#// I never stop thinking about how much love he carries within him

[b0kksu]

The sadness whenever Satoru refers to his body as an altar && sacrifice. Knowing even in his death nothing will be spared which is a play on sometimes loving a God leads to obsession. I'm never sure on how to explain it deeply but the idolization he goes through is not truly genuine affection whereas the mortal behind the weighty name is hardly recognized && he understands, accepts it, thus carries the hopes whoever harbors him in their heart will let go to spare them pain. He's a genuinely pure soul with good intentions albeit, a fool, dreamer, someone who fell due to their own idealistic nature && it never stops making me teary.

[romanticintheory]

Hello!!!! I was wondering if you could write an angst with Ghost/Simon where the reader was too clingy after having a bad day and he lashed out on her but he didn't think anything of it because the next day the reader was acting normal. He only noticed after a few weeks when reader became more distant and quiet. Feel free to ignore if it's too weird or you don't like it!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

this one is dedicated to all the ones who were hurt and never got that apology. hope this alleviates the pain.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader || masterlist || request rules

-there was no one specific reason as to why today turned out to be a bad day. it just was.

-from accidentally burning yourself trying to make breakfast after waking up late to having to deal with the most insufferable customers, it just wasn't your day today.

-but it was okay, because you had simon to return to when everything was said and done.

-the frown on your face immediately softens the moment you see him walk through the door to your shared home. as soon as he pulls his mask and boots off, you make your way toward him and engulf him in a tight hug.

-you are painfully (but understandably) unaware of the thin veil of his patience and the frustration that had been brewing within him in the past few hours. he half-heartedly returns the embrace.

-"how was your day, si?" you ask him gently.

-"fine," he responds shortly, hoping there isn't more to the conversation.

-even after you pull away from him, you trail behind him as he moves around the house. this wasn't irregular behavior from either of you. simon wasn't usually the most talkative person in the room, anyway, but he loved to hear your voice. that was one of the things he loved about the two of you together; you filled the space he couldn't.

-today, though, was different. he was pissed off at all different kinds of people. for some reason, couldn't bring himself to tell you that he was having a bad day and needed some space, especially because it was evident you were having a bad one yourself.

-so when he turned on his heel after listening to your rambles for as much as he could take and lashed out at you, he tried not to think about the unbearable amount of guilt seeping into his veins.

-"would you just stop clinging to me for five minutes? god, 's like i can't get away from you or your constant fucking talking!"

-you had heard stories, mostly from simon, about the kind of man he could be when pushed to his limit. mostly, it was of violent, physical acts when it came to work or protecting the ones he loved. other times, he would tell you about when he'd lash out at others just like he did to you, now, and he always told it to you with a quiet fear. there was an unspoken meaning to him telling you about the times he's acted out: i don't want to do the same to you. i don't want to hurt you.

-but here he was, towering over you with a coldness in his eyes and a dryness in his throat from the sheer volume of his words.

-averting your gaze from his, you let out a meek, "'m sorry," and watch as he slams the door in front of your face.

-when he slinks into bed next to your sleeping form later that night, ridden with shame and guilt, he misses the tear-stained face hidden from him. after his outburst, you felt like all of the energy in your body had been taken away from you and retreated to bed early. you cried on and off for hours.

-you always thought you had a clinging problem. it was an insecurity you carried with you starting from childhood. friends would become acquaintances and family would keep you at arms-length. after years of believing the issue was you, simon walked into your life and told you different.

-if you stopped talking because you thought he stopped listening and was uninterested, he'd always turn back to you and genuinely ask why you stopped talking. whenever you apologized for hugging him for too long or asking to spend time with him for the third time that week, he'd always tilt his head at you and say in that low, sincere voice, "but i love you?"

-for all those reasons, you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt despite how much he hurt you. so, when he tries to bring it up the next morning, you do your best to brush it off. he was having a bad day. that was all. no need to make a fuss.

-"listen, love," he calls to you as you pop your piece of toast out of the toaster. "about last night-"

-completely disregarding his words, you look at the clock and stuff your phone into your pocket. "it's fine. honestly, simon," you tell him with the best smile you could muster. "i'm gonna be late. i'll see you tonight."

-you were so adamant on getting out as quick as possible that simon had no time to respond. he thought to himself that maybe he was making a bigger deal out of it than you. maybe there were no hard feelings and you were completely fine. after all, he was always overly worried for you, anyway.

-so, when you came home, he didn't mention it. it was as if last night didn't happen, and the two of you were perfectly fine. there were times where simon thought you were being a bit more restrained in your movements or words, but he tried to chalk it up to just him being overly paranoid. you said it was fine, so it was better not to push you on it, right?

-at first, you were doing really good at keeping yourself from overthinking the situation. however, as time went on and you paid more attention to how you acted around your boyfriend, you began to wonder if you were really that clingy.

-as the week progressed, your state of mind would deteriorate. what if it wasn't just a bad day? what if that was what he thought the entire time and was just waiting for the right moment to tell you? had he just been trying to cheer you up about your insecurities the entire time? and if he was, how much of this relationship was even real, then?

-the more you thought about it, the more distant you became. the last thing you wanted to do was make simon feel like he was being suffocated by you. you slowly stopped initiating physical affection with him, restricted talking about your day to a few sentences, and tried to answer simon's questions in one word when possible.

-he notices. of course he notices, it was like a stranger was living where you were supposed to be, and he missed it. he missed you.

-he asks you about your change when you're getting ready for bed, pulling the rest of your nightshirt over your head. despite being exhausted from work and looking like you were sitting out in the wind, he thought you never looked more ethereal than you did now.

-"(y/n)," he said.

-"hm?" you hummed to him, not turning toward his direction. you sat down on the edge of your side of the bed, turning off the lamp at the same time.

-your lack of emotional presence was starting to eat at him. he sat down next to you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight and forcing you to lean toward him.

-"you alright?"

-"yes. why?"

-"i dunno, you just seem..." his eyes tried to find yours, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. "quiet."

-it was then that you looked at him, and it was scary to simon because he couldn't make out the emotion in your expression. there was nothing he could read.

-"isn't that-" you had to pause to try and stabilize your wavering voice. "isn't that what you wanted?"

-there was a tension-filled silence that settled in the room, and for a second you were worried that what you said was somehow incredibly offensive.

-finally, he chokes out, "i'm sorry."

-again, you try to muster up a smile. "it's fine, i already told you. i should've known you wanted space."

-"no."

-"no?"

-"it was my fault," he explains. "how could you 'ave known? i didn't tell you i wasn't in the mood that day, and that's not even considering the way i talked to you. i shouldn't have- nothing excuses what i said to you."

-still, you were convinced you were to blame. "well, i have a history of being clingy, so," you were trying to come up with more excuses for him. for most of your life, you had decided that you were the issue. it couldn't be any other way, right?

-"i know. it's one of the things i love you for," he says quietly. "not to sound cheesy but it's what makes you you, and i don't want you to lose that jus' 'cause i'm still shitty at communication."

-you knew in some capacity he was right. there was no excuse for how he talked to you, but the next words you wanted to say evaded you.

-simon thought about talking some more. instead, he grasped your back with one hand and slid his other underneath your legs, repositioning you on his lap. it was like a silent plea from him, a way of proving that he wanted to be close to you just as much as you wanted to be close to him.

-"you're sure i'm not too clingy?" you ask tentatively.

-"positive," he reassures you, rubbing small circles on your back with his thumb. "you wanna know something?"

-"what?"

-"if i wasn't so fucked up-"

-"you're not fucked up."

-"right." you never let him talk badly about himself. that was something he was still getting used to after all this time. being loved and learning to love himself. "well, if i didn't grow up the way i did and became the person i am, i'd probably be way clingier than you."

-"that's impossible," you deny, unconsciously letting yourself lean into his touch.

-"you don't know how much i want you. if my mind and body would let me, i'd be close to you all the time, showing you the attention you deserve."

-"you give me plenty."

-"agree to disagree," he stops with the circles and pulls you impossibly closer to his body. "but 'm trying. 'm trying to learn to let you love me and to not be afraid to love you. 'm sorry, love. i stopped trying that night, and i think it'll be the death of me."

-you let his words sink in, a thoughtful look on your face.

-"next time you'll tell me, right? what you're thinking?"

-"pinkie promise," he agrees, letting the hand under your legs slide out and raise his pinkie finger toward you.

-in return, you link your pinkie with his to seal the promise, and it feels as though the heavy tension in the air has cleared away.

-"i love you," he says, feeling bold from his previous admission.

-"i love you, too." there's that smile on your face. he never realized until now how he probably couldn't live without it.

-he kisses you on the lips, and for a moment the two of you just stay there in each other's arms, forgiving the past, healing the present, and dreaming of the future together.

[baphometsss]

I don't wanna sit here and act like I'm a professional or anything, because I'm not, but as someone who has had to do a lot of work to overcome trauma and reconfigure my brain more or less from the ground up, there's a lot I have to say about Solas's mental state

We know that Solas was essentially used and abused by Mythal for millennia. Even if he wasn't under a geas, he was twisted from his purpose by being made to fight, and then created the Wolf's Fang which was used to make the Titans tranquil and started the Blights. He made those choices himself, but it's important to understand that no choice is ever made in a vacuum. She took advantage of his vulnerability when he was given a body after however long as a spirit semi-existing peacefully in the Fade, and moulded him into a weapon.

He is broken, because Mythal broke him. I'm not incapable of seeing why she did what she did because like I said, no one makes choices in a vacuum and I could write about her for a long time too (in a similar way to how I have had to do myself in my own life in understanding why others abused me). He was so traumatised by everything that happened and he was trauma bonded to Mythal pretty much from the minute he gained a body. Trauma bonds are not about love. He definitely interpreted it that way, as most people do, but that's the weapon abusers use to keep the victim under their control. Abuse abuse abuse show a scrap of love and then abuse some more. If I just take it, I'll get the love/attention I need. I will earn it, because love is suffering, and I have to suffer to earn getting my basic needs met from my family/friends. Mythal, as his creator, was the one who he would've attached to in a similar way to spirit Cole/human Cole.

Trauma bonds are pathological. Mythal made him believe that if he did as she asked, and kept supporting her, then eventually he would gain her favour and they would be able to free all the elves, and he'd be able to live according to his true nature, which is one where he doesn't have to fight. (Remember his personal quest in DAI? He actually kills the rebel mages for corrupting his friend--another Wisdom spirit--into Pride.) In reality, she was just using him. She always kept the bone just out of reach for her lapdog. The line from Rook where they say (paraphrasing here) 'you know, I was actually excited about getting your approval... That's how you do it, isn't it? Keeping giving little scraps of approval to keep someone loyal, and then you turn around and betray them' is so telling too.

Where--or from whom--do you think he learned to do this?

It literally reeks of a pathological trauma bond and honestly, with how isolated, 'grim and fatalistic' Solas is, it is not a surprise that he's so broken.

Solas, essentially, is little more than a lap-dog to Mythal. He followed her like a lost puppy, because especially in his early days, that's kind of what he was. You have to remember that most of the insight we get about Mythal is from Solas's perspective, and he is not a reliable person when it comes to her after so long being repeatedly terrorised and twisted and manipulated. There are several instances where he describes being betrayed by her, and mentions some of the things she did, but he never quite holds her fully accountable and ends up directing his rage elsewhere. (The parallel between Mythal/Solas and the rebel mages/Wisdom is important here.)

This awesome post by @mythalism only reinforces this. He is so messed up in that scene, he is broken, he is holding the Wolf's Fang up, trying to give it to her because it symbolises the burden he has carried for thousands of years trying to avenge her death. He never wanted the Fang, like he never wanted a body. Mythal just stands over him, fully aware of what she did to him, and only getting him to stop because Rook petitioned her successfully, and the reunion with the more benevolent Mythal within Morrigan tempered her anger. She was a goddess, with the unequal power dynamic, right to the end.

As a side note, on the potential romance element between Mythal and Solas, I read an excellent breakdown of it on Reddit a while ago about how out of character it would've been for Solas to keep something like that from a romanced Lavellan, especially in Trespasser when he comes clean about his plan/past. I can't find it now because it was pre-Veilguard release, but it made a lot of sense to me. Solas and Lavellan never have a love scene in DAI because Solas didn't want to 'lay with them under false pretences'. Lying about who you are when sleeping with someone is nonconsensual. You can't consent to sleeping with someone if you don't know their true identity, and someone who knowingly lies about who they are to get into your pants is a sexual predator. For someone who led a slave rebellion (no doubt many of them being sex slaves), and a former spirit of Wisdom, Solas would've been well aware of this. In the unsent letter from Solas to Lavellan he says he came so close to breaking and desperately wanted to stay with them as Solas, with the implication being that that is where he planned to sleep with them once he'd come clean. But because he stops, because he's still unable to forgive himself or release himself from his trauma bond with Mythal, he breaks away, and they never have sex.

