#when i tell you I DIED right there on the spot

[catastrophicalcat]

Catwoman's Love Interests, Ranked

No. 1. Batman. Predictable? Perhaps. Correct choice? Absolutely. They work purrfectly together. I may roll around to write a similar post for Bruce, but from Selina's perspective, he is an equal to her, values her independence, and helps her believe in herself.

(From the double date in Batman (2016) # 37, where Lois is wearing Selina's outfit)

No. 2-10. Selina herself. She is independent! But seriously, one of the things I loved the most from her 90s run was how not romance-focused she was! It was a lot of fun and refreshing to see female main character just not give a fuuuuck about romance.

(Look at her, just slapping this creep away as a squirrel laughs at him! From Catwoman (1993) #30).

No. 11. Christopher Castillo "Blondie". From Selina's adventures in Rome, the Blond was enamoured, charming, and helpful. Also, it wasn't clear if the attraction was truly reciprocal, or if Selina just got a fun vacation boy toy.

(Catwoman, When in Rome #6)

No. 12 Dean Hadley. I am not sure he really qualifies as a love interest, since I don't think that Selina was into him, but at least he died heroically trying to protect her.

(Can't compete with Batman, dies tragically, from Catwoman (2018) # 34)

No. 13 to 20. Selina on her own some more! Can't get enough of this girl on her own! Love the storyline where she unknowingly has a crush on a serial killer in a dog mask. You know what she did when she found out the truth about her crush? That's right, clawed the shit out of him!

(Catwoman (1993) #53. I think this storyline counts as her loving herself than being into this guy - she barely had any qualms about dumping him once she found out; none of that "but maybe I can fix him" for this cat!)

No. 21. The Riddler. Shocking choice, I know! But I'm thinking here of the Lonely City version - Batman is dead, time has passed, he made amends, they found each other. Doesn't work in other continuities, was fun here.

(Catwoman: Lonely City #3. The reveal that Eddie was a coke addict makes SO.MUCH.SENSE).

No. 22. James Thien. I guess he was fine. I didn't like it because her interest into him was really jarring - this was during the post-wedding break-up period when Selina was generally falling apart. But James was neither fish nor fowl. There wasn't enough development for her to be genuinely interested in him, and her interest was portrayed more like genuine interest than a random hook-up.

(Literally, I think that this is all the development there is! And then I don't remember what happened to him. Maybe he also died? That kind of seems to happen to her love interests a lot. Catwoman (2018) #12)

Nos. 22-90. Selina on her own some more! And Eiko. And others. Never enough of Selina being on her own! I also think that Eiko goes somewhere here probably, if not in my earlier "Selina on her own spot" - I just haven't read the New 52 run so I dunno. Other possible contenders in this range:

Onyx (but I don't think they had enough development)

The Trickster (Reddit tells me he's a Catwoman love interest but I don't remember it so it must have been neither good nor bad)

Spark (also new 52, so I dunno).

OK, this is where we get to bottom of the barrel, where unfortunately most other folks are. BTW, what's up with Selina having so many relationships with older mentor figures?

No. 91. Frank Baz. Some mafioso with whom Selina was hanging out in Italy. Ranked so low since he seems like a bad guy, there was a big age difference with her being really young, and he didn't do that much.

No. 91. Slam Bradley Sr. I think that Brubaker did a decent job making the romance between Selina and Slam Sr. work. I like how the run addressed how messy this relationship was, and how Slam was kind of preying on Selina's vulnerable emotional state. (Slam shouldn't have won that argument, but at least it was raised!) But unfortunately this is ranked so low since Slam becomes kind of a chump later on in the run and Selina's relationship with his son makes this very creepy.

(From Catwoman (2001) #17. Their relationship was actually pretty good in the beginning, but quickly got icky...)

No. 92. Wildcat/Ted Grant. I really like the backstory of Selina learning boxing from Wildcat. It's a sweet little bit setting up her eventual super-heroics, plus, Wildcat is awesome! He's a grumpy old man who is respected by everyone, even Batman (whom he also trained). Which is why I hated when Wildcat/Catwoman wrote her to have a crush on him. Gross! Did I mention that he's old?

(Catwoman/Wildcat #3. The art in this book is really 90s)

No. 92. Slam Bradley Jr. I totally get that hot people in costumes would have one night stands on rooftops after adrenaline rush situations. And the poor guy died right after sleeping with Selina! Nonetheless, ranked so low because it's sooo weird since she slept with his dad - which I think he knew - plus I'm pretty sure that their relationship started really antagonistic. Principles before hoes, bro! Also, not his fault but I don't like how he messed up Helena's paternity story some more.

(Catwoman (2001) #61. No idea why Selina tells the dad the story about how she banged his son?)

No. 93. Cat cult person who kidnapped Selina, dressed her up as princess Leia, and tried to marry her. Forgot this dude's name. Considering the stuff he did, he was a pretty nice dude. But - the stuff he did is pretty despicable!

(Catwoman #31. I really hated this storyline, so I feel like he should be lower, but I also really hated Stark and Valmont, so where can it go? Also not sure that kidnapping and forced marriage qualifies as a "love interest"; may rethink including him altogether but I also wanted to emphasize how much I don't like Stark or Valmont).

No. 94. Stark. Criminal who took Selina under his wing when she was still an underage sex worker, and slept with her. He's also a murderer. Pretty gross person overall, really creepy relationship.

(Selina's Big Score)

No. 95. Valmont. I really hate Valmont, OK? I wrote a whole giant post already about how much I hate him!

[ellieslittleburrow]

Motorcycle accident

Summary : Requested by @a-lil-bit-nuts : could i request reader getting into a motorcycle accident and sam and dean freaking out when she calls them crying because her leg got banged up and she's in pain.

Warnings : road accident, mentions of blood and a little panic attack

A/N : 💀 this has also been in my drafts since day one so i literally had to force myself to post or else it wouldn't be posted-ever ahahahaha

---

It is said that riding a motorcycle is like flying. When you're at high speed, the scenery gets blurry and all you can think of is staying alive, somehow bringing serenity into your being, peace of mind, a bit of quiet.

You could not relate to that at the moment, as you found yourself sliding along with the bike all the way the sidewalk, the edge of the latter forcing the bike and your own body to a stop.

Cold and adrenaline rush through your body....it's....so cold-your back....cold and-you just-you- accident...

Phone.

You tug into your pocket and through the shaking hands dial Sam's number. Dean never answers. Sam answers instantly.

"Hey honey." His tone is sweet and confident.

"Sammy i-i-my leg is-i got into-i-" You stutter, waiting for a response but instead all you get is lots of noise, indicating swift moves. "Sammy?"

"I'm coming to you, honey. I'm coming. We're on our w-"

On Sam's side, papers suddenly fly at the speed of his mouvement.

"DEAN" He growls, heading straight for his brother's room. "DEAN" He doesn't bother to knock, too tense to think- "She-Sh-she's been in an accident."

The realization hits Dean like thunder and his whole face contorts before he jumps off the bed. "What-no-where is she?"

The older brother asks, his hands frantically searching for the keys. His swift motions doing him no good, only freaking him out furthur.

"DEAN!" Sam snaps him out of his thoughts and Dean notices the keys in his brother's hands.

As they both head for the door, Sam dials his sister's number. "Come on, baby. Pick up." He pleads...whoever. And when a puff emits from his lips, Dean understands that the ringing died.

"Try it again." The latter orders, a faint hint of hope in his voice. He couldn't tell though, if it was hope or desperation. His little sister not answering instantly means that something bad has happened. That's always been the case with Dean. Ever since he got her a phone. "Always have it by your side, i can't call you and have you not answer." A phrase she's heard and fought about a million times.

And just when his fist hits the steering wheel, her little voice comes over Sam's phone. It's faint, causing Dean to snatch the phone from his brother's hand.

"Kid, where are you-are you okay" The oldest of the family swallows the knot in his stomach, directly asking the question to avoid shuddering in front of his younger siblings.

"Deeeean" Your voice follows the evident heaving of your chest. "It h-h-urts so much. Please-I don't want to be here alone-i'm-it hurts so badly." You freely sob and Dean holds his breath in, swallowing the ache penetrating through his heart. His baby is in so much pain and he-

"Dean!" Dean swiftly turns his head to the side, eyeing the wide eyed Sam sitting beside him. "Drive, man! We have to get to her."

the hunter starts the car, handing the phone to his brother. "Put in on speaker." He orders his younger brother, heading to nowhere still.

"Honey, where are you-we're coming to get you-we're on our way-just tell us where you are"

Both men grimace at the noise around her, the blabbbering and the-

"I'm so scared. Please hurry-i'm only a couple of minutes away-it's right next to the gas station we always go to-"

"I see her!" Enthousism breaks Sam's voice when he spots a crowd and a bike, his heart sinking at the thought of what's hiding behind. "Honey we're here-Don't hang up"

-----

You didn't know which was more painful, the actual burning in your leg or the suffocating feeling caused by the crowd envelopping every inch of your space. You internally thank the tingling wetness in your eyes because it caused enough blurriness that people turned into faceless figures.

As a guy hoists you up. And consequently the road ahead starts to emerge and two familiar figures appear to be running towards you. You blink your tears away-they're here!

They're finally here.

-----

Lil nuts, i hope this isn't too dramatic and i hope this is what freaking out is to you. Kisses to you and thank you again for the request! ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀

[ram-bam-writes]

Lost Kisses... [ExBf!Simon Riley x Big!Fem!Reader] (R'qst)

A/N: This was a request by a lovely, lovely friend of mine! I don’t usually write for fem readers or for Ghost, but I do love my friends very much and I love writing for readers that don’t normally get fics (I’m lookin at you, my lovely chubby peeps!), so… here we are! No image because I don't plan to continuously write for Ghost save for what my dear friend asks of me :>

Summary: You aren’t expecting to see your ex of three months at the mall — and when you try to slip out unnoticed, you get a little more than you bargained for…

CW: A bit of frottage, some hefty makeup, ex-boyfriend trope, suggestive words, no beta we die like soap, etc. Nothing too explicit, really

Word Count: 1169 (Nice)

[Pt.1] [Pt.2]

It’s been almost three months. Three months since you’d left one of the best partners you had. 

You wanted to stay, you did. But it just wasn’t reasonable. His work schedule, the lack of communication, it just… It wasn’t working. 

