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babyleostuff · 2 days

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things they unconsciously do for you | ot13

[☁️] seungcheol

protecting you

choi seungcheol is a protector through and through (you could say that sometimes he’s a tad too protective, but it’s simply because he loves you so much and he would most likely end up with a meltdown if he saw you hurt). covering sharp corners, walking on the outside of the pavement, holding your hand in big crowds, cutting the meat for you - doing all of these things is like second nature for cheol. he never thinks about doing them, like “oh, they dropped their spoon, maybe i should cover the table corner so they don’t bump their head”. no no. he just does it, simple as that. and good luck to the person that tries to make you uncomfortable or invade your personal space because well… choi seungcheol will fight them

[☁️] jeonghan

wrapping you up with a scarf/ putting on beanie

jeonghan, as someone who gets cold easily, is very vary around the people around him being cold as well. he’s always more than happy to share some of his body heat with someone else, especially because hugging means more warmth. when it comes to you, though, there is no way you’re getting out of the house without a thick scarf and a beanie. it doesn’t matter if you get easily cold or not, jeonghan does not let you out of the house before you’re properly bundled up. the first thing he grabs when you’re getting ready to go out is your/ his scarf and a beanie, and he dresses you up like a mom dresses up a child, but there’s nothing you can do about it. and if you come to the practice room without anything wrapped around your neck, jeonghan is quick to change that, as he pulls out his own scarf to give it to you.

[☁️] joshua

ordering for you

sometimes being social - even if it’s just ordering food - can be overwhelming, and shua understands that completely. he never judges you for it, he could never, and that alone makes you feel so much better. he never minds it when you cling to his arm, standing beside him while he’s ordering coffee, or when you point to the food on the menu so he could tell the waiter what you want to eat. sometimes he doesn’t even has to ask you what you want to order because he knows you so well by now that he can guess what type of boba you’re craving that day or which type of pasta you want to get.

[☁️] jun

brushing your hair

jun likes his silent acts of service, brushing your hair being one of them. whether it be after you wake up, or after a shower, jun finds brushing your hair to be very calming, so it’s also a way for him to distress and spend some time with you as well. sometimes you sit in silence, sometimes you talk about your days, but it’s always so intimate without being sexual, and there’s something beautiful about that. and he adores looking at your sleepy reflection in the mirror, your eyes closing on their own, as he gently runs a brush through your hair, making sure not to pull too harshly.

[☁️] hoshi

carrying your bag

it doesn’t matter what colour it is, if it’s a tote bag or a small baguette one - hoshi is going to carry it, like the gentleman he is. for one, he figures it must be uncomfortable and tiresome to carry a bag around all the damn time, also he doesn’t want you to strain your shoulders too much, so whenever he’s around he is going to be the one to carry it. and he always makes sure before you go out that you have all of your necessities packed in case you forgot something too. also, as much as he’s easy to distract, when he holds your bag at parties he turns on his bodyguard mode, protecting that bag like his life depends on it, clutching it closely to his body (will glare if someone dares to step too close to it).

[☁️] wonwoo

taking of your glasses after you’ve fallen asleep

as a person who wears glasses himself he knows how annoying and uncomfortable it is to fall asleep with your glasses on (not to mention that they can break too), so this is as natural as breathing for him. he probably has a couple of photos in his camera roll of you asleep with your glasses on, but sometimes you look too adorable for him not to take a quick picture for him to coo over later. he always gently takes them off as not to wake you up, and places a kiss on your forehead, before putting your glasses away so they wouldn’t break on accident.

[☁️] woozi

(i don’t really know how to name this?)

woozi is an insanely attentive man, which is one of the reasons why he’s so great at those silent acts of service that make your heart flutter so much. he picks up the smallest things - like shifts in your mood when you’re upset or feeling a bit down, and while at the beginning of your relationship he was a bit awkward with that since he wasn’t really sure how to help you, now he knows exactly what you need. it’s not even that he has to think about holding your hand or hugging you, or just simply sitting next to you - it’s almost like his body gravitates towards you on its own, like it knows you need him by his side in that moment. you could argue that it’s the bare minimum (which it is), but with jihoon it’s so natural, like i hope you get what i’m trying to say - but the way he’s always there right by your side when you need him without having to mention that you’re not feeling that well is everything you could ever ask for.

[☁️] dk

holding your hand in big crowds

all seokmin wants is for you to be happy, loved, and safe. grabbing your hand when you’re in big crowds is a no brainer for him, it’s like his hand moves by itself, finding yours, and intertwining your fingers. he never lets go, not before he’s sure you’re safe with a smaller amount of people around you, where you wouldn’t get lost or swarmed by the crowd, and even then he usually keeps on holding your hand. and if you get stuck in a big crowd, like during a concert or a festival, he often pulls you to his chest, and puts his arms securely around you, so he’s sure no one will bump into you or step on your foot.

[☁️] mingyu

cooking for you

mingyu loves cooking and eating, that much we know. but what he loves more is cooking for you. to be honest, making food for you has always been something obvious for mingyu, from the very beginning of your relationship, and he never saw it as a chore or something he felt obligated to do. preparing breakfasts on your days off, making you lunch for work/school, cooking dinner for your at home dates - it brings him so much joy because not only does he get to do what he loves, but it also reassures him that you’re eating well and not skipping any meals (whenever he finds out you skip meals you end up with a very sulky and low key angry kim mingyu).

[☁️] minghao

buying you clothes

it’s not that he doesn’t like your style or thinks you’re bad at choosing your outfits, on the contrary - during the first stages of your relationship he payed a lot of attention to what you liked to wear, and for which types of clothes you went for, so that he could spoil you with clothes and accessories you liked, making sure you’d be comfortable in them and feeling 100% you. now, whenever he saw something he knew you’d like he immediately bought it, with no second thoughts. it’s kind of comforting to know that your significant other knows you so well that they know exactly what you’d like or what would draw your attention if you were shopping yourself.

[☁️] seungkwan

singing/ humming you to sleep

it’s not like he lays down and automatically starts singing, but he does that whenever he sees you need it. sometimes it’s singing, sometimes it’s only humming, but it’s like his body just knows you need something to soothe your mind to fall asleep. whenever he feels you shuffling around, tossing and turning, unable to find a comfy position - he gently grabs you by your waist, and pulls you a bit closer to him, and starts singing/humming. he doesn’t think much about doing it, it’s like an automatic response because one of the most heartbreaking sights for boo is seeing you unable to rest, unable to get your well deserved sleep.

[☁️] vernon

refilling your snacks drawer

there’s just something about vernon and him noticing all of those small things about you, and what you love. and one thing you definitely love is him and your snacks. he noticed early in your relationship that you had a drawer in your kitchen dedicated solemnly to your favourite snacks, but also how bad you were at refilling it. thus, he took it upon himself to refill it so you could always have something to munch on, and with time it became such a habit of his that he stopped paying attention that he was actually doing it. whenever he was doing grocery it was obvious to him that the first aisle he had to go to was the snacks aisle so he could pick up all of your favourites.

[☁️] dino

refilling your water bottle

another very attentive man with acts of service as his love language. whether you’re actually good at keeping track of how much you drink, or if you don’t pay much attention to it - chan always re-fills your water bottle for you (he was probably the one to buy it in the first place, choosing a colour to match your aesthetic). he knows how important it is to drink proper amounts of water throughout the day, so making sure you drink sufficient amount of it is as natural as brushing his teeth for him. whenever you’re studying/ working he comes into your room, grabs your water bottle and re-fills it. same as when you’re getting for school/work in the morning - he fills it with water, and puts it back in your bag (sometimes he sticks a note to it as well, with a cute “i love you” message).

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei

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loveinhawkins · 2 days

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a cherished headcanon I keep coming back to is that Eddie is very much invested in the school basketball team right up until the graduating class of ‘85 leaves. By an incredible series of mental gymnastics, he tries to convince himself that this has nothing to do with Steve Harrington’s presence on the team.

(And maybe Eddie avoiding the championship game of ‘86 in the near future will have more to do with Jason Carver being on the team, but that’s a sadder story for another time.)

The thing Eddie can easily admit he loves about the bigger games is the fleeting anonymity: while he’s got notoriety in Hawkins High, as soon as there’s a rival school involved he can blend into the crowd for a couple hours, lost in the roar of support.

It’s nearing the end of just such a tournament game when the ball accidentally goes flying into the crowd. Eddie’s reflexes kick in and he manages to catch it before it can take out the back row of the marching band.

The clock’s been stopped for a timeout—a kid on the rival team is injured—so more eyes are drawn to Eddie than normal as they find where the ball ended up. He feels acutely like a spotlight’s on him—holds the ball to his chest almost like he’s a part of the game himself.

A whistle cuts across the court. Steve Harrington.

He’s looking right at Eddie, raising his hands for the ball.

He has more than enough time to say something, some jeer that would well and truly break the spell of anonymity. But Eddie knows underneath the knee jerk worry that it’s not Steve’s style; it’s more the kind of thing Billy Hargrove and his ilk would do, and he’d thankfully been benched at halftime.

Eddie inhales then throws the ball, praying that he doesn’t end up smacking Steve in the face.

He doesn’t, thank God; Steve catches the ball smoothly, manages a thumbs up in thanks before the spotlight shifts back onto the game.

Eddie quietly sighs in relief, loses himself in cheering again.

They don’t win, but it’s still a good game. It’s like Eddie’s reasoning for campaigns: not everything needs to be an all-out victory for it to be entertaining.

The parking lot is a nightmare so he contents himself with waiting it out by his van while the worst of the crowds clear. It’s only when he hears a car door opening and closing nearby that he realises Steve is parked right next to him. Of course, of course he—

“Good catch back there, Munson,” Steve says, tossing his gym bag into his car. He notices something on one of the seats—Eddie can’t tell what it is, but he hears Steve mutter under his breath in benign exasperation, something about, “Dickheads, I keep telling them not to…”

“Yeah, thanks. All my years of training finally paid off.”

Steve makes a face at the build up of cars, chatting parents leaning out of their windows. “You could’ve been on the sub-team.”

“Kinda resent that you don’t think I’m star player material, Harrington.”

There’s the beginnings of a grin on Steve’s face. He has no right looking that smug for someone who’s just lost a game, Eddie thinks.

“Dude, I can hear you. You’re loud.”

Eddie wills his face not to flush. “You’ve got no proof.”

“Nah, just firsthand experience.”

“What, do you have ears like a bat?”

“Nope. Don’t need that to pick you out.” Steve chuckles to himself as he gets in the car, sits side-on to face Eddie as he speaks. “You’re worse than Tammy Thompson’s singing.”

“Uncalled for,” Eddie says, firmly locking away the part of his brain that’s screaming in embarrassment, because if he’s unable to fire off a comeback, he’ll actually never recover; he might as well go and tell Higgins that next year is already a wash, because he has to go and live in the woods—

“Hey, c’mon Munson, I didn’t say it was bad.”

“You implied it,” Eddie says, totally overselling the entire thing, like he’s been greviously wounded.

It works; Steve laughs, shakes his head.

“I didn’t,” he insists as he reverses out of his space. “I just meant it’s… distinctive.”

“Wow. Thank you.”

“That’s your whole shtick, man, don’t act like that wasn’t a compliment.”

“Sure. Eddie ‘Distinctive’ Munson, that’s me.”

And post-game sentiment must be in the air, because as Steve leaves the parking lot, he calls out the car window, bright and teasing, “Hey, maybe I’ll miss the cheering!”

But Eddie can’t be sure. Unlike Steve, he might be mishearing things.

#what if we noticed each other in high school but pretended not to and nothing mattered but also everything kinda did ❤️#pre steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

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aemondtargaryenonlyfans · 2 days

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DRAGON DREAMS.

Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Monthly nightmares have already plagued you way before your wedding, even though your grandfather has always addressed them as dragon dreams rather than nightmares. But you and your husband both know you’re not gifted with such abilities.

WARNINGS: canon typical incest/targcest (uncle/niece), nightmares, slight angst, fluff

WORDS: 625

NOTES: this was requested by @marthawrites. Hope you still like it! 💕

It’s impossible for you to run.

Your feet are firmly planted on the ground, not moving regardless of you tugging and pulling at them to lift them and escape the brown dragon in front of you. Even your voice catches in your throat, unable to scream when the large mouth of Sheepstealer snaps towards you, the sharp teeth appearing even more intimidating with the light of the moon reflecting from them.

You stir awake, beads of sweat forming along your hairline and in the valley between your breasts. A hand on your mouth is meant to stifle your screams and sobs, not wanting to wake up your husband. Your breathing is heavy, and it takes you a few moments to adjust to the darkness of your chambers as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

Still half asleep, Aemond rolls onto his side and snakes his arm around your waist to pull you into his embrace, your head resting against his chest as his nose nuzzles into your hair.

“Bad dream?” It’s more a statement than a question, because your husband knows the answer. Monthly nightmares have already plagued you way before your wedding, even though your grandfather has always addressed them as dragon dreams rather than nightmares.

But you and Aemond know you’re not gifted with such abilities, it’s just that your mind has a lot to process with the rising tension between both sides of your family.

His presence always works wonders, the warmth radiating off his body and his scent slowing your panicked breathing and the turmoil inside of your mind, allowing you to melt into him.

While Aemond’s hand cups the back of your neck, his fingers apply just a bit of pressure to your stiff muscles in order to release the pent up tension, and you find yourself being able to speak again.

“I—It‘s…,” you stammer, your breathing still causing you to stutter through a sentence. “Sheep…Sheepstealer,” you sigh, “he… he...”