Bottom line: Solas would've been honest about it. Especially that. As the Inquisitor says, he can't lie about his heart.

And it's why the Solas/Lavellan romance is so powerful because quote, 'you change everything'. Solas thought he knew what love was, that love was loyalty, devotion, worship, etc. It's not just his plans or worldview that Lavellan changes. Lavellan sees him for who he is, without the mantle of Dread Wolf, and because of that he's able to express his true nature to her, even if he's not being totally honest in Inquisition. Lavellan got much closer to the real him than most, as he says, and changed his understanding of love completely. Unfortunately, he has unfinished business, an unresolved trauma bond, and his crushing sense of duty to the past is what keeps him from taking that final step towards letting go of it entirely. Trick also says Solas doesn't think he deserves love, which tbh is kind of a hallmark trait of people who have survived abuse.

And honestly? Call me a simp but I think he really was trying to get the Inquisitor to stop him. He saw himself being unable to let go because he was so broken and burdened by his guilt, and knew he couldn't save himself--was too proud to admit that he couldn't, because how pathetic does it make him look? And how could he stop now without rendering all the damage he'd wrought pointless? Yet here was someone who had changed him right down to his core, who understood him in a way few people ever had, whom he trusted, whom he loved in a way he hadn't loved anyone else before. It took him 'centuries' to build up rapport with the members of his rebellion. The man doesn't not know how to form attachments without trauma, and suddenly he forms a strong one with someone who loves him completely and without condition. It's a jarring change.

Lavellan says that maybe they're being prideful themselves, refusing to see their own folly. But I think in admitting that they might be wrong, that it might be wishful thinking borne from misguided love to a truly terrible person, they've rendered the point moot. It shows self-awareness, which isn't folly.

If anyone can make Solas understand true love, it's Lavellan. Lavellan loved him when he was being his true self. Lavellan loved him after his betrayal was revealed. Lavellan loved him when his guilty conscience and terrible actions almost destroyed the world. Lavellan loved him because they knew the real him, and knew that his heart and spirit were broken, and knew that their love would endure, that their love would heal him.

And that's exactly where they end up. Healing the past, soothing the Blight, and loving one another completely.

[beneathstarryskies]

Omg your requests are open 🙏

Could I please request some breeding kink headcanons for some of the RE men? Chris, Leon, Wesker, Ethan and Karl? That would be awesome! Thank youuuu

Warnings: breeding, pregnancy, female reader, obviously unprotected sex.

Chris Redfield

Chris didn’t even realize he had a breeding kink. He stays so busy and is often so far away, he doesn’t see himself as necessarily being ‘father material.’

However, one day, he goes with you to a family function. There, he gets the rare chance to see you interacting with your small nieces/nephews/cousins and he imagines you with your children. Would you be as patient and loving as you are with the small kids in your family? 

Chris knows this isn’t a decision to make lightly, but he also is a man who acts a lot on passion and instinct. 

When he gets you home that night, he can’t stop thinking about putting a baby in you. 

You can’t do anything for the next few days without Chris pawing at you, kissing you everywhere he can reach, begging to cum inside you every time he can. 

Are you bending over to do laundry? Oh, now you have his bulge pressed against your ass! Are you lying in bed reading? Guess who is slowly peeling your pants off and pressing kisses on your inner thighs! 

Finally, he lets it slip. He has you bent into a mating press while he’s pounding into your soaked cunt with reckless abandon. 

“Let me put a baby in you,” he growls against your ear. 

Leon S. Kennedy

Leon has been on his own for a long time. He loves the idea of having a little family of his own, and he doesn’t hide it at all. 

Every time he’s fucking you, he is going to cum inside of you whether you’re on birth control or not. He just can’t imagine not spilling his load inside of your waiting walls. 

Leon will slip up and call you ‘mommy’. He says it sort of as a joke the first time, but then the name just fits you so well. He can’t resist telling you how much he wants to make you a mommy. 

He always keeps his cock sheathed inside of you after you’ve both finished to keep his cum plugged inside your little hole. 

If he goes soft he’ll just use his fingers to push his cum back inside and keep it inside. 

For all of his big talk, if you do end up pregnant he will panic a little bit deep down. His work is dangerous and has earned a lot of enemies for him. It might take him a while to let the news set in. 

Once you are pregnant and Leon comes to terms with the reality of parenthood, he becomes so protective. You will never be out of his sight, even if it’s just him tracking your location or calling in a favor to have an agent look after you while he’s away. 

All in all, he’s very happy to have bred you. 

Albert Wesker

As an Umbrella operative/double agent, Wesker didn’t have a breeding kink. He was constantly plotting for his gain and looking out for his skin. Being a parent would only complicate matters further and give him yet another piece to move on the chessboard. 

However, when he realizes the true potential he holds within himself, to dominate the world and rule as a god, something snaps within him. 

The need to carry on his superior genes and establish a legacy grows strong. 

He can’t breed with just anyone, however. He goes to painstaking lengths to find someone who has genes compatible with his own. Oh, and once he finds you he wastes no time making his way into your life. 

You’re his precious little lover, and he goes to any lengths to make sure you’re as smitten by him as he is with you. 

He gets off to the idea of knocking you up every single time you’re intimate. Even if you’re just giving him a blow job, he will bust as soon as he imagines breeding you. 

Not to worry though, because Wesker has stamina for days. He’ll wear you out with his libido. All the while he’s growling and grunting in your ear, making sure to tell you how much he loves breeding your little cunt. 

If you beg for him to cum inside of you, good fucking luck. He will go absolutely feral. 

Ethan Winters

It’s no secret that Ethan loves being a dad more than anything. He has so much love to give, and he is naturally doting on those he loves. 

That being said, with everything he’s been through it will take him some time after your relationship begins to think about having a family with you. It will first cross his mind when someone mentions how good you are with Rose. 

The thought sticks with him for a while, and then it morphs into the idea of having another baby…

Soon, he’s picturing you swollen and round with his baby growing inside of you. He can practically hear how sweet you’d be explaining to Rose that she’s going to be a big sister. 

He’s trembling with excitement when he brings up the idea of having a baby to you. If you agree, he is going to be hard immediately. 

Ethan doesn’t do anything half-assed. The man becomes OBSESSED with breeding you. 

He’s tracking cycles, he’s pulling all the positions that are the most effective for conceiving, and most of all he is fucking you every single time he gets the chance. 

Karl Heisenberg

Karl gets the idea to breed you for entirely selfish reasons if we’re being honest. 

When Alcina is allowed to create three daughters, he grows a bit jealous of that. Why does she get a family? Why does Donna get her stupid little doll? And when he learns of the possibility of having a strong, powerful child…Oh boy. 

He won’t exactly tell you his intentions. He just starts pumping thick loads of cum into you every chance he gets. 

One night he’ll let it slip, “I’m gonna put a baby in you.” 

He doesn’t really care if you want a baby or not, the idea of it just motivates him beyond anything else. He becomes insatiable, especially during a full moon. He’ll have you bent over every surface or folded into a mating press all night long. 

The problem with Karl though is he doesn’t actually consider the reality of having a kid. When you start showing signs of pregnancy, he kind of starts to panic. He might push you away a little bit, not fully wanting to take responsibility even though he wanted it so badly at first. 

However, when certain people begin questioning how you became pregnant his protective instincts will flare up. Then, he’ll never let you leave his sights.

[utahimeow]

even death will not do us part — satoru gojo

summary — your wedding day with satoru gojo is not exactly conventional.

pairing — satoru gojo x f!reader

warnings — slightly suggestive beginning, pure fluff, established relationship

word count — 3.9k

author’s note — for satoru’s birthday ♡ i put my heart and soul and blood and sweat and tears into this and i hope u can tell. it may be the best writing i’ve ever done, so if u read it, thank u and i love u. also it’s like extremely sappy so pls keep that in mind lol

After a seemingly endless night, tendrils of golden sunlight come crawling through the blinds. They dance over your flesh that’s dotted with soft bites from your lover, and warm it like soft kisses until your eyes peel open.

Satoru’s already awake, ocean eyes gazing at you. A wave of memories of how he touched you so ardently the night before comes washing over you. After it, a wave of heat, his lustful poetry echoing in your mind until it pools between your thighs. Finally, the heat subsides into something warm, a gentle glow which settles within your ribs.

“Good morning,” your lover rasps, voice heavy with sleep. 

You reach out to him until your hand finds his face, your fingers grazing over soft pink skin, your thumb tracing the ridge of his cheekbone. He’s slightly puffy, eyes still ever so slightly droopy, but slumber is not the only thing that simmers in them.

“Good morning,” you reply, your words hoarse yet covered in honey.

For a while, neither one of you says anything, instead basking in one another. Satoru drinks in the sight of you laying next to him, gulps and gulps and gulps it down like it’s red wine, until he’s drunk. 

“Marry me,” he says. Time stops moving and your heart stops beating momentarily. Your mouth tries to move, tries to give a response, but every word you’ve ever learned suddenly abandons your memory. 

He laughs, so obnoxiously beautiful, but within his eyes that carry a millennium of history there is only pure sincerity.

It shouldn’t surprise you this much—his question—not when Satoru had long since carved a space inside your heart, and you in his. You’d been together so long that sometimes you both forgot you weren’t married, and Satoru had a habit of casually stating things like “when I make you my wife”, because it was undisputed that he would marry you.

Still, somehow you didn’t see it coming, and not like this. Satoru Gojo was a man of grandeur–always dramatic, always making a scene, always showing off in some shape or form, whether it was you or his cursed technique. The last place you would expect him to propose was in bed at ten a.m. after a night where he made you see God himself. Although, the more you think about it, this is where he is home. Where he bears the deepest parts of his being to you and where he may shed the weight of a society that idolises him as a god. Where he can ask you to marry him as just Satoru.

“Don’t go shy on me,” he says, still amused by your disbelief. 

“I-yes. Yes, I’ll marry you,” you say, sobbing out a laugh, launching yourself into his embrace and burying your face into his bare chest. 

“What if we did it today?” he asks, his voice reverberating through you until it almost puts you back to sleep.

“Did what?” you ask.

“Got married.”

Your head shoots up, your eyes flitting rapidly over each of his nonchalant features. Once more, you don’t find a single hint that he’s kidding. “You’re insane.”

“You love me for it,” he says, his face like a mischievous cat’s. “And I can’t spend another minute without you being my wife, so please, elope with me.”

Unlike Satoru, you were never exactly one for grand gestures. He knew you never had dreams of a big fairytale wedding with hundreds of guests or a giant hall, and it’s precisely one of the reasons why he’s asking this of you.

“The higher-ups are going to be pissed,” you say, leaning in close to his face until there’s hardly a hair’s width between your noses. 

“That’s the point,” he tells you. “Is that another yes, then?”

You stare into the depths of his irises, the ones that are swimming with adoration, the ones that have never changed how they stare at you, even after all these years. Not that you had any doubts before, but suddenly you’ve never wanted anything more. The feeling settles into your bloodstream, to your bones, to the very core of your being–certainty.

“Yes, Satoru, I’ll elope with you,” you say, and then your lips are on his. There’s a million words in the way he kisses you, ones that he would never be able to speak even if he tried, so he kisses you and kisses you in hopes that you’ll understand them. He kisses you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. It is.

You part, sorrowfully, heads spinning, but then you remember you have things to do. 

“I need to start getting ready,” you say, and you already know exactly what his response will be–a groan, a whine, and him begging you to stay in his arms for a little while longer. 

He does just that. 

“Satoruuu,” you say, mimicking the way he whines your name. “The sooner I get ready the sooner we’ll be married. Isn’t that what you want?”

He pouts for the sake of pouting, then his arms loosen around your waist and you leave him with a peck upon his lips before tossing yourself out of bed. 

You spend the next hour and something at your vanity, having never imagined that your wedding day would leave you doing your own hair and makeup.

After Satoru brings you a cup of coffee and plants a chaste kiss to your temple, he heads to the bathroom to shower, leaving you to finish getting yourself ready. When he returns twenty minutes later, he finds you standing in your walk-in closet in only your bra and underwear, looking terribly focused. You don’t need to be a mind-reader to know he wants to tell you to go as you are—he refrains, however. It’s a miracle that he’s able to.

“You should wear that white dress you have. The one with the sleeves,” he suggests, flapping his arms and immediately you know which one he’s talking about. A plain white minidress with flared mesh sleeves and sweetheart neckline that you wore to a fancy dinner once. You fish it out, and Satoru approaches you as you step into it and pull it up your hips. Wordlessly, he zips the back up, holding his breath as he does. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to see me yet,” you quip, giggling when you turn to face him. 