Going to the mall is something you always enjoy. It’s been keeping your mind off the sleepless nights, too. And, besides, you needed a new shirt — the satin shirt you bought last week just… didn’t hold the girlies in like promised. Big surprise.

But the moment you step foot into one of your favorite stores, you see him. You don’t expect to — why would you? Simon never had time to go to the mall with you. And now he’s here?

Shit…

Time to go, you think quickly, trying to talk yourself out of the fact that you may have just seen him spot you. As you quickly stumble out of the entire mall itself, you let your thoughts take over.

No, no. Of course he didn’t see you. There’s at least thirty people in that store alone — he didn’t see you! How could he see you? He hardly looked at you when y’all were together, he wouldn’t notice you now!

…Right…?

“Love…” Fuck, did he-? “Don’t think you can run from me…”

The hand that snakes around your bicep is familiar, and even more so when his other hand wraps around your tummy, pulling and kneading at the soft flesh. He pins you against the concrete wall of the large building, cocoa brown eyes boring into your own.

“Don’t you d—“ The threat dies on your tongue when he presses against your pulse point. It isn’t fair, it really isn’t. He’s always known how to shut you up. It should irritate you — and it does, to a degree.

“I don’t see another man on you…” Simon defends, breathing hot and warm against your neck. “Not over me, love?” The growl that slips through your lips has every intent to be aggressive, but just sounds downright sinful to him. He craves more. More of your sounds, your body, your skin, your scent — everything. He wants more.

He’s not over you. And he knows you ain’t either…

“Simon!” You hiss, eyes dark with anger and hands grasping at his sweatshirt with a vice grip. “If you don’t leave right this moment…!”

He raises a brow, “What? You’ll what? You want me, love. I can hear it…”

He can. He’s known every sound you’ve ever made, every emotion you’ve ever expressed. Of course he can tell when the barest hint of arousal has begun to seep into your every word, into your very being. 

He purrs at the way your eyes fall glassy, almost trance-like. Try as you might, his words are true — he’s the best, worst ex you’ve ever had. He may be detached emotionally at times, but he knows his way around your body. And he knows your every little quirk.

“So tell me, love… do you miss me?” His hand has worked its way up from your bicep and to your jaw, grasping and squishing just slightly. His other hand words at the flesh of your waist, slowly grasping those thick love handles and smoothing over those curvy hip dips. “God… I missed you, love…”

You groan internally, but the only thing that falls from your lips is a deep growl. You push yourself up just enough to force your mouth against his, moaning at the familiar taste.

Simon lets his hands drop low, focusing on grasping your hips and tugging you closer. He has to. He needs you. He needs you now. And he’s gonna get it, one way or another.

Not like you’d fight him.

He may be your ex, but fuck if he hasn’t been your best.

“Si—“ You gasp out between breaths, moaning when he presses his thigh between yours. “Simon…!”

You aren’t quite sure what you’re asking for. To be honest, you never really knew when you were with him. But fuck if you don’t want this. Or, fuck, because you do want this.

“I know, love, shhh…” Simon smoothes out your hair, scratching your scalp before dropping his hand back down and pulling you in for a searing kiss. “No one’s kissed you half as good, huh…?”

Try as you might to argue, the moment his tongue slips past those pretty pink lips, you’re a goner.

He moans into the kiss as you squirm, pressing his chest against your plush, warm, sweet mounds. He loves every part of you — craves it, even. So much flesh to grab, so much flesh to love. 

Simon purrs in your ear a moment, taking time to gasp. But he doesn’t leave you lonely, occupying your mind instead with his thigh. “C’mon, love, I gotcha…”

His mouth finds its way back to yours, savoring every sweet taste. He swallows your moans whole, desperate to feel every ounce of your pleasure just to give you more. Simon’s only goal at this very moment is to feel you quake and squirm, to see you flushed and pretty.

“You need me, love, don’t you? Need me, crave me, beg for me…” he purrs, each kiss becoming more and more fervent, more and more lustful and needy. “Can’t get enough of my kisses or my touch… just need me, don’t you... need me like a hound needs blood… can’t live without me, can you? No one else can do it better than me…”

He pulls your hips closer to his thigh, taking time to lap at every smooth edge of your mouth. He glides his tongue along yours, the languid motion easy and practiced. 

He lets the excess spit slip down both of y’alls jaws, entirely uncaring of the mess. He just needs to taste every part of your lips — even in the front of a rather busy mall.

“Simon!” You gasp, pushing on his shoulder a little. It’s not like you want it to end, but the thought of being so public did make you a little nervous. After all, if your friends saw you making out with an ex you promised to never repeat, they’d be… disappointed. “Fuck, please… not… not here…”

“No? Not now?” He squishes the flesh of your tummy, yanking your bulky hips close to his taut ones. His hands work their way down to the curve of your thick ass, grasping you through the loose and oversized tee that covers the sweet skin. “Gimme a chance, love… You know no one else has ever—“

You give him a firm push, using your body mass as assistance. He stumbles back, but it’s only because he lets you, something you’re painfully aware of. 

“Just! Not now… not… not now…” Your voice falls quiet with emotion, shaking your head as you quickly walk past him. 

You wrap your arms tightly around the bag of clothes you had intended to return, quickly making your way back to the car. 

Not now… Not so soon after… Not… 

Not with empty promises…

[honora-antares]

Severus drunkenly quoting that one famous GoT scene when Lily tells him to do his "thing" in the middle of the Hufflepuff common room during a Halloween party.

"Power is a curious thing, My Lady. [to Lily] Are you fond of riddles?"

At Severus's mid-low bow, Lily, who is also drunk, giggles and answers in mock sarcasm.

"Why? Am I about to hear one?"

Severus then dramatically whirls to face three of the four Marauders that are sitting by the fireplace.

"Three great men sit in a room: A King, a Priest, and a rich Man."

He places a hand on Potter and there appeared a crown. A hand on Lupin's shoulder and a white cloak replaced a worn scarf. Black's leather jacket was transfigured into aristocratic regalia. (If a few of Potter's strands of hair were pulled during the ruffling, well, that was because of his rings.) He then turns to pull Pettigrew to the forefront of his friends. His black licorice becoming a sword.

"Between them stands a common Sellsword, each great man bids the Sellsword kill the other two."

By this time the entirety of the common room has stopped what. they were doing to tune in to the "play" that was happening when there was supposed to be dancing and drinking going on.

"Who lives, who dies?"

With his right arm around Pettigrew's front, Severus glances back at Lily.

"Depends on the Sellsword."

Pettigrew is then swirled around to face the room, Severus motions to his head, his pockets, and finally up to the ceiling.

"Does it? He has neither crown nor gold, nor the favor of the Gods."

Lily contradicts him by gesturing to the transfigure licorice-sword.

"He has a sword, the power of life and death."

Potter is then the center of Severus's recital when he quickly turns his attention to him, faux sneer on his face.

"But if it's swordsmen who rule, why do we pretend Kings hold all the power?"

This is where most lose the story as unknown people are mentioned. But Severus cares not, Lily asked for this, she knows.

"When Ned Stark lost his head, who was truly responsible?"

A snap towards Charity and a crown of golden antlers replaces her hair tie, equally golden locks flow free. A flick to an empty chair and a hooded figure with a greatsword appears. Severus spins with both his hands opened back to Lily.

"Joffrey? The executioner? Or something else?"

Lily, who then dismisses Severus's questions with a swipe of her hand. Deciding to take another sip of her alcoholic drink.

"I've decided I don't like riddles."

Severus gives her a smirk before he gives the shortest Marauder back his attention.

"Power resides where men believe it resides. It's a trick, a shadow on the wall, and..."

Severus takes out his wand, forces the remaining Marauders on the floor to slide from their spot. Pettigrew is then placed directly in front of the blazing fireplace, with a final snap of his fingers, the fire burns even brighter and Pettigrew's shadow grows ever darker.

"A very small man can cast a very large shadow."

That's all. <3

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Onset - Chapter Two.

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen/JJK Pairing: Geto Suguru x Original Female Character Characters: Geto Suguru, Valerie (OC) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Established Friendship, Geto and OC are roommates, Self-Insert, Smut, Penis in Vagina Sex, Creampie, Brief mention of an inability to get pregnant, Unprotected Sex, Cunnilingus, if I tagged everything we’d be here all day, This is part of a series

Part 3 of Sundane

Previous Part: Egg Fried Rice

Previous Chapter: One

Summary:

He isn’t expecting her to throw his earlier words back at him that way, and it catches him off-guard. “Why do you always remember the dumb shit I say?”

“Was it dumb?”

“It wasn’t absolute,” he mumbles. He pauses, knowing that if he says what he wants to say next, he’ll kick himself for it.

He says it anyway. “Sometimes one slips through the cracks, you know,” he adds softly. “Sometimes, there’s one that really is special.”

Read on AO3

“I’m sorry about what I said.”

She’s started to doze off when he says it, and it takes her sluggish, sated brain a few seconds to catch up with her ears. “What?” 

Shit. He’s torn between two feelings. The first is annoyance that she hasn’t somehow magically read his mind and figured out what he’s apologizing for. He doesn’t want to have to explain himself. He wants her to know why he’s sorry, so they can move past it and forget it happened.

The second, more prominent feeling is that pang of guilt that’s resurfaced, sticking in his side and reminding him that he actually does owe her an apology for what he said earlier. He once again pushes that pang of guilt back into the abyss, but the residual feelings that linger leave him wanting to clear the air. “What I said earlier,” he sighs. “About you not being able to get pregnant. I know it’s a sore spot for you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says with a shrug. “It’s not like you to feel sympathy for something like that, and it isn’t something other people care about either.”

He lifts his head from her stomach to look up at her. She’s smiling, but he gets the feeling it’s because she thinks she should be. “You wanna talk about it?”

Her fingers pause in their movement in his hair as she considers his face. His expression is open, non-judgmental, as if meant to make her feel like she can continue talking about this if she wants to. Part of her wants to spill everything - to tell him these feelings that she’s never shared with anyone else. But part of her feels like talking about this with Suguru would be like opening a door she won’t ever be able to close again. 

She is still contemplating opening that door when she feels the soft warmth of Suguru’s lips against her skin. It’s a gentle kiss on her hip, and she thinks it feels a little like encouragement.

“Well,” she starts softly, resuming her gentle strokes through his hair. “You’re right, it’s a sore spot. The thing itself is something that I know I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life, and I can deal with it. But whenever people find out, they only ever acknowledge the thing itself. They don’t acknowledge all the complicated feelings that come with it. 

