from the fact he is willingly eating sweets in front of others on top of the amount it is. Clark just frowns worriedly and sits actual food on his plate while mouthing to Diana about what's wrong with Bruce.

In return, the princess just shakes her head and looks back down at Bruce, choosing to speak up. "You know, it's been awhile since we've eaten alone, just the three of us. Why don't we head to one of our rooms or something?" What she actually means by that is: "let's get Bruce alone so we can figure out what's wrong with him."

The two super powered heroes find themselves even more putoff at Bruce's distracted grunt...it is rare he pulls that one out, usually his grunts have some level of awareness to them, but this one is telling them that he's not actually paying attention. Which is cause for alarm in and of itself. Plus, Clark and Diana have been getting calls from Bruce's family, they are worried about how he's been acting as of late. They report Bruce is running off on them whenever they ask him what's wrong...which actually isn't out of character for Bruce, but if the Batfamily are saying it's different than usual, then it's different than usual.

The two taller heroes lead the shorter to his room, punching his code in before the door opens and they watch as Bruce automatically walks over to his bed and sits on it, shoving a cookie in his mouth and causing Clark to signal to Diana in confirmation that something is wrong.

They use their friend's distracted state to quietly talk about it while joining him in the room, "What's going on with him?" Diana raises her brow as she asks, tilting her head up and to the side so Clark can whisper in her ear. "I don't know for sure...but his lip is jutting out into a micro-pout. I quickly scanned him to see if he was hiding injuries, and while he's not, his muscles are tense as if he's holding back something."

Diana softly ah's and sets her tray down on Bruce's desk, the noise causing the man to look up at them finally. His eyebrows raising when noticing he's in his room, "Why didn't we just eat in the cafeteria?" Bruce holds back his fidgeting at the look the taller two heroes share.

Clark clears his throat, "We were going to originally...but we noticed you were acting off and suggested eating in one of our rooms as a test-"

Diana, being one to never hold back, gets to the point. "A test you failed, Bruce. To be honest, you've been acting off enough to worry your family into calling us to step in. So, can you please tell us what's going on?" Bruce feels genuine embarrassment that this is where his fixation has gotten him, he's too flustered to admit that his issue is the fact he's begun to notice people are bigger than him, I mean, what kind of issue is that?

At Bruce's silence Clark steps forward slightly, his voice patient and gentle when he speaks.

"We are your friends, B. Heck, you even feel like family. And family is there for each other just like me and Di are here for you. Jason has been feeling particularly bad lately...he says he didn't know what he did this time to make you so upset with him, you keep staring him down angrily only to storm off when he looks back at you."

Bruce feels angry with himself for letting such a stupid non-issue get this far. His looks of "anger" weren't anger towards Jason at all, he knows when he thinks hard about stuff he can sometimes look mean apparently, but he was never upset with his Jaylad...the distress was just showing on his face and Bruce most likely masked it with the first emotion that came to mind, one that's easiest for him to express or replicate; anger or irritation.

Bruce hates the involuntary distressed sound that escapes his crumb covered lips, however, for the sake of his family and ending this stupid misunderstanding, he chooses to be...honest (Batfamily: *collectively gasping*)

"Jason...he's bigger than me-" Bruce keeps the Batman mask on so he won't be too vulnerable, his hands tightening on the metal tray from the thought-"For months I have been noticing the sudden growth of my children and I...I didn't know what to do with that information. Did you know that Jason has to crouch when I hold him now? Since when did he need to do that?" At this point of his ranting, Bruce is out of bed and pacing across the room while his friends patiently listen.

"And then it hit me one day that Richard is truly a man now. Maybe that's why we got into so many fights before? I never truly realized that he didn't need my help like before-" Bruce pauses in the middle of the room and clenches his cape in his fists-"He is so much taller now and shining brighter than the little boy I picked up. Timmy is even starting to grow a bit more...which, I don't know if I should be upset or pleased that he's finally growing, that boy scares me sometimes with how small he was."

Bruce's hands instinctively reach up to run his fingers through his hair and he huffs at the mask being in the way, choosing to hide his hands underneath his cape instead.

"Wally is even so big now, did you know that? I remember the young boy with that fat freckled face pestering me about Alfred's cookies...and now that boy has the audacity to get big on me, I think I hate realizing that Dickie-bird is actually taller than his friend now, it's only by one or two inches-but still!" Bruce starts pacing again, his nerves building up once more and telling him to move.

"And don't get me started on Damian. I feel I constantly am trying to sabotage his growth...I never got to see him as a baby and so I hope he stays that small, chubby faced little boy I've come to know. I feel horrible for wishing against his growth, but I want to make his childhood as enjoyable as possible, did you know he didn't even know what movies were when he came here? He was deprived of fun and he can't grow too quickly now or fun childhood memories can't be made."

Bruce stops to finally stare at Diana and Clark, pointing accusingly at them.

"And then you two! I noticed it before, but it was never something of interest to me. I didn't need to pay attention to your heights when I feel small in other ways with you two...you-" Bruce grunts at Clark gently slamming into him and hugging him, the man sounding a mix of fond, touched, baffled and sad. "You don't need to feel small with us. I for one think you are bigger than any of us in many different ways...I mean, you just admitted to having a crisis at realizing your family grew."

Diana joins in on the hug with a soft chuckle, "I'm just surprised you didn't notice our height difference sooner. Clark and I always talked about how cute it is to pick you up, your our tiny human."

The woman just smiles more when Clark nudges her side in warning for her playful words, "But in all seriousness. This has to be the cutest moment we've seen from you ever, instead of a midlife crisis you are having a parental crisis-" Diana cackles again when Clark pokes her side again-"What? I am being serious. But also, this just shows how much you care...and I think it's only normal to feel this way when you never expected to have a family of your own in the first place."

Bruce's breath hitches at the gentleness in which Diana speaks the last part, his eyes prickling with tears at realizing deep down she's right. Ever since he took in Richard he was always amazed and scared at having a family, and no matter how much he's tried to deny it in his worst moments, that's what Richard became ever since he thought of taking him in. Bruce never expected a family, which is why he tries so hard to deny it...and I guess after years of taking care of children it's finally caught up to him that his family-more specifically, his children (because that's who they are) have grown into functioning adults.

He never thought he would want a family after losing his in that alleyway, but if anyone were to take down his defenses...of course it'd be a child.

Clark gently reaches up to tug Bruce's mask off and finds himself wanting to cry at seeing the fat droplets-hanging on for dear life-onto Bruce's eyes, even now his friend doesn't want to seem weak. He can't help but chuckle at the incredulous look Bruce gives him for wanting to cry as well.

"You can cry, Bruce. What are friends for?"