“Baby, there’s nothing conventional about how we’re getting married,” he grins, giving your ass a tap as you walk past him to pick out your jewellery. 

Of course, he insists on putting your necklace on for you too, a dainty Tiffany chain with a diamond sun pendant that he gifted you for your birthday years back because he liked to call you his sun. Again, the feather-light brush of his fingers over your skin sends bolts of lightning shooting to your fingertips. It’s reminiscent of the way he made you feel a decade ago, before he had even kissed you for the first time, when his cheesy, cat-like smile would send your heart racing and heat rushing to your face. When butterflies would erupt in your belly and you felt like you were floating. For some reason you found it hard to believe that feelings like that would persist, but it is in Satoru’s blood to prove you wrong, and he did, and he does still.

You decide on a pair of glimmering white Jimmy Choo heels, but before you can even think to put them on, Satoru is on his knees, softly grasping each leg of yours so he can slip the shoes on and carefully tighten the straps one by one. It’s something that never fails to make you giddy–to make you question if you’re even worthy of this man (you know you are, after all he’d spent the last few years doing everything in his power to prove to you that he’s the lucky one between you). Still, you think it’s perfectly valid to wonder what you’ve done to deserve someone like this.

Satoru stands then, a perpetual smile upon his glossy pink lips. He’s in a pair of pressed black slacks that hug his thick, toned legs, and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons left open (because you always tell him you like how good he looks) and nothing to cover his eyes. You’re the only person he’ll be looking at today, after all. He’d die before letting anything obscure his view of you.

He takes your hand and raises it into the air and twirls you around, his eyes drinking in every detail of you, inhaling your sweet, angelic scent, and now it’s his turn to wonder how he managed to get so lucky, as if it doesn’t occupy his mind from the very second he wakes up to the moment he falls asleep. 

He’s still unlearning the idea that he’s alone because it was all that he ever knew from the day that he was born. He’s always had friends and caretakers and people who admired him and who depended on him and who worshipped him, but he was always there at the top, the closest thing to a god that a human could be—by himself. No one could possibly understand him enough to be by his side, not really. Then one day you came along and you slithered your way into the cracks and crevices of his very being and refused to budge, and you showed him that he’s not alone, that there are people who he can trust and depend on and people who he can love. 

He never lets go of your hand, pulling you close to his chest and grinning down at you. His eyes gleam with a mischief that’s all too familiar, one that’s got you instantly suspicious.

“Please don’t hate me,” he says but it’s without any real concern. 

You have an inkling as to what he’s planning, but you don’t even get the chance to open your mouth to question him because one moment you’re standing in the foyer of your home and the next you’re outside of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building. 

He predicts the way you smack his chest and whine out a mildly irritated “Satoru!”–it only makes him grin harder, because he knows how much you hate when he teleports you without warning, but right now he just can’t wait another moment (and neither can you) so you don’t have it in you to be genuinely displeased.

As he makes his way to the entrance, you tug on his arm suddenly to stop him after a certain realisation hits you. 

“Satoru, don’t we need a witness?” you ask. 

His eyes narrow in thought and he looks around, cartoon-like, before his face fills with resolution and he’s strolling away from the building with you in tow. 

“Excuse me,” he exclaims, and you follow his gaze to where an older couple are walking by, hands intertwined. They turn to him inquisitively, so he continues. “My gorgeous fiancée here and I are about to be wed. All of our friends were too busy today, so we don’t have any witnesses. Would you spare a moment of time for a young, smitten couple?”

You roll your eyes, but the grin smirk your lips betrays you. “We’re sincerely sorry for interrupting your day. What my insufferable fiancé here means to say is we would appreciate it greatly if you would be our witnesses.”

The couple take a glance at one another, silently communicating before they face you and Satoru once more, nodding their heads.

“It’s our day off, we were just going to walk around the city anyway,” the lady explains, her pale, weathered lips stretching into a gentle smile.

Thus, you waltz into the city hall altogether, and only now does it begin to settle in that you’re about to marry Satoru Gojo. The morning had gone by so quickly– you’d only been awake less than four hours, and during that time you never once stopped to let any of it sink in.

Now, it sinks in. All the way to your core, to the fibres and cells that make up your being. Inside your ribs your heart is swollen, filled to the brim with scarlet red until it overflows and paints everything around it, until every part of you, every seam that holds you together has been altered, touched by something that Satoru gifted you on the first day you met him.

Your lover seems to move in slow motion. Your breath is caught in your throat. It’s a dream, you’re sure of it. Then Satoru squeezes your hand, ever perceptive of your thoughts, and reminds you that it’s not. 

After gathering a pile of documents, a man in a suit takes you to a room that’s a smaller version of a court and begins to lay out the papers, simultaneously explaining each one’s purpose and indicating what you and Satoru must fill out. You provide him with your own documents–birth certificates and proof of residence, and then the two strangers who had offered themselves to you as witnesses give their signatures. 

Your officiant makes his speech in a professional language, far from the flowery words given by priests or family friends in churches or venues adorned with flowers and ribbons along every wall.

Lack of preparation means your vows are a repetition of a script written decades ago: you take Satoru to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.

During Satoru’s turn, he hesitates. His eyes shine with a strange epiphany as he stares down at you. 

“...From this day forward, until the end of time. Even death will not do us part.”

There are no words in any language, dead or alive, that are adequate enough to describe the elation you experience. There is no concept, idea, or theory that would truly reveal the way that you are consumed by love for him. It runs through your bloodstream, intrinsic to your very being. 

The officiant announces that you and Satoru are husband and wife. Now you are one flesh and bone. He leans forward, kisses you, and it’s a promise of eternal devotion.

Outside of the city hall, where time no longer stands still but you still feel as though you are not inside of your body, your husband Satoru Gojo bows to the man and woman who made your marriage possible. 

Satoru Gojo does not bow. And while it is easy to attribute it to some god complex, to the product of his upbringing, as many do, those to whom Satoru has shown his soul know that it is rebellion. It is the denial of a convention he refuses to assimilate with, one he does not believe in, one which begs children to be grateful to those who have sown them as though they had the choice to be sown.

When Satoru Gojo does bow, it is not without good reason. Most often it is only when he owes someone his life—so he bows to the two strangers, whose signatures on a piece of paper mean that he is eternally yours.

Beside him, you bow too.

“Thank you,” Satoru says, then both of you straighten up to find the couple smiling before you. There is kindness etched into every line on their face, a fondness simmering in their eyes. Their arms are linked, and all of a sudden you’re looking in a mirror.

“Congratulations on your marriage,” the woman says. “I’m certain you will flourish together.”

“You know, young people are always getting into relationships, but seeing true love like what you have with one another… It’s a rare thing nowadays. Please cherish that,” the man says.

“We’ll be forever grateful for you,” you say. “Thank you.”

The four of you part, but the couple, whose names you do not know, now lives in a part of your mind that can never be erased.

The first thing Satoru does as your husband, as you walk down the streets of Tokyo with your hands laced together, is suddenly disappear into a flower shop as you pass by it, before emerging once more and handing you a bouquet of crimson carnations and white roses with a cheshire cat smile on his face.

“Your wedding bouquet,” he says.

“Oh, Satoru, they’re beautiful,” you muse, allowing your nose to absorb their earthy scent. “Thank you.”

You tug him by the hand that’s woven with yours, pulling him down to plant a kiss upon his cheek.

The next stop is a jewellery store, and you yelp as Satoru pulls you inside with him this time. 

“Pick whatever ring you like, baby,” he tells you as you stand before the glass case where thousands of crystals glimmer back at you, splayed out on a bed of white. “Just to wear until you pick your actual one.”

Blood warms your face. It’s not meant to be a brag. Even if he didn’t have generations of wealth in his bank account, he’d buy you as many rings as you wanted until you found the perfect one. For you, he would find a way.

Your eyes wander over every diamond, over gold and silver and platinum, and it’s not long at all before they all start to look the same. Not wanting to spend your entire wedding day inside a jewellery store, you land on a simple diamond-studded silver band and point it out to Satoru.

“That one?” he asks. 

You nod, a satisfied smile making your lips curl.

Satoru flags down the jeweller, a thin woman with shiny skin, requesting the ring you want. She tells him each of the five diamonds weighs 0.2 carats, making the ring a total of one carat, as if it’ll make a difference to either of you. He doesn’t ask her for the price, but she tells him it’s 550,000 yen—practically theft for someone from the Gojo clan. 

After picking out a matching plain silver band for himself, you and Satoru leave the store and continue strolling through the city. To everyone else, you look like no more than an enamoured couple like the millions of others in Tokyo, and while a part of Satoru feels like he wants to wander up to random strangers to brag to them that you’re his wife, another part cherishes this little secret between you two.

From the day he was born, Satoru Gojo’s wedding was to be a grand affair. Sorcerers from far and wide would gather to witness the expansion of the Gojo clan. It was to be a several day-long event, planned intricately by the higher ups without room for any say from the bride and groom. Satoru did not want that—not for himself, but especially not for you.

Now he laughs as he imagines the higher ups’ faces when they realise he has not only married but eloped behind their backs. Though he thinks he’ll keep his left hand in his pocket the next few times he pays them a visit, at least for a few weeks.

“What?” you ask. His grin spreads from his face to yours.

“Nothing. Are you hungry?” 

“Ugh, yes,” you say. Suddenly your empty stomach becomes even emptier, howling agonisingly loudly.

“Sushi Go?” 

“Please.” 

The nearest one is ten minutes away. When you get there, you sit in a booth next to the conveyor belt, with Satoru insisting on shoving himself into the seat next to you rather than across from you. As soon as his heat radiates into you, however, you feel like melting into him.

After ordering almost the entire menu despite your scolding, Satoru finds the ring boxes and pulls them out of the ribbon-tied bag from the jeweller. He takes your left hand, gently, as though you’re made of glass, and slides the glittering ring onto your fourth finger. He brings it to his lips, then his velvety lips kiss just above where the ring rests.

“Beautiful,” he says. He’s looking at your eyes, not the ring.

You twist it around your finger, lungs empty as it catches every ray of light that comes its way and tosses it back at your eyes. 

“It’s a little big, but I love it.”

“I’ll get you the perfect one, don’t worry,” he says. “To make up for no engagement ring.”

“You make me sound so materialistic,” you quip, taking his hand into yours and slipping the matching silver band onto his bony finger.

“Just spoiled,” he corrects.

You narrow your eyes at him, but it turns into hearts not a moment later. He makes it impossible.

“I love you, Satoru Gojo,” you say, holding up your hands as you lace your fingers together with his.

“I love you,” he says, and the smug, cocky front vanishes, and he bares himself, his true self, to you. “More than anything in this world. I’m gonna prove it to you every single day from now on.”

Your giggle is drenched in fondness. “You already do that.”

“Then I’ll do it even better. This is a promise of that,” he says, thumb stroking over the ring he put on your finger.

His eyes don’t hold an ounce of hesitation, of questioning, of doubt. Only truth.

Your food arrives, and you wish you could say you feel bad about how overtly gross you and Satoru are being, feeding sushi rolls to each other with twinkling eyes, but everything inside you is screaming with euphoria that you can’t bring yourself to care. 

You wipe a drop of soy sauce from the corner of his lips, and he stares at you like you put the sun and the stars and the moon in the sky.

Not to your surprise, you and Satoru don’t finish all of the food he ordered. One of the waiters offers to box up the leftovers, then returns with two paper bags and hands them to your husband, whose unoccupied hand takes yours once more.

He decides he wants to take you to the park. He’s not sure why. It just feels right, and all you want is to spend time with him, so you tell him the park sounds perfect. It’s only another fifteen minute walk, anyway.

When you get there, the emerald lawns are teeming with families, couples, friends. Children run as if they can fly, dogs chase after tennis balls like it is their life mission. Satoru whisks you away from it all however, taking you into the trees.

Nestled amongst the Japanese chinquapin and zelkovas, a cherry blossom spreads its branches out like arms, its blossoms like pink fingertips that flutter as the wind swims through them. Satoru sinks into the cushion of grass at the base of the tree, leaning his broad back against the trunk. Like a cat, you find your way into his lap and rest your head upon his chest, next to his heart. The way his arms wrap around you is instinct.

Sparrows and finches flit about the branches, dancing as they move from one tree to another. Two turtle doves perch together, huddling into the other even though the air is warm.