“It isn’t a choice I wanted to make,” she goes on. “And if I’d had the ability to choose otherwise, I would have. People who have gotten to choose - and who still can - don’t seem to understand that. So when they say things like ‘you’re not missing anything’ and ‘you’re lucky you still have your freedom,’ it just ends up feeling like… like they’re invalidating how I really feel and telling me how they think I should feel instead.” She pauses. “Enjoying the life that I have now and feeling like I’m missing out on that thing I can’t have aren’t mutually exclusive, you know?”

“I get it,” Suguru muses. “Kinda like somebody who insinuates you should be relieved that your chronically ill parent has finally died. Like, yeah, taking care of them and being worried all the time while they’re alive and sick is stressful and emotionally draining. But it doesn’t mean you want them to die, and it doesn’t mean you don’t miss them when they do.”

Stunned, she stares down at him. “Huh. Actually, yeah. That’s a pretty accurate comparison.”

Suguru is quiet for a long time. When he finally speaks, it isn’t to tease her or to make fun of what she’s told him. “Now that I know how you really feel about it,” he starts quietly, “I don’t think it’s something I could ever joke about. And I’m doubly sorry for making light of it before.”

She hates that there’s a lump in her throat, and so she speaks before that lump can manifest itself in tears. “Why are you being so sweet to me?”

“I told you I was giving you the princess treatment today.”

“Right,” she recalls. “It doesn’t hurt to make them feel special, even if they’re not. That’s what you said.” 

He isn’t expecting her to throw his earlier words back at him that way, and it catches him off-guard. “Why do you always remember the dumb shit I say?”

“Was it dumb?”

“It wasn’t absolute,” he mumbles. He pauses, knowing that if he says what he wants to say next, he’ll kick himself for it. 

He says it anyway. “Sometimes one slips through the cracks, you know,” he adds softly. “Sometimes, there’s one that really is special.”

His words hit her right in her chest, hard enough to make her take a deep breath. It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask - am I special? She bites the words back, unsure if she’d even want to know the answer. 

“Come on,” Suguru says, when it’s clear she isn’t going to speak. He sits up, taking hold of her hands.

“Where are we going?”

“You’re gonna wait for me in the shower while I change your sheets,” he tells her, pulling her up into a sitting position. “Unless you wanna sleep in a bed full of my sweat and cum,” he adds with a smirk. “Some people have a thing for that.”

“Wait for you?” She repeats, choosing to ignore the latter part of what he’s said. She lets him pull her off of the bed, lets him maneuver his rumpled shirt over her head so she can have something to give her a bit of warmth and some semblance of decency. 

Suguru himself doesn’t seem to care about warmth or decency as he begins stripping the bed of its sheets in only his skin. “Mmhm,” he murmurs patiently, pausing to push her in the direction of the bathroom on the other side of her bedroom. “I won’t be long. Run the water, yeah? Make sure it’s warm, and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Stop reading into it, she scolds herself. This is all routine for him. “Right,” she laughs. “It always takes at least ten minutes for it to get hot.”

He makes an affirming noise and turns his attention back to the bed. She stands there for a moment longer - enjoying the view, she would say if anyone asks her - before turning away. 

--

He finds her in the bathroom a few minutes later. “Is it hot?” He nods in the direction of the shower. 

“Yeah.” She’s feeling suddenly awkward, ridiculously bashful. “Do you want to go first, or should I?”

Puzzled, Suguru looks back at her. “If I wanted separate showers, I would’ve just showered in my own bathroom,” he points out. “I told you to wait for me so we could go in together,” he adds, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for the two of them to co-shower. 

“I know how to bathe myself,” she retorts. “I’m not a kid.”

“Good, because I don’t fuck kids,” he snickers. “What I do do, however, is make sure the adults I fuck are well-taken care of. Both in bed and outside of it,” he adds, tilting his head and leaning close so he can look her directly in the eye. “So you can either climb into the shower yourself, or I can lift you up and put you there. Whatever you like.”

She stays where she is long enough to say, “You said doodoo.” 

His palm just misses her ass as she scurries away. 

--

Showering is a functional thing; she knows that it’s meant to serve the purpose of getting a body clean. Even though she’s taken showers with lovers before (should she think of Suguru as a lover? While it’s true that they’ve had sex, she is hesitant to bestow that title on him just yet), she has never viewed anything about the act of showering in itself as sexy.

But she would be hard-pressed to deny that there is something incredibly erotic about the way her roommate-turned-bedfellow handles her in the shower. His touch is gentle, her washcloth an extension of his hands as he bathes her. Nothing that he does is designed to arouse her, but she finds herself marveling at how the way he’s touching her feels almost more intimate than what they’ve just done in her bed.

“You’re good at this,” she tells him, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the steady stream of water coming out of both showerheads. 

“I know,” he asserts, a smug expression on his face. “Aren’t you glad you waited for me?”

She leans forward, sinking her teeth into one of his pectorals. It isn’t meant to hurt, just to shut him up, and he yelps. Satisfied, she leans back to look at the faint little bite marks left behind.

“Haven’t you marked me up enough?” He grouses.

“I could say the same about you,” she shoots back. “It’s a good thing I wasn’t planning on wearing anything low-cut to work tomorrow.” 

“Dummy,” he laughs, reaching for the washcloth he’d brought in for himself. “You work from home. Who would see you anyway?”

She shrugs. “Zooms are still a thing, you know.” She watches him pour her peony-scented body wash onto his washcloth. “You’re gonna smell like me,” she warns.

“Where am I going that anybody would care? You like it enough to have it, and you’re the only one who’s gonna smell me.”

“Good point.” She watches him lather himself up for a few minutes longer. Then, “Let me help.”

He obliges her. When she gets to his back, she pauses. The scratches weren’t enough to draw blood, but she can see that she did end up breaking the skin in a few places. She’s careful when washing those spots, trying to emulate the gentle way he’d cleaned her. 

Suguru goes quiet for the duration of the time they’re in the shower, and she wonders what he’s thinking about.

--

“I don’t need that,” he protests, keeping his elbow raised to block her approach. 

“It takes six seconds for your skin to dry out once you’ve washed your face.” She’s brandishing one of her high-end skincare products like a weapon. “You should at least moisturize it.” 

“I don’t need it,” he repeats stubbornly.

“I beg to differ,” she sighs. “You may not see the difference right now, but you will in five or ten years.” 

He rolls his eyes at her but says nothing. Nor does he lower his arm.

“Suguru,” she huffs, exasperated. “You can’t expect to pamper me and not let me do the same for you.”

He looks down at her. “Is that what this is?” He motions to the bottle of moisturizer in her hand. “Is this your version of aftercare?”

“If I say yes, will you let me put it on you?”

She thinks he’s going to say no again. To her mild shock and utter delight, he lowers his defense arm and sits obediently on the closed toilet lid. “Fine,” he assents. “But just this once.”

“That’s what they all say,” she grins. “I’ll have you hooked on Dermalogica in no time.”

She treats his skin exactly the way she’s treated her own post-cleanse: toner, moisturizer, eye cream, and serum. She applies each product carefully, her touch gentle as she uses the pads of her fingers to massage the liquids and creams into his skin. 

“You do this every night?” He asks when she’s done, watching her line the bottles back up in the organizer on her vanity.

“Yep,” she tells him, her attention focused on what she’s doing. “Morning has a slightly different routine.”

He’s still sitting on the closed toilet lid. She’s within reach, straightening the other bottles and tubes in her organizer. It would be so easy to wrap his arm around her waist and bring her nearer to him, to pull her down into his lap. To cradle her close so he can breathe in the smell of her hair and feel her soft skin against his once more. So he can register her heart beating against his chest and put one hand against her back to feel her breathing.

His hand actually twitches with the urge. Shit, he thinks, as he balls the hand into a fist. What the fuck is wrong with me?

--

Valerie finds it curious, the way they’ve picked right back up where they left off, like slipping on a pair of well-worn pants. Suguru takes out the leftover fried rice that they’d had the presence of mind to put in the fridge and dumps it into a pan for reheating while she scrolls through their shared streaming apps to find something they can watch while they eat.

She’s been sure that it would feel awkward to spend time together the way they normally do after what’s transpired between them. If it weren’t for the soreness in her legs and the burgeoning love bites on her neck and chest, she would wonder if what they did was simply a figment of her imagination. Just further proof you are not one of the special ones, her brain reminds her, unsolicited. You never are, remember?

“Shut up,” she mutters back at it.

“What was that?” Suguru calls from the kitchen. “Couldn’t hear you.”

“I was just asking what you’re in the mood to watch,” she calls back.

“Pick whatever you want. All that stuff in the community queues is stuff we both wanted to watch, so it doesn’t really matter to me.”

She finally settles on a lighthearted comedy they’ve both watched before. It’s an old favorite and one that doesn’t require their full attention to follow. He seems pleased with what she’s chosen when he finally joins her, handing her a bowl and a spoon and settling next to her with his own food. 

Halfway through the third episode, she mutters, “I usually put on my headphones, you know.” 

Suguru turns to look at her, amused. “Is this a conversation I’m invited to join, or should I leave the room and let you continue?” He asks, pausing the show.

“I was talking to you,” she sighs. “You asked me - earlier - if I was gonna pretend I’ve never heard you jerking off.” She shrugs, fiddling with the blanket in her lap. “I have, but whenever I know you are, I just put my noise cancelers on for a while.”

“Why?”

She stares at him. “Because that’s private. It’s not something I should listen to.” 

“Maybe not.” He laughs. “But are you saying you wanted to?”

“Suguru.”

“What? It’s a fair question, isn’t it?” He shifts on the sofa, turning to face her full-on. 

“Actually, it isn’t,” she huffs with a laugh. 

“Can’t be that you’re embarrassed,” he goes on. He leans forward, a teasing smirk on his face and his eyes trained on hers. “You let me put a part of my body inside yours. Actually,” he amends thoughtfully, “I’ve had several parts of my body inside yours.” 

“You get on my damn nerves.” She snatches both bowls up and gets up to carry them into the kitchen. 

Of course he follows her. “You still didn’t say yes or no,” he insists. 

Valerie turns to him, offering him her sweetest smile. “It will be a cold day in hell before I do that, Suguru.” 

“Hmm.” He leans back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, watching her load the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “I think the fact that you refuse to answer me is probably an answer within itself.”

“Fuck off.”