A gentle nod reassures you to continue as you crane your neck to look up at him.

“We wanted to fly to Dragonstone,” you sniff, panic settling in your bones again at just remembering what has happened. “Vhagar was already high up in the sky, when… and when I wanted to mount him, h… he…”

Aemond brings his hand to the back of your head and holds you against his body to calm you down. “He ate you?” he finishes the sentence for you, and you just nod hurriedly, mumbling a ‘yes‘ against his chest.

Most people, including your parents, perceive Aemond as cold and ignorant, and the gods know he can be like that. You have thought that too for the longest time, or rather from the moment he has lost his eye to the moment your courtship has been made official, but you have learned to see the genuine intent behind the things he does, hear the subtle changes in his voice, and suddenly he was just as attentive as any other man around, if not even a bit more.

Aemond kisses the crown of your head before speaking, “Your bond is strong, my love, and you know he would never do that.” And he is right. Even before you’ve bonded with Sheepstealer, the dragon never showed any ill-will toward you. He always was curious, despite the many failed attempts of claiming him other people had tried before.

“Avy jorrāelan,” you mumble. I love you.

“Avy jorrāelan,” comes the reply.

That Aemond’s grip doesn’t loosen around you makes it easier to find sleep again, and while your soft snores already fill his ears, he nuzzles his nose into your hair to take in your scent, thinking about a way to put this misery to an end.

Aemond taglist: @persephonerinyes @dr-aegon @schniiipsel @thekinslayed @baizzhu @legitalicat @eponaartemisa @peachysunrize @blackswxnn @odairtrqsh @mfedits

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princessbrunette · 3 days

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john b made puppy!reader cum a whole bunch of times. no, not to overstimulate her — he’d thought about it, many times with his cock in his hand, but it was early days. today, he just had to be certain that she was slicked up enough to even get him inside that snug cunt.

he drags the tip through your puffy folds, watching each and every way your body jerks and twitches — audibly soaked, your arousal clicking and oozing with each grind of his hips. you were still sensitive, naturally — the taste of you still on his tongue, so he was being patient. even when he watched your hole clench around nothing and you placed a smaller hand on his wrist.

“please, i still want it daddy.” you groan, tearful and demure.

“look, i want you to know that we don’t have to do anything today if you don’t —”

“i still want it, daddy.” you suck in a breath so sharp you nearly choke on it and he raises his eyebrows, nodding in yielding.

“okay, okay. take it easy sweetheart. i’ll give you what you want.”

he watches the way his fat tip presses against your puffy pussy lips, spreading them obscenely from just the slightest pressure. john b always knew he was big, bigger than average atleast. curious eyes had decided that for himself upon taking shy glances around all-male changing rooms and locker room conversations about dick size that had friends saying ‘you’re a fucking liar, bro.’ the girls in his past had a little more experience than you, and welcomed the stretch — but looking at you below him, he wondered if this could potentially scare you off. he was about to do something he never thought he’d do, chicken out.

“bubba…” he cradles you, sliding hands under your back to hold you close and press kisses to your hot skin. john b’s voice was filled with sympathy, and if you weren’t so hazy in the head, desperate for his dick — you might’ve picked up on what he was about to say. “i don’t think it’s gonna fit, puppy.” he coo’s.

“no!” you whine petulantly. it wasn’t like you to be spoiled or demanding — but you had been preparing all week to take your boyfriend and you’d be damned if you didn’t get to atleast try to feel him inside you. “no, john b!” crestfallen, you let the hot tears race down your cheeks and his brows crease, feeling awful about it.

“i don’t want to hurt you, okay? i just —”

“make it fit, please— please make it fit john b, need it so bad!” you babble out a beg, snot pooling beneath your nose and all. he’d seen desperation, and he’d seen you cry — but never had he seen you cry in desperation for his cock. it twitches involuntarily against you, the heavy pink tip thumping your clit making you jerk, shuddering.

“heyheyheyhey— okay, okay. sweetheart, look at me. look at daddy. riiiight here.” he presses a wide hand to your chest to still you, the warmth of his palm proving to serve as some comfort as you suck in a shaky breath, bottom lip still wobbling. “thaaats my girl. breathe, okay?” he feels the thudding of your heart slow ever so slightly against his palm as you suck in slow trembling breaths. “i’m… i’m gonna try okay? but you… you need to breathe. gonna give me a heart attack, pup — jesus.” he sighs, lining himself up once more.

he decides one fluid motion might be better, so once he starts pushing in he doesn’t stop. slowly, but surely he feels your walls contract and stretch around his thickness — your jaw tense in determination as you put every muscle possible into lax, allowing john b to do what needs to be done.

“that okay? talk to me puppy how does it feel?”

“feels full.” you say through a strained tongue. you didn’t know you’d stopped breathing.

“what’d i say, hm? breathe.”

you suck in a long hard breath at this permission, and as you do so john b takes the opportunity to bottom out completely, dropping his forehead to your shoulder to let out a gravelly groan as you squeak. you feel as though you can’t even clench. there’s no space. he feels your glossy walls fluttering and trying anyway.

“happy, pup? that feel nice?”

he lifts his head, warm brown eyes searching your watery iris. there’s a softness to you suddenly, like you’d completely let go and you nod— a clammy hand pushing his wavy brown hair from his face.

“i wanna stay like this forever.”

#div by v6que #puppy!reader #john b prompt

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f1goat · 2 days

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roommates ; lando norris + part two

In which you have to live with your brothers best friend who you really don't like, Lando Norris, and his many 'girlfriends' for a while, but there's always a thin line between love and hate.

masterlist - playlist

lando norris x fem!verstappen reader tw: nothing much yet expect that Lando is a player + i don't proofread + smut will come next chapters!

That night you find out why Lando was dressed this nicely. Al though, Lando texted you before hand so maybe you could have guessed it before. He texted you to let you know that he was heading out to a club, not wanting you to startle you when he came back late in the night. At first you thought you would sleep right through it, but when he unlocked the door you are wide awake. And if that didn’t awake you, it would be the stupid giggles of some girl that would wake you up. You’re going to kill Lando.

When you hear the girl moan, you’re pretty sure that you want to kill Lando. He annoys you so much right now. You hear the girl moan again, it almost makes you sick. They stumble and you hear the door of Lando his room opening. He really didn’t lie about the walls being thin. Are you suppose to listen to everything now? You don’t want to, that’s for sure.

You let out a soft annoyed groan. What do you do now? You already turned around in the bed multiple times. You’re not going to fall asleep again when Lando is fucking a girl right next to you and you can hear everything. Frustrated you grab your phone from the nightstand and open your messages to send Lando a text.

Then you notice the fresh flowers again. You think about earlier, Lando told you that there is in fact a cleaner and that she’s coming tomorrow. Once a week and always on the same day. That means she didn’t brought the fresh flowers. Could that mean that Lando put them here?

You discard those thoughts when you hear the girl moaning again. It surprises you that you don’t hear Lando. For a few seconds you wonder what he sounds like during those moments, but you try to forget about those thoughts quickly. You can’t think about him like that. Quickly you focus on the text you’re about to send.

Y/N: I really don’t want to hear some random girl moaning the whole night

It’s not like you expect a response from Lando. He’s probably balls deep in the random girl right now, so the it’s not like he will look at his phone. You do hear his ringtone on the other side of the wall.

Lando does however read your text. He even has a special notification for you programmed in his phone. So when he hears it, he directly grabs his phone. It earns him a nasty look from the girl underneath him. Oops? When he reads your text, he doesn’t know what to do at first. He thinks about texting you back and teasing you if you’re jealous. But eventually he just puts his hand on the girls mouth.

“Be quiet,” he tells the girl.

She shows him an annoyed look, but he doesn’t pay attention to it. Harshly he fucks her. In the mean time he only thinks about you. It’s going exactly as every other time. Some random girl is laying underneath him. He’s fucking with a fast pace and wants to be done soon, not taking his time for the girl. Every time it seems like a good idea to bring someone home, but when his dick is inside of them he can only think about you. This time his mind is focused on the way you looked in only that damned towel. It helps him to orgasm rather quickly, to the disliking of the girl.

When he’s done, Lando is quick to tell the girl to fuck off. He never lets them sleep over. There has never slept a girl in his bed before. Normally he gives them a bit more time to calm down or to talk, but he feels ashamed about himself and wants nothing more then this girl to leave.

You’re more then surprised when you hear Lando telling the girl to be quiet and to walk her out only minutes later. Is this the way he’s treating those girls? You think about giving Lando a piece of your mind, but you’re not in the mood for an argument. He can do whatever he wants.

“Do you want a midnight snack?” Lando asks you while softly knocking on your door. “I know you’re still awake babygirl,” he adds when he feels himself getting impatiently.

You let out a soft sigh and get out of the bed. When you open your bedroom door, Lando is almost in shock when he looks at you. You’re dressed in only his shirt and a pair of panties. He can almost see them. The shirt is just long enough to cover your ass. He reminds himself to give you a smaller shirt next time.

“So, midnight snack?” You ask Lando when he doesn’t say anything after you appeared in front of him. He is quick to nod and to take you to the kitchen with him.

A couple minutes later you’re eating ice cream. Lando is joking about how his trainer is going to get mad at him for having a cheat day like this. You can’t focus. You keep thinking about how Lando treated that poor girl. He literally used her to orgasm and send her home afterwards. It makes even less sense that he’s eating ice cream with you now. He could have done that with her and then send her home. Right?

“Do you always treat girls like that?” You ask Lando suddenly. You can’t withhold the question anymore.

Lando lets out a soft sigh. “I don’t expect you to get it,” he tells you, “but those girls use me as well.”

“They use you as well?” You ask confused. In your eyes Lando is the one who uses them.

“Yeah,” Lando agrees, “Every girl that I bring home comes up to me and asks me if I’m the Lando Norris. After that they will flirt with me, try to take pictures for their Instagram story for more followers, keep asking me to buy them and their friends drinks.. and more like that.”

“So you take them home for a quick fuck and tell them to fuck off?” You ask.

Lando doesn’t know what to say. He knows you’re right, but he doesn’t want to say it like that. He watches you take a spoon full of ice cream inside your mouth. It almost feels like you’re looking at him with disgust. He realizes that he’s a massive player and doesn’t treat those girls right, but he doesn’t know how to change. And what will distract him then. He can’t keep thinking about you the whole day.

“Maybe,” he eventually confesses, “I know it’s bad.”

“Really bad,” you agree.

“I know,” Lando sighs.

“You know, if you would have eaten some ice cream with her and then made her leave, it would be better,” you tell Lando, “I don’t even know why you just didn’t do that. Like why call me over for a midnight snack if there was someone around?”

“It’s more fun with you babygirl,” Lando says without thinking about his words.

“Liar,” you laugh.

+++

The following night, the exact same happens. Lando texted you beforehand that he was heading out again, a small three hours later you hear him stumble back into the apartment. You hear something fall and how Lando is stumbling to walk around. The noises are followed by a high pitched giggle. Great, another girl. When you hear the room door next to you open and close, you’re already annoyed.

“I can’t believe you’re the real Lando Norris,” you hear the girl say. Is this what Lando meant yesterday night? “I’m going to have sex with the Lando Norris,” she continues. You wonder if anyone knows him at all, instead of knowing him like ‘the Lando Norris formula one driver’. Slowly you start to understand what Lando actually meant last night. You start to feel sorry for him.

When you hear the girl moaning loudly, your earlier feelings are quick to dissolve. Why do they have to be so fucking loud? It surprises you when you hear Lando softly moan as well this time. This girl must be better then the one from yesterday.

Lando can’t focus on anything else then you. He knows it isn’t you who’s moaning underneath him, but still. His mind if full with images of you. He can’t stop thinking about the way you looked yesterday night, dressed in only his shirt and a string. Fuck. If he keeps thinking about you like this, he won’t even last a minute anymore.

In the mean time you’re sending annoyed texts to your brother. Complaining about Lando of course. Not that Max can do anything about it, but you want him to know how annoyed you are with this whole situation. When you hear Lando moan again, your attention stays focused on the sound in the room next to you.

You almost don’t hear what happens next. The unknown girl is moaning loudly, but suddenly stops.

He can’t stop thinking about you. When Lando remembers how you looked in only that fucking towel, he almost loses it. He thinks about fucking you. Would you feel nice around his cock? He is pretty sure that you would be the perfect fit. He tries to imagine how it would be to have sex with you. He knows for sure that it would be a lot more pleasurable. He suspects that you’re a bit bratty, but he wants nothing more then to fuck that out of you.

“Fuck, y/n,” Lando whimpers when he feels his orgasm getting close.

Fuck. The girl underneath him is quick to move away from him. Lando almost slaps himself for being this stupid. It isn’t the first time that he says your name, but now you’re sleeping in the room next to him. What if you heard?

You doubt if you heard it correct, did Lando really moan out your name? Your doubts are quick to disappear when you hear the girl yelling at him. Now you’re pretty sure you heard it right. Lando moaned out your name. What the fuck.

Within a couple seconds you hear how Lando his door is opened, only to be closed again with a loud sound. Is this girl slamming doors? You want to get out of bed and to look at everything that is going on, but it can’t be smart to do so. In the mean time, there are multiple questions spooking through your head. Why did Lando moan out your name? Could it be that he was thinking about you while fucking that girl? Curious you get out of bed.

Lando sighs when he follows the girl. He needs to do some damage control. You can’t find out what just happened. Although Lando is afraid that it’s already too late for that. “Who’s she?” The girl asks him angrily.

“No one,” he is quick to react.