Bruce feels his face grow red, his body loosening in Clark and Diana's hold as months of tension leaves his being through his tears, choosing to hide his face in his friends strong bodies. He hates crying and how good it makes him feel afterwards, he doesn't think he deserves that feeling most days, but for now, it's okay. Bruce also can't help the eye roll at hearing Clark sniffle as well, he's such a crybaby. Diana just smirks at her two boys, carding her long, elegant fingers through Bruce's hair, the two taller heroes paying close attention to Bruce as he shifts in their hold and speaks up. Voice slightly muffled.

"Never speak about this to anyone."

Diana and Clark share a look before silently coming into agreement and lifting Bruce off his feet, reveling in his annoyed protests with laughter.

"We wouldn't dare."

("1. He isn't and 2. Even if he was, who would be brave enough to tell one of the richest men on earth-let alone THE Batman that he's short?" Does the second option imply or mean Bruce is short or is it just a scenario? You decide! I constantly switch between Bruce being a genuine short king and him just being around people that make him feel freaking short 😂.

"Clark gently reaches up to tug Bruce's mask off and finds himself wanting to cry at seeing the fat droplets-hanging on for dear life-onto Bruce's eyes, even now his friend doesn't want to seem weak." <-(Damian and Jason sipping on their tea: "Seems we found that answer to who we learned that from. 😌")

Also, I am so sorry this story got so long! I didn't mean to 😭. This idea has been in my head, and I usually forget my ideas...but this time I actually wanted to remember lol. This is also kind of based off of the one day I was hugging my baby brother and realized I actually had to look up at him...he's only 14 (while writing this I also just remembered he's 14 😭😭😭), I went back into my room and literally just sat there reminiscing on my bed about when he was brought home from the hospital to all the good times we had together and even things I wish I did different with him growing up 😂.

Also, also, I apologize for the constant whiplash from some semblance of humor (or something), to slightly crack-ish (I think so at least) writing to things getting deep and emotional. I was feeling fickle with the vibe of this story I guess, so I said: "why not everything?" 😂😂😂

This is getting even longer cause I like talking too much in notes lol, so I'm going to leave with a thank you! Anyone and everyone who bothers to read this long mess is very much appreciated!

Please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

[sincerlycas]

What you heard.

inspired a bit by the song “what you heard” by sonder/brent faiyaz.

warning: spanking, rough sex, degrading, fluff, a bit toxic, eren yeager (yes this man is a warning), etc.

wrd count: 2k./ don’t forget to dm me for commissions <3

part 2.

“y/n baby what is your issue?” eren currently had your arm in his clutch stopping you from walking away from him any further. the lines on his forehead, and frown on his face showed he was really not trying to deal with this at the moment. “what’s my issue? really? so you’re going to tell me you walk around them campus halls not knowing what people say about you- about me- actually about you and other people ?” the reason you were mad was due to the fact a little birdie came up to you saying a girl named historia was going around saying eren gave her some, and knowing eren’s past with her, of course you had your doubts but still had a sense of worry.

you being the classy (aka petty) girlfriend you were, went to look for this historia girl for answers to which she gave you a high pitched laugh voicing “oh! I forgot he was dating.. you, it sure didn’t seem like it the way he was fucking me last Saturday .” off the rip you wanted to slap that bitch, but you knew better to make a scene for something that quite possibly might be a lie. “you know historia it’s quite ironic you said that because if I remember clearly eren said and I quote ‘I would never go back to that roast beef pussy looking hoe’ but maybe I didn’t hear right”

you mimicked the high pitched laugh she did earlier right after saying that walking past her with a bumb to the shoulder and a mumble near her ear saying “sour pussy ass hoe”.

but if you already handle the issue why are you still mad? It’s because even though you didn’t want to believe her, the timing made sense. see, last Saturday you weren’t with eren. he said he had to run a errand for the whole day so you were just hanging with your besties. that would be enough time for eren to be with her. still you didn’t want to believe it. so the day after the confrontation you went to campus looking fine as usual with your grey shorts body suits with a boob cut and some cool grey and thick glasses.

till you were stopped multiple times that day from people asking ‘are you okay’ ‘did historia really fuck eren’ ‘you should holla at me since old boy ain’t doing his job’. this what caused your mood to be sour the whole day.

finishing all your classes getting ready to head home you’re met with a smiling, handsome, fine like wine ass man in your face. that man being your boyfriend eren, he has finally showed his face on earth after all these rumors. “hey sweet mama, I was wondering if you could come by my hou-“ cutting him off by walking straight pass him, Ignoring him as if he was a rando. “baby! where you goin’” he jogged up next to you grabbing your arm stopping you near a secluded area. “y/n baby what is your issue?” leading up to the current moment so forth.

“what are you talking about? y/n you’re really going to stress me the fuck out.” he said while letting out a sigh and rolling his eyes. pushing him on his chest making him let go of your arm and pushing you jet black lace off your shoulder. pointing your long acrylic nail at his face you said “bitch don’t play dumb, there’s no way in hell the whole campus knows but you don’t when you’re literally the main topic” your crossed your arms staring at him as if was delusional. “y/n l/n when I say I don’t fucking know what you’re talking about, I mean that now stop fucking around and tell me what you heard.”

rolling your eyes you finally answered what he has been desperately waiting to know “why tf people especially historia, are coming up to me saying you fucked her.” and to that he laughed, he laughed in your face! “you really believe that shit, baby you know good and that girl is crazy.” shaking your head and staring up at him you asked “then where were you on Saturday” “I told you, I went to run errands.” “what kind?” he stared at you as if he was thinking of an excuse.

“you know what, save it tell me when you done with all this bullshit and call me till then dont call my mf phone.” leaving at that and hopping into your Mercedes and reaching your apartment.

laying down on your bed in your baby pink shorts and white cropped tank top you decided you would find answers yourself. you scrolled through your contacts and called connie a mutual friend of yours and erens. “yooooooo” automatically answering the phone with his forehead all up on the screen. “boy backup I got a question.” “what do you neeedddd” dragging his words annoyingly and setting his phone up. “eren said he was with you on Saturday what did y’all do?” lying through your teeth just see if it’ll work. “Oh- uh yeah we were on the game all day.” he nervously smiled and rubbed his neck. staring at him with a mean mug.

“yeah you a damn lie I can fucking tell cuz your nose is red bitch learn how to stop that.” hanging up on him you decided to try again and called jean. “hey y/n what you need” answering after a while and nicely. “I was wondering what you and eren were doing on Saturday he said he was with you.” “ohhh yeah me and him were at the park all day placing basketball.” hanging up on him right after that and sitting up crossing your arms.

automatically you thought he probably did fuck her if not why would they both lie? your train of thought was interrupted with a knock to your door. getting up to go get it you’re brought with presence of eren letting himself into your apartment. “bro ion got time for you right now get out.” automatically dismissing him staying by the door.