It only makes him laugh. “Fine,” he says finally. “You don’t have to tell me. But until you say otherwise, I’m just gonna assume the answer is yes.” 

Once again there are words threatening to escape her; she wants to tell him that he’s right, that she does want to hear him jerking himself off. But more than that, she wants it to be her he’s thinking of when he wraps his hand around himself and thrusts into his fist. She wants it to be her face he’s seeing when he closes his eyes, when he’s putting himself in danger of going lightheaded because it feels so good he’s forgetting to breathe. 

She says none of those things. “Keep dreaming,” she says, flashing him another sweet smile. “Let’s go - the tv’s probably timed out on us.” 

Something unreadable passes across his face, too quick for her to identify it. After the split second that she sees it, he smiles casually back at her, and whatever was beneath the mask he now wears is lost forever. “Yeah.”

About Me | My Fics | Ask

[steampunkforever]

Death of an Acquaintance

A man I corresponded with sporadically about vintage advertisements died last year. He lived alone, they didn’t find his body until the wellness check. He still posts to his blog.

It’s all scheduled, little blurbs written for holidays. I don’t know how many he has queued up, but one day they’ll run out, and arbor day or Christmas eve will be the last time he will speak. A hack poet would call this his true death, equating the echoes in the canyon to the last breaths of the already fallen hiker. But he will not die on labor day or Halloween. He is already dead, his written witticisms simply documents unsealed after the fact.

He was an acquaintance. A rare thing in America, the land of everyone’s your friend. My mother, European and complaining, once said that if you would not help them move or let them stay the night on your couch, they are not your friends. Much like the misuse of “love,” my mother found the American classification of friendship too cavalier, splashed about too freely, spread too thin.

Lost in the mire of therapy speak, the internet brims full of Americans who claim they will not help their friends move. I begin to wonder if this is not just the rote selfishness of the therapy-industrial complex, but rather a sign that young Americans have too many “friends” but lack acquaintances, a cry for help in the same way dead malls announce the decline of the middle class.

His passing was abrupt, no diagnoses until after the fact. Yet it left a little empty spot in my life, filled only on holidays by echoing blog posts, functions of a clock ticking on without its watchmaker.

Now you’re gone, dear acquaintance. I barely knew your last name, barely knew you had a girlfriend of 13 years, barely knew what you did for a living, barely knew you for a year. Yet I saw you every Monday for a year, communing in art and libation at a quirky themed bar right off the streets the fire engines rocketed down at set intervals like brilliant locomotives with places to be.

America does not teach you to mourn an acquaintance. There are no more set mourning periods in which to drape ones house in black. There is no etiquette or dress code that instructs you of when you must doff your black armband. 

The cinemas, showcasing art forged by the lowest of the low, those “show must go on” types, tell us that once our comrade succumbs to cannonblast, dies by slow-acting gunshot, or perishes from the type of stab wound that waits for a narrative lull, we must say few sweet words of farewell before heel turning to the narrative. There is barely a mourning period for family. Your mileage may vary trying to take off work for the funeral of a close friend. How then, shall we mourn the acquaintance?

The impact you had was much more than the simple high five and “glad you came out tonight” that last Monday evening we shuffled out of the bar and onto the street. Even as someone I might never speak to again had you simply moved away, rather than be taken from us, parting words of “goodnight” and “see you next week” the last earthly contact we would have with you, cigarette lazily tucked between your fingers, finishing your drink over a discussion of bad pulp cinema the last vision of your animated presence we would see, you will be missed.

Without you there’s a crater. Not mother sized. Not best-friend sized. They never taught us to mourn it. 

I shed a tear for you, acquaintance. I mourn you. You were so full of life within your community, we never saw it coming. It was not the carelessness of a drunk driver or the silent killers we blame ourselves for not seeing or blame on selfishness, and yet I feel your absence all the same.

And so we break rules, mourn you without knowing more of your life than the glimpses of hardship you referenced in passing when telling us your teen self never expected you to make 40. You deserve it. You deserve more than “you will be missed.”

There is no way to end mourning for the acquaintance. No instructed period after which the windows can open again. Just a heel turn, back to work.

This isn’t about my experience, though I can only frame your memory through impression, like a tracker taking note of the footprints you left behind with your colorful sneakers. I will bid you “goodnight” again, even with no “see you next week.” A last high five as you finish a cigarette that would never get the chance to kill you. I’ll leave with a memory of that 40th birthday you held in spite of your teen self.

You were dancing with your girlfriend to one of your favorite songs, picked to follow your showing of Heavy Metal Parking Lot. There was joy and life in your eyes as you boogied like you were 33 years younger, dressed like an extra on the Goonies with a haircut to match. Between you two I saw that look of undying love and affection of longtime partners, and I squeezed my betrothed’s hand about it, whispering how I didn’t know you had a lover, but could tell you were head over heels. In this moment you are crystallized in contentment, captured in a haze of happiness and comradery, lit equally by the red glows of the bar lights and your own joy de vivre.

I will mourn you, acquaintance. I’m just glad you made it to 40 even though you didn't think you would.

[alintheshitposter]

Ja, sich auf Tumblr über seine Hyperfixation auszutauschen ist toll!

Aber nichts geht über gemeinsames Fangirlen in real life und in public🥹🥹

Looking at you @maxwellshimbo 👀👀 Hoffentlich bald wieder💚

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Day 7

Sky(loft)

*throws rose* For the First lovers.

Soft and sweet drabble with just the barest hints of tragedy, and more set on Skyloft than anything but I'd say it counts.

This chapter was brought to you by me getting emotional about the First Hero and his fate again due to the rain, the fact I believe all Links deserve to have love and appreciation but specially him. And the fact I think it's an absolute CRIME that we don't get anything more on him and that he and Sky don't get to have what Time and Twilight have, no I'm not bitter Nintendo I just want to talk, y'all can't just keep giving us like four Links before the actual heroes and then expect us NOT to want to elaborate with the crumbs we are given. If you ask me First and Sky deserve to interact and for First to have closure.

Anyway, as always can be read as romantic or platonic, up to y'all, and can be read in or outside and LU context, I just use Sky and First for simplicities sake but if you don't gel with LU then feel free to interpret this as something else, this is all highly self indulgent before I pass the heck out lol

If there was any place in Sky’s Hyrule that you could confidently say you adored with all of your heart and soul, Skyloft would be the most likely pick.

Even so high above it all in a way that would have you catastrophizing had you think too hard about what could happen if anyone ever accidentally fell from the isle even with all of the knights trained to not allow that to happen, you’d be lying if you said that it’s a wondrous mix of empyreal beauty and the comfort of safety and the wonder of touching the sky, a true breath taking haven that could soften even the hardest of hearts with time. Fitting of the warmth of the reincarnated goddess in Sun and the vast nature of Sky’s kindness, for all you knew he could be as frigid as the title of Godslayer demanded.

Looking at the way First let himself be tugged along the isle as soon as they’ve arrived in Sky’s land in a tour just reinforced that notion, you couldn’t help but chuckle a little. First was one of the harder Links to read, even more so than Time or Warriors, but looking at the way the stars of his azure eyes brightened with the fire of life hearing Sky talk about life in his home and about the many people made you feel so, so warm, like finding a nice sunny spot for a afternoon nap.

What could you say? First was such a wondrous person, calm and charming and perfectly polite and oh so kind in the way you knew all of your boys were. If there ever was someone who embodied chivalry and the ideal side of knighthood, he’d probably be the one to come to the forefront of your mind, and you’ve been insatiable for his happiness ever since.

When he first arrived to the Chain, he was as cold as the howling blizzard winds, heart a cold fort left in ruin and remade as best as a single man could for the sake of remaining kind, to do the right thing no matter what, it was a sentiment you knew far too well in your other boys, but specially so in First, who tried so, so hard to distance himself from getting attached. But who you knew loved the sight of the sky, as cold and numb it was in it’s distance, whom cared so so much he would driven himself into an early grave just to make the Surface a safer for the people who’d shunned him, whom after a long, long period of adjustment and effort from the Chain, allowed you to hold him close as he shaked from nightmares at night, allowing you to chase away memories of being held up by cold chains until the impression of them became one with his skin and subconscious, of being entombed and imprisoned in uncaring stone and iron to starve alone, being bitten at by hungry, crawling rats all because he wished to keep his people safe, made sure he could tell that your presence was tangible and real through telling stories from your world and singing him into dreams even through the fortress’s that was his stubborness. Trying your best to make lilies bloom on what looked like a most hopeless winter.

The day he actually chuckled and smiled, safe and healthy and alive in the presence of the Chain felt like the biggest victory you’d ever had.

He deserved to know love and to be loved as much as any of your boys, something real and tangible and that was actually properly reciprocated rather than used to justify an end. So seeing him being able to visit Skyloft with his descendant with a whispering, hidden smile was more than enough for you. And you can’t blame Sky for being equally animated about it, bless his heart, always wanting his people to be happy, always so, so kind, wanting to bring some solace to the older hero but being carefully attentive so his mood was still good

After all they went through they deserved it.

“Oh! There you are, I was just about to show First to the waterfall, want to come with?”, Sky snaps you out from your thoughts, touching your shoulder with a gentle smile.

“Unless something is ailing you, you did look quite deeply in though.”, added First, soft as the warm breeze on the isle in the sky.

You shake your head, smiling as you take First’s offered arm, an instinctive motion when he wished to be close but wasn’t quite ready for any other touch yet, and Sky’s hand in yours, which he swings with a hum, ears twitching, how precious. “Not at all, lead the way.”

As Sky leads you along, and you catch the ghost of a smile in First’s otherwise stern countenance and you take in the warmth of the late afternoon sun in Skyloft and the soft, eternal spring breeze. You think there’s quite a bit you’d give to keep witnessing these moments indeed.

The road to recovery was long and arduous, but you’d be there, and you knew the Chain would do their best to be there too.

[phoenixcatch7]

Nearly at the end of bayonetta and honestly whoever green lit that missile/Jeanne final fight chapter -

[luveline]

i NEED anything with glasses reid or munch reid i’m literally frothing at the mouth 🙏

ty for ur request :D fem!reader

"Emily," you say weakly. "What is that?" 

Emily looks up from her desk, clearly desperate for a distraction, the lip of her coffee mug against painted lips. "What's what?" 

"That." You point. You feel sick to your stomach. "That right there." 

"Oh," Emily says happily. "You finally noticed. Yeah, Spence forgot to renew his contact prescription. He has to wear glasses for two weeks." 