“So you’re just moaning out a strangers name?” She asks him even more annoyed then before, “I’m not fucking stupid Lando.”

“I’m sorry,” Lando eventually says, he doesn’t know what else to do. It’s always a mess when this happens.

“Do you even know my name?”

Lando almost laughs when he realizes that he doesn’t even know the name of the girl. God, he’s such an idiot. Before he can apologize again or make up a lie, the girl is already walking out of his apartment. He sighs. What a fucking mess, he can only think. Another reason to stop fucking with all sorts of random girls.

When he walks back towards his room, he is quick to notice you. This is making things only worse. You’re dressed in Lando his shirt again, this time paired with a short bottom. Lando can’t stop looking at you. He notices that you want to say something, but he’s quick to interrupt your tries.

“Not now babygirl,” he says tiredly.

“Why not?” You ask him with a soft tone of annoyance in your voice. Who does he think he is? He can awake you in the middle of the night with some random girl for two nights in a row? And you can’t even say anything now?

“I’m not in the mood,” Lando reacts.

“I was’t in the mood to hear that girl,” you throw back annoyed, “but it still happened.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando sighs, “I’m sorry for her loud moans.”

“I’m not talking about her moans,” you state.

Lando knows exactly what you are talking about right now, but he really doesn’t want to hear it. He walks towards his own bedroom and quickly opens the door.

“I heard you as well.”

Your words follow him in his bedroom. Fuck, of course you heard him. Lando sighs and starts to feel ashamed for himself.

+++

The following day, Lando takes every chance to avoid you. His morning consisted of doing a lot more training then normal, then he went out for groceries and now he’s meeting with your brother, Max, for lunch.

“So, is your plan already working?” Max asks him jokingly.

Lando sighs annoyed and shakes his head as a no. Max softly chuckles. Lando still doesn’t know why Max is this okay with him crushing on his little sister. Max even encourages it and tries to help Lando the best he can. Something he really doesn’t understand either.

“Come on mate,” he tries to uplift his friend, “you knew it wouldn’t change that fast.”

“I know,” Lando confesses, “but I think I fucked things up a bit more instead of making things better.”

“You’ll find a way to fix it,” Max continues, “Maybe you can impress her with dinner or something as an apology?”

Lando softly nods. It’s not like he can cook, but maybe he can try. He thinks about the groceries he bought earlier and tries to think of a nice home cooked meal with them. Maybe he should head back to the store later.

“I don’t get it,” Lando sighs, “Normally I can take home every girl and fuck them without any effort, but with Y/N I can’t even think straight while talking. Can’t I just fuck her instead of trying to flirt with her?”

Max laughs. “You’re an idiot,” he tells Lando, “If you’re going to fuck with her, you’ll probably only fall harder for her.”

a/n ; a bit short, but things will get better & longer later on :) thanks for the positive comments on the first one everyone!!

taglist: @booksandflowrs @hiireadstuff @likedbygaslyy @dreamsarebig @f1fantasys @samantha-chicago @sweatrevenge5436-blog @queenofmanydreams @fionamiller123 @chezmardybum @f-1-lover-16 @formulaal @shellybee456 @sltwins @mouchii @emyladia @v3rnom @customsbyjcg-blog @cthgee @moonclaine @scarletwidow3000 @bokutos-babyowl @loloekie @lyannesworld @silentreader128 @oreosareara @gabotomo @princesspristins @leclercsluv @lina505 @sideboobrry11 @zucchinimalfoy @danielshoe @alana4610 @viannasthings @toriiez @randomnessis-mine-me @cmleitora

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #f1 #ln4 #formula one

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kenntolog · 1 day

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hihi!!

i saw ur inbox was open so could i request drunk loser gf and cool bf sukuna taking care of her? maybe them going to a party together to get her out of her shell a little? ofc it doesnt have to be that, whatever u think is good!! thanks!

𝝑𝝔 an: hey hey!! i hope u like this!! i started kinda feeling insecure about my writings ngl, i have no idea why :(( ignore any typos or grammar errors, ill edit a little later.

read more here!!

cool boyfriend sukuna is so sure that his loser girlfriend won’t even try to get drunk at the party at his teammates house, it’s actually kind of funny, because that is, in fact, true.

somehow the cups of water you are getting from the kitchen taste a little bit stronger and you ask a random girl for something more sweet and, well, drinkable for you. a not so trustworthy looking pinkish mix is then shoved into your hand and when you take a sip of it, it actually doesn’t feel that bad so you just continue.

all that whilst you’re roaming around free of sukuna, since he wanted to have some fun with the boys and you didn’t want to hold him back. sukuna himself would never think of you that way, but he still lets you be so you can get out of your comfort zone a little, without his constant support. you kind of agreed with him on that, feeling a bit embarrassed.

so of course it’s a surprise for sukuna when about an hour later geto tugs him away with a concerned look in his purple eyes, saying it’s about you and how he ‘needs to see this’. he is not drunk, since he has to drive you both home, not even that tipsy, he just had a few cups of beer and maybe a shot, so he is able to function properly. and he gets a little worried.

and then he finally recognises your face in the room, body stilling in shock as he watches you.

on top of a small table with some other girl, your arms around her waist and hers around your neck as you both sway, jump and push into each other seductively, dancing to the beat of a catchy, well-known song.

he can’t take his eyes off of you. although a little clumsy and untrained, compared to the girl’s movements, yours still make him and seemingly other people somehow hypnotised.

sukuna must admit, he is mesmerised too because you’re his pretty loser girlfriend, you know? you don’t ever do stuff like this, you were even reluctant to go to this party since it’s not your cup of tea. how come you’re so different when you’re under the influence of alcohol? he has no idea.

it doesn’t take long for you to notice him and clumsily jump down from the table right into his arms. smiling wide and bright at him with sparkly eyes as you hang off of him, letting him tug you around and just giggling into his chest while he gets a little frustrated with you because your limbs seem to be very cooperative when you’re drunk.

only your arms seem to be permanently glued around his neck, your lips pecking the sensitive skin, which kind of bothers him. that slight rasp in your honey-sweet voice, the dazed look in your eyes, your loud breathing — it makes him want to devour you…

he still has to get you home, though, so he promises himself to get back at you later.

the ride to your place is surprisingly silent. it seems like you’ve finally spent all of your energy and chose to curl on his passenger seat, looking out of the window while one of your hands held tightly onto his.

getting you out of clothes is one of the harder trials it seems; you are stronger than you look like, sukuna realises that when you pull him onto yourself while laying on the bed as soon as he finishes changing your clothes. legs wrapping around his waist along with your arms around his neck, you let him smother you into the sheets while he curses you quietly and responds to your affections with small kisses of his own. sukuna can’t resist you, ever.

washing your makeup off is a relatively easy task, yet brushing your teeth is a whole other level. sukuna wouldn’t bother if it was for himself, yet he does it for you since you’d hate to sleep with your mouth still dirty.

but you make it so hard!! hugging him close to yourself, he can barely push you away because you’re stuck as if permanently glued so he opts on cupping your jaw to move your head slightly to be able to put the brush in your mouth. you whine at the sudden intrusion, brows pinching in the middle as you try to pull away.

“‘kuna~”

“stop acting like a baby,” he rolls his eyes with a ‘tsk’ and shakes you a little.

bad idea. tears spring out of eyes as they scrunch and your still foamy mouth parts slightly in a childish cry. oh he hates to see you cry.

sukuna kisses your forehead gently as he puts away the toothbrush, “shh, sorry, ‘m sorry, baby,” he gently pats your back, urging you to spit out the remains of toothpaste, “c’mon.”

you do as he says, giving him a pouty look, and continue clinging onto him. sukuna shakes his head and offers you his hand, to which you immediately hug his whole arm and let him lead you to bed.

clinging onto him like a baby, truly living up to your nickname, you lay on top of him, clean and satisfied while sukuna slowly rubs your back. tiredness and exhaustion get the best of him, so he is unable to fully catch on to your lovely monologue filled with your honest words that accentuate your love for him, however the last thing he hears is ‘love you, ‘kuna, you’re the best’ and it’s enough to bring a pleased smile on his face.

#— miya writes!#jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #jjk sukuna #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna ryomen fluff #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you

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atyourmerci · 3 days

Text

Gold wing, angel

meanloser!ellie X classpresident!r

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!ellie, sub!reader, v angsty, slight bondage, cunt slapping, fingering, cunnilingus, edging, orgasm denial, ruined orgasms, lite angel symbolism, no y/n, no pdor

A/N: actually surprised I finished a req (you all applaud me) this is inspired by “GOLDWING” by billie.

Ellie was a sick drug. Something not to be desired. She was the epitome of the allure of indulging in something you shouldn’t have, shouldn’t know, try at very least.

How did she get this way- who made her like this? Anger taken out through bodies of admission in an act of revenge. Taking back what was taken from her. Her pride regained by your submission.

You could have never fathomed the aggression the loser from AP American literature could obtain. You thought she’d beg on her knees for you. Worship your every move, starstruck by even getting the chance to touch you.

But she didn’t. She reveled in taking you off your high horse, got off on watching the student body president, proper and witty, utterly depraved by getting her cunt abused by a fucking moron.

98- A fucking 98, you did not deserve a 98 on the midterm paper. Your work was frankly sloppy, lacked comprehension. It made you ill knowing you were turning in something so lackluster with your name slapped across the front so proudly. The only thing that made you sicker was the thought of receiving special treatment- you had an image to uphold. You got to your position in this society from your own intellect, blood, sweat, tears and all. Kissing ass for a fucking 98 wasn’t in the cards.

The class began filing out as usual, like wild animals in a pack, shiny white teeth like daggers. Meshing together in their navy steam-pressed blazers, hair like defining fur, the only indication of individuality.

Except for her, sticking out like a sore thumb, the great big elephant in the room. Breaking many rulebook codes with her black nail polish, unkept hair to the standard policy, her white polo unbuttoned at the top two buttons that revealed her freckled chest. Despite her all around degenerate persona, she was irritatingly smart. Maybe if she had an ounce of charm she’d take your place.

With the rest of the class out of sight she stares at you. Not cutting off eye contact you both rise from your chairs you practically run to Mr. Stevens desk. The slap of two papers hit his desk, a 98 and a 90 shining in red sharpie ink on the white papers.

“I don’t deserve this,” comes out in unison, the sincerity in your voice cut open by the harshness in Ellies.

“Please one at a time, ladies.”

Before the words can even escape your lips Ellie rages, “I worked my ass off on this. I deserve better than a 90,” she spits out. “I know you can do better than this Ms.Williams, I expect more from you.” Ellie scoffs back at him, “this is bullshit,” she muffles but continues standing at his desk.

Mr.Stevens nods his head in your direction for your speech, you glance at Ellie with her arms now crossed, awaiting your protest. You brush off her insistence on staying and begin, “Mr.Stevens, I appreciate your grading and understanding my agenda for the midterm, but objectively this is sub-pare work. I think you may have given me someone else’s grade… maybe you mixed up my grade with Ms.Williams.”

He doesn’t skip a beat, “I don’t mix up grades, you earned it. Now if you two will excuse me,” Mr.Stevens directs you both to the now empty hallway.

Ellie storms out with rage, cheeks flushed and lips pressed closely, you follow behind. “‘ms Williams’? the fuck was that?” Ellie presses in a scowl, words echoed in a bare hallway.

“Look I read your paper, I think you deserved better,” you retort in an attempt to soothe her. You cant seem to keep your eyes off her cupids bow, the contrast of soft pink lips against her tired skin.

“Oh thats fucking rich coming from ‘ms I don’t deserve my grade’ you’re pathetic,” she points, eyes thinning.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch more people would like you,” you attempt, heat rising in your own cheeks, heart thumping roughly in your chest.

Ellies cruel disposition contorts into a grin, inching closer to your body, “you’re fucking him aren’t you? Ms. perfect sucking off the teach so she can stay on top?”

A power so foreign comes before you, using force to push your wrist into her chest, though she doesn’t budge, “shut up.”

She returns your aggression, pushing your bodies flesh up against the brick wall behind you, ripping the breath from your lungs. Your hands instinctively grip into her shirt. Her eyes are wild, as if she was surprised she’d taken it this far, or rather puzzled by the fact you haven’t broken your grasp.

You both pant from the intrusion, glaring, waiting- waiting for someone to cave.

Like a dog on a leash you dragged her in, pulling her by her fabric until her lips met your own. A depraved act, met with open mouths and wandering tongues. Hatred in its finest form, digging into her as if you’d ever thought of it. A subconscious desire pulled from the depths of your cravings.

Before true indulgence she pushes you off, taking a moment to look at your hazy disposition, drunk on delinquency, “don’t ever do that again,” she pants out. Taking her thumb she wipes the saliva from your bottom lip and takes off without your response.

Time after time you went back. You told yourself you’d stop, never talk to her again. Yet there the keys were in the ignition, a path that you knew like the back of your hand. Leading, controlling your own fate of defacement.

“Can you please just open the door,” you plead on her doorsteps, mind and body corrupted- to only be pleased by the mental games, the destruction in forms of submitting to her.

Strung up like an old doll long forgotten in the attic, bound wrist behind your back and ankles tied to the head of her bed, vulnerable and needy.

“What now? Use your fucking words,” Ellie remarks before spitting on your neglected cunt. Your body winces at the sensation of the hot liquid dripping down the pulsing flesh, “please I promise I’ll do whatever you ask.”

She hovers over your squirming body, carful to not give you the satisfaction. Gripping your jaw in her hand, “do you ever pay attention to what I tell you? You don’t deserve to come,” cocking her free hand back to lay a purposeful slap to your slick folds causing you to scream out from the blissful pain.