Even if you and Satoru do not stay bound together in this life, if death takes you or him early, one thing you know for certain—you’ll find him again in another life. Right now, however, you have him in this life, and nothing else matters.

dedicated to @ushiwhacka and @tetsuskei <3 i love u both

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hii!

(If you’re not up for it simply ignore. I love your work and hope you’re happy and healthy and taking care of your own mental health ❤️)

The bat boys with a reader who has really low days and really just wants to be held?

I just wanted an excuse to add Kyle Rayner as a bonus cuz I’ve been wanting to write something for him but dunno what. Plus I’ve been needing something like this after the week I’ve just had lol.

Dick would smile softly as he held you in his arms, tightening his grip on you as he peppers you in kisses however he could.

He knew that days like these were the hardest for you and he wasn’t going to hold it against you, not in the slightest as he would softly hum a song to you as he carried you to your shared bed, Hayley hot on his heels as she was worried about your change of attitude.

Speaking of Hayley, she never leaves your side, in fact when she sees Dick hold you against him , she immeditly joins in and tries to wriggle her way in between you both in hopes of covering your face in comforting licks. She wants to see you happy and she’ll gladly cuddle up with you if that’s the only way to do it.

Dick would spoil you rotten with cuddles, kisses and words of encouragement when you felt as though all hope was lost, for the last thing he wanted was for you to feel as though no one had you back when he did this entire time of being together.

‘You’re amazing baby and I’m so fucking proud of you, so don’t let anyone tell you otherwise you otherwise because you outshine them without having to try.’ He says while pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Dick would gladly make a fool of himself if it was to make you feel better but holding you, kissing you, and praising you will have to do for the meantime as he could hope that he has given you the strength needed to get out of this dark place that you’ve found yourself in.

He believes you can do it but until then he’ll gladly hold you until you could stand on your own two feet again.

Jason doesn’t need to be told twice as he was well aware of what you want the moment you came through the door of your shared bedroom.

‘Come here sweetheart.’ He would say as he sets aside his book and held out his arms for you to burrow into as you rested your head on his chest, arms latching onto his waist with an iron like grip.

He didn’t need to ask about the day you’ve had for he could feel the fatigue and weariness within your body and the deep sigh that left your lips that told him you have been holding in for a long while. Your body practically radiated with tiredness in all its forms that made it impossible for him to ignore even if he tried.

‘Rest your heavy head and your weary eyes chipmunk,’ he tells you as he begins to rub up and down your back soothingly, ‘I’ll be right here when you wake up, so just relax for me okay?’

You hummed out a small and a tad muffled ‘okay’ and Jason presses a kiss to the side of your head as he tightens his hold on you. He’d even read passages of his book to you in hopes the tit would take your mind off of things quicker as he knew how much you liked the sound of his voice.

Jason knows there’s want much he could do when you experienced days like these but all he could hope was that he was making enough of an effort to make you feel just that little bit better.

Tim makes sure he has everything you could ever need during days like these such as your favourite plushie, blanket, comfort foods, and some water just to name a few as he wants you to be comfortable and taken care of if he was to not be moving away from the bed anytime soon as he held you in his arms.

He just wants you to be okay and doesn’t want you run in on an empty stomach.

‘We’re human, we have limitations and breaking points that tell us to stop and take a break for ourselves, but yet we have been made to think that we shouldn’t and that we should neglect our health and well-being for temporary achievements and successes; almost as if that’s the only thing that should mean something to us.’ Tim tells you as he cuddles you against his chest as a movie played on his laptop as background noise.

‘You’ve done so well for yourself and now your more then deserving of a rest, we’ll return to reality in our own time, we’ve got enough of it that it shouldn’t matter whether we’re still here an hour or two later.’ Tim continues as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

And he meant it, Tim didn’t care how kind he’d have to wait for you to get better because he understood that it wasn’t going to be as easy, having had shit days where he couldn’t be bothered to bring himself to do anything other then lay in his bed, wondering to himself about what he could’ve done to feel such deep pain and isolation.

He knew that it would take time for you to feel even remotely better and even when you did you’ll still need all the help you can possibly get, and he’ll be there for as long as you’ll need him there too.

Damian isn’t well versed in the art of comforting someone but with you, suddenly he’s an expert as he lets you flop against his side as he holds you protectively.

He doesn’t trust his words enough to bring you any comfort as he wasn’t given much himself when he was growing up, so Damian instead just lets you cling onto him and watch in silence as he draws whatever in his sketchbooks: in this instance it was quick sketch of you, him and all of his pets on a field somewhere.

Damian knew his drawings were somewhat therapeutic to you as you got to watch him go through every step he took to make the perfect drawing, no matter if it was heavily detailed or less so, that and he was proud of his artwork that he doesn’t mind showing you some of his precious works and telling you the stories behind them.

Titus joins you, obviously, as he could tell something was wrong with you and will lay in your lap to provide you with some comfort until he’s fallen fast asleep, rendering it impossible for you to move but you didn’t care and neither did Damian as you were surly to follow the Great Dane into dream land where you would be laying in that field that Damian drew.

You were a lot more stronger then you let yourself believe in Damian’s eyes but that didn’t mean he wasn’t more then content in holding you in comfortable silence until you felt better, even if it was just a little bit but even then Damian was determined to outdo himself and find other ways of helping you no matter what.

He just wants to see that smile he loved so much again that told him that everything was going to be okay.

Random Bonus character: Kyle Rayner

Kyle hates seeing you so down and will do absolutely anything and everything he could even if it meant only getting a little smile out of you he’d take it wholeheartedly!

Anything was better then that distant, solemn look on your face as you stared out the window as though life didn’t look as bright or pleasant anymore as it did before.

He’d conjure up anything your heart desired if that helped even by the smallest amount, any amount of progress was better then none. Kyle just wants to see your eyes light up again with childlike wonder again, even if it was momentarily.

However he doesn’t mind if him holding you in his arms was the only way to achieve such a thing as he could keep you close and squeeze you tightly as he tries to pour everything encouraging into your ears in low hushed whispers.

‘You’ll be okay,’ Kyle begins, ‘whether that’s within days, weeks or even months, you’ll be okay. You’re not missing out on anything nor are you going about life at a slower pace compared to others, you’re going at your own pace and that’s okay, you’ll get where you need to be in due time so there’s no point in rushing yourself to get there quicker.’

Kyle would even do some silly little doodles for you just to hear you chuckle or even let out an amused huff. He’d gladly make himself look silly if it meant brining a little light to your heart and life back into your eyes.

[hoshifighting]

lyla love, love your work!! i was wondering if you wouldn’t mind writing about exhibitionism and finger fetish with jihoon...

woozi x fingering fetish + exhibitionism

WARNINGS: smut, dirty talk, public-sex, fingering.

a dangerous combo, but one that makes so much sense for him. he’s always been the lowkey type, all quiet and serious on the outside, but there’s this intensity about him (he's almost a scorpio too, don't forget that) that makes you think there’s way more underneath that composed surface. and then you get to see it—oh boy, when jihoon’s got his mind set on something, there’s no stopping him. first off, let’s talk about the fingering. jihoon’s hands are always doing something, whether he’s producing music, strumming a guitar, or just tapping on the table, so it’s no surprise he’d be obsessed with using them in other ways. he’s got this hyper-focus, yk? so when it comes to fingering, he’s not just doing it to get you off—he’s fully studying your body, learning exactly how you react to each touch, each curl of his fingers, until he’s got you trembling and moaning his name like it’s a symphony he’s conducting.

he’s got this thing for control (vocal team leader 👀), but it’s not overt. he likes to take his time, tease you until you’re practically begging for more, but the whole time he’s got that concentrated look on his face, like this is a challenge he has to win. it’s almost unfair how good he is—how he can find your g-spot within seconds, how he can feel the way your walls clench around his fingers and adjust his movements so precisely that you’re seeing stars before you even realize what’s happening. but he’s got this kink for the reactions, too. your whimpers, the way your body shudders under his touch. and he won’t stop, not until he’s got you soaked, trembling. he loves knowing that it’s his fingers that have you like this, that he can bring you to the edge again and again just by the way he moves them inside you.

then, add in the exhibitionism kink, and it’s a whole new level. jihoon’s discreet—he’s not the type to be flashy about it, but that’s what makes it even hotter. he’s got this hidden side, a secret thrill for public places, where the danger of being caught only adds to the thrill. he’d never put you in a situation where you could get in serious trouble, but the idea of getting away with it? oh, he loves that.

imagine you’re out at a quiet bar or a dark restaurant, and he’s sitting next to you, his hand slipping under the table when no one’s looking. he’s so calm, his expression barely changing, but his fingers are already pushing your underwear aside, slipping inside you, all while carrying on a casual conversation with whoever’s in front of you. you’re trying to keep it together, but he knows exactly what he’s doing, knows how close you are to completely losing it.

he’d whisper things like, “you’re so wet already, can’t believe you’re letting me do this in public.” and you can barely keep your voice steady, nodding along like everything’s fine while his fingers are fucking you under the table. and he’s not stopping—not until your thighs are shaking, and you’re biting your lip so hard to keep from moaning out loud.

or maybe you’re at a movie theater, sitting in the back row, and he’s got his hand between your legs before the opening credits are even over. the low light gives you just enough cover, but it’s the risk that gets him going. the fact that you could get caught, that someone could turn around and see the way you’re squirming in your seat as his fingers slide in and out of you. “you’re such a good girl for me, staying quiet like this,” he’d murmur in your ear, and it makes you melt on the seat because you know how close you are to being loud, to letting everyone hear exactly what he’s doing to you.

and when it’s over, when you’re both in the clear and no one suspects a thing, jihoon’s got that self-satisfied little smirk on his face. he knows he just ruined you in the most secretive, stimulating way possible. and the thing is; he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Closer And Closer

Note || as requested by many, here is the sequel! This was a ton of fun to write 🤲

WC || 2,535

<(Previous Part)> <(You are here)>

Sypnosis || With your new friend in hand, you begin earning some unexpected honesty—and new understandings.

Once, there was a dream. Sometimes it would recur, coming back to you in the encroaching depths of your mind no matter how much you wanted to stop dreaming this very same dream. It was always on and off, how it can always come back–like a nightmare–just how can one describe it?

People can forget their own dreams long after they wake up, lest they be lucky to want to write down the dream. So you were one and the same, the trepidation always sneaking upon you, like an approaching danger that will never fail to make your nerves stand on end. 

“Mommy,” You tugged at the hem of the woman’s dress, a baby trapped within a limited consciousness; yearning for love, curiosity and just always wanting to be around your parents. It’s natural and in nature for a young child to always want their parents. “Why are you gonna be gone for so long?”

Oh, that sweet, sweet voice. How adorable could you be? The woman just looked down upon your small form with a smile, so very reminiscent of motherly love. Only a mother could bring a kind of peace like that to their child, the woman thought. She crouched down to your level, patting the crown of your head with a gentle hand, so very gentle as you remember her even gentler heartbeat. A voice came from her mouth, words carried with a saccharine tone. “My little sweet apple pie, it is only a work trip!” She giggled, then wrapped her arms around you and held you close. Causing you to giggle as well, laughter so joyous even the woman holding you now couldn’t help but feel such joy because of you alone. “I’ll be back before you can say Poppies!”

You look up at her, strangely the woman’s face was misty, enshrouded by black shadows. As if reality didn’t want you to see her, your own mother. Still, a smile remained upon your face as you nodded at the woman. “Hehe! Okay, mom.”

Slowly you blinked, the world suddenly began disappearing from sight, the environment twisting upon your peripherals. 

“What?”

You groan audibly, cursing to yourself under your breath. “Of-fucking-course.” 

Slowly, You remember where you are now. A hand comes into your view and holds you steady, a very familiar one. 

“Don’t get up too quickly, you will get weary Angel.” His voice warns, it still seemed so strained and worn worse for wear. Just what kind of things had Catnap done to DogDay? Perhaps you shouldn’t worry about it, something like that is a very personal thing to ask about, no doubt. 

You coughed, pounding on your chest as you slowly rose awake. Your companion had been waiting calmly for you to collect yourself, but that had made him a little worried as he winced when you coughed. Slowly enough, you ease yourself into standing with DogDay’s help, all that jumping and landing seriously hurt your body a great deal. No wonder you were exhausted as hell right now.

Right, no time to worry about that now. It was time to be more worried about what to do next, “DogDay, you think you can handle being carried around by me in that state?” You asked with an airy tone, you didn’t want to be too loud and accidentally attract any nearby toys who are under Catnap’s influence. DogDay slumped for a moment, most likely still very worn out from probably the way he had been hanged. He let out a heavy sigh, feeling everything coursing through him, he was very much here and alive.

He always had been continually reminded of this very thing.

Reminded of Catnap.