Spencer stands by the photocopier with a perturbed frown, clicking a button, then another. His brow is furrowed and his hair is falling into his eyes. He has the stupidest, dorkiest, prettiest face, and practically every expression he makes has you weak in the knees.

"That long?" you ask. 

Derek looks up in concern at your pained tone, following the line of your eyes. When he realises what it is that's hurt you so, he skirts around the desk to shake your shoulder. "You could always tell him how you feel. I'm sure he'd keep the lenses forever if he knew you liked them." 

"I don't like them," you say. You sound faraway to your own ears. You hate them. They're gonna be your demise. 

Spencer runs a fingertip across the photocopier's screen, in his own world as the machine finally begins to chug out whatever it is he'd been wanting a duplicate of. The frames of his glasses sit snug on his nose. You can tell from even this distance that the lenses make his eyes look a tiny bit smaller. You could probably point out a misplaced freckle if he asked you to.

"Don't be cruel, he looks cute," Emily teases. 

Spencer collects his papers, shuffling them into a straight line as he makes his way back to the bullpen. You pretend to take interest in Emily's things. She sips her coffee too nonchalantly. Derek doesn't even bother pretending. 

"What?" Spencer asks, swift to spot your suspicious behaviours. "Is it the glasses?" 

You wince. "Of course not. You look… you look really nice, Spence." 

"You know he used to wear 'em every day?" Derek asks.

You would've died. "Before I joined?" 

"For a few years," Spencer says, looking you over. "You're unhappy. Is something wrong?" 

He looks to Derek and Emily for confirmation. Emily stutters for an answer while Derek laughs in the background, "She– you know. She just– She missed breakfast!" 

Spencer pushes his glasses up his nose by the leg and drops his copies onto the desk. "I have dried apricot in my bag. Two seconds." 

He bends over his chair to retrieve his bag from under the desk. Your eyes blow wide at his position, the sudden demonstration of well-fitted pants. Derek's laugh echoes up to the eaves. 

"And he has that twenty four seven," Emily says against the rim of her coffee. 

You scrunch your eyes closed and tilt your head back. After a few seconds, a hand touches your elbow gently, a hesitance that comes with only one member of the BAU. "You okay?" Spencer asks. 

"I'm okay. Headache," you lie. 

Spencer presses the apricot into your hands. "Maybe you should see an optician. You know they can tell if you have a brain tumour from one photo of your sclera?" He smiles morbidly, his glasses slipping down his nose. "They measure the size of your optic disk. It takes less than a minute. I can give you the name of my doctor, if you want. She's nice. Not as nice as you." 

Your throat is so dry you can't form words to answer him. He doesn't judge your rigid nodding. 

"I'll write down the number for you. And, Y/N?" 

"Yeah?" you choke out. 

"You look really nice today, too." 

Emily has to kick you in the leg to bring you back to earth. Stupid Spencer. Stupid lovely glasses. 

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt. 7

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6]

“I’m having a child.”

Danny stared at Batman.

“…Uh, congrats?”

Batman whips out a stack of paper and a pen. “It’s you. Sign here and initial the highlighted spots.”

Danny instinctively, from years of dealing with Vlad, whacked the stack right out of Batman’s hands and into the bay. He doesn’t even feel bad about littering this time because, “Begone, fruitloop!”

Wait, no, that’s not what he meant.

“I mean- I have parents!”

“Not for long.” Batman muttered and then did a double take. “You have parents? How?”

Danny gasped, placing a hand on his chest to clutch his metaphorical pearls. He ignored Batman’s mutters. Everyone knows the vigilante has an adoption problem. At least, everyone who lived in Gotham did, as everyone who didn’t was somehow convinced that he “worked alone” or some bullshit like that. “Are you naturally this insensitive or were you dropped on your head as a baby? Obviously I had to come from somewhere.”

“They’re still… alive?”

“And kicking,” Danny said, inching away from yet another rich weird guy trying to adopt him. “Mostly the kicking part, though.” He said, remembering the sparring sessions. His mom could kick his as six ways to Sunday with nothing but jiu-jitsu and still have time to work in the lab.

“I see.”

“I’m charging you extra for the emotional upheaval. I have trauma regarding rich people trying to adopt me.”

Batman sullenly handed over a thousand.

“Sweet. There’s a group of shades down here asking if you could find their murderer. Apparently the serial killer is still at large.” Danny pointed.

“Of course. Tell me everything.”

The adoption papers disappeared as Batman went into detective mode.

Danny shoved the cash into his glowing chest and breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to make rent this month so it was a windfall running into Batman.

——

“Hey, Tim?”

Tim woke up from his Power Nap. “Huh?”

“Phantom’s complaining that Batman kept trying to adopt him.”

Tim blinked. “Uh.. what does that have to do with me?”

Danny stared at him, a patiently amused smile on his face. “Just in case the rumor about the Wayne’s sugar-daddy-into the Bats was a thing. Other than that, we might have to confront Batman to get him off of Phantom’s back. ”

“You… want to confront Batman.”

“Hey, man, Phantom’s a friend and it’s ride or die.” Danny snickered. It was literally die, with his Phantom side of things. He held two fists up, and wound them, like Popeye right after eating spinach or something. “And if Batman bothers Phantom, we ride at dawn.”

“Batman doesn’t come out unless it’s dark, though? Or for the Justice League.” Tim grinned. He mentally classified Danny under his “to go to” list. That’s where Bart, Bernard, Cassie, Kon, and Garfield were. If he starts shit, he could count on them to have his back and cause even more shit. Danny, wanting to fistfight Bruce over the man making Phantom uncomfortable? He absolutely is making that list.

“Then we ride at, like, dusk. Or uh, like 10PM. I gotta get my beauty sleep.”

“You’ll definitely need it,” Tim inconspicuously texted the group chat, which quickly blew up.

“Shut up,” Danny playfully shoved Tim. “Wait, can Batman even legally adopt? Isn’t being a vigilante illegal? And how can he adopt someone dead?”

Tim dramatically flailed and splayed over Danny’s carpeted living room. “Dunno about his identity,” he lied to Danny, like a liar. “But Gotham has a bunch of laws for the undead/restored to life people so there’s probably enough gray space there.”

Danny spluttered. “You guys have undead friendly laws?”

“Yeah, geht do you think Grundy just chills out? Plus, we have like a minor resurrection event every few years. It usually doesn’t stick but sometimes it does. Bruce pushed for those laws when Jason came back to life, except he doesn’t actually want people to know he’s like, alive.”

“Jason died?” Danny blinked. Well, that would explain the vibes. “Huh. So what’s up with his rank vibes then?”

“Rank vibes?” Tim pressed record on his phone.

Danny nodded. “Yeah, you know how Phantom’s got like a really chill green vibe?” Inwardly, Danny snickered at his pun. Chill. Yeah, he meant that very literally. “Jason’s got kind of a rank green vibe. He’s kind of stinky? Definitely never introduce him to Phantom.” Danny’s senses got worse in his ghost form.

“Jason regularly showers, though?!”

“Not smell! Like, a spiritual smell?”

“You can smell souls?!” Tim sat up. “Bro, you’re a meta?!”

“Uh.” Danny hesitated. “Yeah. I can smell souls. It’s a thing. Everyone from my town can do it.”

“What?!” Tim paused. “Wait, can Phantom smell souls?”

“Yeah. We’re, uh, from the same town.”

“Danny, what the fuck?”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that, you’re the one with a soul-sick brother! Not to mention, you’re kinda stinky too!”

“Hey!”

“Soul-stinky nerd man!”

——

“I stink?!” Jason spluttered out, extremely offended.

“The Lazarus pits. He’s most likely smelling traces of Lazarus pit on you, you imbecile.”

“We need to speak to Phantom. This instant.”

“I dunno, B. Danny sounded like he was gonna break your face if you bothered Phantom anymore.” Dick snickered.

“Yeah,” Tim chimed in, from his seat in front of the Bat-computer. “He was pretty serious.”

“Are we just gonna glaze over the fact that they’re from the same town?!” Stephanie exclaimed, practicing her moves on a training dummy.

“How does that even work? What does that mean? I thought Phantom was an immortal?” Duke asked.

“We also can’t rule out time-travel.” Barbara slammed her baton into a training dummy, twisting her wheelchair in an agile maneuver that left the dummy on the floor.

“No bothering Phantom.” Cass proclaimed.

“That’s quite right. You all have a warm dinner sitting above your cave and should it remain uneaten, I assure you that sherbet Sunday and crêpe Tuesday shall be canceled.” Alfred stepped in. The Bats, threatened, scrambled to ditch their gear and go upstairs.

[cloudystevie]

scary my god you're divine

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

pairing || bucky barnes x f!reader

word count || 3235

summary || he would do anything for you.

warnings || smut! dom! bucky x sub! reader, possessive! bucky, a little bit of subspace, choking, little bit of exhibitionism kink, minor pain play, daddy kink (only three times okay i'm sorry i am who i am), degradation, unprotected sex

author's note || 18+ ONLY. not proofread yet. my very first request in a very long time! Anonymous asked: Could you write a Dombucky x Subreader? And if you wouldn't mind jealous!bucky, already established relationship and his dog tags on reader? hope you enjoy nonnie! as always feel free to send in requests or any asks! feel free to reblog! enjoy!

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

Today, a select few from the team are supposed to train the new agents, preparing them for the physical aspect of being an agent. Some made it fun or tolerable, like Steve and Sam, who were born leaders and charismatic. Natasha and Wanda enjoyed supervising the sparring sessions. Tony and Bruce enjoyed using technology to throw new obstacles at the agents.

Sometimes literally.

Unfortunately, your grumpy boyfriend, Bucky, just did not find any joy in training days. He didn’t like giving out instructions and praise unless it was you who was under him. He didn’t like supervising weak punches and miscalculated throws. And technology was just a straight-up no for him.

Usually, he could make himself useful with Steve, throwing out no-nonsense orders without making himself a massive part of the effort.

You were taking the elevator down to the gym floor. Fury had instructed you to check everything out and ensure everything went according to the itinerary. 

The doors open, and you glance around to ensure no immediate problems before letting your gaze fall on Bucky; his eyes are already on you. You offer him a bright smile, which he returns with a smirk, and your stomach flutters like it does every time you see him. You’re about 7 feet away from your boyfriend before you feel a hand on your lower back. You startle and turn around to face the newest agent. He has quickly climbed through all of SHIELD’s tests and proven himself to be of great value. He chatted you up last week at Tony’s charity ball, and you tried to let him down gently since you were already happily taken. Bucky was on a mission that day, and you didn’t want to add to his mental load by telling him about some punk who wouldn’t leave you alone.