She lays another one into the already beat red skin, a cruel grin growing on her lips as she hears you enjoying it. “You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?” she asks glaring at your tucked in lip, eyes glossy. You nod back at her, signaling your approval for using your body as her personal vessel.

Somehow it was good enough for her, dropping down to your perked nipples and sucking it into her teeth as she uses her hand to cover your eyes. You’d learn very early on that you weren’t allowed to watch her use her mouth on you. In the odd occasion she’d let you have your cunt in her mouth shed have your face shoved in the sheets while she took you from behind. She never told you why- and you didn’t dare ask.

Your wrist wriggle behind your back as your chest arches into her mouth, hot and wet. You obsess over what it would feel like on your mouth again, most nights were spent only thinking of her mouth- foreign, an impenetrable fortress. You began to chase the chance of the feeling her again.

You feel as her mouth comes off of the swollen bud as she removes the hand on your eyes, “don’t look,” she says with no threat in her tone, but you don’t risk crossing her.

You shut your exhausted eyes, dropping your head back as you feel her wrap her arms around the meat of your thighs. She drags an antagonizing strip up your slit, jolting your body into the mouth.

She goes as slow as possible, providing as little pressure she can muster up to the swell of your clit, but from her slaps it wouldn’t take much. Your body akin to a fish gasping for air out of water, squirming under her touch. She digs her fingers deep into the flesh as a warning.

“If you ever want to come again Id advise you behave.”

“P-please,” you plead to her, legs shaking as you whimper her name over and over like a prayer.

“I said no, i swear to god I’ll ruin every fucking orgasm,” sliding her two fingers into your clenching hole she drives slow pumps as she returns her mouth to your clit.

Your face contorts in concentration, attempting to hold yourself back but you could only be held off for so long.

“Ellie- Ellie!” bursting at the seams, your body detesting her rules, letting the hot white cum coat her fingers. She only fucks you harder, faster through your orgasm. This is a game you weren’t to win, rather to allow herself to revel in your pain. She got off on destroying your mind, making it to where you can only be pleased by her punishment.

Ellie kept her word, working you up on the edge of finishing and stopping completely, laughing at your pathetic state, crying and begging to come.

Clipping your wings, she hung them on her walls as a trophy. Pleas echoing her room, come splattering her sheets, your lips chapped and neglected.

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sanjisprincesss · 3 days

Text

I could fall in love with you

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Synopsis: How I think the one piece men would realize they’ve got it bad for you!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Characters: Monsters trio x fem! Reader

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･cw: fluff fluff and more fluff! Sort of proofread

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ song credit: I could fall in love by Selena

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LUFFY

Realized when he started to feel even more clingy towards you.

With Luffy it’s a matter of whether or not he realizes or someone around him realizes. The minute he realizes he doesn’t hold back on his feelings and tells you immediately.

He realizes when he starts to feel a s way when Sanji or anyone grazes at you in any other way then friendly. Which is a feeling he never really felt since in any other situation he wouldn’t care about if someone flirts or flaunts over you.

He starts to crave your attention and presence more and everyone around him will most likely notice.

You and Luffy sit on top of the head of the thousand sunny pointing out clouds shapes making stories and backgrounds to them. Watching the sunset a beautiful ray of colors and scenery cover the sky.

“Shishi that one looks like a sea cow doesn’t Y/N!” Your captain said pointing and laughing at a cloud that strangely resembled a giant sea creature. You look to where he’s pointing to see the cloud he’s mentioning. You can’t help but smile and laugh at the remembrance. “ yeah it does look like a sea cow Luffy!”

As the laughter begins to die down, Luffy with an unreadable expression turns to face you without saying a word. As you turn to face him his famous smile returns to his face “Y/N i love you so much! You know that right!”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ZORO

Realized when he got a little too overprotective of you even more than he’s willing to admit.

First of all, as soon as he gets the slightest hint that he’s head over heels in love with you he’s denying it and will try to deny it as much as he is possibly able to. DENIAL IS A RIVER IN EGYPT.

Which is also why he wouldn’t confess first.

Zoro is known for being the protector of the strawhat pirates, by nature he has his hand on his swords the minute the crew is In danger. It's not that he is more protective towards you than the crew, it's more like he’s more protective of you towards others that have pertenal feelings towards you. Which once again is not really his main train of thought yk.

Of course he would never admit, but he likes to have your company near him. May it be you reading a book in the crows nest while he trains or just being near him while he’s napping.

As the sun shines on the sea and everything in its path. You Nami and Robin were sunbathing on the deck as Sanji came by with fresh drinks for the three of us. Luffy Chopper and Usopp playing around the ship while laughing with zoro training in the crows nest.

“NAMI SWANN~ Y/N CHANN~ ROBIN DEARR~ I'VE MADE YOU LOVELY LADIES SOME REFRESHING BEVERAGES! SO BEAUTIFUL I COULD JUST MELT!”

He says with hearts in his eyes placing the drinks down on a table and hanging them out one by one.

“Aye, curly brows give em a break will ya!”

And that Is all you hear form the green haired swordsman before you and your friends share a knowing glare before smiling towards which other.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ SANJI

Realized he loves you differently than he would other women…

Let’s state the obvious: Sanji loves women. It’s a known fact about him. He has felt infatuation before to the point where he thought he was in love. That infatuation died down when he found another woman who crossed his path.

But with you it’s different. His infatuation turns into something that lasts. It doesn’t fade away when someone else is around him. He lowkey turns into Mr prince.

He goes that extra mile. He’s a gentleman all around and it’s really hot. He can have a conversation with you without any kind of questionable behavior or nosebleeds. No lustful stares of any sort, no signs of dirty thoughts, just quality time with his lover.

The crew had all departed ways to follow their regular duties and routines after dinner. However you stayed after dinner to help Sanji with the kitchen while of course he always insisted that there was no need for you to worry your pretty little head.

You always insisted on helping and how could he ever say no to you. So there you two are, wasting and drying dishes. One by one.

“ I wonder what different types of fish and seasonings are in the all blue?” “What color do you think the water is there?” You ask him while drying a plate. As he passes the next dish that needs to be dried.

“The all blue hm…you know just what to ask me, don’t you? A beautiful girl like you deserves a gorgeous answer.. don’t you think?” You nod while putting the last dish away.

“Let’s see..if I had to think of a color, one that matched the idea of all the world's fish swimming together.. I’d say sky blue. A brilliant sky blue it has to be!”

#STARS WORK ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩#one piece x reader #op x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #luffy x black reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x black reader #sanji x black reader #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #black reader #opla x reader #op x you #one piece

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mostly-imagines · 2 days

Text

Who Needs Heaven? : The Drop-In

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason meets his daughters

warnings: it’s not specific if the kids are bio or adopted — this probably doesn’t make sense on multiple fronts but i DON’T CARE

see for: the vibes

His body jolts like he’s snapping out of sleep. The first thing he processes is loud conversations echoing, the sound of young girls talking over each other. He surveys over a book in his hands that he’s never heard of, though it’s opened more than halfway through and considerably worn. He drops the book to the side, coming to a stand and scanning over the environment.

He looks around the adorned living room, taking in details rapidly. He doesn’t recognize the house he’s in but he can tell it’s somewhere he definitely does not belong. The room is filled with books on shelves and picture frames are littered in every free spot in between. The lights are warm and the furniture is colorful with pillows and blankets strewn all over. It’s a stark contrast to the refined stoic Manor he’s so used to; there’s a distinct feeling of homeliness and warmth that seeps through the walls.

He creeps into the front entryway to the house as quietly as he can, peering up the staircase to the landing above for any signs of familiarity or danger. From his right, a girl comes darting into the space, running face first into Jason. He immediately reaches out to steady her but she shows no sign of disruption. She makes a point of holding the wrapped popsicle in her hand away, keeping it safe. She blinks up at him before taking off past him, calling out, “Sorry, dad!”

Dad?

“Anna, I swear to God—” Another girl of similar age runs past, paying him no mind.

He gapes after her, thoroughly confused. Where the hell is he?

“Daddy?” He turns around and looks down to a younger girl who looks about six at most. She stares up at him with wide eyes and freckled cheeks. “Are you okay?”

He can’t think.

This isn’t…this can’t be real. It can’t be. This is a dream. He got knocked out. He’s hallucinating. He’s dying.

He tries to keep his breath steady as this little girl peers up at him with curious eyes. “Daddy?”

He opens his mouth, struggling to find words, let alone get them out. “Where…where’s your mom?” He can barely make out his own voice.

“She’s in your room,” she tells him, looking up the stairs.

He treds up the stairs slowly, the chatter downstairs barely getting any quieter. The second floor seems deserted in terms of the presence of children. If, if this were real (or more likely, a dream) you’ll be here somewhere. There’s no scenario where he’d ever imagine a life in a big house with a big family without you—subconsciously or otherwise.

Several doors line the wide hallway, most of them open. He peers in the room closest to the top of the staircase, finding a heartily decorated bedroom with two twin beds. Polaroids and movie posters litter the walls and clothes are strewn across on top of the bed covers and in a few small piles on the floor. An orange lava lamp illuminates the room from a desk, shining off the glossy cover of magazines. Above, sports medals dangle off the wall against a white board, a scribbled on game of hangman midway through. A full-length mirror covered in stickers along the edges reflects a bookshelf across the room, dozens of books stuffed on each shelf. He blinks vacantly, pulling back from the doorway and continuing on.

He continues on down the right side of the hallway, passing up a bathroom and a closet before peering into the next room. It also has two beds, but it’s filled with remnants of young children. A small table with a tea set laid out on top sits in the middle of the room with various princess dresses draped across the short chairs. Pink bed sheets and butterfly-filled curtains joined by toy cars lined against the wall and strings of pink starry lights hanging from the ceiling. Both beds have stuffed animals arranged in thoughtful piles. It takes Jason a moment to notice the tattered, worn elephant with the green polka dot tie on the bed with the Cinderella comforter. Pickles. It was his when he was a kid. It’s placed delicately at the top of the pile, like he’s the king of the crop. A grand dollhouse sticks out against one of the walls, the dolls all lying asleep in their makeshift beds. Fluffy bubblegum and fuschia rugs scatter the floor just enough that you could jump across the room without ever touching the hardwood.

He turns to the last room, a door directly across that’s just cracked open. He can hear light music coming from inside and the almost inaudible shuffle of movement. He pushes the door open cautiously and takes in the sight of a woman, back to the door, folding laundry on the bed. He doesn’t even need to see your whole figure to know that it’s you.

“Sweetheart?” He sounds like he’s out of breath.

“Yeah?” You turn around with your same kind eyes and gentle disposition. You look older, not much older but your face is more mature. You even hold yourself a little differently. You quickly notice the way he scans you with a look of bewilderment on his face and jump into concern. “What’s wrong?” You drop the shirt that you’re folding on the bed, approaching him with soft steps. Everything feels fuzzy.

“This—this is…” His voice seems far away, this body feels further. “This isn’t real…”

“What? Jay, what are you talking about?” You’re so genuinely concerned about him it makes his heart hurt and does nothing to help clear his head.

His breathing starts to stutter and his eyes can’t pick something to focus on. Everything is telling him that this is a false sense of security, he’s not safe, you’re not safe, everything’s wrong—

“Woah, hey, hey. It’s okay.” You take his face in your hands the way you know tends to ground him. “Catch me up.”

He tries to focus on the sliding clasp of the necklace around your neck. “I…I think this is…” He doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up only to wake up in a few seconds and find that it was all pretend. Instead, he’ll settle for, “...This hasn’t happened…”

You frown at that, tilting your head. “What do you mean?”

He breathes out heavy, “I think I’m dreaming.”

“What are you dreaming of?” You walk along this train of thought with him, though he has no idea why you would entertain it. This really must be pretend.

“The future…this is…is this the future?” He’s whispering, he’s not even sure if he’s asking you or himself or maybe even God.

You’re quiet for a minute before you speak again. “Oh,” you say contemplatively, not nearly as alarmed as you should be. You should probably be calling him crazy, right? “This is—you told me about this. Yeah, it had something to do with that clock guy—”

He blinks a few times, “The Clock King?” That does sound…familiar. Was he—he was with Bruce wasn’t he? Or maybe Dick. Both?

You nod, “Yeah, yeah. You said you ‘time traveled’ for a minute...but that was in, like…”

He fills in the blank with the year as he remembers it and your eyes go wide. “Well, this would be a bit of a surprise then.”

“We have kids?”

You laugh, brushing his hair back gently, “Yes. Yes, we definitely do. Five girls.”

“Five?” He breathes.

“Yeah. Wasn’t the plan but…” you shrug easily, “Here we are.”

He barely stops his next question from coming out of his mouth and replaces it. “Is this something I should be hearing?”

“What?” You tilt your head for a second before realization flashes across your face. “Oh, you don’t end up remembering any of this.” You shrug, mouth scrunched up to the side, “So why not?”

He does really want to hear about them. “Please.” He whispers faintly.

You nod reposefully, “Okay, well…” you pause, eyes on the ceiling. “Oh, wait.” You dart over to the bookshelf against the wall and pull a book from the second shelf from the top, a large pink photo album.

You shuffle back, guiding him to the bed and sitting thigh to thigh with him and placing the album on your laps. You flip it open to the first page, which displays an array of photos of who must be his daughter.