“No need to worry about me, Angel.” Your companion spoke, his fur ruffling about in his movements. You probably were gonna have to do something about that later, DogDay sorely needed some cleaning up. “I am tougher than you think.” 

It seemed his words carried a half-hearted weight, carrying no affirmed meaning to them. You looked at DogDay incredulously, clear as night and day that you knew this well; worn out, tired and cramping for a plan to end the Prototype. You’ve never gotten a good look at the Prototype, only a few times you have gotten a good look at the Prototype’s hand–there must be a whole body from beyond the shadow’s.

Awaiting, no doubt terrifying too. But, you dealt with adrenaline rushes and terrifying monsters from the moment you stepped foot into the abandoned Playtime Co. 

“Ah, well, just tell me if anything is bothering you.” You nodded at him, patting down your clothing, the dust falling in your wake. DogDay was quiet for a moment, taking a hand-step back as he looked around at the environment once more. He was considering something, considering how to go about the next phase of the way. 

“No safe places here, nothing good.” For a moment, you swore that you had seen his mouth contorting into a frown–though in every Smiling Critter, they always are smiling–So this was completely new, different somehow. “My apologies Angel, safe places are rare to find.” DogDay sighed, he in a sense was habitually instinctive to keep his loved ones safe; going so far as to make sure they have a good sleep. Even if it meant at the cost of his own health. 

He cared deeply for his friends, but they were gone now. Catnap was someone he could not recognize anymore, that wasn’t his friend.

DogDay’s only focus was making sure you are alive and safe.

Something of which is admittedly difficult to do, knowing all the horrors that had occurred in Playtime Co. but it wasn’t too troubling for someone like you. DogDay was glad for you about that, impressed even that you had managed to survive thus far before you had met him. 

You patted his head, causing him to look back at you. “Nothing to apologize for! Everyone’s just… a little too crazy nowadays.” You mutter, walking over to a dusty pile and finding a tape. There seemed to be thousands of these tapes all around the Factory, some of which you could’ve sworn recording yourself. 

Being a former employee for Playtime Co. is one thing to say, but being an engineer was a different process. You were only involved in the works of designing and constructing, not once had you ever really got hand in hand with actually building things. But you were highly proud of the work you had done and completed alongside your fellow co-workers, looking back on it now… all it had done simply saddened you.

How it seemed to be the way that the toys seemed to be so lifeless, once so full of joy, love and empathy for everyone in this place all together.

You wouldn’t mind turning back the clock and doing good for once more, the right way this time. When everything was said and done, the toys you came across were well justified in their anger for being abandoned–but you weren’t looking to be on the top list of being killed either. Considering how you had gotten lucky apparently by quitting the day before your co-workers had all disappeared.

Getting through this place was no trouble, you remember some good places of this Factory like the back of your hand. Huggy Wuggy, Kissy Missy of whom is his spouse, was rather different to the likes of the tall-blue furred beast. Rather inconceivable in behaviors, Kissy Missy was a perturbed ally, one you didn’t expect. All the toys you met so far, (save for Poppy, and Kissy Missy) had full intentions to kill you from going any further.

This Factory is a whole goddamn amalgamation of mysteries you weren’t sure you wanted to solve anymore. Let alone having any trust in every being you come across now too, how disturbing must this get? You sure as hell weren’t Elliot Ludwig. 

“I simply wish I could be of more help.” DogDay recounted with a mournful tune, breaking you out of your thoughts and consolation. You frown at him, wanting to offer comfort: the words could not come through. He shuffled around to begin looking for things too, but now something had crossed your mind. 

You still couldn’t piece together almost everything between DogDay and Catnap, some things he had said back at the heretic altar had stuck with you. Until now it was dismissable, out of sight and out of mind you supposed. Though you recounted some thoughts that had warmed you in ways you didn’t expect, at first meet he already was of great character–someone you truly wanted to be around.

The repugnant smell that had always seemed to be invading your senses was gone now, this particular area was an untouched one. “DogDay… do you mind if I ask you something?” You spoke, stepping over the rubbish and noting the sound footsteps that echo in your wake. Don’t walk too much, this area may be empty but it didn’t mean that Catnap wasn’t watching. That cat was terrifying to you. Permeating nightmares had run endlessly through your mind, and his gas before when calling back on previous close counters with the obsessed follower of the prototype were far too close. 

Continually he had gone about looking for anything that may be of assistance to you both, still he had spoken in reply, “Angel, I will answer anything. You deserve as such.” DogDay recounted, noting what he had said to you before you fell to the slumbers of sweet, sweet sleep. 

Cool, cool cool… that was dandy and nice of him. You just weren’t sure how to articulate the very question that lays burning in your mouth, for fear of the fact you might be gazed upon with ranicid and covert questioning, like an ornery old bitch. Pointedly you stepped around the rubble, in turn you came across an old set-up, as if there used to be children here. A blanket laying upon the ground and the ravaged pillows, still in condition that you could say that was okay to be recycled for use. Still quite in a-okay position to sit down on, waiting for DogDay to finish scrambling around.

“So,” You began, lacing your fingers together and intertwining them purely out of your nerves spiking in your body as of right now. “What’s… the deal between you and Catnap?” Abruptly, at those words, his very being felt as if he tensed up. You couldn’t read him right now, suddenly incomprehensible to understand. 

“I suppose you should know about it, in order to really understand Catnap.” He motioned, steadily crawling over to where you sat. “Catnap was someone you could get along great with, quiet and not much of a talker, but actions speak louder than words Angel.” 

Then, there was a lapse in his words; DogDay was doing his best to keep himself steady and calm. He certainly couldn’t allow himself to fall apart in front of you, that is not very leader-like of someone such as DogDay.

“Oh, his actions spoke so much more for him than one little word.” He nodded, laying his head upon his crossed arms. DogDay had made himself comfortable as he shifted to a proper position. “But, things happened. Very bad things.” You were albeit surprised he was willingly sharing such information with you, as personal as it would appear. 

Still, you had remained muted, this was something that could conceivably help you in dealing with the nightmare cat later on. “Something had happened to him, something I wasn’t aware of. Angel, he.. wasn’t the same Catnap. He wasn’t my friend anymore.” Now, you could understand this well.

You yourself never had a good trade off within all your relationships, no matter what kind of relationship it was… be it; platonic, romantic, friends even! Humans are odd and sometimes indescribable in nature, but it simply has always been this way. But friends change, sometimes partially and even supernaturally.

In DogDay’s case, it was gruesome and religious. Catnap by no means was someone to act fool with, something you could pick out with merely just from first impressions. In passing, this was no offense whatsoever–personally that cat looked scary as hell.

“All my friends just,” Then, DogDay allowed himself to breathe again once more. “I wouldn’t wish it even on my own worst enemy.”

“The Prototype?” You snorted, shifting your weight from one end to the other as you gave him a benign quizzical look. 

“Angel.”

“I'm messing with you!” 

You waved him off, then put your hands in your lap. It was oddly endearing in how you behaved, the normalcy around here is rare, DogDay would admit. “So it seems, Prototype is his god. I don’t understand every detail, but The Prototype saved him.” He beckoned, recounting the mention of the Prototype from not even two minutes ago. 

“So Catnap began viewing this, Prototype as such?” You finished for him, tilting your head. Your companion nodded, lifting his head to recover proper eye contact with you. 

“Poppy, the rest who are on your side want nothing more to end the terror of the Prototype’s reign. Come to save me Angel, I thank you so much for that.” Honesty was a fickle thing for DogDay since recalling recent events, but had it come to you? The fearless dog didn’t mind. 

“Oh it’s nothing to be thanked for,” You grin at him, ever so slightly. But he’ll take that, “You were in so much pain. That’s a position no innocent person, or toy deserves to be in.”

DogDay had to consider this for a moment, so much consideration had been done lately. Yet, it was all done to simply understand the chaos underlying this factory, no doubt it had caused a lot of trauma (to many in this place) alone. “You're right about that, Angel, I suppose I had gotten too comfortable in all my reckless decadence.” Willfully, he was well aware of his actions as a leader. Some of which he had questioned why he had made them.

Your hand on his ragged-torn furred head had snapped DogDay out of his conscious thoughts, “We all deserve peace, that means you too DogDay.” 

You were right.

It seems there are still many things to be learned.

“You are far too kind to me.” He sighed, leaning into your hand. You never moved your hand away from him. 

“Though we should probably get you cleaned up.” That sentence alone suddenly broke the comfortable atmosphere, still much rather comedic however. 

“Right,” DogDay barked, as if he really was laughing. His whole body shook, it was rather a wave of happiness. Something he had not often felt, it had almost shocked him a little. “I believe they would have some bandages and towels nearby, water too.” Your companion then noted it would most likely be at a medical station somewhere.

You raised a brow at this, causing DogDay to nod with an air of laughter about him as he spoke once more whilst you had hoisted him over your shoulders. “I worked with children quite more often than not, you would be surprised at the amount of things that happen during playtime Angel.”

[Taglist: @zacklover24 ]

[amaranthineghost]

I'LL LET YOU GO IF THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT ( lando norris. )

lando norris x reader

a little over half a year later when the season ended, they haven't found their way back. At least not on purpose, but the universe knows better than them

authors note: I was thinking of making a happy ending, but not everything always ends up that way </3 after this, I'll work on two max imagines and then I'll see what I can do while I'm on spring break

part 1 found here

IT’S BEEN EIGHT MONTHS since she last spoke to him.

two hundred forty-three days since she last saw that sad look on his face in the rear-view mirror as she drove away from the past she half-wished was her future.

five thousand eight hundred thirty-two hours since she last felt his touch, his arms consoling and unwilling to let her go and yet she still left.

three hundred forty-nine thousand, nine hundred and twenty seconds since the peak of his performance at the beginning of the season. now she watched as he tried and failed to be what he once was. maybe not a winner, or a champion, but he’d had her, which was practically equal.

but now he had lost her.

now she watched as the season came to an end. poor performance after poor performance after poor performance where not all races ended in crossing the finish line.

she never stopped watching, yet she could never reach out, and neither would he. he was always going to be ready to accept her back into his life, yet he knew she needed time.

but she didn't know if she could do it again, though at the same time she kept eyeing his life in envy because part of her wished she could live the way he could without being bothered by the media. part of her was jealous he could live his entire life in front of a camera and be so nonchalant about it.

scrolling through his socials, they still followed each other and it caught people's attention. she read through countless tweets, theories and rumors of their relationship still carrying on behind the cameras, and though she partly wished it to be true, she hated that it wasn't. the fans still wished, and she would too.

the random appearances in the paddock had come to an end, unfortunate for the fans who loved whenever she’d show up in support of her boyfriend, turned ex.

because now all she did was stay within the confines of her apartment building, shielded from the possibility of running into lando. she couldn’t handle bumping into him when she still felt as fragile as glass. she felt like she would shatter if she saw him again, no matter how much she wanted him back.

but living in monaco means you're bound to run into someone from his circle of life.

it felt bittersweet because she wanted him back so badly, to have him hold her in his arms and tell her they’d make it work. but it’d never happened, and truthfully, she hoped it never would. because she knew that if she saw him, she wouldn’t go running back into his arms as if making it work again was the easiest option. because really, if she saw him, she would run, not towards him but away, and she dreaded the fact that he would let her.

he’d watch the love of his life run from him rather than to him and be totally fine with it. because he knew that when the time was right, she would find him again, or he would find her, and only then she wouldn’t run from him.

but he feared for the day that he would realize that she was never coming back to him. he feared for the day where he would realize he shouldn't have let her go.

and he hopes for the day, though it may never come, where she does find the right time to come back to him. he prays for the day where he would make the right choice he should've made the first time.

because in the infinite universes that are said to exist, even if she never returns in nearly every one, he hopes to live the one where she would.

but he knows that if there's a universe where she comes back, even after his idiocy of letting her go to begin with, there's also one where this could've been avoided all together. a universe where he didn't have to watch her pack her bags while shuddering with sobs.

a universe where he wouldn't have to go without her for eight months, where his performance improved when she attended grand prixs.

the one he'd rather live with her than without.

it was unsure when they would ever see each other again. they'd gone this long without seeing the other, who's to say they ever would?

it was chilly in the streets of monaco, contrast to the usually warm, sunny climate the area was known for. she wore a thick coat while she walked down the sidewalk, past the seasonal market with nothing more than her phone, wallet and tote bag.

she needed to get out, to think. she couldn't stand being trapped in the box of her apartment surrounded by nothing but reminders of him. not that it was a bad thing.

she couldn't take another second overanalyzing the helmet he had left for her. she knew it was part of his plan to have her back. to make her want more helmets dedicated to her, which he continued to do despite her not being with him. she'd be lying if she said his plan was failing.

the hoodie, probably tied into the same plan, covered in his damn cologne he knew she couldn't get enough of. it had faded over time, becoming replaced with the smell of her instead. she didn't know what to think of it.

she considered purchasing that same cologne again, drowning the fabric in its fragrance. it wouldn't be the same.

she felt like she could breathe easier with the winter air rather than the stale air of her apartment. sure, she could've stepped onto the balcony, but it was always nice to find a way out of her apartment complex.

hands stuffed in her pockets, she wandered around aimlessly at the shops that lined the streets and stalls set up to buy from.

riddled with things that caught her eye, she couldn't help but stop at nearly every stall. it took an incredible amount of self control to not buy everything she wanted. she didn't have lando by her side to buy everything.

this was her life now. she had a job that she could do from home and it paid her rent. it was enough to live off of while she completed her last years of school before she started a career for herself. tiny little trinkets seemed good in the moment, but she knew long-term that it’d eventually hurt her financially, and besides she didn’t have that much space in her apartment.

she didn’t know how much time had passed. everything was a blur as she mindlessly walked on. she hadn’t noticed when she bumped her shoulder into somebody’s chest, and she had immediately begun to apologize.