“baby just listen, you gotta believe me when I say I didn’t fuck her she’s just lying.” of course you wanted to believe him, but at the same time why should you if he won’t tell you where he was that day. “then where were you on Saturday?” and yet again you are met with hesitation. “see what we’re not finna do is keeping back in forth with this shit, if you cheated just say that you bottom feeding ass nigga instead of making me look stupid in front of everyone”

slapping both your hands on his chest and pushing him away, to which he grabbed you with not much strength needed, and pinned you against the door instead. “y/n don’t fucking play with me, cuz now you got me pissed off. since really wanna know, on Saturday I was being the best boyfriend I am and was getting reservations and decorations and all shits like that ready for your birthday this week which was supposed to be a surprise.”

holding both your arms in his hands and keeping you from moving. and to prove his point even more he pulled out his phone showing him in a grocery store buying birthday decorations saying “my baby birthday in a couple days and you knowwww I have to treat her right and give her everything she deserves all that luxuries and shit, baby if you see this, happy early birthday and I love youu give daddy a kiss when you see this.” ending the video with a wink and putting his phone down.

“yeah you look stupid don’t you, not believing in your man but believing some dumb hoe I told you countless times about.” looking at anything but him trying not to tear up from the embarrassment you felt right now for being angry and lashing at him for no reason when you should have just trusted him.

“o-okay eren I get it I’m sorry, I should have trusted you” looking up at him teary eyed while biting your lip. letting go of your arms and rubbing away the fallen tears from under your eyes and kissing your nose. “it’s okay baby, but you know I’m not gone accept that sorry ass apology so go lay that ass on that bed for me” he stated and simply tapping your ass and looking down at you. shocked by what he said and looking up at him pleadingly to have mercy on you. “eren I said I was sorry just let it go this once.” you knew you were about to get punished the most pleasurable way possible but you were still sore from last time and fat ma needed a break! “y/n don’t make me say it twice.”

“OH.MY.G-G-GODDDD!!” screaming on top of your lungs with every word being punctuated by the harsh backshots eren was giving you. clawing at your sheets using it as a way to get away from those relentless thrusts. “nahhhh bring that pussy rightt back!” eren used his free hand to ball up your tank top in his hand pulling on it towards him to bring you right back onto that dick. “don’t run from it mama, what did you say I was? a bottom feeder?” right after asking that question a harsh slap came down to your ask making you let out another scream.

bringing your right hand behind you to claw and push at his abs. “d-daddy I’m sorryyy~ i promise I’ll never question you again- AH FUCKKK~!! baby pleaseee” begging him to give you a break and making promises he knew you wouldn’t keep, that was just how you were, a back talking ass woman who stood her ground but it always ended up with you here. bringing his hand down between your legs to furiously rub at you clit causing your legs to spasm and your hand to grip his wrist. “youre sorry? you really believed her- you better arch that shit right back up- you believed that bitch and doubted me?

crying hysterically and cumming for the third time, babbling ‘sorries’ and ‘daddy please’s’ to which he ignored. instead he lifted one leg on the bed slamming balls deep into you causing you to let out a silent scream and violently shaking your legs. “now tell me who this dick belong to mama.” flipping you onto your back to see your face while staying inside and keeping his leg up. “I-I-I-it’s m-mineee~” you shakingly breathing heavily trying to stop your cries. “then start fucking act like it’s yours and yours only.” slapping your clit repeatedly then raising his hand to leave another slap but is stopped by your hands covering it and shaking your head repeatedly no crying even louder. eren being the tease that he is starts shaking his head yes at you and forcefully moves your hand away. “don’t try cover and take away while I rightfully own.” “you see this pussy, that clit, this ass, everything on you is mine just as much as mine is yours, so next time you try that shit again you’re gonna get something coming for you.”

rubbing your clit as quick as he can and hitting your g-spot repeatedly you grabbed onto his back leaving down scratch marks every time he hit those bundle of nerves. not a moment later you felt like you needed to pee. “d-daddy stop- I’m gonna make messss~” and already understanding what you meant he started jackhammering into your cunt till he felt you spraying up on his abs, your stomach and legs, and some even reaching his lips to which he greedily licked away. slowing his thrusts down after cumming inside you soon after you and holding you tightly rubbing your legs to soothe you. “you okay mama? I’m sorry I did so much but I had to teach you a lesson” kissing your cheek lovingly and accidentally brushing past your clit with his pelvis causing to squirt yet again! “o-o-o-oh f-f-fuck dadddy it’s hurtssss, it won’t stoppp~” automatically going down eren went to lick up at your pussy catching every bit of your juice he can to relieve your pleasurable pain.

finishing up and running a bath and taking care of you, slipping on a oversized t-shirt on you (his shirt you stole) and a pink thong, slipping your thick black glasses back onto your eyes and laying you next to him kissing on your shoulders. “you feel better baby?” he asked while rubbing your thighs to which you nodded your headed and slept soundly.

eren took that time to grab his phone and post a video of you in your current attire with you legs still slightly shaking and a hand print on your ass captioning “fuck all them rumors I’m reserved for one person and one person only, she know that too.” along side the the song “what you heard- Sonder/Brent faiyaz”

[kelppsstuff]

Can you perhaps write an Adam x reader where the reader is extremely insecure about their looks and thinks they'll never be truly attractive and he comforts them after catching them in the middle of a breakdown ....... Thank you so much I love your work ♥️♥️

Divine

Summary: when your insecurities get the best of you Adam is there

F!Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: depression, depressive thoughts, making love, panic attack

Taglist: @fandomsbookclub @adamsfavoritesinner @leathesimp @mmichelleszn @sashaphantomhive @ladyninggs @sirenetheblogger @jawline-of-steel

You always were one to never feel confident in your own body. Even when you were alive. You were beyond surprised when the first man told you he wanted you, and even more surprised when you started dating.

You were a relatively high ranking angel, most people respected you. You were kind, compassionate, caring, and most of all, you were down to earth, or well heaven.

However even in your after life those thoughts followed you. Making you question everything about yourself.

The questions started small.

Were you too tall? Were you too short? Should you have long or short hair?

Then they began to form into something more.

Were you eat too much? Too less? Were your boobs big enough? Was your ass too big? What made you deserve Adam? Why are you even here?

You never told anyone about said thoughts. Heaven wasn’t a place of insecurity. Everyone was “hot” as saint peter like to put it, so no one really talked about their problems.

You tired hard to appear perfect. Always going the extra mile for something, for someone.

—

You walked around your home, glass of wine in your hand. You made a sudden stop however as you caught a glimpse of your reflection in one of the mirrors in your home.

You took another sip to try and stop the incoming thoughts, however it did no good.

Do you really think Adam wants you? It’s all a joke to him. You don’t deserve him, look at you.

Tears started to form in your eyes, tears of sadness filling eyes of rage.

You screamed out in frustration and threw the wine glass to the mirror. The glass shattered and red stained your white walls.

The thoughts stopped, finally a moment of peace, but it did not last. The came back stronger than before.