“This is Mia—Miriam—she’s the oldest. She’s thirteen now, she’s very smart and a sort of a perfectionist. Really a perfectionist.” A couple of her baby pictures were taken in your apartment and it makes his heart absolutely melt to see you as he left you, holding a baby—his baby—with a glowing smile on your face. There’s another photo of her, kindergarten aged, dressed up as Spoiler for halloween. One shows her on a bike with shimmery handlebar streams, Jason holding her steady as she learns. He’s wearing the brightest smile he’s ever seen on his own face.

“Then there’s the twins,” you continue, flipping to the next page. You laugh when his breath hitches at that. “I know. It’s not as scary as it sounds. Well, not now that they’re older. Ryan and Anna.” You point to them as you say their names, and he recognizes them quickly as the two girls that had run past the stairs. The twins look identical, the only discernible difference found in that Ryan is grinning in every picture with a glint in her eyes and Anna nearly always has a stoic look on her face.

“Ryan is her father’s daughter. She thinks she’s very clever and even more funny, and she is but don’t tell her that, it goes straight to her head.”

There’s a picture that has to be a couple of years old by now of the two of them dressed in what looks like brand new soccer gear. Another depicts one of them chasing Tim with a firework sparkler at dusk. He sees one of Ryan covered in dirt and tiny cuts, smiling big, helmet crooked on her head.

“Anna’s a happy kid, she is. Don’t let her attitude trick you—she just likes to keep her feelings to herself.” Anna’s pictures remind him of Damian in some ways. The very intentional lack of a smile but the happiness still seeps through anyways. One of her pictures has her cuddling with two rottweiler puppies in classic Damian style. Another one shows her a bit older, on Jason’s shoulders, surveying the land.

You turn to the next page, “And Laine, uh, Elaine,” you smile, “She’s a bit eccentric. She lives in her own world but she’ll bring you into it with her. She likes magic and glitter and offbeat things.” Laine’s pictures leave a particular warmth in his heart. She has the absolute widest smile and the brightest eyes he’s ever seen. One photo shows her having a picnic with several stuffed animals, another has her drawing a rainbow with sidewalk chalk. One picture towards the bottom of the page grabs his eye, one of Laine happily braiding Cass’ short hair at what appears to be the Manor.

“And then the little one is Aurora—Rory,” You turn to a page full of pictures of the wide-eyed girl, who has the sweetest baby face. He can tell from the pictures alone that she has your personality. You point to a picture of her giggling with bubbles all in her hair as you explain, “She’s still small but she has a big heart and a very sensitive soul already.” Jason’s practically staring a hole in the picture of Rory as a newborn in the hospital, held delicately by Bruce.

You play with the hair at the nape of his neck as he processes quietly, letting him take his time.

“They’re happy?” He asks in a whisper.

“We’re happy.” You say affirmingly. He looks you in the eyes and you see a specific vulnerability in his that you haven’t seen in a long time. “You are a good dad, Jay.”

He’s still surprised that you can read him like a book, even though at this point you’d have been together for at least fifteen-some years. His eyes burn and he’s not sure he can keep it together. But you dig the knife in all the same, “They love you. A lot. We couldn’t live without you.”

You flip through until you find a page later in the book, plopping it back open fully. The first picture he takes note of shows him outside with picked flowers scattered in his hair wherever they’ll stay put, Laine and Rory trying to straighten them out. Another is of Anna hesitantly feeding a horse an apple, Jason crouched next to her, reassuring her. On the other page, Rory is mid-air being thrown into an absolutely massive leaf pile, glee adorning her face. He turns the page to find one of the girls with a red hoodie pulled over her head and a makeshift mask made from a red plastic plate with holes cut out for the eyes. One has Mia resting against his back, passed out, as he helps Ryan tie off a friendship bracelet on her wrist.

This isn’t—he doesn’t deserve this. This can’t be true, this is more than a happy ending and he’d never even expected you to love him this long, let alone give him the world and then some. He stares at the page for a while, trying to burn every detail into his head.

You tear your gaze away from his face to glance at the clock on the side table, muttering, “Oh shit. Hang on.”

His eyes follow you as you stand from the bed and walk across the room to the door, cracking it open a few inches before shouting out, “Bed!”

There’s a brief delay before a clamor starts towards them, all five girls thumping up the stairs.

You turn back to him, heedfully, “You can stay in here if you want. They’re a little…a lot.” You say tentatively. Well, if there’s anything he’s accustomed to it’s big families with bigger personalities.

Jason lingers behind you as you enter the hallway, looking like a little kid in an unfamiliar place. Whatever conversations were going on downstairs have simply moved location, no urgency present whatsoever to continue on with the progression of the night. You’re trying to verbally corral them towards their respective bedrooms, but it’s a tough job with two clear headed parents on a good day.

He stands frozen in the midst of the clutter of them as they rattle off to you and to each other. He’s scared to say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing. He doesn’t want to upset or alarm them. But because he is their father, they don’t need him to do anything strange to realize that he’s being strange.

Ryan squints up at him, “What’s wrong with you?”

The question grabs Laine’s attention and she looks to you with wide eyes, “What’s wrong with Dad?”

You shake your head, “Nothing’s—”

“He’s not having a stroke already, is he?” Anna faints, no alarm in her words. Mia thumps the back of her head for that with no returning acknowledgement given by Anna.

Ryan is looking at him like she’s sizing him up. Something you did not get a chance to tell him about Ryan is that she can smell blood in the water like a shark. So it’s not surprising to you that she picks up on Jason’s disoriented state.

“Father?” She calls out sweetly.

You sigh, “Ryan—”

“No, it’s okay. I want to ask dad specifically.” She turns him away from you with a smile. She doesn’t know what’s going on and she doesn’t need to. She’s an opportunist like that. “Could I have the last popsicle?”

Anna cuts in harshly, “You better n—”

“Hey Annie, few notes for ya,” Ryan says with widened eyes and a pointed finger, “One, you shouldn’t interrupt your father, it’s disrespectful,” Anna’s face contorts at that, and she’s about to bite back but she’s cut off quickly by Ryan’s dedication to dishing out her hypocritical sermon. “Two, you shouldn’t interrupt me because it’s potentially the single greatest sin you’ll ever—”

Alright, you gave her a chance to turn it around, she’s done now. “No, you’re all going to bed now and if you’re lucky that popsicle is still there when you get home from school tomorrow.” You tell Ryan with a pointed look. She gives you a half-hearted glare, absolutely nothing compared to her real one.

“Mom, you said—” Mia throws her hands up as she recounts a promise that you may or may not have given her, it’s anyone’s guess.

Then Anna starts up, “That’s not fair, I called—”

Rory pipes up from behind you. “We’re supposed to read our story first.”

You inhale sharply, turning to face her, “Oh—” you crouch down to her level, holding her waist. “How about I read it tonight, Rory?”

She frowns, “Daddy always reads it.”

Ryan taps on Jason’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “Dad, listen,” she says lowly, like she’s trying to get him in on the deal of the century. “Anna doesn’t deserve it, she’s rooting for you to stroke out—”

You frown at Rory with repentance, “I know sweetheart, but—”

Laine looks quite contemplative as she announces, “It’s unholy to break tradition.”

You scrunch up your face and swivel your head to her, “What?”

This declaration does enough to break Ryan away from her scheme. She turns to her and says flatly, “You haven’t said anything that makes sense in like two weeks.”

Jason’s mind is going a mile a minute, trying to process the fifteen things that are going on all at once and take in the fact that these are his children. His daughters and they’re so loud and opinionated and bold and he loves it. He thinks this is the closest he’ll ever get to heaven. Hell, he’d take this over heaven a million times over.

“Mom. Mom!” Mia urges, “Can you help me?”

Your head stutters between your daughters, “I—yeah. Rory, just—”

“I can do it.” He says quietly.

“Yeah?” You look up at him, hopefully, genuinely delighted that he wants to jump into this mess without the twelve years of prep that you’re dependent on.

“Yeah.” He nods, determined and you and Rory smile up at him. Mia all but yanks you up from the floor, pulling you to her room and you can just barely make out Ryan’s hushed murmur of, “I’m getting the popsicle…”

Rory takes Jason’s hand, drowning her own in his. She leads him to the pink bedroom with all the toys, and climbs onto the unicorn bed, shoving all but a few of the stuffed animals onto the floor. Elaine follows close behind and does the same with her own bed, though the only one she keeps is Pickles.

He stands next to the bed a bit awkwardly as she pulls a book off the table next to her, the length of the book easily taking up half her arms. It takes her looking up at him expectantly for him to get the hint, shuffling to squeeze in next to her on the small bed.

She hands him the book and he regards it with a smile. Little Women. He pauses as he starts to open it, “Where, um…where did we leave off?”

She looks at him funny, smiling like he’s messing with her. She flips the book open a little more than halfway through and stops on chapter fifteen. She presses her pointer finger down to the start of the chapter with a thump. “Right here.”

Jason takes a steadying breath and begins reading in the same soft voice he reads to you in, and it seems to appease both girls. He’s not processing what he’s saying as he sits there with his littlest daughter tucked into his side and hanging on to every last word. He can feel her breathing in and out softly and it all feels so surreal now.

““I don't think you'll blame me, for I only sold what was my own." As she spoke, Jo took off her bonnet, and a general outcry arose, for all her abundant hair was cut short.” Rory giggles as Laine gasps, and Jason can feel the rhythm of his heart fluttering in a new way.

He reads to the end of the chapter and returns the book to its place on the side table, and reluctantly pulls away from Rory, standing up again. He tucks her nicely, if not inexperienced, into the sheets and kisses her forehead. She immediately holds out her toy bear, silently requesting the same treatment for him. Jason kisses the bear too, happily. He does the same for Laine, taking particular note of the way she hugs Pickles to her chest tightly.

He starts towards the door, but is quickly put to a halt. “Wait,” Laine calls out. He turns back to her wide-eyed, terrified he did something wrong. “The lights,” she says, looking up to the ceiling at the dangling stars. Oh, right. She watches him skeptically as he innocently looks around for the switch, and Rory tilts her head at him, not sure what he’s playing at.

“It’s right there,” Rory points with a mildly sullen look to where the mechanism dangles near the outlet. Jason quickly flicks the lights on, the soft orange-pink glow of stars illuminating against the walls. Rory’s pleased enough and adjusts to get more comfortable in her bed.

Laine however, hisses out a, “Hey,” gesturing him towards her. He sidesteps the tea table and comes around to her side of the room, kneeling down by her bed attentively. She glances over at Rory before asking in a hushed voice, “Are you an alien?”

That, he wasn’t expecting. “...What?”

She shakes her head reassuringly, “It’s okay, I won’t tell. But um…I would like my dad back eventually please. If that’s okay.”

His breath stutters and he forces out an, “O—okay.”

She holds out her pinky and it takes him a second to register what she’s asking. He wordlessly pinky promises her and she smiles big, pleased with the agreement.

He stands again, feeling light headed as he heads for the door.

“Goodnight, Daddy,” Rory murmurs against the pillow, watching him leave.

His gaze flickers back and forth from them to make sure they like having the door closed, Rory watches him bemusedly and Laine nods at him slyly with a twinkle in her eyes. “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight,” He exhales, not as loud as he meant to. He clicks the door shut softly and there’s a warmth in his chest that he could get addicted to.

He wanders down the hall towards the sound of your voice, passing Anna and Ryan climbing under their covers and murmuring something to each other, half eaten popsicle in the ladders hand. He passes the staircase, peering his head into the next room over. His eyes immediately land on you and Mia stood in front of an armoire, shuffling through clothes having an exchange of considerative words.

Mia’s room is very neat and put together, everything is placed with much more intention than in the other girls rooms. Her room has more mellow colors too, largely white with soft shades of pastels throughout. There’s a desk with organized notebooks and multiple vases of flowers, with bundles of yarn placed nicely in a basket in the corner. A tall bookshelf is filled with fifty-some books with a violin case leaning up against it. Nail polishes rest beside a jewelry box on the side table next to her bed. She also has picture frames across the walls, some containing photos of flora, others of the family, and a few of what appears to be her own sketches.

“—worried it’s too showy, you know?”

You hum, “I don’t think so, I mean, not for picture day.”

Mia turns to Jason, shirt held up against her body. “What do you think?”

He takes a second to bounce back from the surprise of being asked the question, “I, uh…I like it.”

You smile at him as Mia faces you again, “Okay, so this with that flowy lilac skirt?”

“The lilac…yeah, that would be cute.”

She nods pleased, draping the shirt over the back of the armchair in the corner.

You and Jason head out of the room, closing the door on your way out so she can change into her pajamas.

“Goodnight!” she calls out through the crack in the door. You and Jason return it in sync, clicking the door closed. You hold his hand as you walk past the twins' open door, giving them the same sentiment with Jason’s own following quickly after. They call it out back, louder than necessary, and you close your bedroom door behind the two of you.

You rest against the door and he leans his head back against the wall next to you, glancing over at you. “I won’t remember any of this?” He seems dejected at the idea, not happy to have been handed the world and then having it swiped from his memory immediately after.

You consider it for a second, shaking your head, “I don’t think so.”

He’s quiet for a bit, thinking. “Do you have a marker?”

“A marker?” You look around casually, “Uh, yeah.” You unclip a sharpie from the mini calendar pinned against the wall, tossing it to him. You watch curiously as he holds his forearm out in front of him, popping the lid off with his mouth.

The light in the room starts to dim dramatically until his vision is completely dark. The pull of gravity on his body feels wrong and a pang of fire shoots against the side of his head.

“Hood.” He hears in the darkness, “Hood.” The commanding voice startles him awake once again. “Are you alright?”