“i’m so sorry, i wasn’t looking where i was—lando?” she recognized the curly-haired guy in front of her as she stood there frozen.

“hey, long time no see,” he spoke slowly and warily, looking her up and down at the changes of her appearances that occurred over the last eight months.

“uh—what are you doing here?” she questioned, stuttering over her words just slightly as she looked at him tensely.

lando looked around with a brow raised, hands in his pockets while he answered, “uh, i live here?”

she nodded, “right.”

the air was awkward as they stood in a tense silence. people ushered around them, occasionally bumping into them. they hadn’t known what to say to each other because they weren’t expecting this impromptu meeting.

“how’ve you been?” he broke the silence.

she nodded again, “fine, and you? i saw that your season wasn’t too good.”

he grimaced softly at her words, “yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck, “just some technical issues.”

“right.”

the silence was back and more deafening than the first time, standing awkwardly looking at each other didn’t help.

again, he was the one to break it, “could i buy you a drink?”

“isn’t it a bit early for alcohol?” she questioned, looking at the brightness of the sky before her gaze settled back down at him with a weird look.

he scoffed, “i mean the coffee shop down the street,” his voice was a half chuckle as he began walking, leaving her to follow.

“well, you’re unpredictable these days,” she fell into step with him as they walked side by side in silence.

it took all of two minutes for them to arrive at the coffee shop lando had mentioned. they could smell the aroma from a ways away, the door left open to let in the cool breeze.

the shop was warm and cozy, most tables were occupied except for a few scattered around. she reached for her wallet to buy herself a coffee, but he quickly shut it down.

“it's my treat,” was all he said before he walked up to the counter with his card in hand to order as she took the two seater by the window, setting her bag down on the ground. she watched the world from where she sat, the people walking by.

groups of friends, pairs that weren’t quite at the stage of being a couple, or the single person walking by every so often. all without crossing paths. it seemed crazy to her how so much could change because of a stranger on the street.

looking back to where lando stood ordering, she wondered what her life would’ve been if they hadn’t met. they wouldn’t have traveled the world, stayed out late on rooftops, or partied in clubs despite her hesitancy. he wouldn’t have dedicated nearly his whole career to her because she was forever a piece of him.

she realized how much she had meant when she saw just how much of her he still kept. he wore shirts with printed pink bows, the one gold bracelet he wore among the silver and fan bracelets given to him by her and he never took it off. the way he styled his hair in the way she taught him, the matching rings they still wore, the references of her personality on his helmet for every race rather than a specific track, her name on his car.

her name on his car.

her name printed in pretty cursive across the top of his steering wheel and the halo for him to see.

he still managed to include her in his life despite her absence because he considered her his lucky charm. having reminders of her anywhere he could would always manage to boost his spirits, but only her presence would boost his performance.

the chair across from her pulled out with an uncomfortable scrape of the legs against the floor. she grimaced slightly, but it quickly disappeared when she refocused on the hand that slid a mug filled with hot coffee to her.

clearly they were going to be here a while, judging from the mug and not a to-go cup. she watched the steam swirl into the air as she softly blew on it while lando sat across from her with his beverage of choice. she also noticed the chocolate-chip cookie in a paper bag he held.

he remembered her love of sweets. she took a sip of her coffee. he remembered her order to the finest detail. he still remembered.

“thanks,” she spoke quietly before taking another small sip of the hot beverage. it slightly burned her tongue and throat as she drank, but she didn’t care to notice.

she was sitting across from lando norris, the one person she had been hoping to avoid this whole time, and now she’s sat with him at a coffee shop they used to frequent when they were dating.

“you’re welcome,” he muttered, his saddened eyes unmoving from her face, watching every expression of hers unfold. “so, how have you been?”

“you’ve already asked that,” she stated simply.

“i mean,” he started, leaning forward with his arms crossed against the table, “how have you really been? i don’t believe for a second that you’ve been fine when i‘m barely holdin’ it together.”

she sighed, taking another sip and grimacing at the burn, “it’s been difficult, but i know it was for the best that we broke up.”

he nodded in response, his fingers circling the rim of his mug as he stared into it.

she spoke up again, saying the words he dreaded to hear, “and i think it should stay that way.”

his shoulders visibly dropped and he bit his cheek before he looked back at her with colorless eyes, “but—” he began when she hastily cut him off.

“i need you to let me go,” her voice cracked as she spoke and tears filled her eyes as she avoided his gaze, “you have to let me let you go, lan.”

“please, don’t make me do this,” he begged, leaning forward again with a look that could make her change her mind in a second.

“please, don’t make this harder than it already is,” she shook her head as the tears began to fall, “in another universe, it might’ve been me and you, maybe the circumstances would've been in our favor, but not in this one.”

“it’s just right person, wrong life.”

“i’ll find you in our next lifetime then,” he promises, his eyes brimming with tears. he tried his best to hold back, for her, “i promise.” he tried to remain strong, for her.

“I know you will.” she said simply, smiling through her tears as she pursed her lips, sniffling as she played with her fingers. “y’know, i'll always be your number one supporter, lan. i'll still cheer for you, just from behind a screen. in that other life, i would come to your races.”

“but even in this one, i'll still celebrate your first win, your first championship. i'll vote you for driver of the day, even if you’re dead last.”

he chuckled sadly at the last part, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smile, “how will i know for sure you didn’t get bored of watching me race?” his hand reached across the table, his tan slightly faded and his rings cold.

she rolled her eyes softly, “you’ll know. i promise.” she laid her hand on his, the last somewhat intimate touch they’ll ever have with each other because after he watched her stand, pocketing the cookie he bought. he watched her through the window as she walked into the crowd as if their paths never met.

he watched with tears in his eyes, silently crying as he watched the love of his other life turn her back on him forever. he let her.

because if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was letting her go.

part of her wanted him to chase after her, wipe her mascara-stained tears just like that regretful day in their old apartment because part of her still wanted him in her life. she wished she could still go back sometimes.

he wished she would just come back. he wanted to experience life with her, he wanted to win with her, be a champion with her.

but he lived in the wrong universe, and he was unsure if he'd ever see her in this life again, in the way he wanted. they would bump shoulders on the street, looking longingly for just a second as they ushered by in a hurry. not looking back, but never forgetting how much they had meant to each other for the time they were together.

how crossing paths, even for what seemed like the shortest time to them, changed the trajectory of their lives forever. they would subconsciously look for qualities of each other in the people they moved onto. telling stories to their kids and grandkids about the other in regretful tones because they wished it was the kids they had together that they could tell the story of their relationship to.

because now they were just strangers, she was just a name he would forever keep on his car, and he was just an old lover turned stranger she would send flowers to after every podium and win until he would retire.

—

taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @leclercdream

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[papayatori]

Jjk x reader!

Head canons (bc I like these ^^) (incl: Yuji, Megumi, Yuta, Toge…)

Yuji Itadori

Golden Retriever Gets super excited over the little things Likes being called "baby", he prefers it over his real name, which if you use his real name he'll get suspicious// Super clingy, but in a good way, doesn't try to hide it in front of anyone. He will shamelessly hold your hand or squeeze your thigh in the car, no one can make fun of him enough for him to stop. (not even you, but he knows you secretly like the attention) Probably the best boyfriend ever

Megumi Fushiguro

Terrified of affection, makes him feel weak. Always worries about you, especially if you don't text back within a certain amount of time Is clingy, but he'll never admit it. Drinks his coffee black, that's just how he is. Always offers to do everything for you, regardless of how he tells you he feels about it, but not without complaining. Secretly really touchy, but only behind closed doors, he can't bear the teasing from the trio. Jealous type, secretly though, you'd never know Scary dog privilege.

Yuta Okkotsu

Very shy, but very loving. Won't do anything you aren't comfortable with, offers you a safe word (as he should, go Yuta.) Likes holding your hand, loves physical attention, no matter where you are unless you're uncomfortable. Isn't shy about telling others he loves you or that you're his girlfriend, he enjoys seeing people's reactions Prefers tea, but will drink coffee with you if you asked. Adamant on making sure you're healthy, asking if you've slept well and eaten. Will scold you if you haven't

Toge Inumaki

Doesn't say much, but offers you wordless support, always. Tries to be cool constantly, but is actually really sweet and a big softy when it comes to you Loves cuddles, holding you, everything that involves touching you. Canonically likes plushies and matcha, you can't tell me otherwise. Very playful, likes to bully and tease you. If he wants to help you with something he'll just take it from you, teasing you about not being able to carry everything by yourself, especially in public. He enjoys embarrassing you. Plays fortnite/valorant with you <3 Gamer boy, probably has a twitch and they hear all about you Super clingy, he doesn't care what others think. Drinks Chai, just his vibe. will buy you starbucks every morning. (he knows your favorite) Easily jealous. (thats why he takes it upon himself to order for you almost everywhere, he's the only one that can look at you.)

[ddejavvu]

Hi!!!

Imagine hotch x reader where the reader is pregnant and hotch isn’t there when she goes into labor but Derek is (she left her wallet at the bau or something while visiting Hotch and Derek came over to drop it off to her… or something like that)

I’m imagining the interaction between Derek and Hotch once he finally gets to the hospital 😭😭

You've watched Derek walk into active shootings, and run an unsub off the road by crashing his car into theirs, but you've never seen him quite as scared as he is now that your water has broken.

"Oh shit," His eyes widen and he presses his back flat to the wall of the kitchenette, eyeing the stain on your work pants, "Uh, that's- we have to go now, don't we?"

"Now," You plead, panic seizing you as well, no matter how much you try repressing it. You know a stressful labor won't be good for your daughter, but there's no way it's going to go smoothly now that Aaron isn't here.

"Okay. Okay, I gotcha," Derek promises, with more confidence than you're sure he truly possesses. He reaches out to help you from your chair, supporting most of your weight with a hand around your shoulders and the other cupped under your belly. Walking is more of an awkward shuffle than his typical long strides, but he helps you over to Hotch's office where your husband's hospital bag is kept. Derek slings the diaper bag over his shoulder and tries getting you back on your feet after you've reclined against the armrest of Aaron's couch, but you struggle to move properly.

"Okay, uh- okay. I'm gonna carry you, alright?" Derek looks into your eyes for permission, but you'd be doomed if you denied, "Okay, c'mere, just- yeah, wrap your arms around my neck, Y/N. That's it," You do as you're told, and Derek scoops you up bridal style. You're constantly impressed by his muscles, but now more than ever.

"Okay, mama. Let's get you to the car, then we'll go to the hospital. We'll turn the sirens on," Derek promises, moving as fast as he can with you in his arms and the bag balanced on his shoulders, "Cut through traffic."

"Thank you, Derek," You groan, face pressed into his shoulder as your first wave of contractions begins flowing over you. It's an aching you've never felt before, and you try not to sob knowing that they'll only get worse with time.

"No need, no need." He assures you, and he's surprisingly fast to get you into the car. True to his word, he turns the sirens on, but your groans and moans of pain might be louder than the piercing wails that clear the road for you.

"Okay," Your eyes are squeezed shut, but you hear the squeal of tires against the road as Derek pulls into the parking lot, "Okay, we're gonna get you in there, okay? Then I'll call Hotch, you just do your thing."

An attendant is already rushing out to meet you and you squeeze Derek's arm one final time, a pained smile on your face as he watches the nurses help you into a wheelchair.

"Thank you," You repeat, "Derek, thank you. I love you."

"Love you too," He grins, relaxed now that he knows you're finally in proper hands, "Now go have us another BAU baby!"