You grabbed one of your fire pokers and started to hit your glass cabinets. Throwing every thing you could find against the walls.

You didn’t find clarity though.

You slid down the walls while the tears slid down your face. “Just leave me alone!” You cried out to the empty room.

Now you’re throwing a fit? Get over yourself, god you’re pathetic.

You didn’t hear the door open, you couldn’t get out of your head. You didn’t hear footsteps crunching on the glass around you, it was blocked out by your crying.

You only focused back when Adam placed his arms around you and slightly shook the two of you.

“What’s the matter baby?” His voice was unusually soft, and it was delicate.

“I want the mirrors gone.” You begged to him. He pulled your head away from his chest and made you look up at him. “Then how would you see your beautiful face?”

You scoff out, “what a funny joke.” Your voice was bitter, and your throat was raw. The tears had finally stopped, but they still stained your face and your lashes were soaking.

“Funny of you to think I’m joking. Talk to me baby.” He noticed your insecurities to an extent. Adam wasn’t one to be too aware of mental struggles — even if he has some of his own — but he noticed things about you.

He would notice how you would always try and hide your stomach. How you would sometimes get lost in though while grabbing your thighs. He would notice how you never wanted him to go down on you even though you would blow him off. He would notice your long looks in the mirror and the distance face you had.

He would try and help. Telling how how hot he found you every time he saw you. He would always praise you. It wasn’t enough, he knew that but he wanted you to come to him about this first.

He didn’t want to upset you more with confrontation.

“I’m so ugly! I don’t know why you’re still with me! I’m an embarrassment for you. You’re too good for me.”

Adam brushed away your tears with his lips. Silently listening. This was your moment to get everything off your chest.

“I’m not smart, I’m not even that pretty.” You scoffed and looked away from Adam, “Lute would be a better partner than me.”

Adam pulled your face back to him. “You have no idea just how wrong you are. You are heaven itself. This place was hell until you.”

“You’re not an embarrassment, I’m so proud to have you on my arm. You’re so intelligent that you make god look stupid. Don’t even get me started on your beauty.”

“I love every part of you. I love every inch of skin you have. You’re so pretty baby and I love you so much it hurts that I can’t express how much I truly do. And I cannot wait until the day that I see you walking down that isle in white.”

You smiled at Adam, it would take time to fully believe him, but right now he made you happy. It had been a long time since the thoughts were gone and it was just the two of you.

“Thank you, Adam.”

Adam placed a kiss your lips and reluctantly backed away. “Don’t thank me baby. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to go out have a spa day, go shopping, get all dolled up and when you get back I’ll have a surprise for you.”

You nodded your head and Adam kissed you all over your face leaving giggles to flea from your mouth. God you drive him crazy, in the best way.

—

You got your nails done, even gotten your hair styled, and you went to the mall to get new jewelry and a dress.

By the time you got home and walked brought the door all the glass and everything was cleaned up.

Another thing you noticed was the rose petals making a path to your room while music played out. The closer your got to the room the louder you heard the song.

You opened the door and there Adam stood. In a suit, maskless, while holding up a rose to you.

Adam could feel his heart stop. He looked you up and down and he knew that he would love you for the rest of his immortal life.

“You look…” and felt like he couldn’t breathe, you were simply, “divine.”

Red rushed to your cheeks as you walked closer to him, taking the rose. You wrapped your arms around his neck and looked around.

Candles were lit all over the room and you noticed he put a table in here that had your favorite food and wine. You looked to the left and noticed the bed was filled with rose petals just like the table.

The candles reflected against your skin and Adam knew that this was the moment, he couldn’t wait a second longer.

“Marry me.”

You snapped your head up to him, “what?”

Adam dropped your arms to his hands and he started to get onto hid knee. “I’ve lived in Heaven longer than I can remember, but it wasn’t Heaven until you. I have had two wives and yet it was you who taught me how to love.”

Adam pulled out a ring box from his jacket and opened revealing your dream ring. It was breathtaking.

“I was trapped in a marriage twice, and I don’t want you to think of this as a trap. When I ask you to marry me I’m asking for you to let me worship you. Let me wake up beside you every single day. Let me try and show just how deep my love for you goes, even though it’s impossible because I simply have too much of it to show. So I ask you. Will you marry me?”

A smile broke on your face and you dropped to you knees bringing him to a kiss. You put your hand to his cheek while he wrapped his arms around you.

You kissed all over his face saying yes a million times. Adam face was full of love and happiness as he placed the ring onto your finger.

You looked at him and placed your forehead against his, “never let me go.” You whispered.

“Never.” He promised.

He picked you up and carried you to the bed, kissing you along the way.

When he dropped you to the edge of the bed you immediately went to his belt but he pushed your hands away.

He dropped to his knees and pushed your back to the bed. “This night is all about you, honey.”

You were nervous yet excited.

He undid your heels, slightly rubbing your sore feet before his hands trailed up your thighs. “Lift your hips baby.”

You flushed pink, Adam said Vulgar things all the time but that would play a repeat in your head for days, hell eternity to come.

You did as he said and he pushed your dress up while pulling down your panties, stuffing them in his pockets.

He brought his lips to your own, and gave your heat a little kiss. Your little moan let him knew just how eager you truly are, along with the slickness along your folds.

He grabbed your legs and placed them on his shoulder, slightly angling your hips upwards.

He gave you a long lick, loving the taste of you. He wanted more, no needed more, he needed to taste you more.

He gave you more licks and suck before rubbing your clit while putting his tongue to use but pushing it past your folds and into your walls.

You could feel pressure in your stomach begging to be release, you were quite familiar of this feeling.

“Adam, I’m oh god, I’m going to cum.”

Adam paced quicken, desperate to have you gush on his tongue and gush you did. You poured onto him, crying out in pleasure. Adam didn’t let a single drop past him.

When you finally were finished riding out your high Adam climbed over you. A sight it was.

He ran a hand down his hair, his tie loose, your fluids over his face and a hungry look in his eyes. You made sure to engrave that memory in your head. You pushed off his suit jacket while he worked on his belt and shoes.

Adam ripped open your dress causing you to whine, “that was expensive!”

Adam started to kiss up your neck and to your ear, his low raspy voice right over it. “I’ll buy you ten more.” His breath blew over the curvature of your ear making your yearn for him.

You ripped open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere as you gave him begging eyes with a sweet voice to accompany it. “Please my love.”

“How can I refuse someone as pretty as you.”

You believe him, you felt pretty, you felt loved, you felt worshipped, you felt enough.

Adam pushed down his pants and lined himself up to your entrance. He slowly started to push into your slick walls, leaning down over you breathing heavy, matching yours.

When he finally bottomed out he had to take a moment to stop. You were so tight and you were squeezing him so nice.

In the very low of your stomach you could feel a tiny bulge.

He took you hand hand placed it over your lower stomach. “You feel me baby? You feel what you do to me? Only you could make me like this.”