He blinks up at Batman blearily, feeling like he’s just gotten hit over the head with a chair. “What…what—”

“The Clock King. He threw some sort of device at you. It knocked you out for a few minutes. Are you alright?”

He feels dizzy. “Uh…yeah.”

He cranes his head to glance over at where the Clock King is hunched over on the ground, handcuffed, inspecting the cartridge of his device closely. “Damn it, I knew it wasn’t right. Meant to knock him into the past.” He tells Nightwing like it’s some common mistake they can bond over.

Nightwing moues at him “I don’t care?”

Knock him into the—did he go to the future? He can’t get his thoughts in order, let alone summon memories from the future. Frankly, it doesn’t matter that much to him right now—he’s sore and wants to just fall asleep next to you.

He sits up slowly, grimacing as the pain in his head sharpens for a moment. Batman clasps his hand on his shoulder, holding him steady. “Can you stand?”

Hood grunts and pushes himself up, anchoring his weight against the ground. “Fuck. I’m going home.”

Batman says nothing to protest, instead joining Nightwing and pulling The Clock King up from the ground. Jason stumbles away towards his bike, thankful that he’s only a couple miles away from your apartment. Jesus, the future? You’re not going to believe that shit.

He climbs onto the bike with a groan, pushing up his sleeves as he prepares to start the bike. He doesn’t notice it until he revs it, but when he looks down at his left arm, he sees scribbled on his arm in sharpie:

WE’RE HAPPY

❤️ REBLOGGING = SUPPORTING ❤️

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inklore · 2 days

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COLIN BRIDGERTON IS A BOOB GUY.

He is the epitome of a boob guy, and he doesn’t even try to hide it either. Doesn’t stop himself from constantly needing a hand up your shirt to cup one of your boobs while the two of you cuddle or sleep. Doesn’t try to make excuses as to why he loves you wearing low cut tops. Loves the way your boobs spill out of a tight dress, or if a top is cut low enough, how the display of the skin between them makes his eyes constantly travel the expanse of said skin.

The skin his mouth has been on a dozen times. The skin that his tongue has left a wet trail along on his way to one of your nipples.

And when he can see those same nipples poke out against the fabric of your shirt, his jaw aches.

His tongue runs along his dry lips, reaching for a drink to quench his dry mouth. To distract himself from leaning over and wetting the material of your top as his lips wrap around your clothed nipple—his teeth biting the sensitive peak until your chest is withering beneath him.

You never knew how sensitive one’s chest could be. How a brush of a thumb against your hardened nipple could have you mewling. How the touch of a palm squeezing your breast could feel fucking amazing.

Colin undeniably proving those things to you.

Showing you just how sinful and torturous one’s mouth can be when it’s worshiping someone’s chest. When hands, tongue, and teeth have you soaking through your underwear, your pussy throbbing as if you’ve already come multiple times just from how good it feels.

Spent.

And he’s barely touched you where you need him to.

You’d think such acts would stay in the bedroom. Not leak their way out and have him acting up in public.

But Colin Bridgerton is not a subtle man.

And you look too damn good for him to not act up.

To not stare longer than is appropriate when you’re in public. To not chew on his bottom lip when you bend over, reach for something that makes your boobs press together, brush your chest against his when you pass him to get to the other side of the room.

Or if he’s feeling even more devious and wanting, his thumb rubbing small, slow circles against the fabric of your top. Right where your nipple grows hard. Right in the middle of a group of people, where it looks to them, a husband or lover is embracing his beloved. Shielding her from someone passing. Telling her a secret. About to lean in for a kiss.

Definitely not making her swallow down the small gasps that cave in her lungs from the feel he is copping.

From the breath at the shell of her ear when he whispers, “let’s go home.”

Home.

Where he strips you down and worships your body like he’s studying it to have it carved into stone. Studying it like he’ll never get to touch it again. Like this might be his last day on earth, and by god, he’s going to take his time, going to touch, kiss, lick, and bite every part of you he knows will illicit the filthiest of noises. The sweetest of moans. The heaviest of breaths.

Both of his hands holding a handful of your breasts, a thumb and forefinger playing with one nipple while his mouth sucks and nips at the other.

The more he does so, the more sensitive you become. The more you beg him to touch your pussy. To fuck you. To stop moving the underside of his cock against your wetness while he marks up your chest—devours, claims, moans against the peaks that have made him delirious all day—and push inside of you.

To make you come around him if only to stop this torture.

And when he finally does, when you’ve come enough times for him to be satisfied and your body to feel hot and heavy with sedation against him, he’ll grin against your lips. Run a hand across your forehead, down your cheek, fingers cupping your jaw.

“I need to see you covered in me.”

You don’t have to question what he means. Don’t have to give him permission other than the breathy gasp he swallows down with his mouth pressing to yours. You know what he wants. What he’s craved all day.

When he pulls out of you, your pussy feels swollen and hollow—like you lost the thing that was making you feel whole.

But the need is still building back up. Still there even after your body has been built up and tumbled down already tonight. It’s hard for your body not to react to Colin moving up it, placing his wet cock between the expanse of your chest, pushing your boobs together, and letting out the weakest moan when he starts to move.

His hips stuttering even though he’s just started. His mouth hung open as he watches the way his cock moves against your skin. Between your beautiful breasts.

Eyes flashing up to yours, making your own moan fall from your lips at how big his blue eyes shine with desire. How all it takes is your tongue snaking out from between your lips and moving against the head of his cock once, twice, when his hips thrust forward, for a guttural groan to shake his chest and his come painting across your skin.

And once he can think straight, once his breath isn’t heaving from his lungs and he’s looking like a tortured man, he wraps a hand around his still hardened cock and smears the come at his tip against your nipple.

Both your mouths twitching from released breaths.

“You are beautiful.” He says as he admires his come on your chest, before his eyes meet yours with a smile.

#this is definitely leaning more modern day colin but i tried to add a little bit of canon too #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton smut #colin bridgerton x you #bridgerton smut #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton fanfiction #colin bridgerton x y/n #colin bridgerton imagine #colin bridgerton fic

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deadsetobsessions · 22 hours

Text

Sea Cryptic!Danny Phantom- pt. 8

If I had a nickel for every time I’ve been to the hospital in the past three years, I’d have enough money to buy a bag of skittles from Target. Most of it wasn’t for me though lol I’ll add this onto the list in a bit, but I tend to do that from my desktop but I’m still currently attached to an IV drip. I’ve also never been this hydrated in my life lmao

——

Danny poked a puffed up pufferfish. The poison floated through his ghost form and did nothing but give him a little zap. Danny chuckled, wiping away a bit of oil that had gotten onto the fish from a nearby oil spill. Jesus fuck. Danny knew that bald headed, easily drawn Vlad wannabe from across the river would do something terrible to Gotham’s waters (not that it needed help being atrocious to Danny’s clean water appreciation).

The puffer fish- Danny gave up on understanding Gotham’s water ecosystem, having realized that it was a cursed mix of saltwater and freshwater and swamp- gave a fearful little wiggle and Danny let it go, turning to the oil particles floating around.

Danny took out his phone.

“Danny? Why the hell are you calling at three in the morning?”

Danny raised a hand and blasted out some ice, gathering the oil up. “Hey Sam. If I got you into contact with Poison Ivy, do you think you could team up to get rid of Lex Luthor’s new holding company in Gotham?”

“Danny, are you asking me to commit an act of ecoterrorism?”

“That’s not even the weirdest thing I’ve ever asked you to do.” Danny placed a hand on the ice mass and flew it, the oil, and himself across the river to Metropolis.

“Deal.” Sam’s voice gets further away as she pulled her phone from her ear. “I’ll text Tucker, see if he could futz with Luthor’s taxes. I heard her doesn’t even give his workers a livable wage, and that’s so not gonna fly.”

“Perfect! Thanks! We could totally meet up and hang out with my new friends!”

“Hah! That Tim guy? The one that wanted you to introduce Phantom to him?”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, goth girl.”

“Sure, dork. I’ll swing by Friday?”

“Sure! Want me to pick you up?” Danny phased through Lex Luthor’s frankly ridiculous amounts of security measures, still completely invisible and towing a giant mass of oil covered ice.

“Cool. Now hang up. I actually need sleep.”

“Ah, you must be dead tired. I get it.”

Sam hung up, and a second later, Danny got a pic of her holding up a middle finger with her signature purple nail polish.

Danny stared down at the sleeping billionaire. Gross. He let his face re enter the visible spectrum and lowered the temperature of the room drastically. Luthor groaned, waking up as he shivered like a hyped up chihuahua.

Danny bared his teeth, glowing green skin reflecting the black holes of the universe and imploding stars and burning planets as he leaned towards the frozen two bit villain.

“RESPECT THE PLANET,” Danny snarled. He unmelted the invisible ice as he simultaneously made the oil visible, the entirety of the oil spill coating every single inch of Luthor’s penthouse bedroom. Danny winked out, but not before snapping a quick picture of Lex Luthor’s absolutely covered in his company’s oil spill.

If Danny had made sure that there were fish droppings mixed in with the oil… that was his own damn business.

——

Danny floated over to a brooding Batman.

“Do you have two hundred dollars on you?” Danny asked in lieu of a greeting.

Batman grunted a yes.

“Two hundred dollars for a photo of Lex Luthor being hit with karma.”

Batman instantly handed over the cash and received a printed out photo of Lex Luthor (in his Lexcorp pjs) covered by fossil fuel.

"Is this..."

"The oil from his oil spill? Yes."

Batman stared at the picture.

"Why was this more expensive than ID'ing corpses?"

"Cause it's funnier. And dead people deserve more consideration than a egg looking ass polluting everything he touches."

Superman zoomed into the space in front of them, face eager.

"I heard you had something about Luthor?"

Danny figured that Batman probably contacted the hero, and confidently said, "$200 for personal use, $300 for commercial use."

Superman quickly got together three hundred dollars in cash and quickly forked it over. Danny gave him another physical copy of the photo and a usb drive with the photo in a digital format.

"I am so pinning this up." Superman muttered.

"Get out of my city." Batman said flatly. Superman waved a hand, beamed at Danny, and left.

"Did you know Gotham's waters is a mixture of freshwater, swamp, and saltwater habitats?"

Batman grunted.

"Also, please stop stalking Danny Fenton. It's odd."

Batman swiveled his head over. "What."

Danny stared him down. "Stop. Stalking. Innocent. Bystanders. Or else I will recreate the phrase "drowned rat" with you as the subject."

Batman stilled.

"I don't kill, by the way. I can, however, dunk you in the sea and lift you up like a goth version of Simba."

Batman relaxed minutely. "I can't."

"And why not?"

Batman gave him a despairing look. "Have you met my children?"

"... Point."

#dcxdp #danny phantom #batman #tim drake #lex luthor #lex luthor is hated in gotham #bamf danny phantom #sea cryptid danny phantom

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catch1ngmoths · 1 day

Note

Hi ok so I was wondering if you can do a comfort fic with joost? Like joost sees readers past SH scars and reader really hates them and finds them disgusting but joost just kisses readers wrist and reader just starts bawling 😔🫶 if this makes u uncomfortable you don’t have to write it I won’t be upset! 🫶🫶🫶

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ STRAWBERRY GASHES⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝄞⨾“Watch me falter, Your living like a disaster. She said kill me faster with strawberry gashes all over” - jack off Jill𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

Summary: you have self harm scars but you’ve never told your boyfriend, Joost. One day you forget about the scars and wear somthing that reveals them. Much to your surprise Joost isn’t as disgusted in them as you are.

Note: thank you for all the love on my last fic, I am currently running on….0 hours of sleep and it’s like 1pm where I live so I’m pretty exhausted so this will probably be my last fic for today unless I get bored! Also!! I see all y’all’s requests and even though I don’t respond right away doesn’t mean I’m ignoring them or don’t see them! I like to respond to the request with the fic so you won’t know I saw it until the actual fic comes out! ^_^

Warnings: SELF HARM TW!! other then that just comfort and fluff >~<

༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚ ༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚ ༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚

You and Joost had been together for a few months and everything was going great! He loved you more than anyone else ever could, even if they tried. He held you when you felt anxious or upset. Felt excited with you when you were happy and made sure you were always take care of. Always.

But there was one thing you hid from him, something that ate you alive every single day. Joost always questioned with a chuckle why you wore long sleeves in 90 degree weather but you just shrugged it off, saying you were always cold. That was a lie, you were sweating but you were also hiding something that’d hurt you a little more than a little sweat.

Your old sh scars. You struggled with it on a daily basis, sure they were old but they still managed to haunt you. You felt disgusted by yourself everytime you caught glimpses of them and you were sure Joost would too. I mean…who would want a partner that has scars like that.?

Today was the day you find out because being to caught up in excitement to hang out with Joost you forgot about the scars that littered your arms (or anywhere else, so so sorry to be so an inclusive ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)) you put on a pair of your favorite shorts and shirt and head out the door to joosts place, not even looking twice.

Once you arrive, an equally excited Joost greats you and drags you to his room. You weren’t even thinking about it, so in love with your boyfriend to even care. He didn’t even notice either, finding every part of you perfect…until.

Until you lifted your arm in a certain way, that put your scars on full display. You noticed that Joost stoped mid speaking and looked over to him to see his face that was full of emotion that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was a mix of sadness, confusion, fear, and shock.

You look at him confused until your eyes follow his that were deadpan staring right at your scars. You gasp softly and cover your scars, sitting up immediately. You felt ringing in your ears and your heart rate quickening. You lower your head and feel the tears of shame and embarrassment start to burn in your eyes.