Apparently, said punk, cannot take no for an answer.

“Back for more, cutie? You finally break up with your imaginary boyfriend?” Marcus teases, but really, he sounds more taunting than playful. You glance over your shoulder as you move away from his grip, and you already see Bucky glaring directly at the spot where Marcus’ hand was on your back. The stopwatch he was holding in his flesh hand shatters, and he doesn’t even flinch when Steve and Sam apologize for him, asking what was wrong as discreetly as they could but one glance over to where you were uncomfortably held hostage by the lean brunet man told them everything they needed to know. 

Bucky cracks his neck, rolling his shoulders up as he stalks towards you two. His looming presence is felt before you can see him in your peripheral vision. You glance up at him and take an instinctive step back toward his hulking body, breathing a sigh of relief because Marcus has to let up now.

He doesn’t.

“Oh hey, Sergeant Barnes, if you don’t mind I’m actually trying to talk to this chick so…” 

The way he talks about you as if you’re not right there makes you physically recoil. Bucky’s eyes harden; he’s not even squaring up to his full stature, and he already easily dwarfs Marcus. Bucky takes a step forward, and everyone in the room comes to a standstill. Everyone shuddering at the sheer anger rolling off of Bucky and the stupidity of Marcus.

Marcus huffs out a laugh. Maybe he gets a little pasty when he’s nervous because he seems to be digging himself a deeper hole when he says something about how many girls fall at his feet and Sarge, you've got to calm down. She’s not worth all that.

In an instant, Steve and Sam command everyone to return to their tasks, and the room begins to bustle again, but with a specific weary energy that was not there before. The very next second, Marcus is picked up by the collar of his black t-shirt and slammed against the wall, the room rattling with the force of it as all the recruits try to ignore the spectacle before them. 

“Touch her again, and I will kill you,” Bucky promises. “If you look at her, I will kill you. If you even think about her, I will fucking kill you. Understand?” His voice is a low grumble, the words resounding and reverberating as you watch Marcus sputter out panicked apologies and his flailing body while Bucky still looks so self-assured and composed. It's as if he’s not scaring a man to death while simultaneously making you drool.

You call out Bucky’s name, and he looks at you over his shoulder, pinning Marcus with one final glare and shove before letting him go as the agent does the walk of shame to the washroom. It’s almost like you’re frozen in your spot. You’ve seen Bucky get aggressive on missions before, but watching him be so willing to defend you, stand up for you when you couldn’t, not even hesitating for a second when he threatened to kill for you. And the worst part is, you were confident he was dead serious. 

Even worse, something about the principle of the situation was really doing it for you.

On the outside, it might have seemed like you were in shock or panic due to the agents’ actions, so Bucky whisked you away to a private interrogation room on the floor above the gym. The whole elevator ride there, his hand is protectively on your lower back, and you just watch the rigid set of his jaw and the anger and possessiveness written all over his features with unmistakable doe eyes. The air in the elevator is thick, and neither of you says a word. Before you know it, Bucky is easily lifting you and placing you on the metal table in the middle of the dull room, and his eyes are scanning yours for any hint of panic or if you’re upset. His hands cup your face gently, the cool vibranium soothing against your heated skin, and he finally breaks the silence. “You’ve gotta say something, baby. Are you okay? After this, that idiot’s going to be gone. I’m sorry if seeing me like that upset you, sweetheart-” Your rushed words cut off his ramble, “I thought that was really hot.” You say quietly and watch as Bucky’s face contorts from one of worry to one of confusion. 

“The way you stood up for me, you were so nonchalant about killing for me. I can’t lie, James. That kind of did something for me.” You continue, biting your lip and scanning him for his reaction, hoping he didn’t take your words in the wrong way. 

He’s silent for a moment. His chest moving steadily with each breath against yours. 

The next moment, his lips are pressed against yours, and you let a surprised squeak out. Your mouth slots open when his wandering hands roughly squeeze your thigh through your satin pants, getting dangerously close to the heat pulsing between your thighs. Taking advantage of your open mouth, Bucky slips his tongue inside your mouth and you buck your hips to seek some friction against your needy core. The kiss is passionate and renders your breathless as he consumes all of your senses. All you can think, see, smell, hear, and feel is James. 

His name falls from your lips in a gasp, you reluctantly pull away to catch your breath, letting your head lull to the side when he peppers sloppy kisses all over your jaw, trailing down your neck and biting and licking on your sweet spot. You swat at his firm bicep, “You’re gonna leave a mark James, stop it.” Your attempt at scolding him is weak, even to your own ears.

You feel Bucky smirk against your sensitive neck, his wandering hands cupping your ass and shamelessly groping and swatting at you. “Oh really? That’s too bad baby. Gonna be a pain to cover up.” He remarks, voice dripping in cockiness.

You scoff and bite back a whimper when he grinds his undoubtedly hard length against your clothed center. Your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself by holding onto his shoulders, a shiver crawling up your spine when a particularly slow grind nudges your aching clit. “You’re such a bad influence you know that?” Your voice lacks any real conviction. Your hips move in tandem with his, both of you sharing messy kisses and your bodies thrumming with lust and pent up energy. 

“I’ll kill anyone who even thinks about looking at you.” Bucky says assuredly, and you can’t help the mewl that escapes your lips at his words. Your hands shakily going to undo his black jeans as he messily pulls yours pants down, being considerate enough not to rip them considering there was still a little more than an hour until the SHIELD training day was over. “Bucky I need you, need you to please-” Your voice is shaky and desperate, as you struggle to unbutton his jeans. He shushes you gently, cooing at you sweetly as he easily unbuttons his jeans, just enough for you to promptly pull out his erect cock. Your mouth practically waters at his length and girth, and you spit onto your hand and begin rubbing his length, swiping your thumb gently over the tip making him hiss and push his hips into your hand. 

You bite your lip and look up at him through hooded eyes, and he slaps your hand away before tearing your panties in half, the top half covering your swollen clit and the bottom scrap of fabric falling limply against the cool table. You barely have time to scold him for ripping your panties before he’s shoving his whole length inside you in one fluid thrust. Your back arches, your legs wrapping around his waist as your buddy erupts in a shiver, a short scream escaping your lips. He swallows the noise with his mouth pressed against yours as he grunts into your mouth, waiting only a short second before he begins to thrust inside you. His thrusts are slow but hard, making the heavy metal table scrape against the floor with the force of each pass of his hips into yours. 

“You’re mine, mine to touch. Mine to have. Mine to take care of.” Bucky grunts out, his movements picking up in pace as emotion swirls in his voice, his metal hand covering your neck, forcing you to stay upright in a position that allowed you to feel all of him. You sob out, digging your nails into his bicep and nodding your head, already succumbing to that foggy feeling you felt when you were so close to your boyfriend. He tuts at you, swatting your face with his flesh hand with enough force to make you moan out and clench around his length. 

“Nuh-uh sweetheart, you’re not going dumb on me that quick. Use your words, tell me you’re mine. Tell me I’m yours.” His voice is commanding and you force yourself to look at him, pulling on his shirt and tugging on his dog tugs to get him closer, your foreheads pressing against each other as his thrusts continue to get faster. “I’m yours James, only yours. You’re only mine. No one else. Just you.” Your words are slurred as he groans out a good girl in approval and decides that he wants your shirt off. He skillfully manages to slip your navy blue long-sleeve off and unhooks your bra in one motion, freeing your tits to the cold air of the room, forcing the buds into sensitive peaks which Bucky is quick to take advantage of. His hands squeeze and pull at your tits, tugging and pinching cruelly at your nipples making you whine. 

Your bodies are pressed so close to one another, each pull of his hips making his pelvis rub against your aching clit, stray tears streaming down your face and your chest heaving and pushed up against Bucky.

If anyone were to walk in right now the picture would be nothing short of debauched. You completely bare on the table, Bucky completely clothed. Getting absolutely plowed if the screech of the metal against the floor was anything to go by. Your moans get higher in pitch and volume making Bucky grunt, another swat to your cheek making your brain foggy. “Shut the fuck up slut. You want everyone to see you getting fucked like the bitch in heat you are?” But if your moans and increasing wetness are anything to go by, yes, a deep and dark part of you does want that. Bucky laughs at you, shaking his head in faux disbelief and you wrap your lips around his dog tags, enjoying the soothing sensation brought by the cool metal. Bucky looks down at your lips wrapped around the dog tags he never seemed to take off and he let out a wrecked sound. You clench around him at the sound making his rhythm falter.

Before you can even process the loss of his proximity, your back is flat against the table and his dog tags are now around your neck, landing on your chest and glimmering in the dull fluorescent lighting of the room. Bucky slams himself back inside of you, the unmistakable squelch of your wetness filling up the room alongside both of your noises of pleasure. Your high-pitched and pornographic mewls and his low grunts and deep groans. You cry out his name as your head lulls to the side, eyes shutting in bliss as your fingers move to give your aching clit some attention. But Bucky lets out a disappointed grunt, grabbing your jaw in his hand and forcing you to maintain eye contact. “Look away from me again and I won’t let you cum for a fucking week stupid baby.” Bucky threatens. “You better fucking pay attention to who’s fucking you dumb. No need to close your eyes and imagine when you’ve got the real thing right here.”

Each of his words ignites a newfound purpose in Bucky as he pounds into you impossibly harder, his hand swatting against your cheek again and wrapping around your neck, keeping you in place to take all of his thrusts. He knows you always struggle to keep your eyes open and you don’t doubt that he will follow through on his threat. He has always enjoyed testing your weakness and pushing your limits. 

“Feels s’good. You’re so big Jamie. S’big, so good s’too good.” Your words are breathy and frail, your fingers rubbing quick circles around your aching button. A mean laugh rumbles in his chest as he watches the way his dog tags move with your tits, the sight is intoxicating and fuels Bucky to continue his torment. “There she is my dumb little baby. Couldn’t help yourself huh? Can’t help the way your brain goes quiet when I have my dick inside you.” His words should be humiliating but they only spur you on, your fingers on the verge of cramping but the jolts of pleasure are so overwhelming you can’t stop. “Jus’ need you. Need you to make it better. ‘M yours Daddy, only yours.” 