“I love you Adam.” He placed a soft kiss on your soft lips, “not as much as I love you.”

Before you could deny it he thrusted up into you. Suddenly your ‘impossible’ turned into “don’t stop.”

“I won’t baby.”

He kept his word. He kept it slow and you didn’t ask for him to go faster. His thrust was hard and it his the exactly spot that he knew would make you tick.

He started to rub your clit, whispering praises in your ear and then suddenly you could feel yourself pulsing around him.

With you tightening Adam’s own release pushed deep into. Painting your walls white.

When you both came down from your highs he pulled out and made you two a bath.

While the two of you soak and nipped your ear and joke, “looks like I skipped dinner and went straight to dessert.” You giggled and splashed him.

The two of you went silent for a moment, just admiring the other. “I love you.” You both said.

Adam was truly happy.

You were truly happy.

Any problems that would happen you two would face them, together.

AHHHHH

Okay so let’s talk!

I’m so happy I wrote this! You have no idea, while writing this it felt like a piece of me healing.

If anyone is struggling I want you to know you’re not alone! There are others out there and I don’t mean that as a way to down play you, I mean that in a way they people understand and people will listen.

Don’t struggle alone there is always a door open and each and every person alive is beautiful and truly amazing and there is always someone something that loves you!

[mncxbe]

𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: reference post; @soullessfyodor here's my take on Fyodor with a guardian angel♡// ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: delulu, Fyodor's a bit manipulative + has a God complex, dubious relationship between them, possibly inaccurate biblical lore

he knows you're there, knows you exist. growing up in a religious family, he's always been told that his guardian angel was watching over him, making sure he was safe from any danger. but trying to interact with you never actually occurred to him

you showed yourself to him for the first time when he was around ten. he'd caught a terrible flu and his already weak body could barely handle it. so you did your job, you healed him and ever since you visited him more and more often

it was against the rules but what could you do? he was a quiet kid, a bit too intelligent for his own good and you just had a feeling that there was something wrong with him

your suspicions were confirmed once he started joining different criminal organizations. you tried to keep him on a straight path but there wasn't much you could do to change his resolve

"Don't worry, my dear angel, I am quite certain that the purity of my soul is untainted." he smiled as he packed his few belongings in a suitcase.

"I'm begging you, Fyodor. Don't go to Japan it's a bad idea–" you protested but he wouldn't have it.

"I'm not keen on using this argument but I am an adult now, angel. I can make my own decisions"

"You're still acting like a kid" you huffed, fluffing your wings, causing a few feathers to fall on the bed covers. Fyodor chuckled, gently seizing your chin "And you're still acting like my mother. There's no need for you to be so concerned for me"

ever since Fyodor moved to Japan to pursue his plans the relationship between you changed. Fyodor became more secretive, but you still didn't give up on your routine– every night, Fyodor played the cello for you or read you a few pages of his book. those were his little ways of showing you his gratitude for always being there for him

after a few months you could sense a deeper change. he barely talked to you about his plans and every time you tried to voice your concerns he deflected

"My, my, angel. I told you before there's no reason to worry about me." smiled the man, motioning you to join him in bed.

"I'm serious, Fyodor. I can't keep covering up for you. You're killing people don't you realize your actions have consequences for me? And for you too" Fyodor simply laughed, pulling you next to him as he traced the outline of your wings with his fingertips "Am I upsetting the higher ups?" You nodded and his grin widened. Cupping your face with his free hand, Fyodor brought you closer to him.

"Why should I care about that, my dear? After all, I am a God myself, aren't I?" Before you could reply Fyodor placed a kiss to the corner of your lips"You know I'm right."

"You shouldn't say such things"

"You've let so many things slide, angel, I'm sure you can excuse some mild blasphemy"

and you did let it slide, and other things too. there were many things he should've been sanctioned for but you swept them under the rug– no matter what atrocious things he did you still believed he was the sweet Fyodor you once knew

it didn't take long until you lost your place among the angels and were sent to hell. call it divine judgement, or karma, but covering Fyodor's endeavours for so long did have a consequence

as a fallen angel you could still come to earth whenever you pleased but for a while you avoided Fyodor. you were mad he was cruel enough to let this happen. all of this could've been avoided if he would've just listened to you

still, it didn't take long for you to return to him. after spending so much time together you couldn't just ignore him. especially not when you could hear him calling out your name through the endless night in hell

"So, my angel, are you getting accustomed to your new home?" he taunted, his lithe fingers dancing along the cello's cords, his music echoing through the dim-lit room.

"Don't you dare joke about that" you hissed "How did you find out in the first place?"

"I figured, since you stopped visiting for a while..." Taking note of your silence Fyodor sighed, putting down his instrument "I do appreciate your sacrifice, angel. Your devotion is truly remarkable"

You scoffed again at his words, feeling your blood boil "You should be ashamed of yourself. You condemned me to a life in hell."

"You could always come and live with me. You're more than welcome in my humble home" he said in a honeyed vocie as he got up from his chair and moved towards you. He kneeled in front of the futon you were laying on and held your hand. "My dear angel, forgive me. If what I doing wasn't this important I would've given up on my goals. But it can't be helped"

You sighed, running your thumb along his knuckles "Such important plans yet you cannot tell me anything about them."

"Of course not" he smiled "Not now at least, but one day will come when I'll tell you everything. Until then, you'll have to trust me."

You remained silent for a while, a heavy tension settling between the two of you before he spoke again. "You lost your God and your status, but I assume you still have your powers."

"You're correct"

"Then stay by my side, look over me like you always have" The man rose to his feet and leaned closer to you, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear "I can give you a purpose. That's what you need, right?"

"So you're asking me to taint my soul even more? To give up on my principles, on everything."

"You were already deemed a sinner, my angel. You've fallen. I'm offering you a way to rise back up– a new god, a new purpose." Striaghtening his back, he bowed, holding a hand in front of you. "So what do you say?"

You weren't stupid– it was obvious what Fyodor was after. He just needed your powers to keep him alive. You were just another tool, another pawn. But it was the best deal you could've asked for, so you hesitantly accepted his hand. Fyodor smiled, helping you up from the couch before he placed a tender kiss to the back of your hand.

"You and I, my dear, are going to accomplish great things together"

[libraryofgage]

@holyangelstudentuniverse requested the following: Steve working at Bath & Body Works while Eddie is the mall pianist?

I love it omfg, your brain is fantastic I hope I did the idea justice

(if you see any typos no you didn't <3)

The old food court pianist was...okay. Technically, she was good; she knew how to play and rarely made mistakes. She was also clearly just there for the bi-weekly check (not that Steve can blame her), and her playing reflected that. The piano became the ideal white noise, loud enough to lessen the awkwardness of any silence but not so amazing that people couldn't ignore it in favor of conversing with each other.

The new food court pianist? He's a fucking enigma.