You feel the touch of your beloveds soft fingertips grab your hand, interlocking y’all’s fingers and pulling your arm towards him. You keep your head down and squeeze your eyes shut trying to block everything out.

When you suddenly felt soft kisses on the places your scars were spread. Your eyes snap open and your head raises to look at Joost. He presses soft and gentle kisses on every.singe.scar. He makes sure to press 3 to each one for good measure.

Your heart feels heavy and you just burst into tears, Joost is close to tears as well. Once hes done you immediately jump into his arms, he strokes your back and whispers soft words of praise to you waiting for you to calm down.

Once you’re calmer, only small tears flowing down your wet cheeks he props you in his lap and holds you close. “I knew something was up when you kept wearing all those long sleeves..” he whispers almost kicking himself for not noticing sooner.

“I-I’m sorry… they’re old I promise!! A-and I just didn’t want you to see because they’re ugly and i just didn’t-” your cut off by a soft kiss being pressed to your lips. “Shh…you don’t have to give any explanation or reason unless you want to, okay?” He speaks with that signature smile that you loved so dearly

“You’re…you’re not disgusted.?” You ask looking up at him, he almost looks exasperated at your words. His eyes widening and mouth parting. “Disgusted.?! Why the hell would I be disgusted mijn geliefde, you’re so beautiful to me. Everything about you, even your scars.” He says with a soft smile and a kiss to your head.

“They’re gross, I ruined my skin and now they’re gonna be there forever…” you argue as you lower your head back down and play with his fingers, “so? Who cares, first of all they’re not gross, they’re not disgusting, you’re not ugly and will never be ugly. You’re not ruined and they just show how much of a fighter you are baby. Nothing to be ashamed about, promise.” He says interlocking your pinkies together

You smile and giggle softly, tears still staining your cheeks which Joost quickly kissed away making you laugh and push his head away, “Joost that tickles!!” You squeal as he smiles and peppers ticklish kisses over your face.

You knew no matter what you looked like or what happened or hell even what you went through he would always be there for you. He would forever and always be your biggest supporter. He loved you for you and nothing less.

#joost x fem reader #Joost x male reader #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost klein #joost klein x you #justice for joost

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chaldeanu · 16 hours

Text

taste of home ノ aventurine

ꕤ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . requested by @yinyuedijun ノ i slightly changed the prompt as you said you’re okay with it. i couldn’t come up with any inspiration for an avgin dish, and anything else would require many many more words hehe so i just kept that “homemade” part. i hope you will enjoy the read! ♡

ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 0.6k ノ gn reader — established relationship . soft bickering . making dinner ノ mostly domestic fluff but it’s aventurine so obviously a sprinkle of hurt comfort ノ vague mentions of his past

“you never eat at home.”

home sounds distant. aventurine is not used to hearing that word; he’s baffled at how easy it is for you to mention it in any conversation you spark with him.

“why should i? i have enough money to—”

“why shouldn’t you? just once in a while?” an offer, all you can muster with a shrug of your shoulders, knowing well that he would only get more defensive if you were to push him any further with a stern tone. “don’t you want at least to try?”

he doesn’t remember how the food he used to eat with his family tasted like. its memory mingled with the taste of blood, dirt, and dry rations he had to live on for some time. now that he thinks about it — now that you forced him to think about it — maybe that’s exactly why he wants to eat only fancy full-course meals at the finest restaurants. correct, he should get over this irrational fear, but it is so deeply ingrained in his core. an inseparable part.

“for someone so cocky, it’s almost weird to see how often you’re scared of trying new things.” you say it gently, holding his hand in between yours and caressing his knuckles with the soft pads of your thumbs.

“aww, don’t say that,” he chuckles. “you’re usually the one that runs away behind me when something startles you or asks me to do something for you, haha!”

“no?! i’m not. i’m doing fine on my own!” you huff, crossing your arms on your chest.

he grins and shakes his head at you. but it doesn’t look mischievous, not this time. even if you want to continue being stubborn, there’s no point in dragging out this silly argument that, frankly, is completely unrelated to the main topic. to which you return, with your gaze almost pleading.

“we barely used that table in the dining room since moving in here. i can make you something.”

he blinks a few times, tilting his head slightly to come up with a witty answer. but you ignore it, patting him to sit on the chair and yourself going into the kitchen.

to kill the remaining time, he plays with the cuffs of his shirt, picking off nonexistent lint from the silk, before he drops his shoulders down with a sigh. it feels good to just let the day pass, eyes unfocused at the glimmers of the afternoon sun dancing through the windows; he’s glancing at his phone every few minutes, ignoring replying to the messages from work despite them occupying his mind more than he would like to.

not even noticing when he hears your voice calling for him as you come back. the food smells great, and it makes him more nervous as he keeps staring at the dish you put in front of him.

you’re trying not to smile at the sight of him mouthing something under his nose, not sure what, but if you’re not mistaken, something along the lines of being too good for him or making him uncomfortable — or both. for whatever reason, you expected he would take it worse than this.

“you like it?”

“it’s fine.” there’s a pause when his throat ties into a knot, tears threatening to gather in the corner of his eyes.

unsurprising reaction. you sigh and get up from your seat, moving to the other side of the table to put a hand on his shoulder. with each reassuring rub, you take little steps until you’re behind him and your fingers slip into his hair, massaging the scalp in lazy circles.

“let me get my coffee. i will join you in a moment.” you kiss the top of his head and walk away.

and he’s thankful that he can swallow that unexpected surge of emotions without you sitting in front of him.

#—writing.#aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine x you #star rail x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you

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leashaoki · 13 hours

Text

selfish

pairing: satoru gojo x fem! reader

synopsis: it’s been months since gojo broke up with you, so why is he outside of your window at 4am?

warnings: angst, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, exes to lovers

wc: 4.7k

this post contains nsfw content, minors do not interact.

It’s 4 a.m., and Gojo finds himself at the entrance of your apartment complex. He’s drenched from head to toe, having turned off his infinity hours ago; he just wanted to feel. The cold dampness of his clothes was almost comforting, and the droplets cascading down from his hair to his face were welcomed. Gojo, just for tonight, wanted to feel human.

He isn’t even entirely sure how he got here; it wasn’t a case of teleporting to your place as he usually would. No, Gojo had wandered aimlessly (or so he thought) and ended up here, gazing up at the dark window to your bedroom and wondering what you were doing, how you looked, and how you were feeling. Were you even awake?

It had been a few months since he had broken it off with you, coldly rejecting you when he noticed the signs of you falling in love with him. He was unforgivingly callous with you that night, acting as if you were insane for thinking there was anything serious between the two of you and that it was just a bit of fun.

If only you understood how untrue each and every word that he said that night truly was. Gojo adored you, terrifyingly so; it scared him to no end. He had his reasons for calling things off; he believed them to be necessary, but that didn’t change the gnarling pit that had been festering in his chest ever since. Satoru missed you; he missed you so damn much that his only distraction was throwing himself into mission after mission. But at night, when there was no company but his empty sheets and no voice but the dismal hum of the television, he felt empty, lost, and alone.

He looks up to your window again, his heart skipping a beat when he notices the dim glow of your lamp lighting up the glass. Mind racing, he conjures up thoughts of someone else sharing your bed, touching you, holding you—why else would you be up at this godforsaken time?

His thoughts are interrupted when he sees a familiar face peep up over the window sill, your eyes meeting his. That warm feeling returns to his chest, a feeling he hadn’t felt since he saw you last. Gojo notices the way the streetlights around him flicker at his surge of emotion and gets himself in check.

He doesn’t even have time to think about how much of a creep he looks like at that moment before his phone rings. Looking down and seeing your name pop up on the screen, he answers without hesitation, watching as you climb onto your window, sitting on the sill and peering down at him, confused, hurt, and angry.

The call begins, and no one speaks, just the two of you gazing at each other from afar. Gojo thinks to himself how beautiful you look and ponders how much more beautiful you’d look up close. A half smile graces his lips, a greeting—a greeting not mirrored by you. You’re frowning, rolling your eyes to mask the sadness you feel. Much like Gojo’s small smile, you’re both hiding the pain that’s eating you up, threatening to break through the surface at any given moment. Saturo removes his blindfold, stuffing it into his pocket and revelling in how angelic you look up there. It feels like forever passes before you say, “What are you doing here, Gojo?”

He flinches; you never called him Gojo, always Satoru, or his personal favourite, Toru. It felt so cold, so not you. The man swallows audibly, a shakiness to his breath that he’d rather conceal as he sighs, “I don’t know.”

Gojo sees the way you scoff, shaking your head in exasperation. "Gojo, if you don’t know why you’re outside my place, like a fucking creep, may I add, at four in the morning, then politely fuck off.”

“Hey, come on.” His voice is soft like silk, and there's an air to his tone that feels different; there’s no cockiness, no ego, just Gojo. “I wanted to see you; is that such a bad thing?”

“You mean, after you were a total dick and we agreed on no contact? Yeah, Gojo, it kind of is.”

The use of his surname burns again, the blow not having been lessened since the first time. “Just let me in, please,” he practically begs. “I want to talk; I’ve missed you.” Satoru hardly recognises himself; he’d never been one to put his heart on the line, to speak so softly to someone though they detested his presence; not that he blamed you.

He can see the lack of trust in your expression, looking away from him when you speak up next. "Look, Gojo, if you’re looking for someone to fuck, I’m not interested. I’m sure there’s someone else you can call.”

You could act cold and stoic all you wanted; Gojo could hear the hurt in your voice and sense your sadness in the words. It sends a wave of guilt through him. You sound so broken, broken because of him. He’d kill someone for using you like that, to think you thought that of him cut deep. But how else could you see him? That’s the narrative that he’d created when he’d falsely convinced you that he saw your blatant relationship as nothing but fuck buddies. He struggled to see how you fell for that—with the way he couldn’t go a day without seeing you—and how you’d wake up wrapped in his arms with his lips on your ear, whispering how important you are to him each and every morning.

“I wouldn’t do that to you. That’s not what I’m here for,” he begins, shaking his head and noting the way you look back towards him, a look of vulnerability crossing your features. “I just want to talk; let me in, please. You know, I’m not one to beg, but if you really want me to, I will.”

Your silence speaks volumes, raising a brow at the icy-haired nuisance floors below you. The quiet is broken by a sigh from Gojo, and you watch in both horror and amusement as the six eyes himself gets down on his knees on a dirty sidewalk in the rain. He places his phone on the ground beside him, raising his hands in a praying gesture and looking up at you with the most dramatic set of puppy dog eyes you ever did see.

Gojo sees you disappear, and the call ends, the look on his face contorting to one of defeat. He groans, holding his head in his hands and shaking it. Stupid, he thought, how stupid of him to think you’d hear him out, stupid of him to think you still cared after what he’d done. Mildly embarrassed at his current position, he picks up his phone next to him and places it in his pocket. He’s about to stand when he hears the bell chime from your apartment's intercom, followed by your voice: “Come on up. Doors open.”

Gojo doesn’t need to be told twice; he jumps up and runs through the door like a giddy child on Christmas morning. He doesn’t bother waiting for the elevator, sprinting up multiple flights of stairs, and almost skidding past your door in an attempt to stop himself. Bursting through the door with a stupid lob-sided grin on his face, he opens out his arms and beams, "Honey, I’m home!”

He’s met with you scowling at him from the couch, an unimpressed look on your face while you roll your eyes and emit an exasperated sigh, “Hi Gojo.”

Satoru blows the damp locks from his eyes, clearing his throat and wiping that stupid smile from his face, replacing it with the look of a child who’s been scolded: "Sorry, I uh-hey.” He rubs the back of his head, planting himself on the couch next to you, and feels a tinge (more like an avalanche) of hurt when you scoot a little further away from him.

“Are you going to tell me what you want?” He hears the question, but it hardly registers. Gojo’s captivated by the cute pyjamas you’re wearing, your hair being slightly ruffled from being in bed, the smell of your apartment, and how it feels like home. He comes back to Earth when he hears you say his name impatiently, clearing his throat and then regaining his composure.

“Would it not be enough for me to just say I missed your company?” He asks with a toothy smile, desperately attempting to avoid finally addressing his emotions. Gojo sees the way your shoulders drop in annoyance, shaking your head and crossing your arms. He misses the way you used to look at him, eyes full of adoration and laughter at his goofy jokes. It felt like a million years ago, but not long ago at all. Time had been blurred for Saturo since the demise of your relationship.

“If you don’t start talking in the next five seconds, I’m kicking your ass out.”

“Fuck, fine, okay, shit.” He fumbles with his words, running a hand through his hair and sighing. Smooth talker Satoru was gone; this was uncharted territory for him. Looking at the ground, he scratches at the back of his neck and mumbles out a low, "I, uh, wanted to apologise.”

“Oh really? ”You raise a brow, clearly unconvinced, as you tilt your head towards him, an accusatory squint in your eyes. Gojo clicks his tongue; his half-arsed apology clearly wouldn’t do.

"Yeah, I…well, I,” Searching for the words, he wracks his brain for exactly what to say; he couldn’t exactly just confess his undying love for you. No, Gojo needed to explain what the fuck had happened that night. “I feel really bad about the way things ended, you know? You didn’t deserve that, and I-“

"Well, it’s too late.”