--

Aaron storms into the waiting room a mere twenty minutes after Derek calls him, and he was supposed to be conducting a prison interview, so Derek doesn't want to think about how he'd managed to get here that fast.

"My wife," Hotch demands, as if Derek thinks he might be here to read to sick children, "Where's Y/N?"

"Delivery room 4," Derek stands to show him the window attached to your room, blinds drawn and painful groans coming from within, "Hurry, man, they said it's going real fast."

"Thank you." Aaron stops to grab Derek's forearms, squeezing them and nodding once, "Thank you, Morgan."

"Get in there," Derek grins, the last bit of stress that had been squeezing at his chest alleviated now that Aaron is here to witness the birth of his daughter, "Go on, Hotch."

Aaron doesn't need more coaxing than that.

He's allowed a quick entry when he introduces himself to the nurse, and you're already being fed ice chips that last mere seconds between your clenched teeth.

"Honey," Aaron rushes forward, and you reach out for his desperately. Your grip is nearly bruising on his hand but he couldn't care less, and leans in to kiss your sweat-lined forehead.

"What can I do?" He asks, standing even after the nurse offers him a chair. You nod to it, and that's his cue to sit.

"Nothing." You nearly sob, overtaken by pain Aaron wishes he could fix for you, "Just- just promise me- aah!"

"You're okay," Aaron jumps into action, squeezing your hand so that you squeeze his even harder, pressing his free hand against your teeth through your cheeks so that you don't crack a tooth by clenching your jaw so tight. You let him force your mouth open but it only makes your cries of pain louder, and when they subside you open your eyes to find him staring worriedly down at you.

"I want the baby to have Morgan as a middle name," You finish your thought, "I- I know we decided on Mia for her first, but- but-"

"Mia Morgan Hotchner," Aaron nods, smiling at the way the name rolls off of his tongue, "I think that's perfect, honey."

[anzulvr]

can you do a karma x reader but Korosensei just follows them around or he embarrasses Karma 🎀

Karma x Reader, where Korosensei embarrasses you both. Sorry for late replies as always & THANKS ALOT FOR REQUESTING THIS!! TELL ME IF U SEE TYPOS!!

— Korosensei has a lot of spare time on his hands tentacles. He can complete tasks that would take a regular person hours in a matter of seconds.

Which is why he often shoves his nose in other people’s business. He needs some way to keep himself entertained!

Unfortunately for him no matter how much he tries to set his students up together, none of them seem to make a move on their own accord!

Korosensei is 90% of the reason you and Karma are together.

You were too nervous to be honest about your feelings, confessing was out of the question.

Karma, he considered asking you out a few times but being inexperienced with romance (or any sort of affection ranging from friendships to his family life) , he didn’t know how to go about springing his emotions on you.

He planned it out himself a few times; ‘What am I supposed to do after I confess? High-five? Maybe a hug, nah I’m not a hug person.’

Karmas love language is mentally draining the people he likes, which is why he’s not the type to prepare huge romantic gestures all on his own.

He prefers pissing you off until you want to punch him. (He thinks it’s funny when you miss.)

Or getting his ears pulled when he’s saying something stupid and you’re trying to shut him up.

Korosensei knows you two won’t get anywhere without a push, he’s very observant with his students, he decided he could give you two the encouragement you needed.

Honestly what better self appointed wing man is there? Korosensei can pretty much make anything happen with his abilities! He does everything behind you and Karmas backs. He gets the students and his colleagues involved at times.

Karasuma has spoken against it, might’ve said something along the lines of “Stop poking your head into your students private lives.” But what would he know? Romance has to be pursued! Everyone knows if you can’t follow your heart Korosensei will follow it for you.

He can make the most random, insignificant moments about you two.

“Korosensei, do you have an eraser you could let me have?”

“Unfortunately I’m all out [Name]. Karma has plenty erasers you should ask him!”

Karma looks confused, his only eraser got stolen by Terasaka around 20 minutes ago when he asked to borrow it and never gave it back.

“I don’t? Terasaka has mine.”

“Nufufufu… check again!”

Within a second after you asked, Korosensei flew around the class and replaced everything in Karmas backpack with erasers.

Karma opens his backpack and erasers are the only thing in his backpack, he chucks a few at his teacher before giving you one.

Korosensei finds a way to preform extravagant romantic gestures on Karmas behalf.

That wouldn’t be so bad if Korosensei wasn’t so extra.

With his powers, he struggles not to get carried away with all the cool stunts he can pull!

Cue to him finding a way to write your names together in the sky (Like a sky writer) WITHOUT the airplane. Because he could probably find a way to do it himself. He’s faster than a plane and has nicer writing anyway.

As a teacher he can’t afford to hire [your Favorite music artist] to serenade you two. (Mostly because he’s horrible at budgeting and partly because Karma steals from him once in a while.) Any normal person would give up and maybe rent a boombox.

Korosensei doesn’t give in that easily, which is why he dressed up as the lead singer.

(imagine like his Karasuma Costume sort of situation) He had the rest of E class involved in the production.

Mimura on air guitar😭.

There’d be food catering and everything. The catering is Isogai who’s perfect for the job as he has experience and Maehara who keeps eating from the plates. (He gets fired and replaced with Meg.)

You and Karma both are pretty used to it at this point so it’s turned into something you poke fun at together. Free food is free food.

The most ironic thing is, Korosensei had nothing to do with the day you both started dating.

It was during the island trip when the guys were talking about the girls they like, when asked Karma said that he’d have to go with Okuda because she’s good at chemistry and she’d be helpful with his pranks.

You overheard as you were walking past the room, it made your heart ache. The following days he’d gotten the impression you were mad at him, but couldn’t figure out what he did to upset you. You distanced yourself out of hurt, feeling like he’d been leading you on this entire time. Eventually he pried it out of you (he’s annoyingly persistent not to mention really good at convincing you to go along with whatever he wants.) In this conversation he admits, he wasn’t being serious with his answer towards the guys, that she makes a good friend but he doesn’t like Okuda in that way. He tells you he can make it up to you if you agree to go out with him. Once you agree he goes in for an high-five like he had planned earlier, but you go in for a hug instead. He reciprocates after the initial surprise wears off. Maybe he is a hug person.

[scuderiasundays]

chili’s angels

summary: carlos can’t say no to his little girls, leaving him with some explaining to do on media day + a little insta au at the end 🌶️

words: 806

a/n: this one was in my drafts for a while but i brought it out for @thatsdemko and all the dad! carlos girlies out there. i know there are a lot of you! tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, and @diorleclerc just because. feedback is much appreciated as always. hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

When Y/N found out she was pregnant with twin girls, Carlos was over the moon. He had been raised by a vivacious mother and alongside two sisters, who despite driving him mad as a child, had become his closest confidantes. Carlos stopped wearing the Tom Ford cologne you once loved when it started to trigger your nausea. He rushed to a nearby drive-through at midnight solely to satisfy your craving for fries and a milkshake. And when your shoelaces needed tying, he was always there to help.

“I feel like I’m asking way too much of you,” you spoke. He smiled and gently caressed your growing belly. "Never, mi amor. Taking care of you and our girls is my purpose now," he said tenderly. "You're an amazing mom already, and I can't wait to see our daughters grow up with the same strength and love that you have."

You had held off on naming the twins because you strongly felt you owed it to your daughters to meet them and get an actual feel for their energies. Together, you spent an evening brainstorming a list of potential names, Carlos voicing a particular preference for their names starting with the same letter. Labor proved to be more challenging than anyone had ever prepared you for, leaving you drained once it was over. Carlos cradled the newborns in his arms, softly uttering their names, "Melina" and "Mila," while his gaze shifted from one little face to the other.

Flash forward, and your twin daughters thought the world of their dad. You loved getting to see Carlos in a new light, your love for him only growing as you watched him interact with your girls. "Can we go outside and play? Please!" Melina and Mila were like the Energizer Bunny times two on the rare weekends when Carlos was home. Although he rarely said no to them, they were both feeling under the weather, so he shook his head. "How about we stay inside and do some drawing?" he suggested.

"Can we paint your nails? Mamá always lets us," the girls asked, their eyes widening as they edged closer to him. Carlos paused for a moment, thinking, what harm could it do? Eventually, he nodded in agreement. The girls knew exactly where their mother kept her nail polish kit and eagerly fetched the equipment. "We have Barbie pink and Ferrari red, just like our cars," Melina said, holding up the bottles with her pudgy fingers. "Mama wears the red one when we watch you drive on TV," Mila chimed in. He assumed Melina was referring to the little toy LaFerraris he had bought the girls on their birthday. He loved watching the girls as they raced in their garden, a tangible sign they had inherited his passion for cars.

"What's that thing you always say, Papá? For the Ferrari?" Mila looked up at her dad with chocolate brown eyes. "Forza Ferrari, mija," Carlos replied. Before he could even pick a color, Melina grabbed his hand and started painting his thumbnail bright red. The girls both had a hard time staying within the lines, so Carlos took it upon himself to clean up the edges. After they were done, he was instructed to place each hand under the UV lamp. He couldn’t help but wonder if the nail polish would come off easily later, but he soon noticed the excitement of being nail artists had worn the twins out. He picked them up and gently laid them down for a nap.

As Carlos boarded his flight to Hungary, he realized that his red manicure was not coming off without a fight. He absentmindedly picked at his nails, silently wishing his wife had been there to offer him the mini nail file she always carried. With media day approaching, he knew that people would definitely pick up on his vibrant nails.

"Nice nails, Carlos. Whose handiwork is this?" Natalie, a familiar face, pointed at his hands with a smile. Carlos chuckled and replied, "Oh, this masterpiece? My twin daughters painted them. I just don’t know how to say no to those two." He shrugged, shaking his head.

"Well, here they are to say hello.” The TV presenter had organized a surprise Zoom call with Y/N and Carlos' daughters, who had been nicknamed "Chili’s Angels" by his fans.

"Buenos días, mis hijas. I hope you're feeling better," he greeted them, waving at the camera. Melina proudly held up her mom's hand, showcasing her red nails. "Look! You and Mamá match now!" she exclaimed. Carlos winked at his wife, grateful for the little moment of connection despite the distance.

"Forza Ferrari, Papá!" Mila squealed, waving goodbye. “They really are my angels, all three of them,” he thought, setting off a mental countdown of days until he was back in their arms again.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 57,575 others

carlossainz55: life is sweeter with my angels. hope i’m making you proud 🫶🏼

yourusername: we’re so lucky to have you! you just had to choose THAT photo of mila scarfing down her pizza? clearly my genes 🍕🤤

fan1: chili’s angels merch when? i swear i will buy it ALL

landonorris: ask melly and milly who their favorite uncle is and i’ll let you by at the start on sunday!

carlossainz55: “come over, uncle lando! we can paint your nails orange.” - melina & mila sainz

anasainzvdec: the most adorable nieces an aunt could wish for ❤️

scuderiaferrari: when mila said “forza ferrari” in an interview this morning! who’s cutting the damn onions?

fan2: carlos and @yourusername are starting them off young 🥹

[doumadono]

Synopsis: The BNHA boys confess their love to you for the very first time

MASTERLIST

Izuku Midoriya

Izuku had been feeling his heart race whenever he was around you, his girlfriend, but he was nervous about expressing his feelings.

One evening, you were sitting together on a bench at the park, watching the sunset after a long day of hero training. The colors of the sky reflected in your eyes, making you look even more beautiful, in his little opinion.

Izuku took a deep breath and, mustering up all his courage, he gently took your hand in his. He looked into your Y/E/C eyes and said, "You know, being with you makes me feel like I can do anything. You've always believed in me, and I can't thank you enough for that. I… I love you."

Your eyes widened in surprise, and then a bright smile spread across your face. You pulled him into a warm hug, replying, "Izuku, I love you too. You've always been my hero."

Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugo had never been great with words, especially when it came to expressing emotions. But he knew he had to tell his girlfriend how he felt because keeping it inside was driving him crazy.

You were spending a day at the city center, and Bakugo had been trying to build up the courage to say those three words all day long.

As the sun was setting and the sky turned shades of pink and orange, you were walking down the street, hand in hand. Bakugo suddenly stopped and turned to face you, a faint blush on his cheeks.

"Listen, dumbass," he began gruffly, "I… I care about you a lot. More than I thought I would. Hell, I… I love you, okay? So don't go getting any ideas about leaving me or some shit like that."

Your eyes softened, and you hugged him tightly. "I love you too, Katsuki. And I'm not going anywhere, my fierce warrior."

Shoto Todoroki

Shoto had always been reserved, and expressing his feelings was a challenge for him. But his girlfriend had shown him what it meant to love and be loved, and he wanted to reciprocate that.