He's very clearly skilled, and he seems to actually enjoy the job. He plays like Billy Joel and Elton John met one night, had a piano contest, and then had a baby to create the perfect pianist. He's great and energetic and can play anything from Mozart to fucking Cardi B, and Steve wishes he'd quit already so he can actually focus on his own shitty mall job instead of getting absorbed in the guy's playing.

"You should just hook up with him," Robin says one day, hip-checking Steve as she passes by with a box of Cherry Blossom products. She restocks the soap bottles first, then the perfume, then the lotions, and finally the tiny hand sanitizers with their shitty little plastic flip-caps that Steve swears break for the fucking fun of it.

Steve, meanwhile, is replacing last week's sales signs with new ones. They're the exact same. They rarely change, actually. The only difference is the "expiration" date at the bottom, which changes if only to continually sell customers that sense of urgency that results in them buying $50 worth of products they'll forget about until the holidays come around and they need white elephant gifts.

He's almost done, too. All that's left are the signs by the metal gate pulled down over the store's entrance. They'll open it in about an hour to prepare for the mall's opening, but for now, it's staying down to discourage the mini-bodega clerk in the middle of the hall from flirting with Robin and trying to sell her shitty perfume like she can't just steal shitty perfume from Bed Bath and Beyond at the end of the day.

He waits until after he's switched the sign to turn around, arms crossed over his chest. His back is to the gate, and Steve would normally be too fucking paranoid about a blind spot to withstand it, but he's in argument mode.

"I barely know the guy," he says.

Robin snorts as she crouches, stocking extra hand sanitizers in the tiny drawers at the bottom of the shelf. "Yeah, but I know you, dingus," she says, her voice light and bouncing. "You hear the guy's muzak version of a Lil Nas X song and you're ready to marry the guy."

"I can just recognize artistic ability! Have you ever tried to make a pop song sound like a classic?" he asks.

"My point," Robin says, pushing some hair out of her face, "is that you should ask him out. Maybe you two can play piano together."

If she hadn't already heard it before, Steve would be immediately launching into an explanation of why that wouldn't work. Steve has never met someone he liked or trusted enough to actually play with them. Sure, he's tried playing with a partner before if only to say he gave it a shot, but it sucks. Especially when you don't like the person. You're squished together on an uncomfortable bench, sharing sheet music, elbows bumping as you both try to reach the proper keys to keep the song from sounding horrendous. It's Steve's personal version of hell on earth.

But Robin has heard that rant before, so Steve graciously spares her from hearing it again. For now. Until he's drunk, probably.

"What, I'm just gonna waltz up to the piano and ask if he's free on Saturday? Or, I don't know, try some dumb pick-up line like asking if he comes here often?"

"I'll be honest, it's not the worst pick-up line I've heard."

Steve and Robin jump, both whipping their head to look at the grate to see the food court pianist grinning at them (well, more specifically, he's grinning at Steve) from the other side. He's wearing a button-down black shirt with ripped skinny jeans, old Converse, and more accessories than Steve can count. There are chains on his jeans and a guitar pick hanging from his neck and an ear cuff and a stud through the edge of his eyebrow and so many chunky rings that Steve could use as an excuse to stare at his hands for an hour.

Robin is the one who breaks out of the shock first. She jumps to her feet and walks over to Steve, resting her arm on his shoulder and leaning against him. "But would it work?" she asks.

The guy grins wider, obviously looking Steve up and down to check him out before looking at Robin. "From Stevie here? Yeah. He's really rocking the apron," Eddie replies, winking at Steve.

Steve is about to ask how the guy knows his name, but then he remembers the name badge on his apron. He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away to glance down at Robin.

She seems to be having the time of her life right now.

"Well, uh, I'd prefer to know your name before trying any pickup lines," he says.

"Eddie Munson at your service," Eddie says, bowing to Steve with a dramatic flourish that he finds more endearing than anything else.

One look at Robin and her scrunched nose tells him she thinks it's a little over-the-top and, dare he say, cringe. Her opinion doesn't actually matter, though, since she'd be down bad for any girl that curtseyed at her.

Steve looks back at Eddie, noting the now expectant gleam in his eyes. He can't help an amused smile as he says, "Well then, Eddie," Steve says, stressing his name a little just for the fun of it, "come here often?"

Robin groans next to him. "Fucking hell, Steve," she mutters, slapping him upside the head. "I know you suck at flirting but you really couldn't come up with something better?"

"No, no," Eddie tells her, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm into it."

"And I'm out of it," Robin says, raising her hands in surrender before scurrying back to her Cherry Blossom products.

She's definitely still listening, though.

Steve rolls his eyes are her reaction and focuses back on Eddie. "So, uh, are you free on Saturday?" he asks.

"Completely free," Eddie says, taking a step closer to the gate and shoving his hands into his pockets. "How about lunch?"

"Yeah, I know a great pizza place."

"It's a date then," Eddie replies, winking at Steve. "By the way, any song requests?"

Steve blinks and thinks for a minute before asking, "Do you know Vienna?"

Eddie's grin tells Steve that he does, in fact, know Vienna. "Vienna it is." With that, he winks at Steve once more before heading back to the food court.

"That was painful," Robin says once he's far away enough.

Steve rolls his eyes and flips her off. "You're just jealous I've got a date and you're still too chicken shit to approach the Nike girl."

Robin practically squawks at him. "Oh, fuck you," she says.

"I'll leave that to Eddie, thanks," Steve says, laughing when Robin gags.

[seelestars]

☆ the emortia flower. (jiyan angst)

a/n : i tried looking for a flower similar to the emortia, hopefully this white hyacinth is close enough hehe (*´∇｀*) i haven’t written in a while so sorry if this isn’t that good

“that’s such a silly idea! we’re both dying together of old age in the future, so there would be no need for me to plant a flower here for you!”

oh how it felt like yesterday when you were innocently naive and optimistic.

regret and sorrow seeps into every bone of your body. why would you say that? there was so much more you wanted—no, needed—to say to him. even if they were as little and mundane as where you should go for your next date, or something as big and important as your future together. you should’ve told him everything on your mind. there was never a need to wait.

because now, you don’t even have the chance to wait to tell him anything.

as you were planting the seed into the soil, you felt your tears you were previously unaware of fall into the ground and soak the earth. you could feel your lips and fingers trembling as you covered the seed with soil, kneeling there with puffy eyes. you were sure you’ve been crying for a long time, as you could feel your eyes and face burn painfully. yet… nothing was more painful than losing him.

“…of course. how silly of me.” jiyan had given you a slight nod, his brows slightly furrowed as he smiles fondly at you. though at that time, it was clear he had wanted to say more.

perhaps you both were the same when it came to that. always trying to wait for the perfect opportunity to speak your mind.

you wished both of you were braver, more confident when it came to voicing your thoughts.

maybe then, him slipping through your fingers would’ve hurt less.

you remembered it as if it had just happened a minute ago.

his limp body in your arms as you sobbed, hugging him tightly. “why would you take the hit for me?! you’re so stupid!” you cried, sadness and frustration filling your voice as you look at him. you couldn’t understand how he was still smiling gently at you, even though he was in so much pain.