Gojo’s mouth runs dry, his heart lurching into his throat. “What do you mean it’s too late?” Panic consumes him, and he’s unable to hide it from his expression—eyes widening, brows shooting up, and his lip practically quivering. “Is there someone else? Have you got a boyfriend? That’s weird because I’ve been kind of keeping tags on you, and I haven’t heard anything about a new-“

“Gojo, I’m not seeing anyone.” You try to ignore his ramblings and admittance to borderline stalking. “But that’s irrelevant; you hurt me, probably more than any guy has... You know I would’ve expected it from anyone else, but not you.” Your voice breaks a little, fighting the waterworks that are threatening to run down your cheeks. “I guess I thought you were different.”

Gojo’s heart splinters, his grip on the arm of the sofa tightening like a vice. His hands begin to shake, and your television turns to static, his powers only growing stronger under the intense emotions he’s emitting. He looks down at the ground, a look of shame falling over his features as he runs a hand over his face. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

"Well, Gojo, you did. A fucking lot, actually.” You scoff sarcastically, shaking your head in disbelief. He flinches at your words, and you continue with a sigh, “It’s okay that you didn’t love me like I loved you; that isn’t your fault. What was your fault? You were not being truthful with me from the start about what sort of relationship we had.”

“It hurts when you call me Gojo,” is all he can say. He wants to slap himself; why was it so hard for him to tell you the truth? You were pouring your heart out to him, and that was his response? Fuck, he thinks, you’re an asshole, Satoru.

"Well, Gojo, I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s hurt.” You stand, ignoring his worried gaze, as you make your way over to the door. Your backs to him as you exhale exhaustively, if not a little sad. You lean forward, resting your forehead against the door. “You should leave Gojo; I can’t. I can’t do this right now.”

You don’t hear him dart up from your sofa, moving inhumanly fast towards you. Gojo’s really panicking now; he has no intention of leaving as he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. Your eyes meet, and it’s as if a current runs between the two of you, ebbing the small gap now separating your bodies. The lights go out in your apartment, and you just know it’s Gojo, with a strange look in his eyes as he struggles to contain both his powers and the strength he’s withholding from his grasp. He cages you against the door, hands planted on either side of your head, and lips dangerously close to yours. Gojo searches your eyes and ushers out a desperate, hurried whisper of your name, followed by, “I love you.”

Everything stills, a thick silence surrounding the two of you. You can’t quite believe your ears, convinced this is some sort of sick joke. “You what?”

Gojo’s eyes go slightly dewy, a somewhat defeated look to his gaze as he shifts, so he’s holding your face in his hands, pressing his forehead against yours. “I love you. I love you so fucking much I can’t stand it. You’re… You’re everything. Please don’t make me leave, please.”

“B..But…” You’re so confused, barely grasping what he’s saying to you. He looks so earnest, his eyes burning into you as he waits for a reply, but how can you trust him? His slender fingers softly rub your cheek where he holds you, so gentle and loving that it’s nauseating. “Then why?”

“Why did I do it?” He hums, his voice so low that it sounds distant. There’s a level of nonchalance to his tone; instead, he’s enraptured and hypnotised by the proximity of you both; he’s dazed as he drawls a quiet, “Because you’re weak.” Gojo’s pulled out of his daze by the hurt painting your features as you look away, the way you’ve attempted to jolt away from his touch as if he’s burned you.

“No, no, you don’t understand. Shit, sorry. That came out wrong. I'm not good at this, feelings and shit.” He still hasn’t let go of you; your faces are mere inches from each other; he couldn’t even if he wanted to. Gojo’s an addict for you; drunk off of your presence alone, he’d gone without you for too long, craving you for months. He tilts his head to the side, gently moving your face back towards his and clearing his throat.

“What I mean is that you’re important to me—more important than you could ever imagine. But to bring you into my world would be reckless and foolish; it would be a fucking death sentence. I’m the strongest sorcerer of our generation; no one dares to fuck with me, but you know who they could fuck with to hurt me.” A look of understanding and a little fear come over you, and you let out a shaky breath.

He smiles sadly, “You.”

One of your hands snakes up to his chest, moving softly over the ridges of his muscles beneath the shirt. You can feel the beat of his heart, the erratic thudding matching your own. “Then why are you here?”

He blinks slowly, the hands holding your cheeks gently trailing to hold your jaw so softly that you feel like his most prized possession. “Because I’m selfish. Because I want you despite the consequences.“ Gojo closes the small space separating your faces, licking his lips before his eyes dart to your mouth, entranced by the thought of it against his own again, finally saying, “Because I can’t stay away from you anymore.”

Gojo’s nose brushes against yours, those ocean-like eyes begging you for permission. You couldn’t refuse him now; you never could. The hand resting on his chest snakes up to his shoulder, tugging him ever so slightly to show him and tell him, yes.

A small smile hints at his lips before his mouth touches yours, relief surging through you both at the contact. Gojo holds your face tenderly, kissing you as if you’d break apart before him. He takes his time, gently nibbling at your lips and kissing you almost innocently while his fingers caress your jaw. He hums contentedly, pressing himself into you and craning his neck down to get a better angle. Towering over you, one of his hands trails down to your waist, his soft hands drawing circles on the skin of your stomach.

Gojo savours every touch of your lips against his, flitting his tongue against your lower lip, seeking entrance and sighing when your mouth opens. His tongue dances around yours expertly, tasting you as if you were ambrosia; he was a man starved, savouring every flick of your pink muscle against his.

Gojo deepens the kiss a little, pressing his hips flush against yours. He groans low in his chest when your hands tug at his hair softly, taking your tongue into his mouth and sucking erotically. It sends a wave of pleasure down to your core, and you gasp softly, moaning a soft “Toru.”

You feel Gojo pull away a little, panicking slightly, until you see the look on his face. His eyes are blown wide and glittering in the darkness like stars. His jaw is taut as if he’s grinding his teeth, and his cheekbones are protruding even more than usual. A streetlight outside fizzles and explodes at the same time one of his eyes twitch; he’s breathing heavily, chest heaving.

“Again,” he commands darkly, an air to his tone that personifies his true power; it was as if his voice reverberated around your brain, low and dominating.

It had been far too long since he had heard his name on your sweet lips; the result had his brain short-circuiting. He wanted to hear it again—in your moans, your whispers, and your screams. Gojo feels an ache between his thighs, an insatiable ache that only you can rid him of.

“Toru,” you murmur, looking up at him with your big doe eyes and swollen mouth. A growl festers in his throat, pushing you up against the door and leaning down to nibble at your neck, sucking and biting, leaving his mark.

“Again,” he repeats, his face buried in your skin as he litters your skin with purple marks. Taking his onslaught downwards to your chest, nipping at your collar bones. Gojo’s mind is hazy with you—the need to take you, the need to love you, the need to ruin you, the need to keep you by his side for eternity—or else he swears he’d unleash an untold wrath on this godforsaken planet.

“Toru,” His name leaves your lips again as his lips cascade down, his fingers hooking the hem of your pyjama top so your breasts are free from their confines. He whines at the sight, his hips buckling as you feel his warm, wet mouth around your nipple. Swirling his tongue around the bud, his slender fingers toy with the one unoccupied by his lips, revelling in the throaty gasps that leave you when he tugs teasingly.

“I missed you so much,” Satoru drawls as he slowly gets to his knees. He’s looking up at you with so much adoration, as if you hung the moon from the very sky above the two of you. There’s a softness to his gaze that you’d missed; the formidable six eyes was nothing but ‘Toru’ to you; you hardly understood the Jujutsu world. That’s what made you so special to Gojo; you saw him as human, unaware of how far from that he was.

He tugs down your shorts, watching your face closely for any signs of discomfort. When he’s met with only that needy, eager look in your eyes, he chuckles a little. Your shorts hit the floor, and Gojo licks his lips, a breathy exhale emitting from him. You’re bare before him, and he can hardly contain his excitement to taste you again. His nose nudges the inside of your thigh, planting painfully gentle kisses around the skin. Gojo’s lips worship everywhere but your pussy, teasingly torturing you until you’re whimpering above him. He grins when your hands lace in his hair, attempting and failing to push him closer to your core.

“One more time for me, baby,” Satoru mutters, licking a lewd stripe up your thigh and maintaining direct eye contact with you as he does so. “Say my name.”

“Toru, please,” Your sweet little voice, begging for him, snaps something inside Gojo. His mouth latches on your clit , a strained growl tearing through his chest at the taste of you on his tongue. Pretty blue eyes rolling back, Satoru feeds on you like a man starved, your essence dripping down his chin while he works your pussy like the God he is. Two fingers push inside of you as his tongue stays focused on your bud, your mind in a daze as whimpers and cries leave you.

He curls them perfectly, hitting your sweet spot and having your knees buckle above him. His free hand holds you up effortlessly against the door, as if you were a mere feather in his grasp, while he ravenously feasts between your legs. He’s groaning into you, creating a delicious vibration that has you seeing stars.

“Taste so fucking good.” His voice is muffled, sputtering out amongst your wetness. You can feel it seeping down your thighs, too lost in the pleasure to feel coy as you begin to rut against his mouth. He practically whines, loving the feeling of you humping your cunt against his plump lips.

Gojo knows you’re getting close when he feels you tightening around his fingers, increasing his speed and the pressure with which he’s sucking on your clit. His snowy locks bounce up and down below you at his movements, azure eyes fluttering shut as his full focus is centred on bringing you to your peak.

It doesn’t take long before you're thrown over the edge, crying out something unintelligible, and your body goes slack. Gojo coaxes you through it, his movements slowing but not ceasing as you ride out your high. He bundles you into his arms, and you hardly notice you’re so lost in euphoria, carrying you effortlessly to the bedroom and lying you on the bed below him.

He stands above you, towering over you as he pulls his shirt over his head, a cocky grin on his lips when he sees your eyes practically meld to the shape of hearts. His abdominal muscles are shadowed in the light of the moon; a figure of pure excellence stands before you. He puts those marbled Greek gods to shame, with milky skin melded over a body of pure strength and agility. You wonder if he was crafted by the gods themselves, but that thought quickly disappears when he strips himself of his trousers, your mind going blank when you see the bulge in his boxers.

Gojo smirks, reading your mind. “Nothing on you, babe,” he chimes, ridding himself of his underwear and palming himself, looking down at you hungrily. You pull your top above your head, throwing it to the ground, and sit up on your elbows, parting your legs as a shy smile spreads across your lips.

Carefully, he lies on top of you, a hand coming to stroke at your cheek. “Before I fuck you, I want to make one thing very clear, okay?” You feel his cock rubbing against your cunt, up and down, lubricating himself with your slicks. He bites back a moan at the feeling, swallowing audibly before continuing, “You’re mine now; you’re bound to me. I love you.” He tilts his head, a dangerous look crossing his features. “But I’ve missed this pretty pussy too fucking much, so forgive me for what I’m about to do.”

He slams into you without warning, all the way to the hilt. Throwing back his head and groaning, he lets out an almost maniacal laugh before biting his lip. His gaze returns to you, a maddened look in his eyes as he begins to piston in out of you with inhuman strength. You’re left with no time to accommodate his insanely long cock, a silent scream leaving your lips as ecstasy consumes you. He’s watching you with an open-mouthed, slaw-jacked grin and a feral look to his usually perfect features. Satoru holds you by the waist, effortlessly pulling you to meet each one of his thrusts like you weighed nothing more than a doll. Unabashed moans leave his lips, rutting into you with so much force that the headboard is lodging itself into your bedroom wall.

“Sorry baby, fucking need this so bad.” He groans, pulling one of your thighs to rest on his shoulder and trickling tender kisses down your calf. “Don’t know what I was thinking, shit ah—should've never left you, should’ve never fucking left you. No one turns me on like you do, baby, no one.” Satoru’s rambling, dazed, and brain reduced to mush as he loses himself to his insatiable lust. You’re loving every second, craving what he’s giving you; it’s been too long, too long for a slow and sensuous fuck. No, you needed this; you needed him to show you how much he wanted you.

“See what you do to me, baby?” He coos, his hips somehow moving both faster and harder as he tilts his head down at you like he’s some sort of predator. “Turn me into a fucking animal—fuckkk—I can’t control myself around you, pretty girl.”

“Toruuuu,” You mewl, your back arching off of the bed as your legs begin to shake. He snarls at his name falling from your lips so lewdly, his cock throbbing inside of you. Satoru snakes his hand to your clit, rubbing quick circles onto the bud as his relentless pace doesn’t let up.

"God, you’re so fucking cute.” He practically chokes on his words, feeling his own orgasm grow dangerously close. His tongue flits out to lick his lips before he leans down, his mouth merging with your own filthily, all spit and teeth as he whines into your mouth.

You start tightening around him, and he cries out, shaking his head and groaning into your lips, “Hold on for me, baby; I want you to come with me. I'm so fucking close, just fucking-." Gojo cuts himself off and sits up, hands gripping your hips, while he begins to truly ruin your core. It’s so messy—your slick coating his cock and balls, dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. The room smells like sex; the sounds that fill it enough to make a woman of the night blush. “Ah baby, shit shit, that’s it, cum for me, baby, gonna fill you up, yesyesyesyes.”

The two of you reach your peak together, with you crying out his name and Satoru whining above you. His hips stutter as he paints your insides white, rope after rope filling you up. Satoru’s forehead drops to yours, both of you breathing heavily and grasping at each other like your lives depended on it.

After a few moments, Gojo rolls beside you and lies facing you as he peppers your face with kisses. His demeanour completely contradicts the one from a few minutes ago; he’s soft, giddy, and playful. There’s so much love in his gaze, making up for every peck he’s missed out on these last few months as his lips press against every part of your pretty little face.

“Soooo girlfriend,” Gojo chimes after a while of pestering you with his affections, playing with a piece of your hair as a playful smirk paints his features. “Tell me how much you missed me.”

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