You were at a peaceful park, sitting on a bench and sharing some ice cream after another day of your internship at his father's agency. Shoto was staring at the ground, trying to find the right words.

Finally, he looked up at you, his heterochromatic eyes filled with warmth. "You've brought so much light into my life," he said softly. "I never thought I could feel this way about someone. But I do. I love you."

You smiled, and a tear of joy escaped your eye. You reached out and touched his cheek gently. "Shoto, you have my heart. I love you too, with all of it."

Hawks (Keigo Takami)

Despite being a pro-hero, expressing emotions didn't come naturally to Hawks. But his feelings for you were undeniable, and he wanted to be sincere in his confession.

He decided to write a heartfelt letter, expressing all the things he admired and loved about you. He left it on your doorstep with a bouquet of your favorite flowers (yes, deep inside, Keigo was a true romantic at heart).

Later that day, he received a call from you. You were thanking him for the beautiful letter. Hawks asked if you liked it, to which you replied with a teasing tone, "Well, Mr. Hero, you're supposed to be observant, right? What do you think?" Hawks couldn't resist the playful challenge and responded, "I think… I think you did. Y/N, I love you." He felt the weight of his heart lifting as he admitted his feelings.

Dabi (Touya Todoroki)

Dabi had always been distant and reserved, but his girlfriend saw through his tough exterior and understood the pain he carried.

One evening, you were sitting together on the rooftop of LOV hideout, watching the sunset. The warm colors of the sky seemed to ignite a spark of courage within him.

Dabi turned to you, gently intertwining his fingers with yours, and whispered softly, "You know, I've always believed that my heart was frozen, but you… you've been thawing it all along. I never thought I could love someone so deeply, but I love you, Y/N."

Your eyes widened in surprise, but you could see the sincerity in his words. You reached out and gently touched his cheek, "Dabi, you don't have to say more. I can feel it too. I love you too."

Shigaraki Tomura (Tenko Shimura)

Shigaraki had always been awkward with emotions, but as he grew closer to you, he found himself wanting to be more open with you about his feelings.

You had just finished a long and eventful day of planning their next move as villains. With everyone else occupied, Shigaraki and you found a rare moment of peace in the dimly lit common room.

As you sat on the couch, your head resting on his shoulder, Shigaraki felt a mix of comfort and vulnerability, something he rarely experienced. He could feel his heart pounding as he debated whether or not to share his feelings. His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm, and he finally gathered the courage to speak up. "Hey... There's something I've been wanting to tell you," he began, his voice unusually soft. "You mean a lot to me. More than I ever thought someone could. You're always there, supporting me and understanding me. And... I love you."

You leaned in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Tomura, I love you too."

dividers by @cafekitsune

[cherryredstars]

would you write married life hcs with simon i need some domestic fluff paired with angst please🥺😢

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Angst 

Summary: Married life with Simon. 

Word Count: 745 (Not Edited)

The ring he proposes with is gorgeous. It fits your finger perfectly, not catching on your skin once. It’s fashioned from his mother’s ring. His mother’s ring was also the ring Tommy had used to propose to his own wife. You carry the memory of four lost Rileys with you, and it is a weight you are proud to hold. Simon cannot think of a better person to share the weight with. 

He spoils you rotten. Wants the best for his spouse and wants nothing less. He gives you random gifts. Brings you back souvenirs from his deployments. Takes you to your favorite restaurants. Stocks the kitchen with your favorite foods. Gives you access to all his bank accounts. He makes too much money from his high position and his long years of serving, the money might as well be spent on someone he loves. Someone who deserves the world. 

He truly believes that you’re an angel. Someone sent him to hold him together. Every second he spends at home is with you. Follows you around like a lovesick puppy. He’ll stand with you in the kitchen as he cooks. He’ll sit on the edge of the bathtub or on the toilet seat as you do your skincare or get ready for the day. Lays on the couch or on the bed doing his own thing. As long as he’s in the same room as you, he’s content. 

He wants to share your happiness. Wants to absorb everything good about you and have it stained into his soul. He feels that as long as you are in his hold, he can keep that sacred part of you safe. He worries whenever he hears a thump in the house, rushing into the room to find you hopping because you dropped something on your foot. It warms his heart, to have something so normal and domestic. He doesn’t know how he ever survived without you. 

He has never taken his ring off. Not once. Not since you had placed it on his finger. He doesn’t take it off when he’s cooking. Doesn't care that the shampoo from his shower is making it soapy. Doesn’t mind that there is a slight bulge in his glove from where the ring still sits on his finger despite being against code. You’d have to kill him to pry that finger off his ring. But even in death, you’ll have to fight him for it. 

Plans dates for the two of you. He wants you to know how much he truly cares for you. How grateful he is to announce to the world that he has a spouse waiting for him at home. Will never get tired of the privilege to have that. With all his time away from home, he wants to be able to spend that intimate, one-on-one time with you. Sometimes you wished he just stopped.

Marrying Simon means empty promises that he tries to apologize for by throwing money at it. It means excitedly texting him something and being disappointed when he replies two weeks later with a thumbs up emoji reaction. It means being suffocated when he’s here, and then drowning when he’s gone. It means being drained of everything within you because you keep giving it to a man who is never there. It means waiting in a restaurant in your best outfit for hours and going home with tears in your eyes and a message the next morning saying, Sorry, have to wrap some things up before returning home. See you in a few days. 

Having Simon as a husband is like being a widow. It is spending nights in a cold bed alone, in a large house devoid of life. It is yearning every day for something and clinging on to the love you have. It is full of being bitter and understanding and tired of an endless cycle. 

Being Simon’s spouse is full of debating and fighting with yourself. It is spending every day that he is away staring at the folder of divorce papers in your bedside drawer. It is wonder how you could ever think of divorcing him every day he is home. It is thinking that the Riley ring is a curse because everyday you feel like you are dying from its weight. 

Wearing Simon’s ring makes you feel like you’ll just be a memory of another Riley he has lost. Another Riley he has sacrificed for his job.

Join Cherry’s Discord Server

[faith-forgxtten-land]

Hihihi!

I'm not sure if your requests are open, but the fic I just read was a request and was posted within the last 24 hrs, so I'm gonna take the chance that they are (can you tell I'm autistic yet?😂)

Could I request a slightly nsfw (just a lil spicy) Bay!Raph fic where the Fem! Reader is watching him workout and offhandedly mentions that she wishes she could lift as much as he does?

Her question prompts him to let her lay on the bench and "lift" the weights (obviously he's carrying almost all of the weight). Just a corny little piece that shows our Big Red some love.

Thank you for your time!💜

Spotting | Raphael

requests are open dw!! honestly feel free to send as many requests as you want at any time, if they're not open you'll know because i'll plaster it somewhere obvious. and corny pieces are the best kind <3

since its valentine's day, i kind of went extra corny with a vague valentine's plot... i hope you like it and lemme know what you think! it's only slightly spicy and suggestive because tbh i wasn't sure how far to go.

warnings: suggestive, slight choking? (oops) valentine's day mentions, single people try not cry too much. everyone is 18+!! never proofread

summary: it's valentine's day and for some reason you have nothing better to do than watch raphael lift weights

word count: 1195

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Why are you lifting weights on Valentine’s Day?”

“Why are you watching me lift weights on Valentine’s Day?” Raphael retorts quickly and it’s such a good question that you pause.

Well, then. You sniff in mock indignance. “I’ll have you know that I was asked out by 12.5 different people ahead of today, thank you very much.”

You can’t see it, but you can tell he’s smirking. “12.5?”

“I figure Mikey only counts for 0.5 since I’m pretty sure he’d ask every woman he sees if he could.”

Raph snorts and your mouth pulls into a stupidly wide smile knowing you’ve amused him. He’s so relaxed like this, when it’s just the two of you, and your smile turns soft at the thought. There’s no one you’d rather spend the day with – Valentine’s Day or not – and the view isn’t bad either.

Speaking of... you tilt your head. Rivulets of sweat trickle down his green skin and you bite your lip watching the flexing of his muscles. He’s so much bigger than you, you’re pretty sure his bicep is bigger than your head, and he could cover your entire face with his palm – he’d done it just yesterday when you wouldn’t stop pestering him about a romcom you wanted to watch (it’s okay, you knew they were secretly his favourite kind of movie too, he didn’t have to protest so much – even grown turtles should be allowed to indulge in some Richard Gere and Julia Roberts). 

His size had intimidated you at first, had made you hesitant, but now it makes your knees weak and makes your heart accelerate with something entirely different to fear. It’s quiet apart from his breathing and the clang of his weights and you wonder if he can hear the thundering of your pulse.

“You’re staring.”

“Hmm?”

His muscles flex again and you’re quick to press your thighs together. You’re certain it's deliberate at this point. “You’re staring,” he repeats, his voice a little deeper.

You flush as you realise what he’s saying. “Not my fault you can bench press a truck,” you grumble to hide your embarrassment. “I’m jealous.”

The terrapin smirks again and sits up, his eyes bright. “C’mere.”

“Ex-squeeze me?”

It’s Raph’s turn to grumble. “You’ve been hanging around Mikey too much.”

You grin because it's true and walk slowly towards where he’s waiting. Your feet are clearly more sensible and less fuzzy than your brain (you are definitely not still thinking – and staring – at his arms, nope) because they stop just before you can stand between his legs. His eyes run along the curves of your calves and his gaze feels like a dizzying caress as it glides up your torso, lingering on the bare skin around your throat in a hungry way that makes you swallow just to watch him watch the movement. “What’s the plan, Red?” 

Your voice doesn’t feel like your own and you’re kind of impressed by how put-together you sound. It’s not the breathless wheeze you expected, it's low and sultry and suggestive and your eyes flutter as his breath hitches. The two of you have flirted before but this feels different. It’s intimate beyond your typical friendly banter and you have the urge to touch him.

He reaches for you first, pulling you closer and resting his hands on your hips. His hands are huge, and your mouth feels dry as he squeezes a little too hard to be innocent. “Raph...”

He squeezes again at your murmur. “Lie down.” His voice is rough and you shiver. He brushes his fingers across the goosebumps he’s raised, and you let him manoeuvre you with ease.

It probably looks so silly, and you fight the incredulous laughter that bubbles in your chest. The bar above you is ridiculously oversized and heavy and the thought of you lifting it is absurd and your laugh can’t be stopped this time as you look at the green-skinned ninja above you. His lips are twitching as you cackle and your eyes focus on the scar that decorates them, longing to soothe your tongue over it, as you regain your composure. “You good?”

“I’m good,” you reassure him. He’s so fucking cute, you think. You can see his nervousness now even if he tries to play it off and you feel like you’ve just swallowed a bucketful of butterflies. “Are you spotting?”

Raph runs his tongue – you do not shift your hips at how thick it is – across his upper lip, over that scar you want to taste for yourself. He looks torn for a moment, building himself up, and places his heavy hands on the bar above you. “Something like that,” he agrees before instructing you on how to position your hands.

You push up and immediately swear at the impossible weight. Raph snickers and you pout and glare simultaneously. “Don’t be mean.”

“You haven’t seen me be mean, baby.”

Oh. Your glare falters. That’s just not fair and he knows it. He’s grinning now and you curse him in your head. You push again and this time the bar lifts, as light as a feather. His hands are still wrapped around it and you’re not lifting a single thing, but the moment feels heavy. He hasn’t let his eyes drift from yours and you don’t dare look away. It feels intense and intimate and you can admit that your skin is on fire and your pulse is throbbing knowing how easily he’s carrying a weight that you couldn’t budge with all your might.

He guides the bar back down after a moment that could have been seconds or minutes or hours and you release a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. He’s still looking at you as you sit up and he invades your personal space. You have to tilt your head back to maintain eye-contact and you shudder as his palm cups your chin.

He’s so tall and imposing and you have to bite your tongue as his hand trails further down. You let him wrap his fingers around your neck and you rest your hand on top of his in encouragement, unable to stop a needy whine as he heeds your silent request and squeezes gently. His pupils are blown and he’s breathing harder than he had been while working out and you feel smug knowing you’ve caused this reaction. In a blink he’s pushed you back and he’s leaning over you. He smells like sweat and his skin is damp from exertion and it's kind of gross and it really shouldn’t be turning you on, but it is and your legs spread involuntarily.

You expect him to close the gap between your lips as he hovers above you and your eyes that had fluttered shut open again when it’s clear he has no intention of moulding your mouths together. He’s got a soft look in his eyes paired with a devilish smile and it makes your chest burn. You don’t expect the next words out of his mouth.

“Be my Valentine?”

You splutter and he laughs as he finally presses his lips to yours.