“That’s it baby, I know, I know it feels so good huh. Daddy’s here baby, Daddy’s gonna take care of his needy baby.” Bucky’s head falls back on a moan when you clench around him, your walls pulsing and a ring of cream forming around the base of his cock. Your orgasm was surely just a few moments away and Bucky’s lips curled up in a smirk.

He folds your legs at the knee, sliding you closer to him with the pressure he has on your throat, the angle making him rub against your sweet spot with each deliriously pleasurable thrust. You squeal out his name, getting even louder than before and he shoves his dog tags into your mouth, muffling your garble out unintelligeble pleads to cum. With one hand Bucky squeezes your throat, and with the other he pinches at your nipples, tugging the sensitive flesh before trailing his hand down your body and slapping your hand away from your clit, he moves his lips down to your ears, licking up your earlobe before whispering his command, “Cum. Cum right fucking now or you don’t get to cum at all.” His fingers pinch your clit and the sudden burst of pain has you tensing your legs up, squealing out nonsense around the dog tags in your mouth and reaching your peak. Your body shakes against the table as Bucky pounds you through your high, his words of encouragement falling on deaf ears as you teeter between consciousness and unconsciouness. His body overwhelming your mind and soul. 

His fingers release your throat and you look up at him with watery eyes, bringing him down to rest your foreheads against each other as he nears his own high. Your lips are pressing against each other, “There isn’t a single person in the world I wouldn’t kill for you. I would do anything for you. You are everything to me.” Bucky murmurs in a pussy-drunk stupor. But the words are true, he has said them to you before and will say them a thousand times again. You taught him how to live again, not just survive. 

A broken cry falls from your lips from sensitivity and Bucky’s impassioned thrusts turn sloppy as he moans out your name, pulling you impossibly closer as he fills you with his cum. At the feeling of being completely stuffed by him, your second release is triggered and you shake in his hold as he comes down from his high. He presses lazy kisses against your lips and rubs his hands soothingly up and down your body, easing you out of your submissive state. He gently pulls himself out, using the handkerchief he carries around to wipe your thighs clean, but letting his cum keep your pussy messy. He quickly wipes himself off and helps you dress yourself. 

A few more giggly kisses and you’re pretty much ready to go back down to the gym. Just in time to catch the final thing on today’s agenda: sparring. Bucky walks one step behind you, his hand back again on your lower back protectively as a path is cleared to the front of the ring where your friends are supervising Marcus and another recruit preparing for the second round of their match. Natasha and Wanda offer you knowing smirks and you roll your eyes with heat creeping up cheeks as you shyly glance up at Bucky through your eyelashes to find him already looking at you with a stupid smile. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and watches with intent as Steve and Sam coach their respective agents. 

“Looking strong, Marcus!” Bucky calls out and you swat his chest making him laugh. Marcus takes one look at you, Bucky’s dog tags now around your neck and falling on your shirt, teeth imprints on your neck, and swollen lips. Poor Marcus falters, and the other recruit takes advantage of his distraction and easily tackles him to the ground, winning the second round. Bucky takes a single step closer to the ring where Sam is helping Marcus up, and the smirk on your arrogant boyfriend’s face is adorable. “Better luck next time buddy,” he says supportively. Sam flicks Bucky in the forehead, unable to hide the smile on his face, “Dumbass.”

[sttoru]

toji making suggestive comments towards reader infront of newborn megumi, then reader getting mad at him telling him to never do it again 😭😭

⟣ tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff + suggestive themes. reader gets called ‘mama’.

“don’t start.”

you knew it — just by taking one glance at your husband from your seat at the couch — you knew toji was up to no good. his hands in the pockets of his shorts, eyes half lidded whilst checking you out and the corner of his lip curled up into a menacing grin; he was seconds away from making inappropriate comments about you, to you.

“ain’t said nothin’ yet.” toji shrugs, smirk still in place. he sits down next to you on the couch and looks down at the baby who was curled up on your chest.

it was an adorable picture; to see the mother of his child being so nurturing and caring, so loving and content. it was an every day sight, yet those mundane moments intensified the urge to take you to the bedroom and shower you with his. . . affection.

megumi babbles something in the meantime, his saliva creating a wet spot on your shirt — which you don’t mind since you’ve gotten used to it, “what is it, ‘gumi? hmm? cutie.”

you giggle and tickle your little son gently. your focus was entirely on him instead of toji, who had already snuck an arm around your waist by the time you realised the proximity. his breath tickled your ear;

“you look so fuckin’ sexy right now, mama.”

you gasp in response. not at the seductive and flirtatious words your husband had whispered, but rather at the fact that he cussed in front of megumi. you made it a household rule — to try and swear less in front of your child. and yet there toji goes, breaking that rule a week after its made.

“toji. what’d i say about cussing in front of your child?” you warn with a glare, but that does nothing more than turn toji on more. he loved it when you bossed him around or had an attitude.

megumi’s babbles and coos had died down eventually. he was more engrossed by the way his parents were interacting in front of him. you didn’t seem as ‘happy’ with toji’s words, however, and that made the emergency alarms in the little baby’s head go off;

“bwah! bwah!” megumi’s smacks toji’s thigh with his tiny hand. the impact wasn’t rough, but the sound of the slap on toji’s bare skin sure made it seem like it was.

you grin as megumi comes to your ‘rescue’. the small slaps didn’t seem to stop until toji gave up and defeatedly redrew from you—scooting just a few inches away from his son and wife.

“got what you deserved.” you lightheartedly comment to your husband. megumi didn’t seem to stop there; the kid sticks his tongue out towards his father’s direction for a split second—rubbing salt into the wound.

“watch it, megumi. i’ll fight ya if it means i get y’r mommy’s attention.” the dark-haired man jokes with a smirk tugging at his lips, his fist gently and carefully making contact with megumi’s chubby cheek. the little boy huffs and instantly tries to nibble onto toji’s knuckles, which was incredibly adorable.

“oh-ho? seems like i finally have an opponent worth fighting. .” toji comments before lifting his hands up in the air, fingers bent at the knuckles, teeth bared — re-enacting a scary monster creature of some kind,

you watch the two with amusement; megumi wasn’t backing down at all and was flailing his arms in the air as toji slowly approaches him again, making tiny noises in protest. your husband was also making some noises, though less. . . cute. his were more growling like—it showed the dedication to his role, at least.

“got’cha! c’mere,” toji grins as he suddenly grabs and lifts megumi up in the air; putting him in air-jail as he likes to call it. the baby kicks and squeals, trying its best to get out, “now—are ya gonna let me show mama some affection or should we do this the hard way?”

megumi protests once more like he actually knows what was said to him and kicks his legs frantically, causing both toji and you to laugh at your baby’s antics.

you sat back and watch the two go back and forth like that for a good while, enjoying the moment. you felt all giddy seeing them interact and wanted nothing more than to kiss and cuddle with both.

and of course, you wished that precious moments like these would never come to an end any tjme soon.

[rosielovesf1]

spilling secrets on stream | LN4

what better place to hard launch a relationship than twitch?

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none!

author's note: it's been so fun thinking up little story ideas and this is the product of one of them. fair warning that it's been forever since i've played fortnite so probably not very accurate when it comes to that 🤦‍♀️ thank youuu for reading and have a great day!!

also my requests are open if you would like to see a certain story/driver!! 🫶

“Hi guys, sorry I’m late,” Lando said, adjusting his headphones as he started the stream. There were a surprising number of people online for this Thursday afternoon, but he had posted on his story that Max would be joining him, so that could explain the popularity. Not that he would ever tell him that. 

“Max is joining now.” He stretched his arms over his head, smirking when the chat quickly noticed the sliver of skin he’d exposed in the simple motion. Oops. “Is Max with you right now? No, chat, I’m in Monaco. How’s offseason? It’s good. I’ve been doing a whole lot of nothing.” 

Lando read through and answered a couple more questions until Max’s face popped up on his screen. 

“Hello hello,” Max said, waving to the camera. “How are we, chat? What are we playing?” 

After a couple minutes of debate, they decided on Fortnite. The first round was short lived- Lando got shot pretty much immediately. Now, him and Max were two of ten players remaining, but the sound of the front door opening caused him to turn his focus away from the game. 

“y/n?” Lando called out after muting himself, turning away from the screen to see if his girlfriend had just arrived home. 

“Bro, what are you doing?” Max protested, his character running circles around Lando’s still one. Two other characters spotted them over a nearby hill and started firing immediately, with Max left alone to defend them. “You muppet!” Within seconds, Lando had died, and Max didn’t have enough time to resuscitate him in the midst of defending himself. 

“My bad.” Lando turned back to the screen, laughing at Max’s distress. 

“That was entirely your fault.” Max responded, pausing to look at his phone alert from Lando. 

I think y/n just got back and she doesn’t know I’m on stream. Can you stay on until I get back? 

Even though Lando and his girlfriend were practically living together at this point, staying at each other’s homes almost every night during the offseason, they were yet to make it official in the eyes of the public. Max knew this better than everyone- often having to cover for the couple when they weren’t cautious enough- and smirked as he typed back a yes. Lando took that as a sign to communicate his exit. “Be right back, chat. Don’t be too mean to Max while I’m gone.” 

He opened and shut the door to the room behind him, padding down the soft carpet runner of the hallway. “y/n?” Her bright pink trainers were by the front door, and seeing as he could hear the shower down the hall, she must’ve just come back from a run. 

All of a sudden, music started blasting- a Doja Cat song, Lando knew from y/n's time on the aux whenever they were in the car together. 

“y/n,” Lando laughed, knocking on the bathroom door, “I’m on stream darling.” It wasn’t that he minded the noise, or that the chat would know very quickly that there was a girl in his house (he wasn’t really the Doja Cat type). If it were up to him, he would’ve posted y/n the day they had made it official, four months ago. But they’d decided to wait a bit and enjoy the privacy. 

No response still. He tried the bathroom door handle but it was locked. She must’ve not known he was coming home, Lando thought cheekily to himself. Otherwise, it would’ve been open. He gave up and retreated back to the room with his setup, shooting a quick text over to y/n that he was home. 

Lando settled back into his chair, turning the camera on. “Alright, chat, I’m back. Sorry to leave you with Max.” 

Max raised an eyebrow at the music that filtered in through Lando’s mic, choosing not to comment on it. The chat wasn’t as sly though, with every other comment questioning the source. 