“i’m sorry for being so stupid, then. i’m afraid… i won’t be able to make it up to you.” jiyan coughs, the blood from his open wound dripping onto your hands. he weakly puts his hand over yours, softly caressing your knuckles as he looks at you with tired eyes.

“no! you can’t die here! just… just wait! i’ll bring you to a medic!” your eyes widen at his implications, panic feeling your voice. …but unfortunately for the both of you, you were currently both on a mission where it just the two of you. the city was quite far from here. you knew it was likely you wouldn’t make it back in time, but you still naively held onto that hope.

with that, the life began draining from his eyes as he whispered his last words to you. “…i… love you. may we… meet.. again… in the.. after life.” immediately, you felt even more tears flow down your cheeks as you sobbed into his lifeless body.

life was cruel.

you should’ve seen it coming. after all, he was a general. positions like that usually came with a hefty price. you wished you had spent more time with him. you wished you had never lashed out at him over things you now viewed as insignificant. you wished you helped him more. you wished you had told him “i love you” more.

you could only smile sadly at the seed. he had told you of its name and meaning once, and you couldn’t forget about it since.

emortia, the flower he bred himself. the word meant both departure and return. it was a resilient flower, similar to how he was. but of course, all flowers wither in the end. all you could do now is make sure to take good care of this flower you planted in his honor.

[sativaonsaturn]

the signs in love (songs for the signs pt.2)

(check venus, moon, mars, lilith, juno!)

aries/ 1st house (a steadfast love): Love On the Brain by Rihanna (who has an aries venus)

“So you can put me together/ And throw me against the wall”

“baby I'm fist fighting with fire/ Just to get close to you”

“Don't you stop loving me/ Don't quit loving me”

taurus/ 2nd house (a strong, steady love): Real Woman by PartyNextDoor (who has a taurus venus)

“Give her what she want/ Give me just what I want”

“Last night, we were sippin' Henny and now we doin' deals”

“I'm lockin' it in 'til the very end”

“Shawty met a boss like me and put a hundred down on a condo downtown with me”

gemini/ 3rd house (an expressive, exciting love): Houdini by Dua Lipa (whose lilith is in gemini)

“I come and I go/ Tell me all the ways you need me/ I'm not here for long”

“If you're good enough, you'll find a way/ Maybe you could cause a girl to change”

“Everything you say is soundin' so sweet/ But do you practise everything that you preach?”

cancer/ 4th house (a warm, comforting love): Every Kind of Way by HER (who has a cancer venus)

“You're here with me/ Boy, it don't get no better than you”

“I wanna love you in every kind of way/ I wanna please you, no matter how long it takes”

“If the world should end tomorrow and we only have today/ I'm gonna love you in every kind of way”

leo/ 5th house (a passionate love): Part II (On the Run) by Jay Z & Beyoncé (her w/ a leo mars)

“I don't care if we on the run/ Baby, 'long as I'm next to you”

“And if loving you is a crime/ Tell me why do I bring out the best in you?”

“I don't care if they give me life, I get all of my life from you/ And if loving you had a price I would pay my life for you”

virgo/ 6th house (a considerate love): My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski (who has a virgo venus)

“Moon, tell me if I could send up my heart to you/ So, when I die, which I must do could it shine down here with you?”

“My baby, here on earth/ Showed me what my heart was worth”

“Nothing in the world is mine for free/ But my love mine, all mine, all mine”

libra/ 7th house (a storybook love): Adorn by Miguel (who has a libra mars)

“Just let my love adorn you”

“Baby, these fists will always protect ya”

“Whole world's in your eyes (when I look in your eyes, baby)”

scorpio/ 8th house (an all-consuming love): Work Song by Hozier (his scorpio lilith in 8th reminds me of this)

“No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her”

“But I swear I thought I dreamed her/ She never asked me once about the wrong I did”

“If the Lord don’t forgive me, I’d still have my baby and my babe would have me”

sagittarius/ 9th house (a thrilling love): Lowkey by Teyana Taylor (whose venus is in sag)

“If I let you, would you make a move?”

“I want it but this ain't the right time/ But, damnit, you're so fine”

“Runnin' and runnin', ain't runnin' from love/ I'm so willin' to give it a try”

capricorn/ 10th house (a serious love): You Don’t Know My Name by Alicia Keys (who has a capricorn venus)

“There's something special 'bout you, I must really like you/ 'Cause not a lotta guys are worth my time”

“I see us on our first date/ You're doin' everything that makes me smile”

“Doin' more than I've ever done for anyone's attention/ Take notice of what's in front of you”

aquarius/ 11th house (a rebellious/ unconventional love): Take Me to Church by Hozier (who has an aquarius venus)

“My lover’s got humor/ She’s the giggle at a funeral”

“Knows everybody’s disapproval/ Should’ve worshipped her sooner”

“We were born sick, heard them say it/ I was born sick but I love it”

“If I’m a pagan of the good times/ My lover’s the sunlight”

pisces/12th house (a longing love): Blessed by Daniel Caesar (who has a pisces venus)

“I don’t wanna be there, don’t wanna be anywhere/ Anyplace that I can’t feel you, I just wanna be near you”

“Sometimes it gets unhealthy/ We can’t be by ourselves, we will always need each other”

“When I go, I don’t stay gone for long”

bonus:

venus in 4th (a committed love): positions by Ariana Grande (who is a cancer sun)

“Boy, I’m tryna meet your mama on a Sunday”

“Switchin the positions for you/ I’m in the Olympics way I’m jumping through hoops”

“Know my love infinite, nothing I wouldn’t do”

sativaonsaturn 🍃🪐

[stariikis]

𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡 | 𝐧.𝐫𝐤

royal flush ; (noun) a straight flush including ace, king, queen, jack, and ten all in the same suit, which is the hand of the highest possible value when wild cards are not in use. synopsis ; on your anniversary date with riki, he gets you thinking about how a deck of cards and a red string of fate bonded you forever.

pairing ; nishimura riki x reader genre ; fluff, romance, established r/s warnings ; mild cursing wc ; 1543

“You think we were fated to be together?” 

As you let the words settle into the darkness, the weight of them simmer around you. It’s almost as if you’re speaking to, perhaps, a figment of your imagination, a ghost of a body you want to be present, but isn’t. But Riki’s fingers, slender and rough with calluses, (he’s recently picked up the peculiar hobby of monkey barring) slide through yours. Like a confirmation that he’s here. 

Like a promise. 

He likes to associate you both with the tied knot of the red strings of fate. Every gift you receive is tied to perfection with a red ribbon. He likes to decorate printed pictures of you and him with scarlet-licked ribbons, a string of yarn weaved through punched-out holes. You’ve never been much of an artistic person yourself, but Riki gladly takes care of the aesthetics himself. 