“Didn’t know Lando was a Doja Cat fan. I’m not.” The ambiguous comment sparked even more questions, and Lando just shook his head jokingly as they started another game. As he died for a third time, Max cursing and threatening to find someone better to play with, the music cut and the distant sound of the shower running stopped. 

“Lando?” y/n called out, freezing as she read over his text in the hallway. Lando’s eyes widened and he quickly muted himself, sliding his headphones off. As he stood up he heard y/n's footsteps nearing the door and managed to shut the camera off just in time. 

Lando pulled open the door and the scent of coconut and hibiscus floated in. y/n looked up at him with wide eyes in sweatpants and a stolen Quadrant t-shirt, her hair still wet from the shower. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize that you were streaming.” She peeked over his shoulder and her eyes widened at the rapidly scrolling chat, the viewers going crazy about the distinctly female voice they’d overheard. Max had given up at pretending to ignore them and had shut off his camera as well, only adding to the viewers assumptions. 

He pulled her into a hug, mumbling “You smell good.” into her hair as a way of greeting. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed tightly, rocking back and forth. 

“Did they hear me?” 

“Yeah.” They shuffled over to the computer together, her almost afraid to read the chat that was still scrolling at a million miles a minute. Lando read out one comment that said “can Lando’s girlfriend fight?” and raised a questioning eyebrow at the girl next to him. 

“Heck yeah. Look at these muscles. Try me.” She bounced back and forth on her heels, hands up in a boxing stance.

Lando laughed at her, locking her in a headlock that she quickly wiggled out of. “Not fair,” she whined. “Caught me by surprise.” 

He pulled her in front of him to straighten out the locks of hair he’d mussed, and kissed her forehead before looking down at her. “What if we told them about us right now?” 

“You think?” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, and he ran a gentle thumb over it to get her to stop. 

“I think they’re going to love you as much as I do.” She leaned into him at that statement, and he watched her eyes as she seemed to process his statement. 

“Alright,” she still looked hesitant, but brightened up as she opened her mouth to speak again. “I’m already wearing the right shirt and everything.” 

“Quadrants #1 fan.” He smiled, pulling her over to the computer. They split the chair so that both of them could sit, and she draped her legs comfortably over his. He rested one hand on her thigh, using the other to restart the stream. “Ready?” 

She nodded, and all of a sudden they were back online. 

“Hi, chat.” Lando smiled, laughing as the comments started pouring in. “I’ve been meaning to introduce you to someone. This is my girlfriend, y/n.” 

“Hi, everyone,” y/n said, sporting a smile to match her boyfriend’s. “How are you doing?” 

“Finally.” Max let out a sigh, clicking his camera back on. 

“Thanks for covering for us, Max.” The trio sat and talked for a little bit, y/n answering questions for her from the chat that Lando pointed out every once in a while. They eventually turned the game back on, y/n holding her own and often outranking Max and Lando. In the midst of waiting for a new game to load, Lando wrapped an arm around her waist, squeezing her side. 

“I’m so glad I get to show you off now.”

@landonorris: kiss me more 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

@y/nl/n: cat’s out of the bag 🤭

[lemon-koii]

•|Sad TWST headcanons

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒚𝒖𝒍

𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑅𝑜𝑠𝑒ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠

If his mother calls him before or during eating a strawberry tart, he'd have a hard time finishing his tart after their conversation even if it has no relate to it. He would clutch his hands and just stare at his strawberry tart for a few minutes and eat it slowly. Still remembering the first day he tasted a tart, but not a good way

𝑇𝑟𝑒𝑦 𝐶𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟

Doesn't like it when people yell at him when mad as it reminds him when Riddles' mom yelled at him and his family for 3 hours straight. Although, he wouldn't react much if you yelled at him, but he will definetly hold a grudge

𝐷𝑒𝑢𝑐𝑒 𝑆𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑒

After Riddles' overblot, he'd not only get nightmares about it, he'd also get nightmares of Cater getting impaled with a spear from Riddle. In some dreams, Cater died, right infront of him and his roommates would have to wake him up. He pleaded them to not tell Cater but one of them slipped(It wasn't Ace. I refuse to believe he's THAT much of a jerk and clumsy)

𝐶𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐷𝑖𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑑

Whenever his sister would call him, he'd just stare at it ringing. He doesn't want to talk to them but he also don't have the heart to reject it. Sadly, he can only do this when he's alone since people will point. But when he gets close to the prefect, he'd ignore the ringing and tell you to do the same. Just don't pester him and point at it more than 3 times

Comforts Deuce in a non-obvious way whenever his roommates accidentaly told him that Deuce had nightmares about his impalement

𝑅𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑖𝑒 𝐵𝑢𝑐𝑐ℎ𝑖

Tons of bite and scratch scars from his childhood due to fighting over food with another group of hyenas. As a male hyena, he's pretty tall in their book so he's the one to mostly go out to hunt and fight for food

Sometimes has to give up his food to female hyenas

𝐾𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑚 𝐴𝑙-𝐴𝑠𝑖𝑚

On the outside it looks like he trusts his siblings a lot but deep down he doesn't. He loves and trusts his baby siblings but once they reach the age of learning about the hierarchy, he'll start to doubt them but won't show it. So when they do end up trying to kill him, he'll be heartbroken but not surprised

𝐽𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙 𝑉𝑖𝑝𝑒𝑟

He was 14 years old when he first killed someone to protect Kalim. One of the most traumatic event in his life but as he got older, it bothered him less and less. When he looks back at his first kill, he'll cringe. Thinking, "God why did I cry and puke that time? I should've expected it"

𝑂𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑜 𝑆ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑑

Somehow got a hold of a file full of old pictures and videos of H!Ortho and when he has nothing to do, he'd watch it privately. Observing how past Ortho acted and will try to recreate does actions.(It gives Idia tons of flashbacks)

𝐿𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑎 𝑉𝑎𝑛𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔𝑒

Back when Silver wad a kid, he'd give Lilia every egg he found during Easter. But the moment Lilias' eyes spotted a black egg with bright green designs on it, he'd go quite and just stare at it. Remembering Meleanor and egg Malleus

𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔

After overblots, they really want to vent to their parents but they can't. Crowley pressured them to not tell anyone or their grades and the schools reputation will be at risk

[spicyhamsamson]

I am. So fucking tired of Batman being portrayed as a bad parent and a toxic person. And it’s so goddamn widespread. Fuck, it might be as bad as the whole “Superman being a kindhearted Boy Scout is boring” take.

I get it, the man’s not exactly stable, he watched his parents get murdered in front of him and spent years of his life training to fight crime dressed like a giant scary bat, of course he’s not perfect.

But to say that Bruce Wayne isn’t caring, isn’t empathetic, to call him abusive…it just misses the point of who the character is to me.

Why do you think he fights crime? Yes, part of it is because he’s bitter and sad because his parents were cruelly ripped from him as a child, and he’s lashing out against the corruption of his city. It’s arguably the focus of his earlier years. But he learns to become more than that. He learns to bring hope, a chance to be better.

Harleen Quinzel is the Joker’s right hand lady, but she’s also a victim of an abusive relationship and a woman with a surprisingly strong moral compass and a love for animals, and wants to get better. That’s why we see time and time again that he has a noticeable soft spot for her, because he knows that she’s a good person at her core.

Harvey Dent is a man who will decide someone’s fate on a coin toss(and a pretty inaccurate depiction of DID), but he’s also Bruce’s close friend who clearly needs help learning to live with his condition, rather than try to get rid of it, and someone who he still goes out of his way to visit, even after everything, because he recognizes he’s not just a criminal with a weird gimmick, he’s a man who is struggling with a condition that he’s mishandled his whole life.

Victor Fries is a cold, emotionless man who will callously discard allies and blame them for being careless, but he’s also a man who’s either lashing out because he had the love of his life taken from him, or just desperate to make sure she isn’t taken from him, and is willing to do anything just to guarantee her survival. Of course Batman would understand, his whole life was defined by having people he loved taken away from him.

Even the Joker, arguably one of the most morally bankrupt characters in all of fiction, is someone that Batman has offered a chance to. After the guy shoots the daughter of his friend, a girl he cared for like she was his own kid, and paralyzes her from the waist down, he tells the Joker that he doesn’t want to hurt him. He wants to get him help. He looks at this monster who has taken countless lives and says “You don’t have to be alone.”

For fuck’s sake, he sat with Joe Chill in his last moments so that he wouldn’t be alone. Joe Chill, the man who murdered his parents, who took so much from him, the person responsible for all of the misery and suffering he’s gone through. And he sits with the man to comfort him while dies. Do you know how much emotional intelligence and maturity that must take? To comfort someone who arguably ruined your life?

And you’re gonna tell me the man who did that would abuse his kids?

That he’d hold up the young man whose death was his greatest failure, the boy he grieved, and say this?

That he’d look his goddamn son in the eyes and say this to him?

Why the FUCK do you think he took in Dick Grayson in the first place? It wasn’t because he saw the kid and thought “Ah. A potential soldier.”, it was because he saw a boy experiencing the same heartbreaking loss he had so many years ago, and wanted to make sure he didn’t end up as bitter and miserable as he was.

Why do you think he smiled when Tim Drake presented him a broken watch for Father’s Day? Because he was just happy to see the boy alive and safe.

DAMIAN LITERALLY POINTED AT A COW AND SAID “I’m keeping her. She’s Bat-Cow.” AND BRUCE JUST WENT WITH IT. DIDN’T EVEN NEED TO ARGUE WHY BRUCE SHOULD LET HIM KEEP HER. HE SAID “this cow is my pet now” AND BRUCE SAID “aight, bet”.

The thing about Batman is that he wants to make sure nobody else ends up feeling the way he does. That’s not just about stopping a mugger so a boy’s parents aren’t gunned down. It’s about giving his loved ones the support and care that he couldn’t have, because it was taken from him. It’s about comforting someone who just went through a traumatic experience and letting them know that they’re going to be okay. It’s about going to someone locked away in a cell who thinks that they’re a lost cause and a burden to society and telling them that he wants to help them get better. It’s about EMPATHY and COMPASSION.

That’s what makes him a HERO. He’s meant to inspire us, to show us that we can have that same empathy for others around us, that we can turn our suffering into hope for a better future.

I just wish more people at DC would start recognizing that. But I might as well follow that example myself. Maybe through this struggle of having to see this hero mistreat the people around him and act like a grade-A jackass, people will start to recognize that missing compassion, and slowly but surely, it might come back. After all, what is this post, if not trying to bring attention to the matter in the hopes of fixing it?