“You’re my royal flush. Of course we were fated to be together.” 

What on earth does he mean? 

The night sky envelopes you in a cool breeze. Riki’s canvas, like a mirror, reflects the stars dotting it on the black background. A female figure, meant to be you, is sketched neatly in the middle of the portrait. However, your boyfriend has seemed to temporarily forget about the painting he’s working on. 

He leans in closer, one hand supporting himself on the grassy field. The other squeezes yours in a tight reassurance. The grin he’s flaunting is one that makes you want to smile with him. But it’s hard to focus on him when your mind is running through everything it took for you to get here. 

“Hey, yn, come here!” 

Minji’s voice rings out loud and clear across the room the moment you walk in. In a circle with a few boys, along with Haerin, there’s a deck of cards laid out on the marble floor. 

You walk over hesitantly, blinking at the unshuffled pile. ‘I’m not very good at playing cards.” 

Your friend and roommate huffs in exasperation, grabbing your wrist and sitting you down in the empty spot beside her. Your new roommates stare at you expectantly, and it’s only then when you realise they’re waiting for an introduction. Hastily and half embarrassed, you nod your head and introduce yourself. 

The boy beside you, his hair bleached and long enough to be considered a mullet, smiles amiably and greets you. “Hi, I’m Riki.” 

The boy opposite flashes a smile somehow even brighter than Riki’s. “I’m Sunoo! Welcome to the dorm.” 

Shyly, you wave and proceed to receive your share of the cards Haerin has silently been dealing amidst the introductions. 

“I don’t know, guys…” you murmur lightly, trying to start conversation. “I don’t really play big 2 that often.” 

“But do you know how?” Minji tilts her head. Her playful expression is difficult to read. You look through your cards and nod in response. “Who knows, you might be the next prodigy, like Riki beside you. He wins every time! Why do we even play with him anymore?” 

Riki laughs boyishly, winking at you charmingly. “Nobody comes even close to beating me!” 

… It’s only your first day at university. You should not be finding boys cute yet. 

“Sure, sure. Maybe I’ll be the one to change that.” 

The game begins, and true to his word, Riki starts off strong. He’s either the luckiest man on earth or has the skills of a professional gambler, because everytime he places down a set, everybody lets out a gasp. As expected, nobody in the circle is able to beat his high value cards, and they skip their turns. 

You’re doing better than you expected though. Head to head with Riki, you both have six cards in your hands. Minji sends you a teasing glance, as if signaling for you to destroy him. The chances are pretty low. When Riki places down a full house, you have a feeling you’re pretty screwed. And since you’re his main competition, Riki quirks an eyebrow challengingly at you when he places down three 6s and two 8s. 

One card remaining in his hand, he looks your way and giggles. Giggles. It, like, kind of alters your brain chemistry a little. 

However, you’re lucky (and smart) enough to have saved your flush, and so you place down your ten, jack, queen, king and ace. As you do so, the whole room goes silent. Haerin is the first to break it, with the first sentence you’ve heard her say that day. 

“You had a royal flush?! Now Riki’s definitely going to lose.” 

“A royal flush?” You echo, unfamiliar to this term in the world of gambling. Riki’s smug expression has turned into an awe-struck one, and he’s ogling at the five cards you have just placed down. 

“Look,” Minji spreads your cards and points at the suit. “They’re all hearts, right? A flush, with all the same suit, is called a royal flush. It’s the best set of five you can place down in this game.” 

Sunoo gasps, all nine of his cards spread like a peacock’s tail in his two hands. He uses it to fan himself, shaking his head all the while. “Damn, I never expected anyone to beat Riki.” 

Of course, everyone passes, even a begrudging Riki. He hangs his head low, and you don’t know whether to rub salt in the wound or comfort him with a bullshitted, “oh, don’t worry! Haha! Beginner’s luck!” 

You toss your last card, a 7, onto the pile before excusing yourself. You don’t want to stay and risk being assaulted by a potentially extremely competitive 18-year-old. 

However, that isn’t the case. After a while, you meet him in the dorm’s shared kitchen, stumbling upon him making himself a cup of coffee. At first, you’re nervous and avoid his gaze, because who knows what he could do to your social status if he’s truly upset. You’re slightly traumatised from high school’s notorious group of popular girls. 

But instead of giving you a shit-eating glare like you thought he would, he taps your shoulder. It sends tingles through your body, and you almost physically reach up and smack yourself. 

“I challenge you to another game,” he beams at you almost innocently. “Tonight, my room.” 

As the days go by, these demanding three words leave Riki’s lips more and more often. Soon it is a tradition for you to knock on his door and be greeted with a deck of cards shoved in your face. You truly do somehow have a talent for playing cards, reigning above Riki – and you win him every single time. 

It’s his life goal to beat you someday. 

To this day, he still hasn’t been able to beat you. But when he confessed to you, his eyes glazed over with a nervousness you’ve never seen before, even during your heated matches. He shyly gifted you with a fresh new deck of cards, tied up with the red string of fate. 

He claims to love the colour red because it reminds him of you. 

“Look,” he whispered, in the middle of the dark and empty room. Minji, Haerin and Sunoo were all out late in class, and Riki had pulled you in with such a look of desperation and eagerness that you didn’t know how to respond. “It’s red, like the hearts on the royal flush you put down the first day we met. It’s red like the colour of your favourite flowers.” 

“Roses,” he turns around and retrieves a bouquet of the prick-studded flowers from next to his nightstand. He sounds a little breathless when he returns to you, and the adoration in his eyes makes you want to break down into tears. “You love roses.” 

The boy that you’ve liked since the moment you met him. Why would you not accept such a thoughtful, clumsy confession that is his? 

“I like you so, so much!” 

A royal flush. So that’s what he means. 

“Happy anniversary,” Riki sighs, a little too dizzyingly happy when he leans in to kiss your cheek. “I got you yet another deck of cards because I didn’t know what you would want.” 

He whips out a box with intricate lines and swirls, and the design is a little too familiar for your liking. 

“Is this…” you reach out to touch it, your fingers connecting once more in the process. Riki nods enthusiastically, lips pursed proudly. “The deck of cards we played with at the very beginning.” 

Something’s special, though, when you turn the box around and look at the bottom, you see that he’s engraved both your names there, in his very own handwriting. Your heart swells with pure love for the boy sitting before you. He may be clueless on what to get you, but at the same time he’s the best ever at giving gifts.

“Let me finish up this painting,” he sighs, and scoots back to scan you. His hands imitate a picture frame and he winks to get a clearer picture of you in his mind. “Pretty.”

He turns back to the painting, skilled hands picking up his paintbrush again. “After this, we can go home. I challenge you to another game of cards. Tonight, my room. And this time, I’ll win.”

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